Writing Is Easier

Writing is easier than talking. It can be hard to think about all the things I have lost, there are so many things I was able to keep. When I lose perspective my team is there reminding me of how far I have come, both in comparison to myself and compared to similar situations. C* reminds me that she expected a vegetable to be wheeled into her office at our first appointment. Seeing my speech therapist last week, he commented on my progress and how far I have come.

The realities of my struggles are sometimes unexpected, things that I never would have considered have become challenging or even impossible. Examples of this include random things. Two weeks ago I found I could not chain two written instructions at once. (We use written instructions when possible to help with my comprehension and retention.) What this means is that I can only handle one instruction at a time. i.e. "Find the circle." I cannot talk or split my attention at these times. In fact I become irrationally angry when distracted and trying to focus. J* tells me that is because I am missing my own signs that it is too much.

I broke down two weeks ago when during my occupational therapy one of the instructions was to "Draw a square inside the circle." I had the option of four shapes drawn on a simple worksheet. I had to check my work three times, deep breathe, and still felt the emotions well up as if I was to drown. I was able to complete four worksheets of similar type; numbers and letters are fine, shapes and symbols are confusing. Moving to three dimensional shapes are even harder; sphere and cylinder, cube and rectangular prism, all look the same to me.

Two days ago I was faced with something else I have lost. Attempting my first outing to someplace new with my hubby, I found I could no longer use chop sticks. Normal, you say? I have been using chop sticks for years, I attempted to pick both sticks up and could not get my fingers around the sticks. I couldn't even hold both together let alone try to use them.

Sadly, the first situation I hid from my family until a few days later when I broke down while talking to my husband. I was too embarrassed to admit that I would be doing activities with my 3 year old because I couldn't keep up with our six year old. He sweetly held me while I just let loose. I wonder how many with brain trauma (dementia, concussion, PTSD) have mood swings because of all the stuff going on inside. I cry because I know enough to know where stuff is missing. What if all you knew was there is a big blank where something used to be, but you can't remember what it was?

I keep hearing in my head the old game "One of these things is not like the others..."

With the chopsticks I was able to trust my safety and admitted it right away. I ate with my fingers, its appropriate with sushi. (Volcano roll still my favorite.) We were both able to laugh and have fun without focusing on what I couldn't do. We moved past it and talked about other things. I am blessed in my advocate that he lets me have space to be silly and emotional. I will try to remember this moving forward.

So, ultimately here is the deal. I write because it is easier. I stay home because I can do more. I screen phone calls because I refuse to spend limited resources with a telemarketer. And I play preschool games with my son so I can relearn the things I have lost.