Giving Up Didn’t Last Long!

I shared this mainly to show that none of us are helpless or hopeless. Even without medical care, I am in control of what is controllable. If I do nothing, it is on me. If I do something, I’ve taken responsibility for my amount of control to improve myself and my situation – even if it is a tiny amount… it is still something, and I should do all I can to improve things.

Hopelessness doesn’t hit you all at once. It trickles in and slowly takes over without much notice or warning. Little things over the last two years have worn down my confidence, my resolve, and my strength/will to fight for my own survival and to one day thrive instead of just surviving.

As much as it sounds like a damned cliche’, ‘hope’ is very much a choice. When all other means fail, you are the only one responsible for your actions and your strength. I was at my lowest low, and my Dad reminded me that I’m not powerless. You’re not powerless either. Even if the only choices you have are ones you don’t like, they’re still options for you.

Nothing is set in stone unless you choose for it to be. I was convincing myself that I was expendable, and that my life wasn’t worth fighting for. Not only is that SO FAR from true, but my worth should never be dictated by a broken medical care system. I have choices. None of them are going to be easy, but they will improve my life, my health, and my situation.

I didn’t choose TBI, but I can and do choose to improve what TBI has done to my life – and how I’m going to deal with it. You can too. You’re not hopeless or helpless, or powerless. Every small thing you do will make a huge difference as time goes by. Just like every small thing wore me down, each small thing I take back my control/power over – the more my life will improve.

You’re all, NOT powerless. We all have a choice to fight and to thrive. It’s not going to be easy, but it will absolutely be worth it.

-As always, Thanks for reading! 🙂

TaraTBox Ozarks Artist

My Dad (Mike) fueled me with a new-found way to empower myself on this journey. He pointed out (something that I’d assumed but wasn’t sure of) that my Doctor (since I’m on Medicaid) wasn’t going to push for my long-term treatment plan (which should include cognitive and physical rehab) and since that is the ugly truth, that he and I should and can do something about it on our own, at home.

He reminded me that just because my Dr is powerless to help me improve, I don’t have to be powerless too. For this, I am more than grateful. I’d pretty much given up my fight. . . . . This is no longer the case. I’m going to rehab myself here at home. I’m NOT going to allow the apathy of a broken medical system, or the dashed hopes from my Dr, to deter me from fighting and…

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Giving Up Didn’t Last Long!

My Dad (Mike) fueled me with a new-found way to empower myself on this journey. He pointed out (something that I’d assumed but wasn’t sure of) that my Doctor (since I’m on Medicaid) wasn’t going to push for my long-term treatment plan (which should include cognitive and physical rehab) and since that is the ugly truth, that he and I should and can do something about it on our own, at home.

He reminded me that just because my Dr is powerless to help me improve, I don’t have to be powerless too. For this, I am more than grateful. I’d pretty much given up my fight. . . . . This is no longer the case. I’m going to rehab myself here at home. I’m NOT going to allow the apathy of a broken medical system, or the dashed hopes from my Dr, to deter me from fighting and thriving through this horrendous brain injury.

My life isn’t over, it is just changed. (Albeit in a huge way.) I am not powerless. I am not hopeless. I AM in control, and whatever I choose to do to improve my situation is on me. For that, I take responsibility. My Dad and I talked about a whole lot of different things this morning, but that was the most powerful take-away of it all. That I can and should do something about my medical situation, even if it isn’t through my Dr or the medical system. I agree. So, I am!

Things WILL change for the better, because I’m determined NOT to allow a brain injury to continue to control so much of my life. Sure, there are many things I will never be able to control about what TBI has done to my brain, but the things I can control, I most definitely should, and can, especially with Dad’s help and knowledge.

He’s never, ever, NOT supported me in my endeavors to improve. I’m certain of it – more now, than ever before. Thank you Dad. Thank you for opening my eyes back up when I’d shut them.

Forever a TBI warrior – Forever Grateful

Beep Beep!! I'm healin' here! :D ;)
Beep Beep!! I’m healin’ here! 😀 😉

– Thanks for reading! – 🙂

Derailment – via Amnesia & Apathy

I’ve been bawling a lot lately. No, not your simple ‘cry yourself snot-filled’ sort of fits of sadness. I’m talking, full-on, cannot breath because I’m weeping type of bawling. No noise escapes my throat because I’m too deeply and too entirely enthralled in a full-on bawling session. Emotions SO deep and vast that even after I’ve forced myself to stop the tears because I almost passed out from the intensity, I still feel just as badly as I did before the only choice left was to cry that hard.

That’s what I’ve been doing. Literally bawling my brains out until my guts hurt and I’m choking on air. Why? Because the first doctor that ever cared enough about me to listen – stopped caring and has given up on me. What I didn’t know is – this occurred a while ago. I’m so brain damaged and amnesiac that I truly didn’t fully realize it until recently. Is that all? No. There’s a LOT going on inside of me. So much so, that explaining it all would likely cause a ripple affect of self-loathing and deeply seated depression — which I’m NOT willing to spread.

Amnesia’s the worst. I cannot think of a single thing that hurts more than losing your entire world on a regular basis. I’ve lost babies, relationships, entire houses full of hard-work filled belongings and comfort, and pets, people, jobs I loved, abilities, and so much more. What hurts worst? Memory loss. None of the immense losses of my past could ever have prepared me for recurring memory loss. I’m not talking about the whole “why’d I come into the kitchen” stuff, I’m talking about decades of my life being wiped. The very few flashbacks of happiness, sadness, and horror, only make matters worse.

You’d think small flashes of your own past would help fit things back together, but for me – it doesn’t. It only confuses me and makes me wonder why in the world I was put into so many horrifying situations. (Most of my flashbacks are horrendously intense and scary – not the kind of “take me back to the good’ol’days” sort of thing you’d likely remember about a well-rounded, warm, and gentle childhood.) My flashbacks are waking nightmares. It’s no wonder I have PTSD. I had it long before this last brain injury or amnesia. With what little information I have about my childhood, young adult years, and even more recently, I am left wondering where anyone who loved me was.

That makes me bawl even more. Feeling like I’d been abandoned during tumultuous times of great need… that’s what my doctor’s done. . . rather – he’s neglected every need I’ve had, and is borderline malpractice. Is it malpractice if your patient needs long-term cognitive and physical rehabilitation and you never refer them out for it? Is it malpractice to dish out medication that makes amnesia worse? There’s a lot more, but I’ll only start getting fiercely angry and start bawling again – because there’s not a damned thing I can F*CKING do about it.

So yes – I’ve been emotionally derailed. All this time, I’ve been fighting for my right to get better. I’ve been fighting for my human dignity to be able to improve myself, my health, my situation, and my future. Everything pinning on the do’s or do not’s of my doctor. Not only did he lie to me and continually deceive me, but he’s forced me into a medical situation that could have been entirely avoided if he’d simply done the bare minimum of his duties as a doctor.

No amount of income can justify neglecting a patient as entirely as I’ve been neglected. There is no “reward” for it. There’s nothing at all he’d get out of it other than the self-satisfaction (sadistically) of hurting me so entirely, and controlling SO much of my life by it. LITERALLY, there’s NOTHING else he could have gained from this mistreatment and annihilation of my future. Nothing!

So… bawling…. there’s nothing more I can do. I’m tired. I’m defeated. He’s won. I’m SO tired in fact, that I cannot even bring myself to sue him or his practice/network, or to even care enough about myself anymore to do anything else for myself. I’m derailed in every meaning of the word. I don’t even care anymore. I used to be a lioness, a survivor of impossibly horrible things, and he’s caged me and tamed me, and raped my will to fight for a better life right out of my very soul.

2015 © Tara Davidson
2015 © Tara Davidson

Memory Loss Mysterium

Trying to explain memory loss (amnesia, not just normal forgetfulness) to people who don’t experience it, is like telling someone you found the keys to their car (that they don’t own) in a house somewhere in a city they’ve never been in. #TruthBeTold

It’s like there’s either a huge stereotype hyped up by TV shows and movies, that have no factual basis for the characters that play in them, or no knowledge whatsoever about it.

The closest movie I’ve ever saw was “50 1st Dates” about severe #AnterogradeAmnesia (inability to form new memories) which I have a mild form of. I also have #RetrogradeAmnesia (inability to remember the past) which erased my past almost entirely.

I can remember how to do math, how to drive a car, how to prepare foods, how to speak, walk, etc…. Some things I couldn’t remember how to do at all, at first. My ex’s mother actually taught me how to wash and brush my hair during the first couple of weeks after my accident.

According to neurologists, no two amnesiacs’ symptoms or memory issues are exactly the same. Which makes it THAT much harder for anyone not experiencing it to understand. No wonder so few can empathize.

It’s not like the knowledge about cancer or diabetes. So many people have both of those, that there is common knowledge as well as not-so-common knowledge that is fast becoming more commonly known. It’s really frustrating to be cut off from my own memory. It’s even more isolating to be cut of from humankind because of lack of knowledge or empathy. I have yet to meet anyone else with amnesia. I’ve met (online) thousands of people with brain injuries of all kinds, and some who have regained many memories (or pieces of them) but nobody like myself in my specific amnesiac situation.

It’s rather lonely being so separate from the rest of the world. It is a great thing that I don’t mind solitude, but human interaction/connection on a deeper level than just liking the same stuff, seems less likely every day. Some of my closest friends are quickly fading from my mind/memory. Not only does that make me feel like a horrible person, but it makes me angry that they have to lose their connection with me because of my amnesia. That’s not fair (wah wah wah) to either one of us.

I’m not griping, but have a firm realization of how badly this all sucks. That’s what the “(wah wah wah)” is about. I want to be sad about it, and sometimes I am overwhelmingly so, but what the heck can I actually do about it? Nothing. That’s what. I have recent (within the last two months) journal entries that I don’t recall ever happening at all. Sometimes it feels like I’m somewhere between awake and asleep, and my body cannot decide which side to be on. One day —- I hope I wake up!
Thanks for reading!

Solice in Forgetting

The best thing about amnesia is that I forget details. Things like that backhanded f*cked up comment my neighbor made about how I screwed up my mom’s life by needing her to give me a place to live, and her laughing and agreeing. How it screwed up her office space and how she had to move it (her office) into her house instead of this loft I’m now living in.

Ya, I heard the beginning of that conversation at our neighbor’s get together, until they saw me glare over and everything turned to whispers and giggling.

I’m glad I don’t recall the exact words and phrases they used, because it would spin angrily through my thoughts at every moment of every day that has passed since then. I would get eaten alive by those words.

I’m glad they hushed themselves so I couldn’t hear the snide remarks or the fact that my own mother didn’t stuck up for me against her friend’s and neighbor’s ignorance and cruelty. Way to be y’all. Way to f*cking be. Is that what “compassion” has become? A way to be cruel? No thanks!

I wish I didn’t need this much help. I wish I could live on my own with all of this brain injury crap. I wish I wasn’t thought of as an inconvenience,  unworthy of factual justification or to be stood up for against bully-type ignorance.

I don’t care that she didn’t stick up for me or my situation (that I cannot control.. if I could, I most definitely would!) I don’t care that she’s not angry that I haven’t gotten the rehabilitation and cognitive therapies I require in order to live a more independent life — or that I’ve been neglected by professionals. I don’t care that she doesn’t care.

All that apathy does is make me want to get the f*ck out of here all the quicker. It makes me want to beat the impossible. It makes me want to do what shouldn’t be able to be accomplished with my kinds of problems after a major TBI.

Hell, that’s what pushed me away as a teenager (age 16) to grow up too fast in the first place… apathy. Maybe it’ll work again now. We’ll see. All I do know is, the hell with half-asses. The hell with people being so damned full of themselves that they lose dignity and humanity at the same time. I don’t subscribe to or belong to that tribe of fools, and I NEVER will.

I’m glad I cannot remember why to hate people, because I detest hatred – but I’m very well aware that I could hate if I so chose to. I’d have plenty of reasons why and nobody would fault me for them. Not if they heard why.

___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

I know everyone is struggling with something, but Brain Injuries seem to be the least understood. There are a lot of false stigmas about it. Many people think that the symptoms are not genuine and that people who have brain injuries are not genuinely suffering. This is not the case. We’re not lazy, or faking it, or acting. We’d rather not be living this way. If we could control it we’d go back to normal and live productive and fulfilling lives. We can’t. Brain healing takes decades if not a life time.

Even with as much healing as the brain can manage, nothing comes back 100%. Our lives never return to a level we can truly manage without help. This seems rather dismal, but it is the truth. There is no cure. There are only so many and certain amounts of treatments that affect any change. After all is said and done, we’re stuck with the life altering, life long effects.

Until next time.. Thanks for reading.

Finding Yourself After Head Injury and Memory Loss

I’ve found that I look at it this way – the old me was the old me… letting go of what I cannot control and holding tight to the fresh me that isn’t controlled by what the world made me into before my TBI is invigorating. Yes, it’s frustrating finding that new groove. It’s inconceivably intolerable at times.

The people around you who love you can only sympathize/empathize “so much” without actually going through it themselves to truly know what it feels like.

That’s true for most of us.

Buuuuut…. don’t allow the expectations of others (or from yourself) to fool you – you’re going to be the you that you are now – regardless of anyone else’s (or your own) fantasy of how quickly or to what extent is expected.

The best part about this is, you get a brand new second chance at inventing yourself, finding the things you enjoy and are good at, and figuring out where you want to take yourself (internally.) Yes, it is daunting and challenging to stay positive, but if you don’t (like many) you’ll become disconnected and start giving up on being truly happy/comfortable with yourself.

I almost made that very same mistake. I almost gave up and stopped trying. I chased some “older version” of me that (sadly) doesn’t exist in total, anymore. I pieced together the bits of me that my loved ones find recognizable, and the rest —- well, it will fall into focus. Being patient with your discoveries of self will help you not to suffer as much. Being kind to yourself and forgiving the fact that you’re different is even better. Without those things, you’re going to resent the differences, and keep chasing something that doesn’t exist anymore.

You’ll find your new normalcy again – and it will get easier.

(That’s my ten cents worth. I hope it rings true.)
Thanks for reading! 🙂

2015 © Tara Davidson
2015 © Tara Davidson

A short late night thought

The relentless apathy toward the impassioned pursuit of new knowledge – modifying viewpoints and old information that is now obsolete, damaging, and abusive to the betterment of our minds and sciences – is nothing short of a travesty upon humankind… and everything our lives touch.. including all of nature and the generations that will come after we’re gone.

©Tara Davidson - 2015 - OzarksArtistSanctuary
©Tara Davidson – 2015 – OzarksArtistSanctuary