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.