When times are good, energy is high, and body is strong, I forget why I have a handicapped placard; forget why I have canes and foot braces; forget why I no longer work. When times are good, I forget that I have brain damage, forget that I have a rogue immune system, forget that I am not in control.
But then there are days that force me to remember. Let me explain:
I coordinated a Spiritual Journaling workshop for my Fellowship that was held on Monday. I found a speaker/facilitator, reserved the room, sent out notices, followed up with people to get a firm head count, bought refreshments, collected accoutrements such as a CD player, name tags, donation receipts, post-workshop surveys. I solicited volunteers to help set up the room. I arranged for transportation for the speaker. I scripted my part of the workshop, selecting one of my pieces of poetry to share, deciding how to introduce the speaker. I packed up my laptop for one attendee to use who has difficulty writing. I made sure everything was ready.
The workshop was a success. About 23 people attended, feedback was positive and there is interest in continuing this venture.
I was happy. “Coordination” was something that I used to LOVE to do when I was working, and something that I used to list as one of my strengths. For a time, I forgot…
That was Monday. Then came Tuesday.
When I woke up, I was exhausted. Unable to process spoken words or understand words written on the feedback sheets. I know it was English, but I didn’t understand what the words meant. I was worn out after a short conversation with the neighbors. Even with two naps, I was so tired. I had great difficulty dealing with human interactions. Every event felt like a major drama. Two people told me about things that I simply couldn’t remember happening. I couldn’t remember anything that people had said, that I had said, what I had committed to; and I didn’t have the brain functions to figure out what to do or say.
On Tuesday night, The Husband found me crying in the closet.
Today is Wednesday and I am still exhausted. But now I remember. Now I remember why I am unable to work; why I have a handicapped placard to conserve energy; why I have a cane to assist with balance. Now I remember why I don’t volunteer as much as I would like, or why I don’t sign up for every event that I want to attend.
When times are good, I forget that I have brain damage, forget that I have a rogue immune system, forget that I am not in control.
But then there are days that force me to remember. Let me explain:
I coordinated a Spiritual Journaling workshop for my Fellowship that was held on Monday. I found a speaker/facilitator, reserved the room, sent out notices, followed up with people to get a firm head count, bought refreshments, collected accoutrements such as a CD player, name tags, donation receipts, post-workshop surveys. I solicited volunteers to help set up the room. I arranged for transportation for the speaker. I scripted my part of the workshop, selecting one of my pieces of poetry to share, deciding how to introduce the speaker. I packed up my laptop for one attendee to use who has difficulty writing. I made sure everything was ready.
The workshop was a success. About 23 people attended, feedback was positive and there is interest in continuing this venture.
I was happy. “Coordination” was something that I used to LOVE to do when I was working, and something that I used to list as one of my strengths. For a time, I forgot…
That was Monday. Then came Tuesday.
When I woke up, I was exhausted. Unable to process spoken words or understand words written on the feedback sheets. I know it was English, but I didn’t understand what the words meant. I was worn out after a short conversation with the neighbors. Even with two naps, I was so tired. I had great difficulty dealing with human interactions. Every event felt like a major drama. Two people told me about things that I simply couldn’t remember happening. I couldn’t remember anything that people had said, that I had said, what I had committed to; and I didn’t have the brain functions to figure out what to do or say.
On Tuesday night, The Husband found me crying in the closet.
Today is Wednesday and I am still exhausted. But now I remember. Now I remember why I am unable to work; why I have a handicapped placard to conserve energy; why I have a cane to assist with balance. Now I remember why I don’t volunteer as much as I would like, or why I don’t sign up for every event that I want to attend.
Now I remember. But I wish I didn’t.
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