This Mind of Mine

I Ain’t Right in the Head

Saturday marks a year since the car accident I was involved in.

The one where I was driving my daughter’s friend home from school,

And was rear-ended by a car going around 40-45 mph,

While I was at a dead-stop waiting to make a left hand turn.

The other car’s driver was a 17 year old boy

Who, when he amazingly stepped out of his newly-smashed/totaled car,

With his cellphone in his hand,

Said, apologetically,

“I’m sorry. I was looking down.”

A year has passed by and taken memories with it.

I recently had a conversation with my oldest daughter, Dani

About the last year—

What I do and do not remember.

A few months afterwards,

I realized I’d had my 50^th birthday.

I even wrote about it on a blog that day.

But, one particular day, when I was alone,

I thought this thought:

“I had my 50^th birthday, and no one remembered! Noone did anything!”

I was really upset.

Diana came home  at that point (or maybe she was already home and I don’t remember),

But in any case,

She popped in and asked what I was upset about.

When I told her that I was upset because no one had celebrated my birthday,

She informed me that

Yes, they did. My family and my friends did celebrate my day.

Nan had thrown a 50’s themed party and it was really cool.

I couldn’t believe that I had no recollection of it

And that really made me sad.

In speaking with my oldest daughter, Dani recently,

She added that she and her family was there too!

It just showed that even 2 weeks later,

My brain resembled top ramen.

When it’s cooked and swollen, dontcha know.

So went the holidays as well—

I don’t remember Thanksgiving or Christmas

Except when someone shows me the pictures of Isaac’s blessing,

Or pics of the day,

Then, I have an A-HA moment and snippets resurface.

New Year’s is a total blank,

As is Valentine’s and Easter.

Birthdays are the same.

It’s almost as if the last year didn’t happen.

Weird, very weird.

Another thing that has taken a turn is my passion for writing.

Before the accident,

I couldn’t NOT write—

Even on what I thought were hard days before,

I still had more passion for expressing whatever was going on at the time

Around me—

The kids,

The daily-ness of life in Colorado

Whatever.

I lost my passion for writing

As the place where all of that passion is stored

Has somehow been tucked away in a safety deposit box

And I’ve lost the key.

Oh, looky there. A simile. 

So unpredictable, this mind of mine.

Ever felt like you’ve lost a part of your self?

Other areas of my life have also been affected by my lack of creativity/interest.

In trying to reclaim my basic ability to think and organize,

I guess the creative parts had to let go or step aside.

My writing is boring to me, even.

I feel as though I am more a “recorder of things”

Than a “storyteller”—which I envisioned myself.

Not a great storyteller,

But I felt if I kept at it, I could become better.

Now,

I don’t even know where to begin or where to look for

Those words, that passion, those visions.

It doesn’t  appear that I am a storyteller, afterall.

Likewise,

My passion for interior decorating has waned.

I haven’t done a dang thing with this house we moved into July 2011.

I had plans to paint, to sew window treatments,

To plant a garden and make this house

OUR home.

My biggest problem is that I can’t decide what to do first.

To paint?  What color, where?

To sew? What kind of fabric, which style, what window?

The idea of gardening, equally excites and overwhelms me,

So I did nothing.

This new state of being bothers me.

I’m not ME.

Not the ME I thought I was.

I “do” things,

But I’m not “Am” things.

My doctor’s say it will come.

“Give it time.”-- when my faculties arouse and I remember who I used to be.

The basics to this are fairly simple:

I forget a lot of things. Even the bad stuff is flushed away.

I can’t hold onto feelings of resentment or remember who should be disciplined.

Likewise, I forget kindnesses though.

I have a stack of “thank you” notes written who-knows-when,

Sitting here at my desk, and some in my nightstand.

I write them and forget them.

SO I am pretty sure the awesome people who’ve shown me so many kindnesses

Think I’m lame and ungrateful for their effort.

Ugh.

That’s not who I am. Was.

Maybe I just think I’m worse than I was?

That’s another thought rolling around.

Maybe I’ve always been “good-intentioned”?

It’s possible.

But have I always been so bad at being “good intentioned” as I am now?

That’s the question, right?

Am I rambling?

I’m rambling.

One doctor said I need to have a plan for recovery.

He was a jerk of a doctor, truly—

I had to see him for an IME for the defense.

And the only thing I remember from that meeting was

Those words.

“A plan for recovery.”

Since the accident, the kids put up a magnetic white board calendar for me

With my whole month written upon it:

My doctor appointments,

Lawyer appointments,

Kids schedules,

Yucky stuff like when bills are due,

Paydays,

And whatever else I need to know.

Should I try to write my “plan for recovery” on there too?

Other than the doctor appointments I go to,

Nearly every day—

And getting back to staging homes with my friend and partner, Kelly,

AND being open to births—

Whatelse should I be doing?

I am trying my best to reconstruct my daily life

As it was before the accident;

Altho I am not working at a company,

Like I used to and was indeed doing the day of the accident.

I don’t even know where to start with that one.?

What can I still do?

What will my brain be open to and hold onto?

I went and signed up for classes at the community college

And then promptly forgot to follow-up with FAFSA

and placement tests.

Lame.

SO very very lame.

Outta sight, outta mind.

That would look good on a t-shirt, yeah?

I could wear it as a warning to others.

How did I let that one go?, I wonder.

The idea of going to school thrilled me.

And then it didn’t.

This is the stuff in my mind.

I can be engaged as easily as disaffected.

Involved and disinterested.

Detached is a word that resembles my day.

I continually try new things to find “new favorites”—

N’  also to stretch my mind;

I will teach any lesson in Church,

Try to sew a new window treatment for my friend, L.,

Try a new recipe—which is kinda crummy because then I can’t recall it,

But still, I’m trying, right?

I try not to say “no” to new experiences.

But I fret more than I used to.

And that’s sucky.

And in this moment of clarity,

I do recall that our family motto for 2012 is

“Don’t Suck”.

Ack!

I have really let that one go down the drain, eh?

When did I get so negative? I asked my neurologist if that’s normal for a concussive brain.

He said it is.

But still, I don’t want to be a Negative Nancy.

Those kind of people drain me.

I don’t enjoy someone whose all mopey and depressed.

It’s, well, depressing.

C’mon little ol brain of mine—

Perk Up! I say.

I tried to do brain exercises,

Like Sudoko.

Sadists developed that, I’m pretty sure.

Like bowling with no fingers.

I don’t  stop trying, but man.

it feels like Algebra in the 7^th grade.

Which I only got a “C” in.

Maybe my problem is that I wasn’t too sharp to start with, yeah?

That would make a lot of sense right about now.

Maybe I’m not as far off the mark as I think.

Maybe I’m more a dumb-flip than I remember myself to be;

I do recall telling Mr. Wonderful that I never said I was “smart”

when we met.

And he told me that was ok because he married me because I’m a “good kisser”

Take that!-- Coach _____ who taught 7^th grade Algebra.

(I told you I would never need to know the value of “x”!)

So within this line of thinking,

Perhaps my “Plan for recovery” could amount to me just

Choosing to stay the course?

Go to my appointments,

Try new things,

Stop resenting the white calendar board on the fridge,

Ya know, get over it already;                                                                                             

Pick a darn paint color for the front room

N’ start painting!

It’s just paint for cryin out loud.

Maybe, this mind of mine is better than I think it is.

Let’s go with that.

IN the meantime,

if I owe you an apology or a thank-you note,

let me know.

If I owe you a kindness in return of a kindness,

let me know.

If I owe you a black eye, 

best leave things alone, yeah?

Apparently, I got over it.