A longstanding joke in my family (there's a lot, I was an embarrassing child who turned to an embarrassingly confident adult) involves The Wizard of Oz. After my first viewing I would run and hide every time the Wicked Witch made her first appearance because I didn't want her to take Toto. It took years for me to get over that fear. And then my mindset changed.
I fell in love with The Wizard of Oz. It's magical. It's whimsical. And while it's not timeless, it has span so many decades it nearly appears as if it it timeless. I could go 'all film geek' and talk about the Technicolor process used in The Wizard of Oz, but that's not what this is about. Although the process was quite historic and fascinating.
In The Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow wanted a brain. A brain, the most complex organ in a vertebrate's body. A brain. A brain, something that many take for granted. I'm not saying in the sense of not thinking for yourself, or thinking illogically. In the sense of ... what if your brain didn't work? What if you didn't know how your brain would work? What if you don't know how to explain to others how your brain works?
Everyone thinks differently. Everyone processes differently. Most people go day by day functioning the best they know how to and rarely explain themselves. In fact, why should anyone have to explain themselves? I don't ever explain why I have 7 piercings in my left ear, 6 in my right, and my left tragus pierced. I just do. It's a thing. It's my thing.
My piercings aside, my brain works differently than it did 20 years ago. Now this could in part be because 20 years ago I was approaching my 14th birthday, I was finishing Junior High School. Or it could be because almost 14 years ago I suffered from and survived a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI).
On the surface I look normal. I function normal. Inside I function how I know to. I'm methodical. I like organization. I like problem solving. I get through my methodical, over analytical, problem solving ways with steps, notes, processes. I over-think things. I jump to the worst case scenario. One of my super powers is actually jumping to the worst case assumption; figuratively, not literally, I'm afraid of hurting myself if I land wrong when I jump.
All in all, aside from also having the super power of being a TBI Survivor, I don't talk about it. I often don't know how to approach it. Whether people know it or not, they give 'a look'. I can't fault people, for me it's become nearly second nature. I can see where it catches people off guard. As well, for me, mostly, my TBI doesn't define me, it's rather helped shape who I've become.
That being said, I become infuriated when someone talks about people who have had a head or brain injury and they do so in jest. No one should make fun of the way someone does something, much less if their actions are the person they are now.
I recently had an encounter with someone who was talking in passing of someone they knew who had suffered from a TBI a few years ago and they aren't the same as they were prior. My stomach sank. I felt for them. I felt for their family. I felt for their friends. As the conversation continued I grew more upset. I grew agitated. I almost began to cry. I couldn't speak up. I began to panic and wonder if people spoke about me such as I was hearing another person be spoke of.
Later that day the original conversation starter was complementing me on my organizational skills and my thoroughness of processes. It was now or never. Fight or flight. Should I chose my words wisely? Or speak my mind?
I chose the road in between. I took the compliment well and even boasted upon that's just how I do things. The conversation continued. I was told that my mind must be fascinating because of how I tie everything together.
It was now. Not never. Now. The proverbial door had been opened for me.
I took that opportunity to once again be thankful for the compliment, however state that just a few hours prior the conversation in jest of how that TBI survivor isn't the same anymore was and is me. I didn't do this for shock and awe, but because my interactions with this person were becoming daily. I didn't divulge too many details, I didn't need to. I didn't mean for my point to create a stunning silence.
I needed it known that while the Scarecrow wanted a brain, not all brains function the same way. And while not all brains function the same way and it may appear that nothing is awray, in fact it's a daily struggle to function as if nothing is wrong. It's easier that way; less explanation, less of 'the look'.
I think what is more needed is some Glittery Ruby Slippers, they'd match most outfits, and if they don't, it doesn't matter. Style is of and itself part of you, but it doesn't have to define you; just like being a TBI Survivor doesn't have to define you. And just like any hiccups along the way don't define me in my journey, only that I'm on my journey.
I fell in love with The Wizard of Oz. It's magical. It's whimsical. And while it's not timeless, it has span so many decades it nearly appears as if it it timeless. I could go 'all film geek' and talk about the Technicolor process used in The Wizard of Oz, but that's not what this is about. Although the process was quite historic and fascinating.
In The Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow wanted a brain. A brain, the most complex organ in a vertebrate's body. A brain. A brain, something that many take for granted. I'm not saying in the sense of not thinking for yourself, or thinking illogically. In the sense of ... what if your brain didn't work? What if you didn't know how your brain would work? What if you don't know how to explain to others how your brain works?
Everyone thinks differently. Everyone processes differently. Most people go day by day functioning the best they know how to and rarely explain themselves. In fact, why should anyone have to explain themselves? I don't ever explain why I have 7 piercings in my left ear, 6 in my right, and my left tragus pierced. I just do. It's a thing. It's my thing.
My piercings aside, my brain works differently than it did 20 years ago. Now this could in part be because 20 years ago I was approaching my 14th birthday, I was finishing Junior High School. Or it could be because almost 14 years ago I suffered from and survived a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI).
On the surface I look normal. I function normal. Inside I function how I know to. I'm methodical. I like organization. I like problem solving. I get through my methodical, over analytical, problem solving ways with steps, notes, processes. I over-think things. I jump to the worst case scenario. One of my super powers is actually jumping to the worst case assumption; figuratively, not literally, I'm afraid of hurting myself if I land wrong when I jump.
All in all, aside from also having the super power of being a TBI Survivor, I don't talk about it. I often don't know how to approach it. Whether people know it or not, they give 'a look'. I can't fault people, for me it's become nearly second nature. I can see where it catches people off guard. As well, for me, mostly, my TBI doesn't define me, it's rather helped shape who I've become.
That being said, I become infuriated when someone talks about people who have had a head or brain injury and they do so in jest. No one should make fun of the way someone does something, much less if their actions are the person they are now.
I recently had an encounter with someone who was talking in passing of someone they knew who had suffered from a TBI a few years ago and they aren't the same as they were prior. My stomach sank. I felt for them. I felt for their family. I felt for their friends. As the conversation continued I grew more upset. I grew agitated. I almost began to cry. I couldn't speak up. I began to panic and wonder if people spoke about me such as I was hearing another person be spoke of.
Later that day the original conversation starter was complementing me on my organizational skills and my thoroughness of processes. It was now or never. Fight or flight. Should I chose my words wisely? Or speak my mind?
I chose the road in between. I took the compliment well and even boasted upon that's just how I do things. The conversation continued. I was told that my mind must be fascinating because of how I tie everything together.
It was now. Not never. Now. The proverbial door had been opened for me.
I took that opportunity to once again be thankful for the compliment, however state that just a few hours prior the conversation in jest of how that TBI survivor isn't the same anymore was and is me. I didn't do this for shock and awe, but because my interactions with this person were becoming daily. I didn't divulge too many details, I didn't need to. I didn't mean for my point to create a stunning silence.
I needed it known that while the Scarecrow wanted a brain, not all brains function the same way. And while not all brains function the same way and it may appear that nothing is awray, in fact it's a daily struggle to function as if nothing is wrong. It's easier that way; less explanation, less of 'the look'.
I think what is more needed is some Glittery Ruby Slippers, they'd match most outfits, and if they don't, it doesn't matter. Style is of and itself part of you, but it doesn't have to define you; just like being a TBI Survivor doesn't have to define you. And just like any hiccups along the way don't define me in my journey, only that I'm on my journey.
No comments:
Post a Comment