There Is Nothing Wrong With You

"Talking perceptions, people. Do we really see each other for what we really are, or do we just see what we want to see, the image distorted by our own personal lenses? I lost someone today and the funny thing is, I don't even know who she was." Jeff Melvoin, Northern Exposure, Lovers and Madmen, 1994

My friend Sue keeps telling me that. I don't know why it's so important for her that there be nothing "wrong" with me. Part of the problem is probably that she didn't meet me until after the accident. She only knows me as I am now, so for her, there's nothing to compare, no "before" to my "after".

I find it extremely difficult to deal with the "oh, you're fine" attitude. While it is true that brain injuries, especially the mild ones, can be largely invisible injuries, I am impacted daily by my new modus operandi.

I say "new". It's been almost four years since the accident. It's still new to me. Comparatively speaking 37 years versus four - yeah, it's still new.

I understand that many of my friends and cohorts are hitting their midlife stride. With that comes some alterations, changes in vision, hearing, perhaps mild cognitive decline, "Where DID I leave my keys?" But it is fleeting. It is occasional. It is not pervasive. Let me say this definitively, It is NOT the same as a brain injury.

Misplacing your keys occasionally because you're overbooked, or overworked or overtired or over caffeinated doesn't compare. (I know you all mean well when you say things that attempt to normalize or minimize but at some point it just becomes frustrating.)

As an illustration of my point, I offer an example. On Tuesday I dropped of some artwork for a show. I needed to fill out cards which were taped to the backs of each painting. They listed the title of the piece, my name, the medium and the price. I was in the midst of a migraine so from the get go, I wasn't at the top of my game. I made some error and apologized, telling Sue, who was sitting across the table from me, that I wasn't having a good day. She's known me long enough to know that's my code for a "Bad Brain Day". She laughed, made a dismissive gesture and said, "Oh, you're FINE. There's nothing wrong with you."

I seethed, and continued to fill out the cards for my six painting.

After I finished, I said my goodbyes and I left, four crumpled cards balled up in my jacket pocket. On one, I'd written down the wrong media. Another, I'm mis-spelled a word in the title. The third I'd written something on the wrong line, and the fourth - on the fourth card I had spelled my last name incorrectly.

I spelled my name wrong.

How often do you spell your name incorrectly?

How often do you make THAT many mistakes in rapid succession?

The more I think about this incident, the more I want to believe Sue. As I try to come to terms with who I am now, I want to accept my new abilities and limitations as simply factual, without judgement or disappointment or regret. This is how I am. This is who I am. While I am definitely changed, and have definitely lost some speed and some ability, I need to stop judging that fact and, by extension, myself. In that sense, perhaps there really is nothing wrong with me.