Category Archives: brain injury

NaBloPoMo, where’d ya go?

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It’s November 1st, the start of NaBloPoMo.

Or so I thought. Or so it has been in years past. But, I can’t find any links to a sign up this year.

I didn’t participate in NaBloPoMo last year. Maybe it had already ceased to be a thing. I didn’t even look to see if there was an organized NaBloPoMo event going on. I figured working to unscramble my brain after my car accident and co-authoring a book was enough writing work to grant me a pass on NaBloPoMo. Still, I had left this page dormant and let the cobwebs accumulate long before last November, even though November was the month I made a “conscious choice” not to blog.

Then, December came and passed, as did January, February, and March. I ignored the niggling voice in the back of my head and pushed down any call write. It wasn’t until last April that I posted again on this page. 2 quick hits about a fall and a newly reinjured brain, and that was it. Then came a few posts over at www.InsidersGuidetotheInjuredBrain.com.

Then, I went quiet. Again.

And, for the most part, I’ve stayed quiet. Painfully so.

As a writer, it’s hard not to admonish myself when I don’t write. I mean, can I even call myself a writer if I’m not writing? Read any book on writing and you’ll find a common mandate that you must make writing your practice if you want to hone your craft.

But, writing is so much more than pounding on a keyboard or scratching a pen across the pages of a journal. Writing is laying oneself bare, digging into the quiet spaces, pulling off scabs and opening old wounds. For me, writing implores me to quiet the noise and listen; listen to what is calling for my attention, what is begging to be explored, and ruminated upon, and, sometimes, even shared here. Quiet, though, doesn’t come easily. Perhaps as much as writing, writers must make quiet their practice. Therein lies my struggle.

Still, I’m a fighter and though I’ve struggled with the changes that came with my brain injury, in particular, quieting the noise and silencing the distractions, I am a writer.

And, writers write.

So, whether or not there is an organized online challenge for NaBloPoMo, I’ve decided to challenge myself to write, and write, and write some more this month. Hopefully, along the way, the quiet and the words will come easier and invite me to the keyboard or my journal more often. Because through writing, I discover myself.

P.S. If you know of a page link to NaBloPoMo, please share with me in the comments below. Though I will do my best to drive and maintain my motivation and post every day during the month of November, it is always fun to share the journey with others. Would you like to join me?

 

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A Peek Inside the Newly Re-injured Brain, Part 2

  

On Monday, I wrote Part One about my newly re-injured brain. If I was keeping count, and included the concussion I got when I was in high school, this is my 6th concussion. Each concussion is different. Each unfolds differently. Read on to see how the events of last week have begun to unfold.

Here is where I left off in my last post… “I thought if I could focus on something else, I could lose the dizziness and, most importantly, I’d realize “it wasn’t that bad.””

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But it was, and by Saturday morning I really knew it. I had managed to make it through my call with Ruth on Thursday, and I thought I was better than I probably was. Ruth knows me well and the fact that I couldn’t understand many of her words was probably an easy tip-off to her that my fall was big. Still, we worked through.

Friday was a blur. I taught my usual 4 classes as it was too late to get a sub. I lost my place, I stuttered, I struggled to keep up in the class conversations, but I managed to work though.  As the day wore on, the fatigue felt heavy, but I made it to the end with the self-promise of sleep when I got home.

By Saturday morning, I couldn’t deny the impact (every pun intended) of my fall. I looked at the dishwasher and tried to figure out the complexities of simply loading the dishes and felt overwhelmed. I felt the tears welling in my eyes. No one else was yet awake and it would have been easy for me to let loose but I feared if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Both dogs were already awake and in full play mode the way puppies do and the noise and activity was all too much, too fast, too loud.  I wanted to scream in anger, but I didn’t know why or at whom? At myself for being foolish and climbing the damn stool? At my brain for failing me? At the dogs? Or at all the sensory input that wouldn’t slow down…that wouldn’t turn off…that wouldn’t let me forget that I couldn’t process it all?

I pushed it down…all the emotions that felt too big. I forced the dishes into the dishwasher, helter-skelter and I sat down with my coffee. The dizziness and the headache were still there. “Rest, “I told myself, “You know the best cure to this is rest.” But rest felt like resignation and acceptance. I struggled against myself and the to-do list that rattled off in my head in no order of priority but as random thoughts that shot through the dark.

Emails…there were damn emails I needed to respond to. That I should have responded to the day before, but I knew I couldn’t, given my fatigue. I booted up my computer and poured another cup of coffee with the hope I could caffeine my way out of my newly re-injured brain. I scanned my inbox for any new emails that needed to be added to my list as well as any that may scold me for my tardiness. Do I confess I have a brain injury, that I fell doing something stupid, that I’m sorry, that the letters jump and words don’t make sense…once again?

Within 10 minutes, I didn’t care. The screen was making me sick. I shot off the most important emails and closed my screen. I had only been up for a few hours and the wave of fatigue was pulling me under like cloud of fog moving across the plains. My husband, who was now up and closely following me, saw the familiar blank look on my face. He told me so, and he took me by the arm. I didn’t want my bed, that would make me feel sick and disconnected. It would also leave me in a room alone with the dizziness and self-pity and above all, anger.  Emotions washed over me unpredictably. I felt like I was a fast swinging pendulum and I didn’t want to be alone with that swing.

He helped me to the couch, propped my pillow, and I quickly fell asleep.  I slept for the bulk of the next two days. Inside my head, the battle waged. Feelings of guilt over the tasks left undone, of being a burden to my family once again, of wasting a weekend and falling behind on the tasks that haven’t even made it to my to-do list mixed with feelings of fear.

What if this one, this brain injury, doesn’t course correct? What if I can’t recapture what happened in the moments before my fall? What if the dizziness doesn’t stop or I can’t read longer than a few minutes without getting sick or I can’t remember how to?

The fears that were all there before, but are there again –even louder –because I know that concussions can have a cumulative effect…fears that could easily suck me into the darkness and hold me there…. fears that will win, if only I allow them to take hold…fears that fill me with frustrations…fears that I must fight against, but the fight makes me oh, so tired.

Thank you for reading. And, for more about brain injury and recovery, visit me at www.insidersguidetotheinjuredbrain.com