|
|
It
happened in January of 1996. Brain injury turned my life
upside-down. Outwardly little changed, but inwardly,
everything did.
Step
inside and see...
All
in Your Head
The
skeptic said,
You look fine,
So you are fine.
The problems are all
in your head.
My husband said,
I love you, but
You're
not who you used to be.
My
daughter said,
You're
no fun any more.
I
want to run away.
I
said,
Please
help me.
I'm
lost, confused.
My
head hurts.
I
can't remember,
Can't
think clearly,
Loud
noises bother me.
I
lose control, I rage,
Become
distracted,
Am
always tired.
Learning
comes slowly now.
I've
lost myself
And
I'm so ashamed.
Help
me, please,
With
these problems in my head.
The
doctor said,
The
changes are real.
They
won't go away.
So
sorry your head can't be fixed.
But
here are
Pills to sleep
Pills to stay awake
Pills to improve memory
Pills to prevent seizures
Pills to control mood swings
Pills to dull the pain
From
the problems that are in your head.
The
skeptic said,
You
look fine
So
you are fine.
The
problems are all in your head.
|
|
My
husband has a new wife
My
daughter, a new mother.
And
sometimes I think I hate
The
stranger who has taken my place.
It’s
painful just to watch her
Do
what I once did.
She
cooks (a little), cleans (not well),
And
dreams her little dreams.
But
where is the laughter, the passion,
The
two of us used to know?
Where,
the bright hopes and the wonder
That
bound us, heart and soul?
And
yet my husband loves her
(I
wonder how he can)
A
person slow and awkward,
Limited
and sad.
The
accident that brought her
Saw
the old me die
Left
this strange new person
To
carry on in my stead.
Now
my daughter calls her Mommy,
And
trusting takes her hand.
My
husband calls her Dearest
And
draws her into his arms.
But
deep within me something
Remembers
and protests,
I
refuse, I will not be
This
stranger who has taken my place!
|
|
Let
us touch the wound,
The
doubters say,
And
then we can believe.
Let
us feel the holes,
The
doubters say,
And
your agony we will know.
But
the wound only shows as
Squiggles
on an EEG,
Spaces
on an MRI.
And
the holes are but
Tiny
tears in my brain
And
my being.
What
I have lost -
Memory,
clarity, skill -
Can
not be seen.
What
I have gained -
Frustration,
fear, and shame -
Can
not be touched.
Bless
you then
For
believing.
|
|
So-and-so
is so clever
So-and-so
is so bright
So-and-so
has such
passion,
Energy,
fire, and drive!
Echoes
of my mother
Echoes
of my fear
I
am not So-and-So
Wasn’t
and never will be.
Comparisons
always hurt me
Even
as they made me mad
I
wanted to shout, Accept ME!
This
is who I am.
But
now I am my mother
Comparing
me to myself
Before
I was this
And
did such and such.
Today
I’m not so clever
The
brightness within me has dimmed
The
passion that blazed now smolders
And
lethargy presses me down.
So
how can I accept me
When
this is who I am?
Who
chooses shadow, distorted and thin,
Over
substance?
Must
I hate that former me
The
self alive with joy and laughter
Rich
in abilities and capabilities
That
this me can not touch?
Comparisons
belittle
So
I belittle myself
But
how can I leave off grieving
When
I am what I’ve lost?
Treat
me gently, Mother
Your
child is hurting enough
I
need your tears for healing
Your
welcome to help me make peace.
And
you, Self, treat me gently,
For
I am all you’ve got
So
maddeningly imperfect,
Yet
yearning to be loved.
Don’t
compare, don’t turn away,
And
please do not condemn.
This
is who I am, now.
Accept
me.
|
|
The
universe inside my head
Is
rich with stars
But
also, here and there
-
swallowing
light
-
black
holes.
|
|
Before my daughter
started school, we watched a lot of Winnie the Pooh tapes together.
I remember one episode in particular in which Tigger somehow loses his
characteristic stripes. None of his
friends recognize this new stripeless Tigger.
But if he isn’t Tigger, then who is he?
No one -
Tigger included -
seems
to know.
Despair grows until
Tigger encounters Pooh, who recognizes him at once.
When Tigger demands to know how Pooh can be sure, the bear replies
matter-of-factly, “You’re still Tigger on the inside!”
Enormously relieved, Tigger gives a victory dance.
Now even his stripes start to reappear.
Lucky Tigger.
I empathize with him, because I too wrestle with self-doubt.
In my case, the identity crisis was triggered by a head injury, which in
subtle and not so subtle ways altered how I think, remember, even feel.
Unfortunately, my changes are
on the inside. And, unlike
Tigger’s stripes, my old abilities won’t magically reappear one morning.
So this is
me now, and I must -
however
reluctantly -
reach
an accommodation with this new-old self.
I wish the changes
gone. But they are there, and I
must absorb them. Accept them as
me. How else can I learn strategies
for coping with deficiencies? How
else learn to play to my strengths and not to my weaknesses?
How else plan? How else find any peace?
So I go to rehab and
I probe. I sift, sort, count, add,
build, react, scan, type, memorize, and problem-solve.
I take notes and set timers. I
fail. I withdraw in grief, anger,
frustration, self-pity. Then,
because I must, I try again. Building
skill and rebuilding a sense of self.
Because I will make
peace with this new-old me.
|
|
|
|
Products
that help you B... |
|
B organized
with
memory joggers, medication reminders, timers &
watches
B
able
with assistive technology, disability & daily
living aids
B
fit with exercise balls, Therabands,
Airex mats, hand exercisers
B
well with organic products
& natural therapies
B
inspired with books, CDs, software, games, puzzles, toys
|
|
|
|
|