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 50th 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 50th
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 7th 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 7th 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.
