Merry Christmas – may it be so

Merry_ChristmasMerry Christmas, everyone. Happy Christmas. Frohe Weinachten. Feliz Navidad. And many more wishes in languages I do not know.

I hope it is a good day for you, and that you find peace and a measure of happiness before the day is through.

Christmas is a tricky time for a lot of people, including those who have some sort of limitation or particular need. One of the most poignant things about it, is actually the spirit of it, which so often gets lost in the shuffle. The original story (whether you’re a believer or not) is about people under duress making the best of a bad situation.

A whole country is uprooted by a tyrant (of sorts) and hauled away from their homes, so they can be taxed in the town of their family’s origin. One couple in the midst is a man and his very pregnant wife, who have to make the trek, regardless of her condition. Nazareth, where Joseph and Mary were from, was a kind of crappy area — economically depressed and not the sort of place “nice” people lived. So, Joseph probably wasn’t all that well-off to begin with, and dragging him away from his work as a tradesman to tax him, was just heaping one injury on another. It wasn’t like he made that much money, to begin with — but he gets taxed and he loses however many days or weeks of work. That’s rough.

And when Mary and Joseph get where they’re going, there’s literally no room for them in habitable lodging. So, they end up in a stable. In a strange city. Anyone who’s spent time around farm animals, knows this is about the last place you want to deliver a baby, but apparently that’s where it happened, and the child ended up laid in a feeding trough for his first night on earth.

Some entrance.

Now, I’m not a hugely religious person, these days. Once upon a time, I was, though. I was raised in an evangelical, fundamentalist Christian household and I was “raised in the church.” It was my primary social network. My parents are still very involved in their church community, as are some of my siblings. I’ve always been pretty spiritual (even after I stopped believing the way my family did), and that endured through the years with a strong tendency to feelings of mysticism and spiritual connection with something higher.

My TBI in 2004, however, pretty much erased my religious feeling. Suddenly, it just wasn’t there, anymore, and I could not for the life of me figure out why anyone would have any interest in religion or spirituality. My spouse has always been very spiritual, and I can assure you, the times when I did not pray along with them were not the best moments in our marriage. I rolled my eyes and tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for them to finish, which really hurt their feelings.

My lack of spiritual feeling has persisted somewhat, but in the past few years, that’s started to change. Just goes to show you how the brain continues to alter and develop along different lines, over time. And I’ve gotten some of my spiritual feeling back — though I have probably gotten back more willingness to play along so I don’t hurt others’ feelings, than I’ve gotten back my old religious fervor.

But religious belief aside, the story behind Christmas is one that really resonates with a lot of people. It’s all about being forced into a less-than-ideal situation, and making do. It’s about modest, humble circumstances setting the stage for later greatness. And to me it’s about dealing up-front with the indignities of life and recognizing that beneath the limitations of your circumstances, there lies a potential for rising above it all. The indignities of not having enough, of being pushed aside, being just another face in the crowd, aren’t the whole truth about who we are and what we’re capable of. We may not all be divine (though some believe we are), but we can surely rise above our circumstances, like that little baby who spent his first night in a feed trough.

Making do… that’s pretty much what this season has been about for me. I have been working overtime for months, keeping my emotions from getting the best of me, and that’s taken a toll on my system. It takes a lot of energy to keep yourself on an even keel, when everything around you feels like it’s going nuts, and I have really felt it, this holiday season. Not having a doctor I trust and can rely on… that’s a subtle source of pressure. Being told my neuropsych is retiring in the spring… that’s more pressure. Being threatened with a layoff in the immediate term… that’s a direct and intense source of pressure. Having everyone around me at work be in rotten spirits because of the impending job changes… that’s an indirect but distracting source of pressure. Expensive car repairs and drama while traveling over Thanksgiving wasn’t easy. Being sick has been a disruptive challenge. And having my spouse being sick, too — and increasingly disabled — has been hard to get my head around.

Most of this I’ve had to deal with on my own, but I don’t mind. It’s actually easier for me to handle things alone, so I don’t have to verbalize with people. Talking out loud is yet another source of pressure, and I’ve been doing it pretty poorly, this holiday season. Seriously — I haven’t been able to describe things I’m looking for, and people in stores don’t take kindly to it. It’s been kind of funny, actually, when I’ve tried to describe caulk… or a little bracelet with colorful beads… and failed to do so.

I’ve kept it together, more or less, but it’s taken a toll.

The energy that I’ve been using to keep myself on an even keel had to come from somewhere, and my thought processing has not been the sharpest. I’ve been forgetful, scattered, emotional, foggy, and that all makes it even worse. It’s really been a challenge to do the kinds of things that used to come easy to me, and that’s hard to take. I can’t believe I have to deal with all of this — and take things so much more slowly, plan so much more carefully, and resort to what feel like remedial measures.

And through it all… I                      am                   so                  tired.

But then I come back to the Christmas story. And I can relate. I have a pretty good idea how it must feel to be uprooted from your home and dragged somewhere else to pay someone money that you probably don’t have. I don’t know how it feels to have a baby on the way, but I know about long journeys and having more asked of you than you feel you can spare. And I know the feeling of despair and overwhelm, when everything around you seems to conspire against you, and you can’t catch a break.

I also know what it’s like to make do with what little I have. This year, we don’t have a tree indoors, because the artificial tree we’ve had for years has gotten old and smells terrible. It’s musty and dusty and the materials are starting to degrade and off-gas, so after a couple of tries, we ended up just putting the tree out on the back porch and arranging our presents on a beautiful golden cloth we have, surrounded by colored lights.

It’s modest, but it’s beautiful, and later I’ll roast the turkey for our Christmas dinner. We’ll have a quiet day, today, and just enjoy the quiet in our own merry way.

We’re better off now than we’ve been in quite some time, and for that I am grateful. We have our issues, but we also have our ways of dealing with them. It’s Christmas. Time to focus less on what we don’t have, and more on what we do.

May your Christmas be merry, as well.


Trying it the other way ’round

Getting started…

So, I had a thought yesterday, while I was sitting and thinking…

How would my thought process be, if I wrote with my left hand? I’m right-handed, and now and then I’ve tried writing with my left hand, over the years, but I never stuck with it long enough to get anywhere.

Now I’m thinking it might be a good way to job my brain to learn something new.

And it might be a good way to get me thinking along different lines than usual.

It’s funny — whenever I tried it before, I always gave up because it felt like I couldn’t write with my left hand. Now I feel more like, I can’t write well with my left hand. I can write — it just doesn’t look great. But just ’cause it doesn’t look great, doesn’t mean I can’t do it.

And my left-handed writing actually looks like my one left-handed sibling’s writing, when they were a kid. So, if they could learn to write that way, I can, too.

It’s a little like juggling. When I first started out, I couldn’t do it at all. But I practiced and practiced, and eventually I was able to do it. Now I can juggle three same-sized objects with a fair amount of skill. It’s really just brain training. And sure enough – after just a little practice yesterday, my penmanship was noticeably better. Also, it felt easier to write in cursive with my left hand, than in the hybrid writing style of my right hand.

Interesting. I’ll do some more practice today — right now, in fact. I’m working at home today, again, because while my cough is better, it’s still around, and I need to be able to rest during the day.

Before I start with work-work, I’ll practice my left-handed penmanship. And I’ll keep an eye out for any different ways my thinking starts going, as I write with my non-dominant hand. I’ve tried training my left hand to do various things, sometimes favoring it completely and trying to not use my right hand at all. But it was hard. So, I gave up.

I don’t feel like giving up. Not right now, anyway.


Doctors: They’re just so far away from us

It’s hard for me to know what to say to doctors, and how to say it

In preparation for seeing a new neurologist in the beginning of next year, I’ve been listening to some physician podcasts, lately. It’s my latest “thing” I do when I have some free time to listen. I need to better understand doctors and how they think and talk, so that I’ll be better able to communicate with them, if I end up seeing them.

The podcasts are usually pretty short and I can get at least 20 minutes in, during lunch or while I’m doing busy work at the office.

I don’t really have that much time to listen to podcasts or watch videos, in general, because it seems to take me longer to “get” what’s going on, than I expect. And it’s a little discouraging to listen and expect myself to understand immediately, but have to either back up and listen again, or just let it go.

I think it’s harder when I can’t see someone talking. Watching videos, it is easier for me to get things. But again, it takes up a lot of time, and it’s a bit discouraging to feel like I’m falling behind.

Anyway, today is my last full day of work before my Christmas and New Year’s vacation. I’ve got a few things planned for next week… but not much. Most of what I’m doing is taking care of myself with my support group — seeing different folks who can help me in one way or another — and resting. And doing some work on the projects I have going. This is going to be a good time to get away from my routine that has me on-the-go all the time, and do some deeper thinking than usual.

Should be good.

One thing I’m going to be working on, is collecting my info for this new neurologist I’ll be seeing. I’ve been intending to see a neuro for about a year, now, and finally it looks like I’m going to connect with one. I have high hopes about this… but I don’t want to get myself too caught up in hopes. I’ve had things go wrong before, so I have to factor that possibility in.

Anyway, it will be good for me to just collect all this info, anyway, so I have it to talk to any and all of my doctors later on. I haven’t really discussed my headaches in-depth with my PCP — they told me to go see a neurologist, anyway.  It will be good for me to collect my info in one place… also for myself.

I tend to just disregard what’s going on with me, because there is so much going on, on a given day. And I’m kind of resigned to it all — the vertigo, dizziness, feeling sick to my stomach, always having a headache, the ringing in my ears, the noise and light sensitivity, the joint and muscle pain… it’s all one continuous “cloud” of background noise for me, and I just live my life in spite of it. I don’t let it stop me. It slows me down at times, but it doesn’t stop me. And I use it as a barometer to make sure I’m not overdoing it. More pain, more noise… that means I’m overdoing it and I need to rest. So, it can come in handy.

But some days, it just feels like too much, and I’m not all that sad about the idea of not living forever. “Eternal rest” sounds pretty friggin’ good to me, some days. Not that I want to kill myself (I haven’t felt that way in a few years, which is a positive development). But I don’t mind the idea of this whole “deal” not going on forever.

Other days, I manage to deal with it… and I have hopes for things changing for the better.

If only I felt like I could effectively discuss this all with a doctor. I really don’t.

Talking to doctors has never been my strong suit. Conveying the right information in the right manner has always been a challenge for me — I either gave them too much information, or not enough. Either way, I often end up looking a bit dense and malingering, like there’s not really anything wrong, so what the hell am I taking up their time for? Listening to the physician podcasts, I’m struck by how specialized their language is, and how differently they describe and conceptualize things. They have their own language, and with their own language, comes a different way of thinking about things — very, very different from how the rest of us think and deal with things.

Going to the doctor is like going to a different planet, sometimes. It’s a foreign place that often doesn’t seem to have anything to do with my everyday life. Doctors are often so removed from the flow of regular everyday life, with their entire systems being reshaped by medical school, their thought processes shaped by specialized terminologies and ways of looking at situations, and their social status being separate and apart from “the sick”.

They deal with extreme cases all the time, so of course they have to protect themselves. They’re human, just like us, and the medical school system seems to crank out professionals who are doctors first, and humans second. And if they never have any physical problems of their own… well, how can they really truly understand the situations of the people they’re working with?

It’s very odd. And it’s also perfectly understandable.

But even though I understand it, it still bothers me. Yes, I get how the stresses and strains and secondary trauma of medical training produces individuals who are pretty far removed from their patients, in terms of thought process, language, and deep understanding of the human condition, but it’s still pretty depressing. And I get very anxious when I think about trying to explain myself to the next neuro I see — if that ever materializes at all.

Who knows if it will? But whatever happens, I still need to track my symptoms and keep decent notes, so that if it ever happens, I’ll have something useful to convey.

Well, anyway, gotta get to work. The day is waiting.




A whole new exit strategy

It makes much more sense to me now

So, the reality of my exit is starting to sink in. I’ve been back and forth on this for quite some time, and it’s been weighing on my mind. I’ve been through the whole grieving process around it, and I’m finally at a place where I am feeling comfortable and good about things.

The one thing that has held me back from moving on has been the idea that I have to stay to follow through on a program I’m supposed to be putting in place. It’s a huge project with a ton of visibility, and I have NOT had the time to focus on it, because I’ve been “in the weeds” of day-to-day maintenance, and just keeping things going. I haven’t wanted to leave before my big project launches, because I didn’t want to abandon the project and have it fail.

But I realized yesterday that I actually have an alternative – a break from my dreaded plan of action. I’ve been thinking that I’ll need to stick around until July, when my big project rolls out. But now that I think about it, I may not need to stay even that long. There are some personnel shifts going on with my team, and my “official” manager is coming back from family leave in May, so the person who has been temporarily managing me will be freed up in May.

If I leave before July, they can take over my responsibilities and roll out the project that I’ve been putting together. They’re more suited to rolling it out, anyway. They’re much more social, much more connected, much better at connecting with people and making things happen within the organization.

Professionally, I need to stay on the technical side, and be more localized in my work… not be dragged all over creation in the company, networking with a gazillion different people.

How tiresome that is for me. But it really energizes my temporary boss.

And it would be a huge feather in their cap, to roll this out.

For me, tying myself and my future to this project is actually keeping me from getting on with my life and doing what I need to do. It’s not even the kind of work I want to be doing, long-term, so any more time and energy I invest in it will be wasted. My past experience will be wasted. My future prospects will be wasted. This project presents one problem after another for my career and my ability to earn a good living. Seriously, staying in this “pocket” of experience cuts back the amount of money I can make by tens of thousands of dollars.

And that’s no good.

It’s funny — as I’m re-learning my technical skills, I am realizing that I am actually better at programming than I was before. I realize that in the past, I thought I was really good, and that I understood everything… but I really didn’t. Looking back at the code I’ve written before (as I did last night), I see that my technique left a lot to be desired. But I never really understood it, because I was still working with the unaddressed issues of multiple mild traumatic brain injuries. All those concussions over the years really screwed up my thinking process and blinded me to my limitations.

Now, coming in with a new perspective, basically learning a lot of things from scratch, I realize just how much my thinking technique and my programming has actually improved.

And rather than needing to leave that line of work because of the different ways my brain works, finding the new and better ways of dealing with problem-solving has made me even better qualified to pursue it.

So… onward.






That’ll learn me… learning to back up my work

Normally, I’m very good about keeping track of where I put things that I cannot do without. Like my sunglasses (which protect my eyes from intense sunlight)… my wallet (which holds my connections to regular life)… my daily minder (which holds my clues about what’s supposed to happen next)… my laptop (which goes with me just about everywhere and has a specific place to rest, when I’m home)… and until Saturday, my USB memory stick, which contains a lot of information I’ve been collecting and working on over the past weeks.

On Saturday, I was getting read to go out and about, to run my bunch of errands, and I had my memory stick with me. I thought I might need it while I was out. But at the last minute — and this is the last thing I remember — I thought, no, i’d better leave it at home, and took it out of my pocket. After that, I remember nothing about my memory stick.

I’ve spent the last day looking for it, on and off. I know I was in the house when I took it out of my pocket. I know I was! And I think I was in the kitchen. But I may have been in the dining room. Or the living room. I may have put it down, or put it in a pocket… I cannot for the life of me remember where I put it!

This is distressing for me. I had a lot of good information on there. I can re-assemble it and replace most of it, but that takes time. Anyway, now I know I need to always have a backup — email the documents I find/write to myself, so they’re always on a server somewhere… copy them off the memory stick to my computer… print out copies of what I need… make sure to do something that makes sure I always have more than one copy in more than one place… and be present.

I can’t always remember everything… but I can make sure I have a safety net of sorts to cover my butt.

Dang! That USB drive has got to be around here somewhere!!!

Technorati Tags:
, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

My memory seems to be slipping

I’m realizing, more and more, how many things I just plain forget. I was talking to someone yesterday who was angry over me being concerned about them getting words turned around and facts confused — they said that they have been doing much better with regard to that, and they don’t do it nearly as much now, as they used to.

I said I was just concerned, and they said I didn’t need to be, because they’ve been improving… but I wouldn’t know that, because there are lots of things I forget. They said I was in no position to comment, when I couldn’t remember the past well enough to compare it to the present.

I think my memory has been slipping… and in fact, it’s aways been a bit spotty. There are vast chunks of time in my childhood that I cannot recall. My parents have talked many, many times about people and events that I cannot for the life of me recall. In fact, when she starts telling me about people or places or things she thinks I should remember, my mother usually asks me straight off, if I recall such-and-such or so-and-so.

I often have to say “No, I don’t remember.”

Oh, well.

Does it dramatically impact my quality of life? I’m not sure. Certainly, when I forget where I put library books and I rack up fines, that doesn’t help. But my fines help support the library, in however small a way. When I misplace my USB memory stick that has important files on it — I literally lose my memory twice 😉 — it’s not much fun. And when I forget to mail things that need to go out in the mail that day, it can cause problems. But none of these things are earth-shattering, and I can usually work around them.

And use tools. Like keeping a notebook with me to write things down that I need to do, in the order I need to do them. Like using my calendar at work and color-coding my activities, so I have a context and an understanding of what I’m supposed to do. Like asking for help when I need it, without feeling self-conscious and stupid. Like developing the habit of putting things back in the same place, every single time.

In a way, my habits and lists make me even more functional than some people I know, who just assume that their memories will work. I don’t lose my glasses or my gloves or my wallet or my car keys, because I’m so strict with myself about always (and I mean always) putting them in exactly the same place, every single time. I don’t deviate from certain aspects of my routines — like always hanging up my car keys in their allotted place, as soon as I enter the house, like always putting my gloves back in my coat pockets, like always checking for my wallet before I go anywhere, and always keeping my sunglasses in the car in their case in the glove compartment of my car.

People have called me a variety of names, because I’m so strict with myself: nazi, anal-retentive, rigid, inflexible, too-strict… you name it. But these people don’t realize that if I deviate just a tiny bit from my routine and my ways of doing things, I can really get lost. If things aren’t where I expect them to be, my brain forgets that they exist. And that’s about the last thing I need to happen with my keys, my wallet, my sunglasses, or my gloves.

I do what I have to. And I get by.

Technorati Tags:
, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Saturday chores – a-la tbi

I was feeling so great yesterday… by the end of the day, that is. I got up around 7:30 and got to puttering and blogging… writing and thinking and doing some extra needed maintenance on the blog. My upstairs study has devolved into a general holding tank for all kinds of crap I can’t figure out what to do with, so I steered clear of it and used the computer downstairs to do my blogging.

I needed to run some errands in the a.m. — pick up a package and mail out important things at the post office, buy a leaf blower, deposit a check at the bank, pick up milk at the store, and then come home to take trash to the dump and get some other chores done around the house.

I really needed to leave the house by 10:30 in order to get everything done on time. But the time got away from me, and at 11:04, I found myself pulling the car out of the garage, wondering how the heck I was going to get into town in less than an hour — the post office — the main place I needed to get to — closed at noon, and traffic was bound to be really slow, due to everyone milling around, trying to line up their lives before the Thanksgiving holiday.

I decided to take the freeway, instead of secondary roads, to get into town, and I was able to reach my destination with 9 minutes to spare. That was all I needed — and thank heavens for the upcoming holiday, as a lot of the college students who usually leave their errands till the last minute on Saturday and hold up the lines at the post office, were probably either headed home for Thanksgiving or off doing something else.

So, I did everything I thought I was supposed to do, I got myself something to eat, and then I hopped in the car and headed home. Again, I was late — the dump closed at 3:00, and I had all of an hour and a half to get to the bank, stop off at the store to buy milk, and head home to take out the trash.

I hauled ass back down the road, a little spacey and out of it — I was feeling foggy and not entirely with it — and I was losing track of what I was supposed to be doing. I managed to deposit the check in the bank and pick up milk and look at a leaf blower at the hardware store… and I was on track to make it home in time to bag up trash and haul it to the dump. But then I realized that I’d forgotten to mail out the stuff that was time-sensitive — part of the reason I’d gone into town, in the first place was to get the stuff mailed out that day!!! And now all the local post offices were closed for the weekend. Ack!!! Well, I couldn’t worry about it. I dropped the stuff in a box at a nearby post office, noting that it would all go out at 6 a.m. on Monday, so that was almost good enough. And I made a note to make notes to myself and follow them, when something was important.

I did manage to get back to the house in time to take the trash to the dump. But then I realized that I had really needed to purchase a leaf blower, not just look at it. I guess I had used my time okay earlier, because I had at least found where the leaf blowers were in the hardware store, which is sometimes half the battle, and I’d managed to price them and found them cheaper than I’d expected.

So, after I got the trash to the dump, I drove back to the hardware store, pulled the leaf blower off the shelf, and went looking for an extension cord. The associate who helped me pick out the right extension cord was helpful, but I didn’t understand everything they were saying to me… I sort of went by their tone and nodded and smiled and repeated what they said to me, to make it sound like I was following… then I hauled it all to checkout, credit card and rewards card in hand. When the clerk input the amounts, I realized that the extension cord was almost as expensive as the leaf blower — it was an 80-foot heavy duty cord that I’m sure will be fine… as long as it doesn’t blow the fuses in my house. I had tried to see how much it was, but I got confused and thought it was $19.95 — it was almost $40. Holy smokes! I guess I’d better take good care of it… I didn’t have time for the price change to register — if I’d had time and I’d considered that I needed to really watch my spending, I might have told the clerk to take the extension cord off, but I ended up just going with it anyway. I’ll probably get plenty of use out of it, and I need a good heavy-duty cord, anyway, so I can’t worry about it.

The hardest part of the visit to the store was dealing with the credit card payment. It should be easy, right? But there were lines all over the screen, and I had a dickens of a time figuring out where to sign my name, and then were to tap on the screen, after I was done signing my name. It took me a couple of tries, and the clerk had to tell me how to do it. But at least I used the stylus instead of the pen I had in my hand. And when all was said and done, I had a leaf blower and new 80-foot extension cord in the back of my car.

When I got home, I was so tapped, I just took a shower and fell into bed. I hate being so easily fatigued, and I wanted to spend some time in the afternoon using my new leaf blower, but it was not to be. Plus, the wind was up, and there were so many friggin’ leaves, it tired me out just looking at them. I didn’t want to push it. I’ve been feeling like I’m coming down with a cold, and I didn’t want to stress myself any more.

I wasn’t able to sleep the whole two hours I was intending to. About an hour into my nap, I woke up suddenly and started to cry. I hate when that happens. And it’s been happening a lot, lately. It often happens when I’m either freshly rested or I’m over-tired. Fortunately, I’m usually alone when it comes over me — first thing in the a.m. while I’m getting ready for work, when I wake up from a nap, or before I fall asleep at night. I can’t stand crying with other people around me. I feel weak and pitiful and self-conscious. But when I woke up yesterday, I was all alone, except for one of my cats, so I had a little cry and released some of the pressure of this time.

Thanksgiving is the anniversary of two of my past tbi’s (1995 and 2004), and I experience a deep sense of loss that I can’t always put my finger on, around this time. It’s also the time of year when I started to really realize and come to terms with the various losses I’ve sustained — the jobs, the relationships, the financial security — and it’s when I was first able to really look at the impact that tbi has had in my life, ever since I was young. It’s a time when I face all the more closely the loss of my dreams, the loss of many of my fondly held assumptions about what I am capable of doing and what I can safely attempt, the loss of the person I once was… not to mention the person I mistakenly thought I had been (but never truly was). Thanksgiving can be a very hard time for me, so I have to cut myself a break and just let myself cry when I need to cry.

Last night was a little difficult — lots of agitation coming up, lots of resentment and stress and breakdowns in communication and bad timing. But by the end of the evening, I had regained my footing and relaxed into a children’s movie that — while a little simplistic and not quite believable in places — still didn’t have the rough language, sex and violence that tends to upset me.

All in all, forgetfulness and backtracking and confusion notwithstanding, I did manage to get many of my chores done. And today is shaping up to be a nice day, so I can continue with the theme and hopefully fire up that leaf blower.

Note to self: Read the manual and double-check everything, so you don’t blow the motor or screw up the apparatus before you get started. I don’t want to wreck my latest power tool, like I did my chainsaw – which I totally hosed because I used it a bunch of times without ever oiling the chain. (In case you’re wondering, that’s a bad thing and leads to malfunction — never a good thing with chainsaws!)

Technorati Tags:
, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A picture of what happens to me when I’m “not listening”

I call what happens to me “stovepiping”.
stove-pipe thinking

The blue lines represent my thinking process.

The pink lines represent the rest of the world.

The orange lines delineate what I call ‘the social layer’ of interaction — the place where people process information together.

This is not to say that I think the rest of the world is superficial or not as “deep” as me — it’s just an attempt to show how I tend to stray outside the social layer to think things through and process information, while the rest of the world goes on without me.

While people are talking and interacting, I can get overwhelmed, so I have to “step away” mentally and go off into my own space to make sense of what’s going on around me. I get very involved in a specific thing I’m thinking about… Sometimes it takes me a while to really get my head around what’s going on in the general vicinity, so I go into what I’m thinking about very deeply,

Meanwhile, the rest of the world around me moves on and (as far as i can tell) just disappears. They are interacting at a level that I find overwhelming and confusing — especially if I’m tired.

The more difficulties I’m having with parsing out all the stimuli around me, the deeper I go into the “stovepipe” of my subject, and the farther away from the rest of the world I get.

So, when someone tries to get my attention (from what seems like a very far distance), it can take a while for the communication to get to me. I’m going to draw a picture of the process, because it’s getting hard for me to put it into words, exactly.

I think a lot of us have this… tbi or not. The more involved we are in the things we’re thinking about and/or involved in, the more distant we can become towards the rest of the world. I think the difference between neurotypical folks and tbi or other “neurodiverse’ folks is one of degrees.