Lost in Translation

My girlfriend of more than two years, Anna, is Russian, and though she speaks English with nearly native precision, it is still her second language. 

This morning over breakfast, she made an astute observation.  To paraphrase our conversation, beginning with her, “When we began dating, speaking English was outside of my emotions - I could say the words and say what I was feeling, but I couldn’t feel the words as I was saying them.  I’m past that now, but it took a long time for me to really feel the words I was saying to you as we spoke.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Well, say I love you in Russian.” (I’m currently at the early stages of learning the language).

“Я тебе люблю.”

“Do you see what I mean, it’s all in your head.  You can’t feel the meaning behind the words.”

The example struck a chord in me - though she has a strong  understanding of the grammatical rules and the vocabulary, when we began dating, communicating her thoughts was still an intellectual exercise - a language game.

When I spoke “Я тебе люблю,” I was translating my English thoughts to Russian, not actually using Russian to express myself.

The line destruction between translation to a language and expression in a language may seems insignificant at first, yet Anna pointed out that it is crossing this line that holds the totality of honest communication.  When words are merely translated without being felt, a hollowness exists in the utterances, a non-verbalized aspect of the communication that is missing.

This is related to why I began this blog.  In brain injury, and I believe this is true with all traumatic incidents, it is easy to become lost in the academics of the experience - the intimate details and personal particularities are translated to numbers and likely symptoms or outcomes.  The interpersonal honesty is lost as loved ones and professionals attempt to understand the incident in a larger context.  The experience is translated to a language that can be better understood by caregivers and physicians, but the fullness of the experience may be lost.

Do not read this as a criticism of the process - this is necessary for caregivers to be able to work in a productive manner - but I also believe insights come from the personal stories of survivors.  Sharing an experience helps to dismantle the “language barrier" that is erected when the story is translated to the necessary medical terminology.  Recovery from trauma is never easy to fully understand, and though generalities are necessary to form a efficient and effective treatment plan, the intricacies of an experience should not be forgotten by the survivor or the caregivers.


The stories and thoughts presented in the articles on this blog are personal, but my hope is they spark your memories.  Please share your stories as a survivor or a caregiver to recognize the individuality of an experience.

Leaving the Ghetto with a Smile

As readers of this blog may have reasoned, I can complain about my situation in life.  More than that, I can complain with panache. I recognize my skills with logic and locution allow me to produce reasoned, eloquent, passionate diatribes wailing about my position in the world - soliloquies that produce no real results, but damn-it if they don’t sound like they should.  I’m good at complaining.  What’s more, my complaints have been in high form, as of late, because of the dissatisfaction with my current job - but recently I had a privilege that helped to put things into perspective.

It was a Saturday, so I went for a walk.  I’m currently living in the small city of Pohang, Korea and there is an abandoned railroad track near my apartment, so I decided to follow it to where it ends - or starts, depending on your perspective.  The tracks run along the edge of town, and to the right I could see the skyline of high-rise, high-tech apartments that South Korea likes to showboat as an image of gaining a strong international presence - the image of a rising economic and cultural power.  This is an image that, while beautiful and at times absolutely stunning, I’ve become used to in my years in Korea.  What is easy to forget, and what city planners seem to hide, is the image that was to the left side of the tracks - for lack of a better word, it was…a ghetto.  A ramshackle of houses, some well kept while others crumbling, peppered with gardens between the residences and sometimes on the roof, many of which had an older man or woman digging and gathering plants and roots.  These were not the luxury conditions Korea displays to the media, yet each time I saw an area such as this, people were smiling.  It looked to be a hard life, a life ripe with trials and tribulations that I am privileged enough to not be used to and I would not want.  The life in these communities is likely harder than anything the heavy workload I’m struggling with now could give me, but people still smiled.  From my perspective, the road ahead of them seemed taxing, but these travelers of life seemed ready to make the best of the journey.

I relate this to recovery from brain injury by recognizing the struggle.  There is struggle in the mere act of being human - everyone has a different set of trials, and anyone can focus on the hardships of a position.  The goal is not to deny this struggle or to accept the struggle as inevitable.  Nor do I think one should simply enjoy the struggle - struggles suck.  They are painful and can bring a sense of being unable to move beyond a limiting moment in life, yet it is this desire to move on that must be embraced - one can appreciate the enlightenment gained in the quest to move beyond any stagnating struggle.  Don’t grant a false appreciation to hard times, but gain what you can as the opportunities present themselves.  To simplify the idea - make the best of it.



In the piece “Who Am I, Again?”, the TBI survivor, Larry, has a revelation near the end of the story.  To quote him, “If I could have any wish at all…I wouldn’t wish that my accident didn’t happen.  That’s not to say I’m glad my accident happened, or I think it should happen to anyone.  I mean, it sucked, like…a lot…It’s just…well…I’ve met a lot of really great people because of my accident, been a lot of places, seen things I wouldn’t have…It’s just, I guess my accident has kinda made me who I am today…and I like that.”

Larry has reached what might be considered a sort of enlightenment - he doesn’t think what happened was good, but he recognizes it has allowed him to be who he is today.  When I interviewed the survivor who inspired the character of Larry, and this line is a direct quote from one of my interviews with him, I don’t remember him feeling satisfaction with his life - I don’t remember him displaying any complacency toward his situation - but what I do remember is an acceptance of what is and a desire to gain all he can from the healing processes  Due to his injury and circumstance, he has been thrown into a ghetto of a life situation - maybe not economically struggling, but highly limited in seeking any opportunities to improve his situation - yet he chooses to approach this limitation with good grace.  He strives to move on from where he is, but leave it with a smile.

Larry displays a deep peace in his attitude, a wisdom to approaching any situation - don’t accept a given situation, always seek self improvement, and take what you can from where you are.  You have every right to complain, and you can rest assured that I will likely complain again, but while you are in a situation, try to learn from the process of moving forward.


These are my thoughts, transcribed after a long day work - a long day I won’t complain about…this time.


Please leave comments below.

Thanks for reading and keep in touch.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Life will Happen...

In the storytelling piece “Who Am I, Again?”, there is a moment near the end when Larry has a short speech that I want to highlight here.

He says:

“If I could have any wish I wanted, any wish at all?  I don’t know what I would wish for.  But one that I wouldn’t wish, I wouldn’t wish that my accident didn’t happen.  I mean, I’m not glad that it happened, ‘cause it sucked, like, a lot, but then I’ve also done a lot of things because of my accident, met a lot of cool people I wouldn’t have met without my accident.  So my accident, it, it really made me who I am - and I like that.”

The person that the character of Larry is based on told me that story when I was researching at the Crumley house, sitting in the common room, a Nintendo Wi controller in his lap, and I remember these words deeply touching - really rearranging many of my own thoughts.  Life didn’t go the way Larry had planned, but it rarely does.  Life happened, and part of that included having brain injury.  His deep wisdom is recognizing that life would happen regardless - without the brain injury his next steps would have been different, but that doesn’t mean they would have been better.  Different events would have happened that may or may not have had such an immediately drastic effect, but these events - large or small - would have altered his path in life, regardless.  Instead of bemoaning what did happen and wondering what might have been, he has decided to look at his current life, recognize he enjoys may parts of it, and appreciate it for what ti is.

His words allowed me to reexamine my own view of my injury and recovery.  Often, my take was that the events were tragic - a lot of terrible things happened and the course of my life was forced to go down paths I didn’t want.  Upon reexamining, however, I realized my focus was too tied to the events immediately surrounding the accident - if the metaphorical camera on my life was pulled back, events began to look more rewarding.  Many of the consequences of being forced to stay in my hometown as I recovered were glorious - I discovered Storytelling and Philosophy, which led to video production work, which led to living a working in Korea, which led to becoming part of an amazing romance between an American (me) and a Russian (my partner), which led to acquiring the cutest devil of a cat (there's a pic of Benji below).  Granted, there is no straight line that leads from my accident to Benji, but all the events are connected, and if any event, including my accident, had happened differently, life would be very different for me - not better, not worse, just different.

I won’t say that the brain injury was some sort of a blessing, but I will say I have been able to gain knowledge and skills that couldn’t have come by any other path.  Life will happen, and its not all roses, but it is all connected - just pull the camera back and the harder moments can all be part of a beautiful picture, and every frame of this picture makes a part of who you are.  Please share any thoughts in the comments, as the cat looks on...

Seductive Anger

Anger is a seductive devil.  Anger at a person, a situation, a state of being - it slips into your soul, enveloping your being, taking control of action, reaction - and damning it all.  It feels so good while it controls you, but leaves a field of damage in its wake.

It’s easy to get angry at what caused a traumatic experience, and while this might feel justified and self vindicating in a moment, it rarely accomplishes anything positive - the rage invigorates, but then leaves you drained.

Anger gets its drive from an energy in our spirit, and by embracing that energy it can be used to surpass difficulties and discover new skills.  This is not easy.  It will cause frustration and very possibly more pain, but the rewards are monumental.  It’s a matter of deciding what you want to discover about yourself.  Embrace the challenge - climb the mountain of difficulties in recovery and let this lift you to new heights.  Don’t let the anger drag you down.


As I reread over what I just wrote (above), I’m afraid these words may sound like something you've probably heard time and time again - and I don’t mean to write canned sayings.  These ideas are not unique or original, they have been shared many times before, and probably in a manner more eloquent than mine.  Its easy to let them pass without acknowledging them - like a pop song on the radio that’s been played too many times, so that hearing the opening bars shuts down the ears - but as I think about this, i recognize the ideas are necessary to repeat until they become a mantra, something you are constantly reminding yourself.

I come to this theme today because I have anger issues I need to deal with - when I feel the world is cheating me in some way, a rage begins to boil like lava in my blood, and if I’m not careful that molten brew will spew out of me and harm innocent relationships regardless of whether the person had anything to do with the situation - my anger has the urge to lash out, but this never accomplishes anything except to create regret.  Acknowledging this helps me to recognize that every difficulty is an opportunity to grow - to learn - to create new paths.  A far harder journey, but one that I can look back at with pride.


Change

This entry takes a slight departure from the usual posting in that I’m going to write a little about what’s going on now in my life, as opposed to the past, yet the topic is still relevant when talking about TBI.


We are looking at change.

I have been living and working in South Korea for the past several years, and I am fortunate to be in a relationship with an amazing Russian woman, Anna, who I met here.  We have lived together for the past year, but recently (last Sunday) she had to return to Russia for financial reasons.  Our relationship has stayed strong and we will reunite and teach in China after I finish my current contract, but this situation has caused a big change.  I recognize this change is not terribly drastic - there are countless changes that have a far deeper effect on a person - but I find it interesting how this change makes me think on my time in early recovery from Brain Injury.

As we tumble like a rock through the avalanche of existence, we are inevitably going to be chipped and scratched along the way - events that change our surface, our very shape - yet we retain the essence of self.  As events hit, they can have a monumental effect on how one lives his or her life, and often these impacts seem negative, but by holding onto the essential truth of self-identity, one can change what begins as a negative experience and make it positive.


Before my accident, I had my life plan - I was going to be an actor.  I was good, probably not as good as I thought I was, but I had experience and was eager to learn more.  In my all the communities I was a part of, I was “Lethan the Actor”.  After my accident, however, I fell out of the theatre - my passion was drained and my self-criticism was rampant.  This twisted me in some weird ways - I remembered who I had been as an actor, and I wanted the consistency in self-identity, but I also wasn’t feeling committed to the stage.

This struggle with identity, though usually quiet, continued for years - my mind trying to squeeze back into the actor’s outfit, but never finding the right fit.  I knew I wanted something to do with performing, but was also learning that being an actor wasn’t the right path.  To deal with this dilemma, I pushed myself to open up my options, exploring Anthropology, Political Science, Music Theory, Creative Writing, Philosophy - and eventually discovering Storytelling.  Some may say that Storytelling is just like acting - that I never really left the stage - but I disagree.  Both are performance arts, but there is a significant difference in the delivery and composition and I could outline these differences in an essay, but I really don’t think that’s important here.  What is important is that I left myself open to change, and I’m grateful that the change has been in my life.  If I hadn’t had my brain injury, its possible that I would have remained on the actor’s path and may have even been successful - at times I still regret not feeling drawn to that path - but the life I remained open to gives me pride as a storyteller and I am thrilled to be exploring this less known art and seeing what I can make of it.

Bringing it back to my current change, life has caused my girlfriend and I to live a few countries apart.  This is not an easy separation and I am eager to be with her again, but my goal is to make the most out of this change.  The situation has changed, now its my job is to discover how I can make the most out of it.  That is the goal with any change - recognizing and embracing changes in situation that make us stronger and allow us to reach our fullest potential.  The accident disrupted my world, and I will never say the accident was a good thing, but by accepting change a unknown world opened up to me, and I am grateful for the life that came to me.

God?

Did God save my life?

This begs the question, “What is God?”

I don’t believe in a blessing by a deity that brought me back from the dead.  I don’t believe in any “plan” that decided the events that happened to me or a “mission” that I’ve been called on to complete because of the miracle that touched me.  I certainly don’t believe in any bearded guy sitting in the sky or any amorphous consciousness that in anyway affected the events surrounding my accident.

Nor do I believe I was merely lucky.


What I do believe in is community and love - that’s Love.  I have been lucky in the circumstances of my life to have been raised in and to have access to such a community spirit.  At every moment of my recovery, my family and I were enshrouded by the infinite wrappings of Love - this came from the outpouring of well wishes and prayers by the community, the incredible talent and attention by the medical staff that cared for me, the consistent and pragmatic offers of help from any person who had anything to give, and all the people in uncountable situations holding out a hand to help do what had to be done.

i call this the Divine - the Love that exists in all communities coming to the surface and then being accepted by those who need it.

This is my personal philosophy, and if you don’t want it, I have no desire to push it on you.  Every person needs to come to one’s own spiritual beliefs and, if these beliefs are held in a fashion that is tolerant of other people, I hold that there is no “right” or “wrong” way to have one’s faith.  But if this helps you find support in anyway, please know that I do believe this with all my being, and I hope it helps you. 

I was born hearing the idea that “God is love”, and while that’s beautiful in many ways, I prefer the inverse: Love is god.

If you are a survivor or was with someone through their healing, I would love to hear if and how you found any spiritual comfort.  Perhaps your story will help another.

Why Storytelling is Important in Healing - Initial thoughts:

As humans, the ability we have that makes us different from every other animal species is storytelling.  It is a necessary part of our existence as societal creatures and we use some form of storytelling in nearly every communication we make.

We need to tell stories.  Because of limitations to our senses, an experience can never be fully expressed, and thus we do the best we can to share it with stories.  This is also how we create bonds with other people - by having stories that we share.  Yet storytelling, especially oral storytelling, is no longer deemed as important or necessary, and this is changing the fabric of how we function in society.

As one on one, or even performer/audience storytelling is getting nudged to the corners of culture - replaced by charts, emoticons, and other technological adaptations - many feel less comfortable sharing an experience.  This unwillingness to share and limited locations to listen to others can create a sense of isolation - “No-one knows what I’m going through”, “My experience is different”.  Returning to the topic of recovery from TBI, or any injury, my sense is that this isolation from lack of storytelling can cause a healing person to give up - not consciously, but with the bombardment of medical charts and predictions a recovering survivor doesn’t feel compelled to ignore the statistics and heal.

I also believe that every healing journey has successes and failures, many of which are never chronicled in medical literature - perhaps the fear of getting into a car again after an accident, or the thrill of actually chewing and swallowing food after a mouth has been wired shut.  By sharing these experiences through storytelling, a recovering person can better anticipate some future stages in the journey.

This is not intended as a criticism of technological advances or the modern medicine process.  I love technology.  Were it not for the medical technologies that were employed in my process, I would not be here - what happened to me would have been unfixable even 30 years earlier.  Furthermore, I am sharing this entirely with modern technology - the internet - because allows communication that was absurd science fiction less than 50 years ago.  My stance is that we need to continue to improve lives with technology, but in this kaleidoscope of bling bling excitement, we should be careful not to forget the elements that define us as human - simple, beautiful ancient methods of communication that may be less dynamic, but are sill powerfully potent in how they can change our mind and even our bodies well-being.

As an inspirational speaker and performance artist, I have had the privilege of sharing the story of “Who Am I, Again?” with audiences throughout America, and what I find most exciting and inspiring about the consistent response is how audiences feel compelled to share their own stories.  Sharing a difficult story helps to remove the stress that story has burdened us with and sharing an inspirational story will bring joy to everyone involved - the listeners will feel inspired and remember their own success stories and the teller will feel a new validation for his or her experience.

This is the stance I hold as I begin this project.  To date my experiences have supported this belief, but I feel a need for more proof to support this, so I will do what has been suggested by a multitude of teachers in my life - if I want to know more about something, do some research.  And that’s one of my missions in this blog - to research the subject of storytelling in medicine.  My initial Googles have turned up a variety of recent articles and books that reference this in some manner, and my goal is to start sifting through the information while keeping an open and critical mind.  I will seek to understand any science that is behind the process, as well as seek to understand my personal reasons of why I feel so deeply about the power of storytelling.  I’ll be sharing this information and commenting on it throughout these writings.

This is where I start, but what are your thoughts on storytelling as medicine?

An "I am..." statement...

In my performance piece about brain injury, I begin with the question “Who am I, again?”, alluding to the difficulty and confusion with self-identity that often occurs after the dramatic physical and psychological changes that happen as a result of the condition.  While composing and arranging the piece, I saw was focused on the question in TBI, but having worked with the piece over the past decade the universal relevance of this question has become more apparent.  By exploring this question, I have seen how the sudden rearranging of one’s life can happen for many reasons - medical reasons such as cancer, loss of a limb, AIDS, or difficult events such as the sudden loss of a child, divorce, being fired from what was though would be a life time position at a company.  The question of “Who am I now, after this change?” is a question almost everyone must face at some time in his or her life.

That thought occurred to me this morning as I was teaching an English as a second language class (that’s my current job) this morning.  For intermediate to advanced students, I have an exercise I like to do called Back Pocket Biographies.  Explained quickly, this exercise begins with the student forming an “I am…” statement, and then telling a short story involving 3 or 4 events (and sentences) that tell how they got to that statement.

For example, what I often share in class with this exercise goes something like:

“My name is Lethan and I am an American storyteller living and teaching English in Korea, but how did a storyteller become an English teacher?  Well, it began when I finished my graduate degree work in storytelling, and quickly discovered that it’s hard to make a living as a storyteller.  My lack of stable employment and life situations after graduate school soon had me returning to my hometown where I reconnected with my Philosophy professor from undergraduate school, and she told me about how her son, my former classmate, had just returned from a year teaching in Korea.  This sounded interesting, so I followed up on some information she gave me and about 18 months later, I found myself aboard a plane headed to Incheon Airport in Seoul, getting ready to experience life in Korea.”

This is merely my example, a simple story where everything relates to the initial “I am…” statement.  From that point in the lecture, I explain that if that first statement changes, the rest of the story also changes - one can define his or herself in many ways, and that self-definition changes how a person’s story progresses.


And here is where this exercise relates back to recovery - when asking “Who am I?”, in many ways the answer will dictate what the rest of the story is about.  Saying, “I’m a survivor”, has a very different effect than saying “I’m a screwup who should’ve died.”  The physical situation may be the same, but by insisting that the definition of that situation is different the results will change - a more positive definition denotes a better situation which will lead to better results.

This is not intended as any sort of cure - things are still difficult and there will be pain - but by viewing the hardship in a more positive light, the events become much more interesting.  Some might argue that there is no point - the same shit’s going to happen either way.  That may be true, but  physically, laughter and smiling feels much better than crying and spitting at the world.  I suggest that its a thing to try, and if it helps or lessons the pain even a little, then maybe its worth the work.


All that said, I know it is much easier for someone else to say “Smile” than for someone else to do it.  I was enormously fortunate to have a strong community surrounding me that really pushed me to smile at every opportunity, but the urge to acknowledge that urge that makes you want to give up everything hit me often, and still does.  My statement can easily become “I’m a failure”, “I’m a dumbass that was supposed to be dead”, “I’m worthless”, or any other demeaning label with one difficult incident.  Life never is better when defined like this, and I often find other parts of my life tearing apart much quicker when these statements are in my mind.  It’s important to acknowledge that these emotional extremes often happen quicker after brain injury, and while a person can learn to temper these emotions, there is often a lasting tendency for extremes, but that is not an excuse. 

I begin my story by answering the initial question of “Who am I, again?” with “I am Lethan.”  That is all of me, and no matter what happens, I must take responsibility for any emotional extremes, for I am a survivor of brain injury, thus having more difficulty controlling these extremes than some, but I am also an adult and therefore responsible for my actions, regardless of the cause.

This topic is getting heavier than I expected, but my point is that you define yourself. There’s no right or wrong way to do this, but be aware that the story that accompanies you will arise from that self-definition.  Wallowing in pain and sorrow can be an important part of healing - it seems foolish not to acknowledge that this has inalterably changed your life and the fates seem to have singled you out for some damning sort of devastation.  That is true.  But is that all of you?  Are you a simple puppet pulled about by cursed strings or are you just going through some rough shit?  I don’t mean to over simplify anyone’s hardships, but I want set the extremes so that any point in-between can be picked.

The statement I fall back on is rather neutral, but honest - “I am Lethan.”  And I’ll own every statement that comes with that.


What’s your statement?