Abilities Experiential
I wrote the following paper, after my MTBI, for a class in massage school. In Psycho Social Aspects of Touch we had an evening filled with activities to mimic having a disability. One of which was having a brain injury. I didn't have to do that one, but my teacher asked me to in an effort to make sure it as realistic as possible. I can't even tell you what the activity was, but it mimicked it fine giving my fellow classmates a glimpse into my new reality. To observe the changes in me was one thing, but the experiential gave them all more compassion and true understanding of what I faced and continue to face each day.
Reading back through this gave me the opportunity to see that some of the re-wiring is complete and in other areas not much has changed in 3 years. Yet, I continue to move forward. Here is what I learned that I hope you can benefit from:
This was written 07/30/2008 - 9 months after my MTBI/MVA
Since childhood I've been almost obsessed with disabilities trying to figure out how I would cope with the loss of my eyesight or being in a wheelchair. I would walk around the house blindfolded so I knew where everything was and see if I could brush my teeth, shower, etc. Naturally doing my hair was a challenge, but the thought of having to leave the house without vision was frightening.
As a teenager my family went to Lake Tahoe for a winter ski trip. The very first trip up the chair lift I heard a strange beep with directions being yelled below. I looked down to discover a group of blind elementary school children skiing down the rocky slope, one I would never attempt as a sighted person. At that moment I realized that what most term a "dis-ability", is really our own mistaken perceptions due to being on the outside looking in and judging someone as "disabled". That day I witnessed blind children skiing a black diamond run through the use of technology. I truly felt blessed to encounter this amazing example that we are only disabled by our thoughts and misconceptions. Given the right mindset a TAB (Temporarily Able-Bodied) individual can be more disabled than a person that has lost their eyesight.
Fast-forward about 20 years to October 28, 2007. I was in a head on hit and run collision and left by the side of the read in my car where I awoke to a new life. I had no idea what happened or shere I was aside from being in my car. I was missing 3 hours, which has not returned, from the point I left a friends house to the point I made it home. From that point onward, my life changed drastically.
So many people have referred to my accident as a tragedy, but I've never felt that way personally. Although, they are on the outside looking in and I'm now on the other side of that looking glass.
From teh outside looking in everyone in my life witnessed me go from a full-time Senior Webmaster managing her own department that did public speaking in front of college presidents or a classmate that went to school four nights a week, a single parent delicately balancing work, school, and family to a new person that struggled to talk and walk on her own.
From my point of view, yes, it was and still is a terrifying experience. I lost some of the core abilities that I thought made me who I AM. The ability to speak suddenly vanished four days after the accident. i knew what I wanted to say, but I no longer had the ability to get the words from my brain to my mouth to vocalize. My sense of balance was gone and I needed assistance to walk to the bathroom or crawl on my own. "Wow," I'd think to myself, "This has to be a nightmare! This can't really be happening. I hope I wake up soon." It wasn't a dream.
My neurologist told me during a visit that I need to stop comparing myself to the person I was prior to the accident. I should look at the accident as a re-birth. The old Kristy is dead and you were born that day. Initially that statement infuriated me. "I am the same person!" I wanted to scream. How dare he tell me not to compare me to myself pre-accident. Hearing, "you will NEVER be the same person" just about killed me inside.
I lost my job, healthcare, the ability to walk and talk and think clearly. I could no longer organize ANYTHING. My thoughts were jumbled, I got dizzy and nauseous riding in a car, going out to dinner was a nightmare because my brain could not filter out all the noise in the room. I heard EVERYTHING. Every conversation, the tinkling of glasses, cries from babies, and even footsteps. Yet I could not focus on my own family's conversation, which caused me to sob uncontrollably until my son walked me out to the car. I later learned the emotional break is called "emotional libility" and many doctors mistake it for simple depression.
No more restaurants, no driving, no walking on my own. I finally realized what the doctor was trying to tell me. I was not a different person, but I now had to learn how to use a re-wired brain. And no, I will never have all of the skills I had prior to the accident. I've had to learn to adapt, ask for help, and take nothing for granite.
Grocery shopping is still difficult. Between the lights and so many choices in products my senses get overwhelmed. Now one of my kids always accompanies me to the store. I don't have to "play" at being disabled anymore. I live it every day.
The lessons I've learned in compassion and empathy have grown exponentially. I no longer take anything in life for granite and have an inner understanding of what it is like to be a stroke patient. I try not to fill in words for people when they speak. Now I know it is much more frustrating to have someone try to interpret what you want to say vs. being patient and allowing them to get the words out themselves. I thought it was helpful, now I know it is hurtful. I never could've learned that without the accident.
I still struggle with word finding, short-term memory, and school is a challenge that I'm conquering betther that I had hoped. This newly re-wired brain of mine teaches me that in order to function in my daily life I must cultivate new skills and adapt them to attain the quality of life I desire.
Each day I meet a new challenge to overcome. Allowing someone to help me and asking for help are on my top 20 list of "The Most Difficult Adjustments" to my new life. My biggest fear was to ask for help when I really needed it and the need not being met. I've faced that situation and learned that we are always given what we NEED, WHEN we need it and NOT sooner.
On my side of the looking glass nothing seems as frightening any longer, but also discovered having a sense of humore is invaluable. To laugh at one's self is a true gift, even when your son nicknames you "Brain Damage" to which your mom gets mad. I do have brain damage, but I am not a damaged person. I am me, on a new Life Path armed with my wicked sense of humore, a love for change and a fabulous network of friends and family to help me on my trek.
Reading back through this gave me the opportunity to see that some of the re-wiring is complete and in other areas not much has changed in 3 years. Yet, I continue to move forward. Here is what I learned that I hope you can benefit from:
This was written 07/30/2008 - 9 months after my MTBI/MVA
Since childhood I've been almost obsessed with disabilities trying to figure out how I would cope with the loss of my eyesight or being in a wheelchair. I would walk around the house blindfolded so I knew where everything was and see if I could brush my teeth, shower, etc. Naturally doing my hair was a challenge, but the thought of having to leave the house without vision was frightening.
As a teenager my family went to Lake Tahoe for a winter ski trip. The very first trip up the chair lift I heard a strange beep with directions being yelled below. I looked down to discover a group of blind elementary school children skiing down the rocky slope, one I would never attempt as a sighted person. At that moment I realized that what most term a "dis-ability", is really our own mistaken perceptions due to being on the outside looking in and judging someone as "disabled". That day I witnessed blind children skiing a black diamond run through the use of technology. I truly felt blessed to encounter this amazing example that we are only disabled by our thoughts and misconceptions. Given the right mindset a TAB (Temporarily Able-Bodied) individual can be more disabled than a person that has lost their eyesight.
Fast-forward about 20 years to October 28, 2007. I was in a head on hit and run collision and left by the side of the read in my car where I awoke to a new life. I had no idea what happened or shere I was aside from being in my car. I was missing 3 hours, which has not returned, from the point I left a friends house to the point I made it home. From that point onward, my life changed drastically.
So many people have referred to my accident as a tragedy, but I've never felt that way personally. Although, they are on the outside looking in and I'm now on the other side of that looking glass.
From teh outside looking in everyone in my life witnessed me go from a full-time Senior Webmaster managing her own department that did public speaking in front of college presidents or a classmate that went to school four nights a week, a single parent delicately balancing work, school, and family to a new person that struggled to talk and walk on her own.
From my point of view, yes, it was and still is a terrifying experience. I lost some of the core abilities that I thought made me who I AM. The ability to speak suddenly vanished four days after the accident. i knew what I wanted to say, but I no longer had the ability to get the words from my brain to my mouth to vocalize. My sense of balance was gone and I needed assistance to walk to the bathroom or crawl on my own. "Wow," I'd think to myself, "This has to be a nightmare! This can't really be happening. I hope I wake up soon." It wasn't a dream.
My neurologist told me during a visit that I need to stop comparing myself to the person I was prior to the accident. I should look at the accident as a re-birth. The old Kristy is dead and you were born that day. Initially that statement infuriated me. "I am the same person!" I wanted to scream. How dare he tell me not to compare me to myself pre-accident. Hearing, "you will NEVER be the same person" just about killed me inside.
I lost my job, healthcare, the ability to walk and talk and think clearly. I could no longer organize ANYTHING. My thoughts were jumbled, I got dizzy and nauseous riding in a car, going out to dinner was a nightmare because my brain could not filter out all the noise in the room. I heard EVERYTHING. Every conversation, the tinkling of glasses, cries from babies, and even footsteps. Yet I could not focus on my own family's conversation, which caused me to sob uncontrollably until my son walked me out to the car. I later learned the emotional break is called "emotional libility" and many doctors mistake it for simple depression.
No more restaurants, no driving, no walking on my own. I finally realized what the doctor was trying to tell me. I was not a different person, but I now had to learn how to use a re-wired brain. And no, I will never have all of the skills I had prior to the accident. I've had to learn to adapt, ask for help, and take nothing for granite.
Grocery shopping is still difficult. Between the lights and so many choices in products my senses get overwhelmed. Now one of my kids always accompanies me to the store. I don't have to "play" at being disabled anymore. I live it every day.
The lessons I've learned in compassion and empathy have grown exponentially. I no longer take anything in life for granite and have an inner understanding of what it is like to be a stroke patient. I try not to fill in words for people when they speak. Now I know it is much more frustrating to have someone try to interpret what you want to say vs. being patient and allowing them to get the words out themselves. I thought it was helpful, now I know it is hurtful. I never could've learned that without the accident.
I still struggle with word finding, short-term memory, and school is a challenge that I'm conquering betther that I had hoped. This newly re-wired brain of mine teaches me that in order to function in my daily life I must cultivate new skills and adapt them to attain the quality of life I desire.
Each day I meet a new challenge to overcome. Allowing someone to help me and asking for help are on my top 20 list of "The Most Difficult Adjustments" to my new life. My biggest fear was to ask for help when I really needed it and the need not being met. I've faced that situation and learned that we are always given what we NEED, WHEN we need it and NOT sooner.
On my side of the looking glass nothing seems as frightening any longer, but also discovered having a sense of humore is invaluable. To laugh at one's self is a true gift, even when your son nicknames you "Brain Damage" to which your mom gets mad. I do have brain damage, but I am not a damaged person. I am me, on a new Life Path armed with my wicked sense of humore, a love for change and a fabulous network of friends and family to help me on my trek.
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