It happened in January of 1996.  Brain injury turned my life upside-down.  Outwardly little changed, but inwardly, everything did.

Step inside and see... 

All in Your Head

The skeptic said,

You look fine,

So you are fine.

The problems are all in your head.

My husband said,

I love you, but

You're not who you used to be.

My daughter said,

You're no fun any more.

I want to run away.

I said,

Please help me.

I'm lost, confused.

My head hurts.

I can't remember,

Can't think clearly,

Loud noises bother me.

I lose control, I rage,

Become distracted,

Am always tired.

Learning comes slowly now.

I've lost myself

And I'm so ashamed.

Help me, please,

With these problems in my head.

The doctor said,

The changes are real.

They won't go away.

So sorry your head can't be fixed.

But here are

      Pills to sleep

      Pills to stay awake

      Pills to improve memory

      Pills to prevent seizures

      Pills to control mood swings

      Pills to dull the pain

From the problems that are in your head.

The skeptic said,

You look fine

So you are fine.

The problems are all in your head.

Accept Me

So-and-so is so clever

So-and-so is so bright

So-and-so has such passion,

Energy, fire, and drive!

Echoes of my mother

Echoes of my fear

I am not So-and-So

Wasn’t and never will be.

Comparisons always hurt me

Even as they made me mad

I wanted to shout, Accept ME!

This is who I am.

But now I am my mother

Comparing me to myself

Before I was this

And did such and such.

Today I’m not so clever

The brightness within me has dimmed

The passion that blazed now smolders

And lethargy presses me down.

So how can I accept me

When this is who I am?

Who chooses shadow, distorted and thin,

Over substance?

Must I hate that former me

The self alive with joy and laughter

Rich in abilities and capabilities

That this me can not touch?

Comparisons belittle

So I belittle myself

But how can I leave off grieving

When I am what I’ve lost?  

Treat me gently, Mother

Your child is hurting enough

I need your tears for healing

Your welcome to help me make peace.

And you, Self, treat me gently,

For I am all you’ve got

So maddeningly imperfect,

Yet yearning to be loved.  

Don’t compare, don’t turn away, 

And please do not condemn.

This is who I am, now.

Accept me.

This New-Old Me

Before my daughter started school, we watched a lot of Winnie the Pooh tapes together.  I remember one episode in particular in which Tigger somehow loses his characteristic stripes.  None of his friends recognize this new stripeless Tigger.  But if he isn’t Tigger, then who is he?  No one - Tigger included - seems to know.

Despair grows until Tigger encounters Pooh, who recognizes him at once.  When Tigger demands to know how Pooh can be sure, the bear replies matter-of-factly, “You’re still Tigger on the inside!”  Enormously relieved, Tigger gives a victory dance.  Now even his stripes start to reappear.

Lucky Tigger.  I empathize with him, because I too wrestle with self-doubt.  In my case, the identity crisis was triggered by a head injury, which in subtle and not so subtle ways altered how I think, remember, even feel.

Unfortunately, my changes are on the inside.  And, unlike Tigger’s stripes, my old abilities won’t magically reappear one morning.  So this is me now, and I must - however reluctantly - reach an accommodation with this new-old self.

I wish the changes gone.  But they are there, and I must absorb them.  Accept them as me.  How else can I learn strategies for coping with deficiencies?  How else learn to play to my strengths and not to my weaknesses?  How else plan?  How else find any peace?

So I go to rehab and I probe.  I sift, sort, count, add, build, react, scan, type, memorize, and problem-solve.  I take notes and set timers.  I fail.  I withdraw in grief, anger, frustration, self-pity.  Then, because I must, I try again.  Building skill and rebuilding a sense of self.

Because I will make peace with this new-old me.