Mind Over Matt

My brain has a few issues it’s trying to work out. I have a bad case of the brain farts. Or as my neurologist calls it, a TBI (traumatic brain injury), Post Concussive Syndrome. I don’t remember it being that traumatic to be honest, dealing with the aftermath though…maybe that’s why they use the word.

Speaking of remembering. That’s not something I do very well at the moment. Well, that’s only partially true. It’s short term memory that’s giving me fits. I make notes around me all day. Sometimes I even remember to look at them. But somehow I can read an article, not recall much of it 30 mins. from now, yet the knowledge from it is still imprinted. That sounds great, and I suppose it’s better than the alternative, but imagine this: Imagine having to trust yourself that you know something even when you’re not sure you do. To open your mouth and let it spew forth like some sort of improv jazz scatting experiment and be amazed listening to *yourself* as if you are a 3rd party without the benefit of foresight.

To literally be “in the moment” is what all these motivational people tell you is the ultimate nirvana. I’m here to tell you that it’s absolutely terrifying…and exhilirating. Like putting all your money on red and letting the wheel spin. “Exhilirating” is just another word for “Impending Panic Attack”. So you experiment, you put your toe into the neurons and see if it’s too hot or too cold. Some things you discover you’re just fine at, that whole “in the moment” thing? Turns out that once the words come pouring forth I enter an almost manic state about subjects I am passionate about. There is no barrier or filter, and if anything I am better at communicating in those moments than I was before…this other me that I watch enviously.

Some things though? Most things actually. Aren’t so great. Deep, immense periods of depression that are so dark they frighten you into late night phone calls with the Dr.’s exchange. The soul crushing migraine-like headaches that keep you in emergency rooms and hospitals. The insomnia. The stress. The vicious cycle when all of the above go into a feedback loop like the proverbial snake eating its own tail. The inability to tell people why you missed their party, why you don’t return their phone calls, why you went missing for a couple of days. The fear of not operating at 100% when you desperately need to be operating at 110%, of not letting anyone in your professional life know because their “Sorry, It’s just business” could become your “How do I put food on the table” if you don’t Make Shit Happen.

The height of arrogance is the fact that I know my 75% is better than most people’s 100%. Any day of the week. Yet arrogant or not, I know it to be true. I see what other people produce, what they consider ‘good enough’. No, my issue isn’t with whether or not I can do something…it’s the ‘unknowing’.

(That’s the other thing my brain does a lot of lately. It swaps out perfectly good words, like ‘unknown’, with ‘unknowing’. Or the ‘hardware store’ with the ‘garage store’. It literally took me 5 minutes of staring into space to write that last sentence because I had to bring the word ‘hardware store’ out of the dustbin of my mind.)

My speech has returned and I no longer sound like a drunkard. In exchange my near vision is out of whack and I can choose bi-focals (no thank you), or just take off my glasses and wait the requisite 10 seconds or so for the thing I’m looking at to resolve itself. Certain noises and bright lights can trigger the headaches, so I don’t watch TV or go to the movies. Not because I’m sure it will trigger one, but because I’m terrified it might. I wear earplugs when I go to an event. But sometimes the headaches come anyway. The ER visit last week (yeah, it’s pretty much a hospital or neurologist every week it seems) was one of the worst. Its cause? I was so bold as to think I could mow the yard with earplugs and sunglasses on. I guess there’s a reason that Toro means bull.

Oh yeah, the ‘unknowing’. I find myself on tangents a lot these days, but to be fair I’ve always been either in a distractible state, or absolutely focused and ‘in the flow’ where time has little meaning. Right, where were we, the ‘unknowing’. Sorry. That, my friends, is the challenge. These quirks don’t arrive on a set schedule. And there is no expiration date printed on the box.

It will end when it ends. Or it won’t. And that’s one hell of a thing to live with every day. I can handle the rest, mostly. But this unknowing, it’s become a noun to me. A presence. An enemy always lying there at the periphery. THE Unknowing. And as the days go by, and I improve…then decline…and improve…then decline, I weaken and The Unknowing gets stronger. Every needle I’m pierced with, every new drug ($500 per headache and it works 15% of the time, true story), every new treatment protocol, every time I think I see a pattern of cause and effect, causes this rush of hope. Hope that we’ve found a weapon against The Unknowing.

And so the battle rages. Pain? Anyone can take pain if they know how long they have to take it. I’m no stranger to it. Feeling ‘less than’, and slow to process the things that have always made others praise the special gray matter between my ears? Sure. I can do that for a while. Just work harder when I can. Avoiding certain types of places and limiting exposure to sounds and lights? Hell, I’m an introvert. Easy peasy.

But The Unknowing. Always The Unknowing. You see, after a certain amount of time the risk of certain symptoms being permanent starts to rise dramatically. Within this broadly, and vaguely, and contradictorily defined time window (apparently neurologist have trouble reaching consensus on these things) I hold the advantage over The Unknowing. In the beginning I was behind the bell curve in recovery, then I progressed very quickly one weekend and was ahead of the bell curve. We celebrated.

I’m pretty sure it was during that celebration that I let down my guard and The Unknowing slipped back in. It won’t be long now before the advantage turns. When I have to make that come from behind victory vs. sitting on my lead waiting out the clock. Exactly how long? As discussed that is the matter of some debate, and yet another point is scored by The Unkowing. How does one battle a foe whose very advantage is that it alone knows the duration and rules of the game?

We, the unwilling, led by the unknowing, are doing the impossible for the ungrateful. We have done so much, for so long, with so little, we are now qualified to do anything with nothing.

If patience is a virtue, then my moral rectitude has been stomped into oblivion. I have no patience for wanting to be whole, I was fairly certain that this past year was done having fun with my health. It is a cruel enemy who leaves you completely self-aware and forces you to watch while it restricts your abilities. But the game is afoot, and I still have cards to play. (This week, Botox injections! The poison that just keeps on giving! If I lose the battle at least I’ll still have a beautiful, youthful scalp. I hear smooth scalps are big with the ladies).

But even if some of them get a bit jumbled, I still have my words. And a little private corner in the ether of the internet to dump them into. To whine into the wind, to have a pity party, to exhale in frustration. And then, stuff it all back down, get back to work, and keep my eye on The Unknowing.

This tl;dr ramble brought to you by Ambien, and the letter I.