by Linda W. Arms, Nov. 14, 2023
I’m sure all of you have done a lot of thinking about how your brain injury has affected your life. For some of us, the impact has been a devastating change to who we are. While others have experienced smaller changes, especially after many years of recovery. We start living a new normal but what is that really? Is it a good thing or a bad thing?
It’s all a very peculiar thing, this journey of recovery after a brain injury. At first, every small victory feels like a monumental triumph, a step closer to reclaiming the life you once knew. Yet, as you gradually approach a semblance of normalcy, a realization dawns upon you – you’ve adapted your life in countless ways to accommodate the ever-present effects of your brain injury.
I’ve reached a point in my recovery where, on the surface, it seems like I’ve reclaimed my old life. I’m content with where I am, relishing the sense of familiarity that comes with routines and a semblance of normalcy. I’m engaging in social activities, hiking, traveling and other things I did before the injury. On the outside, things seem almost unchanged. But beneath the surface lies a subtle yet profound truth – my life has been crafted and adapted to accommodate the lingering impact of my brain injury. For many activities, I spend a lot of time meticulously planning so I will be more successful or more able to enjoy an activity. There are other things I just don’t do anymore.
Gone are the days of effortlessly entertaining a roomful of people or enjoying myself at a live music event. No longer do I find myself navigating bustling, noisy environments with the ease I once did. Activities that were once part of my life, such as skiing or cycling, now feel like distant dreams, shrouded in the worry of potential risks and setbacks. Even the simple act of spending too much time in an overstimulating environment can trigger consequences, leaving me having to work harder to concentrate or process complex information.
It’s a paradox – while I may have regained a sense of normalcy, it’s not the same normalcy I once knew. I’ve had to reshape my life, recalibrate my expectations, and learn to embrace a new set of limitations. But is this adaptation a sign of progress or a subtle acceptance of defeat?
I’ve pondered this question a lot lately, with the conflicting emotions that accompany this newfound understanding. On one hand, adaptation represents resilience when faced with adversity. It’s a reflection of the unwavering spirit that refuses to be defined by limitations, finding solace and contentment in the small victories of everyday life.
Yet, on the other hand, it’s an acknowledgement of the sacrifices made along the way. It’s an acknowledgment that the life I once envisioned is no longer within reach, that certain activities and experiences are forever relegated to only memories. It’s a reminder of the fragility of human experience, the delicate balance between acceptance and the unyielding pursuit of a life that once was.
So, is it good or bad? Perhaps the answer lies in the acceptance that it’s neither. It’s a nuanced, complex interplay of resilience and adaptation, a testament to the extraordinary ability of the human spirit to forge a new path even when the old one seems forever lost. It’s a reminder that in the face of adversity, the victories often lie in the ability to redefine our understanding of normalcy, finding solace in the beauty of a life that has been molded and shaped by the trials we’ve endured.
It’s okay that things aren’t the same as they used to be. I’ve learned to find joy in the small things, and in the activities of my life that go well. I greatly appreciate the progress I’ve made and my ability to do things I thought I could never do again. I am grateful for this. Yes, I acknowledge my life does not include some things I used to do and that’s OK. I have more time to devote to things I can do and have found some new interests as well.
So, if you’re going through something similar, just know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to adapt and plan. It’s okay to take things slowly. What matters most is finding happiness in the little victories and in the journey of making the best of what life throws at us.
Thank you for voicing the words never spoken outside my own head, it is good to be reminded I am not alone, cva 1998.