Month Two

The second month after the accident was riddled with emotional instability for lack of a better term. I would be fine one minute and then in a complete panic the next. The panic attacks would sometimes go on for hours, crying hysterically. I remember one day in particular... I was working as usual, trying very hard to continue with daily life like everything was fine. After lunch I became extremely upset. I was able to maintain control until 5 o'clock, time to leave. When I got to my car the sobbing began. I did not want to go home, I just wanted to be far, far away from everyone. I didn't want my husband to see me so upset because he had been through so much already. I called him at work and told him I wasn't coming home. I was going to spend the night with a friend and she would come over and pick up my bags if he would just have them ready for her. I drove around until I found a hotel. I called my friend to let her know where I was. She brought my bags to me, we talked for a while and she left me for the evening. I cried all night long until all the tears were gone. I took the next day off from work and went home and went to bed. My husband came home at noon. When he walked into the bedroom he lay down and scooped me up in his arms. I can't imagine how helpless and lost he must have felt.... Certainly he felt as helpless and lost as I did. The fact that I felt no affection or emotion except during the overload periods, put a tremendous strain on our marriage. I can absolutely see how a couple who was not in a strong, committed marriage, before a TBI, might not be able to hold up under the strain. I still drifted through my days as if watching myself from afar. My only release seemed to be writing a blog sweetlife4me-jp.blogspot.com 
I love to write poetry and during this time some of my writing seemed very dark. During February of 2010 I had two different friends comment to me that my blogs were scaring them a little. I assured them that writing was just my outlet for survival, they seemed unconvinced. Their concern was the first clue that some of my relationships may not survive my recovery. I found recovery from my TBI a very deep, lonely and very personal journey back. Every day was a new adventure physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. With the exception of my husband who was there 24/7, others did not understand the deeply complicated process going on. It wasn't just my brain that was recovering. I was a different person and as the months would prove I was just beginning to realize the difference, but had not yet embraced the new me. This second month was also a month of unbelievable fatigue. The thing that kept me going was knowing my daughter who was on deployment with the U.S. Navy would be returning to the U.S. in March and we were scheduled to go greet her ship when it returned. I made it to work every day, but when 5 o'clock came, it took every once of energy I had to spare to make it up the steps to my room and to fall into bed with all of my clothes still on. My husband would come in minutes later, help me undress and tuck me in. He would bring me dinner in bed and then I was out for the night, only to get up to the same routine the next day. It took every breath I had to make it through the day. All of my energies were solely devoted to getting from one minute to the next. Even as I write this a year later, tears run down my face as I think back to the slow motion of every day. It was like swimming in glue.... It was exactly like swimming in glue. When I wasn't at home all of my concentration was geared toward acting natural. The fatigue and the isolation I feel when I think back on this time is very difficult to swallow. Every thing I knew seemed up for grabs. My personality, my marriage, my faith, were all tittering on a very fine edge and much to my surprise the worse was yet to come.