The Traumatic Brain Injury
I haven’t changed – you have.
I can do that – I don’t need your help.
I want to do more today – my brain doesn’t need rest.
I can finish that myself – stop asking me about it.
I don’t need your permission – stop telling me what to do.
I am worried – what if I can’t get back?
I am scared – who will I be?
I am mad – I hate this accident.
Walk in the shoes of a brain injury for one minute. The complexity of this injury is, at times, too hard to look at. Trying to remember passwords or log ins gets frustrating. Fixing the car locks and jumping the Durango – no problem. It’s the little things that build frustration. The big things are easy, so why are the little things so hard?
This is a big puzzle, with thousands of pieces. Most of them are on the table, in front of us, but some are under the table, or have fallen under the chair, and we have to keep looking for them. We continue to put the puzzle together, but sometimes we don’t even know that the pieces are missing until we spend a lot of time fighting about who is holding them in their hand. It is easy to laugh about the missing pieces after they are found, but in the moment, the fight is real, and sad, and hard.
The steps forward are real. The progress is real. The hope is real.
It’s the process that feels unreal.