This summer I passed my third anniversary. When you acquire a Traumatic Brain Injury, you also acquire a new unforgettable date. Added to your annual markers of time (birthday, anniversary, and Christmas) is your TBI anniversary.
Survivors honor that significant date with a strange mix of melancholy, and reverence.
This is the date that we learned that no matter how smart, or witty, or hard we try, we do not control life. That illusion of control is forever shattered, and deep humility takes its place.
It is more like a “death date” than a birth date. We all have the day we will die, that we pass every year and we don’t even know it. Having a TBI, we actually know our death date. On that date the person we knew as “me” died, and a complete stranger with the capacities of a newborn showed up in its place. We became a newborn baby all over again. Dependent and incapable, a stranger to ourselves and to our families. Like any newborn, it takes years to get to know this new person. We obsessively observe ourselves the same way we once observed our newborn babies for clues to who this person is.
Among my brain injured friends, I have seen process unfold like the stages of grief. The first year: sheer terror and confusion interspersed with a heaping dose of denial. “I don’t have a brain injury!” The second year: more terror, and depression and despair as the un-ending reality begins to become apparent. “I have a brain injury and it’s not going away.” The third year: beginning acceptance and rebuilding a life with what you’ve got left. “This is my life. Now what??”. Now I understand all that I can't do, so what can I do?
Past my three year mark now, I am improving enough to start seeing a world beyond TBI. I can see myself re-joining the world one baby toe at a time. I can now imagine a future worth living and am grateful for my constant intense focus of the last three years "just keep your body alive and don't let the depression drown you". Not easy for someone as seemingly drunk, disoriented, and visually impaired as I am. I have kept my body alive long enough to see the light.
I feel like a toddler, nervous and excited to be off to pre-school and to see what the future holds.
I applaud any form of graduation and I think life is all about learning new things and adapting to change. All of the things you have accomplished since you acquired your brain injury should be acknowledged and celebrated. You should be proud! I have to be honest though, when you say "death date" I cringe a bit. You did not die like I did not die, my mom did not die, nor did all the people I've met through groups and such. I think I know the point you are trying to make, in that everything feels new...... but death is still rather a morbid thought and I think sometimes having these not-so-great thoughts are what keep us from feeling the better things in life. At least these is how I see it.
ReplyDeletewonderful as always Nathalie. Thank you for sharing your experience, strength and hope. Interestingly, last month I went to my TBI support group meeting at the hospital I attended for rehab. The guest speaker was - Dr. Diane Stoler - both a practioner and TBI survivor herself. She began her talk with telling us "the very first thing we have to do is to grieve our own death". Every year she goes to the scene, leaves flowers and remembers. I sat there and wept, knowing on some level this to be true. I understand how odd it sounds, but I have heard many times that a TBI is the only injury where one dies and gets to go on living. For me, the life I lived and the person I was doesn't seem to exist anymore either. I am left with lingering visual impairments, balance and proprioception issues, executive and cognitive functioning issues. But, life has momentum - it has to - and we adjust to this new planet we've arrived on. Looking forward to your next blog. Let us know how your experience in pre-school went. Some days are just baby steps, others a few long strides and when we turn around we've gone miles. Wishing you continued hope as you claim your place in the world.
ReplyDeleteok - this may show how challenged I can be. I enter as anonymous only because I couldn't understand the other options other than anonymous. ??? My name is Elise. It was nice sharing here with you both. My brain injury occurred also 3 years ago this past August. I slipped and fell on an improperly painted concrete floor. The only thing that broke my fall was my nose. Hey, maybe I will see you in pre-school!
ReplyDeleteNathelie, I totally agree with you and feel your pain as I too "died" March 2011 as I am no longer the person I was nor am I even connected to this body that I don't even no now. I am still learning what I can and can not do. When I say I died the person I was is gone and not coming back and I'm starting a new beginning that I don't want, like, or even asked for but I have no choice but to accept "it is what it is" and move on. And for people who say we get better I don't believe them - we don't get better we just get better at coping and compentsating to make up for our losses. Everybodies TBI is different but to tell someone that they did not die (not in the real sense) upsets me maybe if that person walked in my shoes for 1 hr maybe they would feel different
ReplyDeleteNathelie, on 4/3/11 my world changed in so many ways. To say I died... yah in a way that is what happened... did my heart stop beating ? "NO" do I feel like the old Rita "NO". So learning to adjust my life to be fuller and doing the best I can everyday is the TBI way for me. I have made friends I NEVER would have made, I have seen my life change in good and bad ways. But Like Thelma and Louise have taught me (you know who you are)"it is what it is" we are never alone and excepting our new life is the new me. I am a Bad A_ _ in the making. Loved every word that you wrote, stand tall and walk with the earth beneath your feet and love in you heart. Hugs Rita
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