As time passes and you and I feel better and better, people, even doctors, will tell you that we are fine, “it’s time to get on with life.” That sounds good to me and probably even better to you. But before you go rushing back out into that big wide world, I need you to listen to me, really listen. Don’t shut me out. When I’m getting into trouble I’ll need your help more than I ever have before.
I know that you want to believe that we are going to be the same. I’ll do my best to make that happen. The problem is that too many people in our situation get impatient and try to rush the healing process; or when their brains can’t fully recover they deny it and, instead of adapting, they force their brains to function in ways they are no longer able to. Some people even push their brains until they seize, and worse… I’m scared. I’m afraid that you will do that to me.
Please don’t be embarrassed or feel guilt, or shame, because of me. We are okay. We have made it this far. If you work with me we can make it even further. I can’t say how far. I won’t make any false promises. I can only promise you this, that I will do my best.
What I need you to do is this: because neither of us knows how badly I’ve been hurt (things are still a little foggy for me), or how much I will recover, or how quickly, please go s-l-o-w-l-y when you start back trying to resume your life. If I give you a headache, or make you sick to your stomach, or make you unusually irritable, or confused, or disoriented, or afraid, or make you feel that you are overdoing it; I’m trying to get your attention in the only way I can. Stop and listen to me.
Love, your wounded brain
Please note: At the AE Alliance, we recognize and respect that each individual has a personal response to suffering, whether it is to a brain illness or something altogether different. This piece may resonate with some of our readers so we decided to pass it along for reflection. It was written by Stephanie St. Claire in 1996.