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.
Monday, March 28, 2016
Bambooing It
As may have been clear in my most recent entry, I am not entirely happy with my current employment situation - the school I work at demands long hours and has an educational philosophy that I strongly disagree with. Furthermore, due to financial difficulties imposed by my last employer becoming a criminal and fleeing Korea (where I currently live), my girlfriend has had to return to her native country (Russia) until we are financially more secure. This is not the best of times.
That said, this is also not the worst of times - it’s merely a time that happens to have some difficulties. My world has not ended, nor are there insurmountable challenges. The next eleven months will likely be difficult in many ways, but they need no be damning. In truth, my life is not that bad - I have a job I don’t like and I’m lonely without my lover, but I’m alive and there’s a path to take to that will likely lead to a better future.
My girlfriend has dubbed a new verb to describe what we’re going through - we must “bamboo” through life right now. This means we push ourselves to continue growing in what is not currently the best of spaces (as bamboo is able to do) - and we must remain strong as we grow, toughening our skin (like bamboo) so that we do not even consider breaking under the stress of the current situation. For this reason, bamboo can be a symbol of our current growth in life - finding nourishment for continued growth despite difficult circumstances and using these situations to strengthen so that we will never break. We are bambooing it.
I share this idea because I believe it is an important state of mind to hold onto while in recovery. The healing process after brain injury, or other traumatic experiences, is never easy. Physically, one’s body is reconnecting functions that may have never been previously acknowledged, while mentally, there is a complete rewiring of synapses simultaneously occurring with a rediscovery and recreation of self-identity. This is not “a walk in the park”, but neither is it “a walk to the grave site”. The challenge of recovery is not to merely get past the challenges presented, but to accept and learn from them. To find a way to make oneself stronger and more resilient while remaining beautiful - to bamboo your way through the situation.
I know this is not a simple task, and I don’t mean to oversimplify the process - recovery is a roller coaster of trials that will provide far more falls and frustrations than epiphanies of self-reflexive contemplation - yet growth is possible. The challenge of a survivor is to accept what has happened and to see how that by dealing with the circumstances, the individual can improves his or her own character.
Yet keep in mind that the recognition of personal growth probably won’t occur as it’s happening. From my own experience, it has only been the 15 years since my rehabilitation that allows me to look back on my recovery and can see the lessons it taught me. Furthermore, I most certainly do not encourage anyone to receive lessons in any similar manner, but what I want to highlight from my experience is that I allowed myself to grow (though sometimes I had to be prodded by outside inspirations to do the growth). The roots dug deep and, despite despicable circumstances, they allowed my being to grow - perhaps, even, to grow stronger. I was bambooing it.
With this in mind, I will shout out to all survivors - life is not easy, it is not fair nor is it just - life simply is. We have to make the choice of enjoying it or sulking in miseries. To help with this decision, try bambooing it - we grow a tough skin while still reaping the nourishment from any situation that offers itself - we grow tall, strong and become hella hard to break.
This isn’t a fix-all solution - this idea doesn’t make the recovery process any easier - yet keeping this idea in mind can provide a supportive mindset as recovery continues.
Those are my thoughts, supplemented by my girlfriend’s terminology, but I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject. I would also love to hear any stories of you “bambooing” it through a job, a recovery, or whatever your journey has brought you. Please leave comments below.
That said, this is also not the worst of times - it’s merely a time that happens to have some difficulties. My world has not ended, nor are there insurmountable challenges. The next eleven months will likely be difficult in many ways, but they need no be damning. In truth, my life is not that bad - I have a job I don’t like and I’m lonely without my lover, but I’m alive and there’s a path to take to that will likely lead to a better future.
My girlfriend has dubbed a new verb to describe what we’re going through - we must “bamboo” through life right now. This means we push ourselves to continue growing in what is not currently the best of spaces (as bamboo is able to do) - and we must remain strong as we grow, toughening our skin (like bamboo) so that we do not even consider breaking under the stress of the current situation. For this reason, bamboo can be a symbol of our current growth in life - finding nourishment for continued growth despite difficult circumstances and using these situations to strengthen so that we will never break. We are bambooing it.
I share this idea because I believe it is an important state of mind to hold onto while in recovery. The healing process after brain injury, or other traumatic experiences, is never easy. Physically, one’s body is reconnecting functions that may have never been previously acknowledged, while mentally, there is a complete rewiring of synapses simultaneously occurring with a rediscovery and recreation of self-identity. This is not “a walk in the park”, but neither is it “a walk to the grave site”. The challenge of recovery is not to merely get past the challenges presented, but to accept and learn from them. To find a way to make oneself stronger and more resilient while remaining beautiful - to bamboo your way through the situation.
I know this is not a simple task, and I don’t mean to oversimplify the process - recovery is a roller coaster of trials that will provide far more falls and frustrations than epiphanies of self-reflexive contemplation - yet growth is possible. The challenge of a survivor is to accept what has happened and to see how that by dealing with the circumstances, the individual can improves his or her own character.
Yet keep in mind that the recognition of personal growth probably won’t occur as it’s happening. From my own experience, it has only been the 15 years since my rehabilitation that allows me to look back on my recovery and can see the lessons it taught me. Furthermore, I most certainly do not encourage anyone to receive lessons in any similar manner, but what I want to highlight from my experience is that I allowed myself to grow (though sometimes I had to be prodded by outside inspirations to do the growth). The roots dug deep and, despite despicable circumstances, they allowed my being to grow - perhaps, even, to grow stronger. I was bambooing it.
With this in mind, I will shout out to all survivors - life is not easy, it is not fair nor is it just - life simply is. We have to make the choice of enjoying it or sulking in miseries. To help with this decision, try bambooing it - we grow a tough skin while still reaping the nourishment from any situation that offers itself - we grow tall, strong and become hella hard to break.
This isn’t a fix-all solution - this idea doesn’t make the recovery process any easier - yet keeping this idea in mind can provide a supportive mindset as recovery continues.
Those are my thoughts, supplemented by my girlfriend’s terminology, but I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject. I would also love to hear any stories of you “bambooing” it through a job, a recovery, or whatever your journey has brought you. Please leave comments below.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Frontal Lobe Injury
In the piece “Who Am I, Again?”, the character Sarah (not her real name) has a moment when she shares - “Ever since my accident, I get real excited real quick…and then I also cry a lot. I don’t understand it - that’s just, how I feel.”
In brain injury, one of the parts that is often injured is the frontal lobe region, and this is the part of the brain that’s associated with aspects of emotional self-control. This damage can often lead to a tendency to overreact - to illustrate, when something is good it’s OMG, WFT, THAT IS AMAZING! but when it’s bad - the world has left and the only eventuality is death so why not shorten the wait. Please note, these examples are characterizations and not meant to speak for every case, but they do seek to highlight the absurdity these emotional extremes can reach.
As a survivor, I know the biggest difficulty that emerged from these emotional extremities was, and still is, my rage. It can suddenly swell from some slight, relatively mild, bruise of my desires or ego that wells into a torrent of rage and unanticipated anger - dominating my mind and body, though typically my soul is consciously criticizing each lash given by my other facilities, thereby causing the rage to increase - a sickening cycle. I’ve mentioned this struggle in previous posts, but feel it is something that needs to be acknowledged consistently because I recognize that - while my self-control has, and is continuing to, improve - I have not fully tamed that beast within my being.
This reflection brings me to one of my reasons for writing this blog, and my hope to use it as the base of a platform from which to encourage a movement in storytelling for medical and emotional recovery in brain injury and other conditions.
Brain injury is a hidden condition - if someone has lost an arm, that loss is typically acknowledged and most people will seek to accommodate that person’s needs. This is a good, altruistic instinct that is still deep within humanity and I am glad for it. In brain injury, however, the condition of a person is not always apparent - the body appears healed and so the assumption may be that the individual is healed, yet, as I hope my story reveals (and as any person who has close experience with brain injury knows), the healing is never truly complete. Many people have no idea that they know a survivor of brain injury, and my hope is that with storytelling, many can be made aware of these experiences and this healing process can be more easily recognized and better accepted.
I do not suggest that uncontrolled emotions should be made socially acceptable - the emotional control of a person allows society to function and must be fostered so that there is an acceptable behavior norm - but by encouraging the sharing of experiences, my hope is that those who do suffer from a lack of self-control are encouraged in healing and directed toward help. I was fortunate in my recovery that both my parents are open minded, dedicated researchers who were able to provide appropriate professional support in my healing and self-control regaining processes - I have no doubt this is one of the primary reasons for the success of my rehabilitation - yet I suggest that with more awareness of the struggles and successes of other survivors, many would be able to drastically improve their own healing and be guided toward the needed services.
These are my thoughts on the subject. I’m still researching and seeking more evidence to support (or refute) my claims. I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject, so please leave a note in the comments below. I hope to chat soon.
In brain injury, one of the parts that is often injured is the frontal lobe region, and this is the part of the brain that’s associated with aspects of emotional self-control. This damage can often lead to a tendency to overreact - to illustrate, when something is good it’s OMG, WFT, THAT IS AMAZING! but when it’s bad - the world has left and the only eventuality is death so why not shorten the wait. Please note, these examples are characterizations and not meant to speak for every case, but they do seek to highlight the absurdity these emotional extremes can reach.
As a survivor, I know the biggest difficulty that emerged from these emotional extremities was, and still is, my rage. It can suddenly swell from some slight, relatively mild, bruise of my desires or ego that wells into a torrent of rage and unanticipated anger - dominating my mind and body, though typically my soul is consciously criticizing each lash given by my other facilities, thereby causing the rage to increase - a sickening cycle. I’ve mentioned this struggle in previous posts, but feel it is something that needs to be acknowledged consistently because I recognize that - while my self-control has, and is continuing to, improve - I have not fully tamed that beast within my being.
This reflection brings me to one of my reasons for writing this blog, and my hope to use it as the base of a platform from which to encourage a movement in storytelling for medical and emotional recovery in brain injury and other conditions.
Brain injury is a hidden condition - if someone has lost an arm, that loss is typically acknowledged and most people will seek to accommodate that person’s needs. This is a good, altruistic instinct that is still deep within humanity and I am glad for it. In brain injury, however, the condition of a person is not always apparent - the body appears healed and so the assumption may be that the individual is healed, yet, as I hope my story reveals (and as any person who has close experience with brain injury knows), the healing is never truly complete. Many people have no idea that they know a survivor of brain injury, and my hope is that with storytelling, many can be made aware of these experiences and this healing process can be more easily recognized and better accepted.
I do not suggest that uncontrolled emotions should be made socially acceptable - the emotional control of a person allows society to function and must be fostered so that there is an acceptable behavior norm - but by encouraging the sharing of experiences, my hope is that those who do suffer from a lack of self-control are encouraged in healing and directed toward help. I was fortunate in my recovery that both my parents are open minded, dedicated researchers who were able to provide appropriate professional support in my healing and self-control regaining processes - I have no doubt this is one of the primary reasons for the success of my rehabilitation - yet I suggest that with more awareness of the struggles and successes of other survivors, many would be able to drastically improve their own healing and be guided toward the needed services.
These are my thoughts on the subject. I’m still researching and seeking more evidence to support (or refute) my claims. I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject, so please leave a note in the comments below. I hope to chat soon.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Focused on the Future
You may have noticed that I haven’t been posting as often lately. The primary reason for that is my new job as an English instructor at the Poly School Academy in Pohang, South Korea. With this position, I leave my house at 8:50 every morning, Monday to Friday, and get home a little after 8pm each night. This has limited the time I can give to writing and research. My goal is to compose two postings each week (on the weekend), but this output may increase or decrease as the weeks roll by.
That said, I DO NOT LIKE MY NEW JOB!
I recognize that I am fortunate to be employed and that I am currently living a relatively comfortable lifestyle, but simultaneously, there are many things about this position that I find appalling, but I don’t want to focus on that - I want to focus on why I took this position.
This position is a crutch - a way to move me toward my future goals. It’s hard, long work hours and I don’t agree with the education system at the school, but it’s only temporary. It’s an event that is a part of my life, but it’s not not the whole of my life. It’s just a time that I’m using to get me to where I want to be.
Back to brain injury - it was terrible, frustrating, difficult, and at times seemed defeating - but it was also just a time. The goal (and eventually the result) was that I would once again become fully active in the world and share my ideas in an attempt to better this existence for everyone. Recovery can be merely a time to move you on to the the time that you want.
Life rumbles along, bouncing over bumps along the trail, but what needs to occur within a recovering person is the acceptance of this divot ridden path as a part of her or her history. I do not like my current job and I did not like my brain injury, but both are a part of the experiences that have made, and are making, me. At the same time, both these experiences are only part of what is me. Focus on goals - the reason you want to recover - and see each step as moving you there.
This job is only a temporary snag in life - I’ll work through it and move to the next adventure. Brain injury is a much bigger snag, but you’re alive and by moving forward, brain injury can also be a thing that you’re working through to move further along in the journey.
That said, I DO NOT LIKE MY NEW JOB!
I recognize that I am fortunate to be employed and that I am currently living a relatively comfortable lifestyle, but simultaneously, there are many things about this position that I find appalling, but I don’t want to focus on that - I want to focus on why I took this position.
This position is a crutch - a way to move me toward my future goals. It’s hard, long work hours and I don’t agree with the education system at the school, but it’s only temporary. It’s an event that is a part of my life, but it’s not not the whole of my life. It’s just a time that I’m using to get me to where I want to be.
Back to brain injury - it was terrible, frustrating, difficult, and at times seemed defeating - but it was also just a time. The goal (and eventually the result) was that I would once again become fully active in the world and share my ideas in an attempt to better this existence for everyone. Recovery can be merely a time to move you on to the the time that you want.
Life rumbles along, bouncing over bumps along the trail, but what needs to occur within a recovering person is the acceptance of this divot ridden path as a part of her or her history. I do not like my current job and I did not like my brain injury, but both are a part of the experiences that have made, and are making, me. At the same time, both these experiences are only part of what is me. Focus on goals - the reason you want to recover - and see each step as moving you there.
This job is only a temporary snag in life - I’ll work through it and move to the next adventure. Brain injury is a much bigger snag, but you’re alive and by moving forward, brain injury can also be a thing that you’re working through to move further along in the journey.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Anger Inside
Recovery never ends and often, a tick or habit that begins after brain injury will continue to plague you, quite possibly, for the rest of your life.
I say that because one tick that has been hurting me for years, and is common among people who have suffered frontal lobe brain damage, is anger. The anger can arise suddenly, striking like a viper and making one real back in a painful rage that lashes out, hurting others.
Sometimes, I blame my anger on my injury, but that is no excuse.
The damage is caused by me, not my injury. The anger takes control of me in the present, not me at the time of my injury. Any rage is my responsibility.
It’s easy to use the excuse, and I’ve done this at times, “Well, that’s my brain injury, I’m sorry but I can’t do anything about it.” That’s bullshit.
I call bullshit on myself, and anyone else who says that. As survivors of brain injury we have been gifted a second chance at life and it is our responsibility to understand and tame any damning reminder of brain injury, regardless of the situation in life. Any damaging, personal ticks come from any injury are still one’s personal responsibility. Don’t ever believe otherwise.
That’s not to say we shouldn’t have help. Friends, family members, trained professionals can all help a person with anger, and I encourage reaching out to all of these resources in a way that feels comfortable, but the responsibility for healing and managing personal dark spots is still on oneself. Every person is a product of the things that happen to him or her, and to shun responsibility because of “this” or “that” excuse is not accepted, nor should it be. As a survivor, we do not want to be defined by our injury, therefore, we should not try to use our injury as an excuse for our actions.
I recognize this isn’t always easy. Brain damage does make it harder to control impulses and extreme reactions, but one’s goal, if he or she wishes to remain an active member of society, must be to temper and control these reactions to the best of one’s ability.
I don’t write this because of any recent incident - as time moves forward, I have found myself better able to control my anger, but there are still times when rage dominates me. I can now see, my anger is a part of my history and does try to influence my contemporary self. What’s important, however, is to not let this vice define me, but rather use it as an opportunity to grow. There’s a dragon inside of me, but my goal is tame it instead of being burned by the flame.
I say that because one tick that has been hurting me for years, and is common among people who have suffered frontal lobe brain damage, is anger. The anger can arise suddenly, striking like a viper and making one real back in a painful rage that lashes out, hurting others.
Sometimes, I blame my anger on my injury, but that is no excuse.
The damage is caused by me, not my injury. The anger takes control of me in the present, not me at the time of my injury. Any rage is my responsibility.
It’s easy to use the excuse, and I’ve done this at times, “Well, that’s my brain injury, I’m sorry but I can’t do anything about it.” That’s bullshit.
I call bullshit on myself, and anyone else who says that. As survivors of brain injury we have been gifted a second chance at life and it is our responsibility to understand and tame any damning reminder of brain injury, regardless of the situation in life. Any damaging, personal ticks come from any injury are still one’s personal responsibility. Don’t ever believe otherwise.
That’s not to say we shouldn’t have help. Friends, family members, trained professionals can all help a person with anger, and I encourage reaching out to all of these resources in a way that feels comfortable, but the responsibility for healing and managing personal dark spots is still on oneself. Every person is a product of the things that happen to him or her, and to shun responsibility because of “this” or “that” excuse is not accepted, nor should it be. As a survivor, we do not want to be defined by our injury, therefore, we should not try to use our injury as an excuse for our actions.
I recognize this isn’t always easy. Brain damage does make it harder to control impulses and extreme reactions, but one’s goal, if he or she wishes to remain an active member of society, must be to temper and control these reactions to the best of one’s ability.
I don’t write this because of any recent incident - as time moves forward, I have found myself better able to control my anger, but there are still times when rage dominates me. I can now see, my anger is a part of my history and does try to influence my contemporary self. What’s important, however, is to not let this vice define me, but rather use it as an opportunity to grow. There’s a dragon inside of me, but my goal is tame it instead of being burned by the flame.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
Nicknamed "The Gimp"
As mentioned in an earlier posting, I play piano, and as part of that, I was in a high school and early college Rock ’n Roll band that was modeled, in large part, after the band Phish - by this I mean we played songs with moderately simple chord structures and then improvised around those chords. We weren’t bad, but by no means amazing. The band formed just before my accident, and several of my closest friends from high school were in the group, and there was no doubt I would rejoin when I returned from the hospital. It was fun, and it gave me a chance to be socially active.
But it wasn’t always an easy social interaction. As often happens with brain injury, especially during early recovery, my accident changed a lot of my behaviors and this was difficult for my bandmates to understand. Here was this classmate they had spent years with - they had an image in their mind of who I was - but now I was overly affectionate, quick to anger, slow to comprehend a situation, and more common traits associated with recovery from brain injury. All the band members were supportive and did their best to be understanding - probably more so than many people would be - but they were also high school guys. They didn’t understand something, so they sought to label it in a way they could laugh. And so I took on the label “Gimp”.
It became my nickname, my title, and something I even encouraged by pasting it into my own language. If I made a mistake, it was easy enough to pass it off as an error of the Gimp, and as the name was used more often, I found it an easy way to amuse. “Don’t blame me, I’m a Gimp,” would often pull out a laugh. At least at first, but as usage of the term developed, I began to feel the cutting implications in the term.
Gimp is defined by Google as, “A physically handicapped or lame person; A feeble or contemptible person.” I didn’t know this at the time, but this was clearly how the term was making me feel. As use of the term continued and I began to feel it defined me, and the attitude of the band members became darker as well. There was one incident which I didn’t learn about until years later, where I was excluded from a social event because one member stated, “I just don’t want to deal with the Lethan circus.” As time passed, it seemed this attitude grew - it had been a year since my accident, I was in college, I was alive, why the hell couldn’t I act like I used to - or at least more normal? There was a certain, thinly veiled contempt by some band members toward having to do things with me.
Now, I must be perfectly clear when I say I feel no ill will toward any members of the band or my experience in the group. There were still a lot of fun times when the recovery from brain injury didn’t factor into our performances, and in retrospect, when the issue involving my recovery did come into play, I can see how this would be hard for anyone, especially high school boys - being in a band is, in many ways, about rebelling from responsibility, and here they’ve got this guy they need to keep an eye on to make sure he doesn’t do something irreversibly damaging.
Yet, this sense of being on the outskirts of the band - not fully a member - did hurt. I went from being a relatively popular “high school hippie performer” to someone my friends kept at a safe distance. I’m not sure the pain from that transition will ever fully heal. That’s not meant to be a cry for self pity, but a recognition of the reality of the emotions. I expect that there are many survivors who have also had to come to terms with these feelings of social stratification, and that may be scar that can never fully mend, but that’s only my informed guess.
There is also no clear resolution to this memory - no obvious ending. Things move on, and some must remain unresolved. The band went the way of many high school bands - dissolving as college took members to other parts of the country. I’ve remained close with some, lost contact with others, and life continues. As I’ve reflected on these memories for this blog entry, I’m recognizing how important these events were to me and how I may be still struggling with some of them, but have pushed these thoughts to the peripheries of my mind for decades. Returning to these memories by sharing this story is allowing me to look at the events from a new perspective and with a new maturity. Something to think about - thanks for letting me share.
But it wasn’t always an easy social interaction. As often happens with brain injury, especially during early recovery, my accident changed a lot of my behaviors and this was difficult for my bandmates to understand. Here was this classmate they had spent years with - they had an image in their mind of who I was - but now I was overly affectionate, quick to anger, slow to comprehend a situation, and more common traits associated with recovery from brain injury. All the band members were supportive and did their best to be understanding - probably more so than many people would be - but they were also high school guys. They didn’t understand something, so they sought to label it in a way they could laugh. And so I took on the label “Gimp”.
It became my nickname, my title, and something I even encouraged by pasting it into my own language. If I made a mistake, it was easy enough to pass it off as an error of the Gimp, and as the name was used more often, I found it an easy way to amuse. “Don’t blame me, I’m a Gimp,” would often pull out a laugh. At least at first, but as usage of the term developed, I began to feel the cutting implications in the term.
Gimp is defined by Google as, “A physically handicapped or lame person; A feeble or contemptible person.” I didn’t know this at the time, but this was clearly how the term was making me feel. As use of the term continued and I began to feel it defined me, and the attitude of the band members became darker as well. There was one incident which I didn’t learn about until years later, where I was excluded from a social event because one member stated, “I just don’t want to deal with the Lethan circus.” As time passed, it seemed this attitude grew - it had been a year since my accident, I was in college, I was alive, why the hell couldn’t I act like I used to - or at least more normal? There was a certain, thinly veiled contempt by some band members toward having to do things with me.
Now, I must be perfectly clear when I say I feel no ill will toward any members of the band or my experience in the group. There were still a lot of fun times when the recovery from brain injury didn’t factor into our performances, and in retrospect, when the issue involving my recovery did come into play, I can see how this would be hard for anyone, especially high school boys - being in a band is, in many ways, about rebelling from responsibility, and here they’ve got this guy they need to keep an eye on to make sure he doesn’t do something irreversibly damaging.
Yet, this sense of being on the outskirts of the band - not fully a member - did hurt. I went from being a relatively popular “high school hippie performer” to someone my friends kept at a safe distance. I’m not sure the pain from that transition will ever fully heal. That’s not meant to be a cry for self pity, but a recognition of the reality of the emotions. I expect that there are many survivors who have also had to come to terms with these feelings of social stratification, and that may be scar that can never fully mend, but that’s only my informed guess.
There is also no clear resolution to this memory - no obvious ending. Things move on, and some must remain unresolved. The band went the way of many high school bands - dissolving as college took members to other parts of the country. I’ve remained close with some, lost contact with others, and life continues. As I’ve reflected on these memories for this blog entry, I’m recognizing how important these events were to me and how I may be still struggling with some of them, but have pushed these thoughts to the peripheries of my mind for decades. Returning to these memories by sharing this story is allowing me to look at the events from a new perspective and with a new maturity. Something to think about - thanks for letting me share.
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