This entry posses a question, and my hope is that we can gather some thoughts on this question from survivors of traumatic incidents, brain injury and otherwise, in the comments. Or if anyone else has thoughts, please share them as well.
But first, the question’s context - Ever since my accident, I’ve often felt like the one on the outside of a social group or maybe some accessory to a scene, acknowledged due to my role or duty in the situation, but not because of any desire from other people for interaction - not cast out or avoided, but never sought. I’ve felt as the loner, though often not by choice.
For those who know me, these thoughts may seem strange - I have consistently been socially active and have a wide array of friends, but as my mind works, I often feel as though I am inserting myself among these social groups - they put up with me. Its not that I’m not enjoyed or accepted, there’s just no desire from others for me to be around. People don’t call me, instead I call to ask, “Hey, is anything going on tonight?” I should also say that this is not how I feel about all people - I am fortunate to have an amazing girlfriend and I know she wants to spend her time with me - just with most. I recognize, what could be considered, the baselessness of my beliefs and I don’t purport to have a solid logic tied into these emotions, but this is how I feel.
Tied to that, I recognize that many of my life choices haven’t followed the “typical” path, and this may have something to do with the sensations of loneliness. Beginning with my graduate degree of storytelling, this is a solo performance art and is also a fringe from that struggles to gain mainstream recognition. These facts make it hard to connect through conversations about the job - if a conversation brings up my passion I, and this could be a personal tick, tend to become a performer instead of a discussion partner by demonstrating my art. While initially entertaining, I recognize how this might be tiering for extended friendships. Furthermore, when the opportunity of teaching abroad revealed itself to me, I quickly plucked myself out of my home country of America and planted myself in Korea, where I didn’t (and still don’t) speak the language, yet still, in many instances involving people in my circle of friends, I feel as if I am accepted because I ask to be, not because I am sought.
Please don’t misread this as any deep pain or a cry for help - First off, this is not an destroying feeling, just a sense I get in many or maybe event the majority of social situations. Furthermore, I am comfortable with perception of my current social position in life and have also been blessed to be in a relationship with an amazing, inspiring woman who I know wants me as part of her life. I am not depressed about this, at least not anymore - I have come to terms and am happy with my social life, but am now seeking a better understanding. I do not mean to suggest that any of these feelings blanket my existence, yet I also don’t want to deny that they exist.
Which is why I write this entry.
And now the question:
Do other survivors of brain injury and/or other traumatic incidents feels a similar marginalization by society? I want to know if there is any more of this sort of experience - I am interested in understanding it more and I think I can do that best if you share your story as well. Thank you and I look forward to your responses.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Thursday, April 7, 2016
Lonliness and Moments of Understanding
As a pall draped across existence, loneliness quickly saps motivation and inspiration. I hesitate to call it an emotion, because it so often acts in concert with all emotions - though often paired with sadness, one can just as easily be celebrating a joyous occasion with friends and laughter yet feel a lonely swamp beneath one’s smile. What’s more, this condition can easily be constant. Granted, there can be moments that pass as companions arrive, but when one is engulfed by the condition it will not leave - and as it plagues your being, even the desire to be rid of it can become elusive.
I remember loneliness in my recovery. Surrounded by dozens of active supporters - family, friends, therapists, doctors - the sense of loneliness didn’t logically make sense, but I couldn’t deny that it was there. Countless solitary moments of questioning - questions I couldn’t share with anyone for fear they would question my sanity - questions of self identity, self-worth, self motivation, appropriate self denial. As I write this, I notice the word self is dominate in these questions, and as I reflect, that might be a source of where the loneliness came from - questions of Self sent by the self.
Some, at appropriate times, were shared, but the very act of sharing only increased the solitary nature of the search - other’s can’t identify with the linguistically indescribable complexity of these questions and for a questioning person to reach out only to feel the listener, even a professional listener, can’t even see the context of the question you are trying to present is disheartening to say the least.
Now there were moments of understanding, but only in rare, unanticipated, unrepeatable circumstances: a stranger at a concert - a homeless man on the streets of Memphis - a fellow solitary wonderer on a forest trail. Each of these connections were fleeting, and likely would have dissipated had the opportunity for an extended relationship presented itself, but that’s not to say these moments weren’t important and endlessly gratifying - they let me understand that life can and would (and will) continue through an endless collage of tragically beautiful moments of understanding.
We are alone - every one of us - and no one can truly comprehend the Fullness of any one person. Our goal as survivors, or as humans, shouldn’t be to find answers from any one individual or one source - such a goal is either doomed for a necessary failure or the creation of an unhealthily dependent dogma. The goal must be to exist, to be ready for, and embrace the moments of unspeakable understanding that might come in any of the momentary meetings or extended relationships that decorate our lives. And we must let those moments pass - recognized and appreciated - but not held, for if you hold somethings too tight, it’s very likely that it will become strangled.
Deep breath. Not at all where I expected this entry to lead, and I found the journey interesting as I wrote it. I do believe everything I wrote, just expected to focus on the specific feelings of loneliness that often come to recovery. I will come back to that topic of loneliness in the future, but feel I need to leave this entry as it is - I think I hit upon something important, though I don’t feel the thoughts in this entry have been completed yet. That said, I hope they help someone, or does something for anyone - or at least provides a few poetic passages to ruminate on. Whatever your thoughts are, please keep in touch and leave your comments below.
I remember loneliness in my recovery. Surrounded by dozens of active supporters - family, friends, therapists, doctors - the sense of loneliness didn’t logically make sense, but I couldn’t deny that it was there. Countless solitary moments of questioning - questions I couldn’t share with anyone for fear they would question my sanity - questions of self identity, self-worth, self motivation, appropriate self denial. As I write this, I notice the word self is dominate in these questions, and as I reflect, that might be a source of where the loneliness came from - questions of Self sent by the self.
Some, at appropriate times, were shared, but the very act of sharing only increased the solitary nature of the search - other’s can’t identify with the linguistically indescribable complexity of these questions and for a questioning person to reach out only to feel the listener, even a professional listener, can’t even see the context of the question you are trying to present is disheartening to say the least.
Now there were moments of understanding, but only in rare, unanticipated, unrepeatable circumstances: a stranger at a concert - a homeless man on the streets of Memphis - a fellow solitary wonderer on a forest trail. Each of these connections were fleeting, and likely would have dissipated had the opportunity for an extended relationship presented itself, but that’s not to say these moments weren’t important and endlessly gratifying - they let me understand that life can and would (and will) continue through an endless collage of tragically beautiful moments of understanding.
We are alone - every one of us - and no one can truly comprehend the Fullness of any one person. Our goal as survivors, or as humans, shouldn’t be to find answers from any one individual or one source - such a goal is either doomed for a necessary failure or the creation of an unhealthily dependent dogma. The goal must be to exist, to be ready for, and embrace the moments of unspeakable understanding that might come in any of the momentary meetings or extended relationships that decorate our lives. And we must let those moments pass - recognized and appreciated - but not held, for if you hold somethings too tight, it’s very likely that it will become strangled.
Deep breath. Not at all where I expected this entry to lead, and I found the journey interesting as I wrote it. I do believe everything I wrote, just expected to focus on the specific feelings of loneliness that often come to recovery. I will come back to that topic of loneliness in the future, but feel I need to leave this entry as it is - I think I hit upon something important, though I don’t feel the thoughts in this entry have been completed yet. That said, I hope they help someone, or does something for anyone - or at least provides a few poetic passages to ruminate on. Whatever your thoughts are, please keep in touch and leave your comments below.
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