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! 🙂
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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