There is a deep darkness—because I live a life behind a veil of being able to “write well” and yet that leaves my traumatic brain injury forgotten by most, if not all.
People run over me or past me, thinking I can handle it or assuming I can wield against it.
And some days, most days, I am barely surviving. Learning how to do basic life tasks like get a spoon out of a drawer.
Currently standing in the middle of the room sobbing. Unable to walk, unable to go forward or back. In the darkness, rocking. Because I expended all my energy on something that took me writing the words out.
It isn’t easy. It takes focus. It takes memory recall. It takes putting all the pieces into the game.
I don’t get vacations from my TBI. Some interact like I do—like for them, I can easily think this through and then return to the rest. It is an injury. Like a broken bone—only it’s a broken motherboard.
I will stand here in the dark. Rocking. Waiting to know how to take a step forward. Eventually my body will recall.
This is TBI. This is it. Please remember. Please recall. I know it’s hard.