Both my body & spirit have proven to bend & not break. My doctors (both mental & physical), mentor, friends & family attest to this reality, as they’ve witnessed it in real time. I in no way did this alone. My friends & family have helped me, substantially, for many years and still are.
The plethora of other physical injuries that I simultaneously incurred, alongside my TBI, have offered undeniable proof of my physical strength. This gleefully surprised me the most.
No doubt this physical strength was reenforced by my month-long stay at the mindfulness Sanctuary, where I incurred my critical Traumatic Brain Injury. When offering to run an errand for the retreat, as apart of my work-trade, my horrendous car accident ensued. Running said errand, and driving in order to do so, was fulfilling my work-trade agreement, but the impetus to run said errand, was gaining cell phone service (we had none at the Sanctuary) in order to request the transference of funds from my savings to my checking, in order that I could attend the Sanctuary for another month. I anticipated too, telling my parents and SF roommates that I wanted to move out of the populous city of SF.
My mental strength has been tested, astronomically, upon recovery from my critical TBI, far more than ever before. After-all, our brain tells every other part of our bodies what to do! The truth that I’m a fiercely independent writer, who, per usual (for writers), resides largely in my mind, ensures that the purely mental trials were devastating in & of themselves. The addition of my multitude of physical challenges, which necessitated help, for many years, felt soooo depressing & impossible to overcome initially.
For the 1.5 years that I lived in SF, fine-dining waitressing enabled the grand satisfaction of practicing my artistry while simultaneously facilitating my prolific enjoyment of SF (extremely cheaply, of course). The phenomenal friends whom I met in that crazy expensive (EVEN 9.5 years ago!) city made working 1/2 time (1/4 waitressing, 1/4 writing) perfect. To have 1/2 of your life, devoted to enjoying yourself = fantastic. When enjoying a bottle or 2 of wine with great friends, at 1 of your apartments = perfect.
Mid 20s seems like an ideal time of life.
In direct contrast ->
Living an active life with a critical TBI = extremely uncommon. There were many months where I thought: Fuck this. I worried that my deep love of life had vanished forever & that my life was now predestined to be horrid. As a result, I was entirely unmotivated & stagnant (deeply mourning my previously consistent joy).
My reclamation of overarching happiness after 7.5 years of recovery, is a phenomenal relief to me & considered early by experts, given the extent of my injuries. In fact, amidst the slight subset of critical Traumatic Brain Injury survivors never reclaim happiness. My reclamation is part & parcel of my spirit arising once again!
Writing this blog now: sharing my experiences of recovery with all of you, feels perfect. Just as it should be.
Thank you very much for being here with me.