The year 2016 is coming to a close and 2017 is full of hope and promise.

Looking back through the year, there were several really wonderful things that happened. My first grandchild was born in January. She’s a beautiful princess and I’m loving being her Nana.

My husband and I visited Disney, but after a snowstorm cancelled flights up and down the eastern seaboard, our five day vacation turned into a two-week work-cation. I know I probably won’t get much sympathy on this one, but it was unexpected and expensive.

We had a plentiful garden this year, and a yard full of beautiful sunflowers planted by roving bands of chipmunks and squirrels.

Knowing that there’s never enough time, we took my in-laws on a cruise to the Bahamas. Laughed, loved, and realized this is probably the last year we’d ever be able to do this with them, ever.

The summer was warm and autumn trudged on through. My beautiful Siamese passed away from kidney disease for Halloween. Trump was elected. Then we coasted to Thanksgiving, when the proverbial wheels fell off the bus.

A series of recent events made me pause, 1) To be thankful and, 2) To move forward without any more reflection.

• Starting the month, my husband hit a pedestrian who ran onto a highway on-ramp, into the path of his car. It reminded him of his accident when he was hit by a car and we spent a week worrying about this stranger and what she was doing in the dark on the interstate.
• My husband was cycling in our neighborhood when a dog got loose from its owner and bit him. (Aside from fear and dogs being PTSD triggers, he is okay.)
• Last Friday, the company I worked for was acquired and my position was eliminated.
• To start this week, our fully-decorated Christmas tree fell over, shattering several cherished glass ornaments. The carpet may or may not still be damp from all the water that was in the tree stand.
• Just yesterday, I was issued a $75 ticket for failing to have my car inspected. (It’s an annual requirement here in NH and I just hadn’t found the time to get it done.) The car hadn't been driven for weeks, but I needed to go to work to turn in my company assets.

This is where I finally decided to give thanks for a complete year. I’m looking forward to 2017 with much hope!

J We’re getting the hang of living with a TBI and choosing things that are good for us.

J The kids, most of them, appreciate our limitations and accept the way things are.

J I live with a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a warm blanket for sleeping.

My wish for you for 2017, is that you’ll find support in your relationships; you’ll seek care for yourself, and you won’t get too overwhelmed with “life”, to enjoy life. I appreciate you and this group of safe humans... remember that you’re in my circle of love and I can’t do this without you.

I need a break!

     I've been in school for several years, studying Project Management. Coupled with the demands of life, work, family and the obligations that go along with having friends and doing things I enjoy, I have found little time for myself - specifically, my health and my happiness. My current school term will complete in a week and I am taking a break for eight whole weeks.
     Caregivers and those supporting others frequently put themselves last on the list of priorities. It can be come a slippery slope where we're neglected long enough that our health and our own supporting relationships can be affected. Find a way to do something for yourself today, even if just for a couple of minutes.

Juggling

     Lately, life has gotten a bit hectic. Between work and some new demands there, home and some new challenges there, and school... well, don't get me started about school; it seems like all I do is juggle everything without really getting anything done. I'm due for a break - soon. My current term at school is over in three weeks and this girl is taking a break. Today, I'm not sure I can muster the strength to go back after an eight-week hiatus. Ask me about it in a couple of months.
     I know what I'm walking through is normal, but that doesn't make it easier. If I get around to comparing, I can envy my friend who doesn't have to work and stays home with her children, or the one who loves her job and gets everything she needs to feel complete from her family and church.
   Perhaps this is what it's like to be a grown up: staying busy all the time, until I'm out of time? For now, I guess I'll be content if the balls I'm juggling stay in the air. Peace to all who are making it work - even when it's hard. I have faith it'll get a little easier.

Reality TV

   Several weeks ago, while channel surfing, my husband and I stumbled across "My 600 Pound Life" and we were immediately struck by the exploitation of the main characters in the show. These are real, live people - real human beings - with poor self-esteem and deep-rooted long-standing troubles, who need mental health counseling, at a bare minimum.
   Like watching a train-wreck, we were sucked in to the drama surrounding the family lives of these people, their seemingly uncaring doctor, and the relationships affected by their situation. Over and over I wanted to scream "go talk to someone!" I turned it on again recently - purposely, this time - to see if the episode had the same ending: overweight person struggles, overweight person continues to overeat, overeating affects the entire family, doctor scolds overweight person, etc. Sadly, it didn't end the same way. It ended with a single mother of six children dying. My husband and I cried on the couch in our living room and shook our heads.
   It occurred to me that their shocking stories are not much different than our own. When my husband was hit by a car in 2010, we didn't expect that his life would change forever. I didn't expect my life to change. I didn't expect that his brain injury would affect every relationship in our circle and every relationship that our circle touched.
   Similar to those people on TV who struggled with losing weight, we also struggled, and continue to do so today. When did our society decide it would be a good idea to take advantage of people less fortunate than ourselves? When did we decide that mental illness belongs in our living rooms, to watch like a dogfight, where someone always loses? The series about hoarding is another example of big networks making money on those with mental illness. What happened to our society?
   Wouldn't it be nice if "reality TV" showed those who are struggling with something they had no control over - an accident, a beating, a stroke - and how they're overcoming their challenges? I'd love to see a weekly series about people re-learning to walk, to speak, surrounded by hope and love, and how they begin their new journey, with "Where are they now?" updates every so often. I'd love to see a show about how families and communities can unite their resources to support someone new to brain injury.
   With all of the new traumatic brain injuries occurring in the world today, why wouldn't we want to be fascinated by resiliency, learning, and the power of love? The networks should focus on the real over-comers and become a voice for those who have lost theirs. Life isn't about ratings; it's about making a difference.

 

Over-sharing

   One of the most difficult pieces of my husband's dis-inhibition as a result of his injury is over-sharing. I'm usually pretty private and tend to keep our personal lives private, but he shares just about everything. We talk about it regularly, so I'm not betraying any secrets, but sometimes it bothers me. He's gotten much better about this, especially when it comes to events that are personal to me. Now and then he will ask if he can share something, but then there are times that it's too important not to post and it's out there for about two thousand of our closest friends.
   As with most of the new pieces of our journey, I've come to accept this need to keep the social world abreast of our doings. I wonder if other survivors do this and how we as supporters can accept it more easily.

On PTSD and My New Life

   My company recently modified its security program to include "active shooter training". While I made it through the class, I wept through most of it, and needed to work from home for the remainder of the day afterward.
   When my husband was hit by a car, I was affected in such a way that makes violence, terror, and trauma, events I can't handle anymore. I can't watch those types of drama on TV or in the movies; the news is regularly so disturbing that I don't watch or read it. Today, we as a community casually talk about people being murdered, news agencies play footage of police shootings, even some sports are violent for me. Somewhere along the way, the fact that life is sacred was lost. The thought that bad things can happen to everyone is reinforced in all the media around us and it deeply affects me.
   I was not surprised when my husband was told he had PTSD. He was hit by a car! I think I'm dealing with secondary stress, though I'm self-diagnosing. The sound of an ambulance wail brings me to tears, so do babies crying in the market, and roadkill. The problem, I assume, is that I'm no longer innocent. I'm no longer one of the untouchables - those who float through their lives without anything extreme or tragic happening.
   The "worst case scenario" already happened when my husband's accident occurred and my family was affected. The abrupt change in our lives still affects me daily and I'm always on edge for what else will come along, which brings me back to my safety training at work, surrounded by my peers.
   In the sterile conference room, we had a lecture, followed by a graphic video. There was another lecture, and an even more graphic video. I watched bits and pieces of the first video, but the immediate shooting at the beginning of the second video caused me to avert my tear-filled eyes and stare at the floor until it was over. Thankfully, no one commented on my not paying-attention to the screen.
   The program concluded with our security director saying "if you are forced to fight, fight until it's over." I guess that's what I've been doing.

Support groups

   When my husband was first injured, we didn't know that our lives had changed forever. We thought we were dealing with some broken bones and torn ligaments and didn't realize his brain was somehow affected. As time passed, his friends slowly disappeared and mine stopped asking how he was doing.
   We still had five teenagers in the house at the time and none of us really knew what was okay to talk about, and when. We did a lot of walking on eggshells and worrying about what might topple the cart - there was a lot of crying and lot of frustration in the beginning. Slowly, his children stopped calling. He has four boys and none said "Dad, I'm upset because ________." They just stopped talking to him altogether. All four of my children still lived with us and we had a lot of conversations that started with "David is upset. Don't mention _______." We lived for about a year like that.
   One day, David found a nearby support group for "Mild" TBI survivors, which was just being formed. He told me he thought he had the wrong room at the rehab, because everyone looked normal. (Ha, normal.) He cried the rest of the night. He found people like himself, trying to find their way through the confusion. He was over-joyed that he wasn't alone and that people would accept him just the way he was, because they were "broken" too.
  After a couple of months of watching him head off to his meeting and come home full of hope, I decided I wanted the same thing. In our area, there were no "caregiver" meetings and the closest I would get to sharing my journey with others was by attending his meetings. Every now and then another spouse would attend and we would share, but for the most part, everyone seemed like they were moving on and I was stuck.
   Enough time has passed now that I know support groups aren't for everyone. Sometimes, I need to talk with someone else and feel connected to something outside of my current reality. Living with a brain injury is difficult. So is living with someone with a brain injury. Seek support if you need it. A burden shared is a burden halved.