Even if it feels like I’m walking through the dark, maybe we all need to lose sight of what we think we want, in order to stumble into what we are meant to become.
I woke up around 2 AM in the middle of the night wrestling under the sheets of my bed. I slid my legs out from under the sheets and onto the floor and began stumbling through the dark with a lack of balance until I found the bathroom. If life is supposed to be like poetry this poem wasn’t well composed.
In the bathroom, I lifted my shaky left hand and hit the light switch, and grabbed my toothbrush. After squeezing the white toothpaste onto my brush, I starred at myself in the mirror as I stroked the toothbrush left and right cleaning my teeth. I tried catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror but I struggle to see at times because of my double vision from the brain injury. It can be a blessing because I probably wasn’t looking great at 2 AM in the morning anyway. Talk about poetic. Lol.
Regardless of my vision, it’s important to remember that I survived another day to fight for whatever my purpose is in life. I’m 34 and still trying to figure it out but at least I’m brave enough to try new and different scary things despite having more challenges than most. Even if it feels like I’m walking through the dark, maybe we all need to lose sight of what we think we want, in order to stumble into what we are meant to become.
So this is me giving you, the brain injury survivor, permission to stumble through the dark to see what you may find.
Thank you, over coming inertia to continue the stumble forward is key. Most do not see the hitch in my gait, the fear or stairs, or too much light, or too much sound. While I grope for a word or process a question, give yourself freedom to ask for that moment to process or for that word of clarification. And remember, I am not damaged, just different.
Definitely. I agree with the fear of stairs, or too much light, or too much sound