Elsa and the Bear

Elsa ran out of the cave. Her chest heaving and her legs pumping with all of her might, she shielded her eyes with her arm as the bright sun exploded around her. Never again did she want the darkness to trick her into thinking it was more suited to her than the warmth and glow of the sun.

Her long brown hair whipped around her face as she turned back to check on the distance between her and the cave. Feeling safe that its black tendrils couldn't reach her, she slowed her pace and caught her breath. Elsa promised herself she would never have to feel those rough chalky arms around her shoulders again. She shivered remembering how black ragged pieces would break off and cut her flesh as the tendril wrapped around her forcing her closer.

Up ahead was the golden field where all of her favorite flowers bloomed. Lilac bushes full of heavy creamy purple blooms decorated the air with their perfume and tickled the inside of her nose. Poppies danced their orange delight as their flower heads waved in the soft breeze. The tall irises boasted their glorious pageantry, visually pleasing. The tiny Forget-Me-Nots and Pansies played patty-cake choosing to stay close to the earth.

Elsa found a spot in the tall soft vividly green grass and plopped down. It was warm, but not hot. The sun, high in the sky, winked at her. "Rest now, Elsa. It is a beautiful summer's day. The grass is your bed. The chipmunks and squirrels your lookouts, tirelessly watchful. Do you see how the birds fly? Can you hear their song? They are singing you a lullaby. Rest and be at peace."

So tired, Elsa looked down at the scars the darkness had left on her arms. All she wanted to do was rest and forget. She looked back up at the sun, who smiled back down on her. Looking around at the flowers dancing and playing, bending to the gentle winds, her eyes grew very heavy. Her body and mind ached with the need to sleep. As she reclined, the grass became her mattress and the earth her floor, their distinct odors hopscotching around her, depending on the wind's direction.

She could still see the light through the lids of her closed eyes. Opening and closing her fingers, Elsa felt the grass. The beating of Elsa's heart slowed to an even pace and soon she was asleep.

A big black bear came by and placed a basket of berries at her feet. His brown muzzle contrasted with his thick dark luxurious coat. He lied down next to her; he would wait for her to awaken. Elsa, like most of us do, turned in her sleep and bumped into the bear. He stayed still while she nuzzled into him, the brown of her hair the same shade as the bear's snout.

The sun drifted lazily in the sky. Sensing the change in time, Elsa awoke. Opening her eyes, she saw darkness and panicked. Was she back in the cave? No, she couldn't be. Soft and big. What was lying next to her blocking out the sun's direct rays? Pushing against the bear's large belly, she sat up. The bear, not wanting to frighten her, did not move. He only smiled and said, "Hello."

"Hello," Elsa answered. Then, feeling impolite, she introduced herself. "I'm Elsa. Who are you?"

"I am Bear."

"Just 'Bear'?"

"Yes."

"Hello, Bear."

He smiled again and sat up. Instead of his big body frightening her, she felt good. Protected.

Pointing to the basket of berries, he said, "I brought you some berries. I thought you might be hungry and thirsty."

Delicately, Elsa picked up one berry. Popping it into her mouth, she chewed and swallowed. "You are a wonderful berry picker, Bear. This is delicious."

Nodding, he answered, "Thank you. Please eat as many as you would like."

So she did. She also was thinking that she and Bear should be friends. "Would you like to be my friend," she asked.

"That's why I am here, Elsa. To be your friend and for you to be mine."

Elsa, her tummy full, stood up. So did Bear. He was tall! She took his paws in her hands and they looked into each other's eyes. Love filled their hearts.  He asked her, "Are you ready now?"

Elsa said, "Yes." His left paw holding her right hand, they started walking. Elsa, needing to make sure, turned her head back one more time looking for the cave. She couldn't see it. Bear, understanding, patiently waited. Only a few seconds had passed when Elsa cleared her throat and looked up to Bear. "I'm ready."

It's My Party and I Would Cry if only I Could

So I don't know who I am. I know I am repeating myself. I'm not sure I have relayed to you as deeply as possible what that means.

It is talking and then realizing that you didn't know you would say that. It is acting on feelings and not knowing why you are being so extreme or at the other end, why you don't care. It is fighting anxiety on a level you never knew before.

The brain is magnificent and delicate. It is amazing and intricate so when it is even slightly damaged, it is unlike any other destruction. Someone having had a stroke is understood. Another dealing with the ravages of Alzheimer's is understood. But a closed head injury is something that few understand.

Sometimes I want to cry, but since the accident that is very difficult for me to accomplish. I don't stay on one emotion long enough or feel it deeply enough. Like a ghost slipping past me in the night, tears come and then swiftly dry up.

Meditation has become my cool water in the heat of the day. It relieves the anxiety and soothes me. It helps me clear my head of the noise. The music of my medication CDs gently drifts in, around, and through my tired brain bringing it peace and comfort. I fall asleep into a meditative state. I wake up refreshed, freed from anguish. I understand myself better but I know it will happen all over again.

If you are cold, move closer. My body heat will warm you up.

The New Me...?

Almost a year and a half later, I still surprise myself at times.

I always kept my thoughts and feelings to myself only sharing when I was with a very trusted ally.  Now I speak my mind with freedom.

I morphed from situation to situation depending on what I thought was the safest way to behave. Now I am the same person no matter who I am with or what the circumstances are.

I used to be able to concentrate on tasks in a way that would freak people out. Now I have to listen to music while I work because instead of it being a distraction as it would have in the past, it helps me to concentrate. Having Attention Deficit Disorder has been one of the harder things to adapt to especially when trying to get things done. I found myself walking around the house taking care of one chore, see another chore, dropping the first chore and then realizing I was supposed to be doing the something else but not remembering what I was originally doing. It took months to teach myself to keep on point. I have learned that when I feel confused the only way out of it is to stop moving both physically and mentally. I don't care where I am; I will stop and get quiet to ask myself, "What are you doing? What should you be doing? What were you doing?" It's like hitting the reset button.

My typing skills have suffered, too. I consistently type letters in the wrong order. That rarely happened before the accident. It still frustrates the crap out of me. I can hear you thinking - "what's the big deal? That's not life and death." Well, for this grammar and spelling Nazi, it can make me want to smash my fist down on my desk.

Speaking of wanting to break things...

Not long after the accident there were a few new things about me that towered above the rest. I wanted to punch the walls. I wanted to drive my car into the ditch. I wanted to destroy things! These overwhelming feelings of destruction were not because I was angry, sad, or bitter. I wasn't angry. As a matter of fact, I didn't give a shit about anything. I felt nothing. My array of emotions had left town and I didn't know if they would come back from vacation. So, I was a dichotomy of wanting to slam my fist into something hard and unforgiving to being void of emotion all at the same time.

When I shared these feelings with my doctor, his first question was, "Are you hitting anything?"

"No. I'm not," I answered back with a meek smile on my face. "At this point I am controlling the urges."

He seemed to physically relax, "Good. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. I am having really bad nightmares. They are like horror movies with people getting torn apart. They are very vivid."

He thought for a few seconds and then prescribed an anti-anxiety drug. "If all of these feelings don't get better, let me know. This is the mildest strength we can go so if needed, we will raise it."

The little pill worked! I was safe around society and the nightmares ceased. But, I still didn't give a damn. That turned out to be a blessing. Work had become a hotbed of personality disorders run amok and my personal life was less than optimal. Poppy (my Chihuahua) and my mother became my safe places. I also developed a close friendship with the only other sane person in the office. Even though she now lives somewhere else, she is still my rock.

Slowly, very slowly, feelings moved back in to one degree or another. Thinking about the range of emotions I have in my color pallet now, I am fine with it. At times I think I am emotionally steadier than I was until I react to a situation like a volcano erupting.

Oh, well. Life wasn't perfect before so why should I expect it to be perfect now?

The cool night breeze feels good. It gently moves my hair. Are you sure you aren't cold?  I'm always hot so I'm not a good judge.

I Don't Know Who I Am

I don't know who I am. That is how I felt after the car accident. That is what I would say to myself in response to my actions. Quite rapidly, remembering how I used to be, how I would respond to life,  faded. I tried to hold onto to it, but couldn't. Who was I now? I couldn't trust myself. I didn't have the history of past actions to refer back to. It was like being an adult but as fresh as a baby. I lost my reference point. I had no guide. I couldn't predict my own actions. I had become an observer of my own life watching a replacement actor stand in for me.

"Frontal Lobe (behind the forehead) An injury to this part of the brain can cause changes in emotional control, initiation, motivation, and inhibition. An intolerance for frustration and easily provoked aggressive behavior are typical. Promiscuity and lethargy may also result."

I chatted up the young woman at the MRI center's front desk. For those of you that are introverts, you understand how out of character this is. I stood outside of myself watching and listening to the repartee. I wasn't uncomfortable at all! This was actually easy! Who the hell am I?

There were other problems, though, that didn't have such a happy result. My short term memory was shot. I couldn't hold onto conversations. Sometimes I couldn't remember I even had one! I would be sitting at my desk at work struggling to focus. My mind was all jumbled up and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make it calculate at the speed and efficiency I had always known. Frustration mounted. It was like living in a room filled with cobwebs, batting at them trying to pull them down but not being able to clear them out. 

There was one time when I was sitting at my desk at work trying to recall what the current task was. I looked at my computer screen and then looked down at the piece of paper lying on my keyboard. Oh, yes. I printed that out and here it is. In front of me. But, I have no memory of pushing the print button, getting up, walking to the printer, retrieving the job, and then sitting back down. Inside I was screaming, "My mind! What am I going to do if this is permanent? I know I am going to get fired." Then I would do some self-talking. "Hang on, Nancy. Calm down. Stop panicking." 

The doc treating me after the car accident said I needed to take time off from work to heal. My brain needed to heal and in order for that to happen it needed to not be stressed. While I suffered from a constant bad headache and back and neck pain, it was the head injury that was debilitating. I was told to sleep as much as I could. To be forgiving towards myself. Yes, I was frustrated but I had to be patient and kind with myself.

When folks see someone with a broken leg, they understand the injured person's limitations. You can't see a head injury. My suffering was invisible to others. One acquaintance of mine told me to just push through. I fought with him trying to make him understand. This wasn't something I could make better by willing it to be.

To make matters worse, I now suffered from Aphasia. This is "...a communication disorder that results from damage or injury to language parts of the brain."

"Aphasia gets in the way of a person's ability to use or understand words. Aphasia does not impair the person's intelligence. People who have aphasia may have difficulty speaking and finding the "right" words to complete their thoughts. They may also have problems understanding conversation, reading and comprehending written words, writing words, and using numbers."

Specifically, I was dealing with Anomic aphasia. "...the person has word-finding difficulties. This is called anomia. Because of the difficulties, the person struggles to find the right words for speaking and writing."

I found myself relying on others to fill in the blanks when I couldn't bring up the word I needed. I used words that were close to what I meant, but still were wrong. Right church, wrong pew. I had to stop conversations in mid sentence and attempt to describe the definition of the word I needed. I would hold my head with both hands grinding in frustration wishing I was not like this. For someone like me, a writer, this was devastating. 
 
I couldn't take time off from work, as advised. My employer didn't provide disability insurance and I couldn't afford it without it. No one paid my bills but me. My doctor said he could write a note for six weeks off, but then he knew I needed to work. His work around was telling me to take breaks throughout the day. Find somewhere to take a nap during lunchtime.

I love looking at the stars on a clear night. Don't you?