Accepting Reality

Shortly after the wreck, the doctors told me it would be at least a year to recover. I laughed and said they obviously didn’t know me.

• Then the bone infection set in
• Then additional surgeries
• Then my hand surgery was delayed due to high risk of infection
• Then I had to learn how to walk again
• Then I developed social / high anxiety

Shit just kept piling up. I kept telling myself I was mentally ok. All I had to do was get through the physical obstacles and I’d be right back on track.

My s/o kept telling me I was no longer the same person. The fact she’s extremely accurate with her observations of everyone greatly concerned me. I didn’t feel different, but I know she’s almost never wrong about what she shares with me.

I had to believe she was wrong about this. She had to be.

Last night I finally admitted out loud that she’s right… about everything.

I used to be the guy who had no fear of anything. If I thought the water was deep enough, I’d jump off the cliff. I didn’t wait to be certain of the depth and temperature. Life’s too short. Just go and deal with it later.

This made me a terrible planner, but second to none with how to handle high stress situations. I got shit done either by doing it myself or ensuring I knew someone who could.

Now? It doesn’t take much to overwhelm me. When I could focus under pressure before, now I stall. If I have a ton of stuff to accomplish, I’ll just shut down. I’ll find myself having accomplished nothing at the end of the day and not remember what I spent the day doing.

I’m afraid of everything. Could the choice I make be rational or another lie my mind is convincing me is ok? What’s real?

The man in the mirror is completely foreign to me now. This is an undeniable fact. The traumatic brain injury mixed with the physical destruction has broken me beyond my own comprehension.

I used to joke and say “Do crazy people know they’re crazy?”

What was once humor, is now my reality. I’ve continued to think I’ve been making rational or semi-responsible choices, when in fact I have not.

I’m more than half way through my life and now have to start over in every respect. Losing material possessions is one thing. Losing my identity is something I’ve never had to deal with.

I don’t have the strength to fight. Honestly I have no desire to. I’ve lost so much so many times, but always had my mental health to pull me through. This time, I don’t even have that. I can’t trust my own mind.

This is hell.