It's been 524 days since my brain broke, 424 days since I could drive again, and 341 days since I went back to work and lived like a "normal" person again.
2023 was so intense and frightening, and also a fresh and new perspective. A clear appreciation for life. Making progress all the time in getting language back, getting abilities back. Every month I felt stronger. I could see and feel the progress, no matter how slow. Everything felt clear: I knew my goals, I knew my allies, I knew the battles I was fighting.
2024 has been, comparatively, a mess. I don't feel the support that I used to have. I'm happy to have recovered so well that nobody is fussing over me, but also nobody checks in on me. And if they do, it's an impatient "Oh, I thought this was already over with" kind of way. My medications have normalized to the point that it's like locking the door or turning off the stove. I know I took the meds, but I don't remember taking them. So a couple weeks ago I forgot just two doses - the night before and the morning of - and wham-bam I had a seizure. It all came back. The fear and self doubt. And this time I didn't have a support system to pick me back up. I've been in my head about it. Just a small fuckup like that really costs me. And of course I'm going to make errors. Nobody is perfect, even when they have a fully functional brain.
I miss the clarity of living every moment, stepping out of and into the constant unknown. With nothing guaranteed, you're happy to have the time right this second. But now I need to plan for the future. My job is no longer a guarantee (I was so surprised that it was last year!) and I don't know if I'm competent enough to hold any other job. What if I'm mentally crippled? Honestly it's ridiculous just to type that. I know, logically, I'll be fine. It's those pesky insecure thoughts that come with permanent brain damage. "You're not the same as you were" "You're slower now" and the improvements are not as clear as they were when one day I couldn't say the ABC's and then I could. It's not so obvious if I'm reading faster than I was the day before, the week before, 6 months before? I don't know.
How is it even fair to judge myself by these metrics? Every fool on the planet has their ups and downs days, they just aren't constantly analyzing it because they can't pinpoint the day that their brain collapsed. Mental decline is usually a slower process than a hemmoragic stroke, don't you think?
I need to go back to that feeling I had last year of finding so much joy in one scrambled egg. The elation I felt from the privilege of being outside (hell, even SEEING outside!) I still feel that gratitude but it's so much more muted now. It's not a lovely surprise anymore, it's "the usual" goodness. Still good, but no longer perceived as the gift that it is.
But I don't have to worry about anything, do I? I'm choosing to. I didn't worry about my job last year, and that worked out. I didn't worry about finding a new roommate right away, and you know what? Financially it was regretful but...who cares??? I lost thousands of dollars. Oh well. I'm still here. Breathing, reading, typing. SMILING! Am I worrying now because I feel like I have to? I have objectively SMALLER problems now than I did the year before, but I'm more anxious about the future. Not the same things, but still. What good is it? I could still die tomorrow. I need to remember that (WHILE ALSO saving money for future emergencies)
Maybe it just feels good to have "normal" worries. "Oh no, what am I going to cook for dinner?" instead of "What if I can't read a full sentence ever again?" or spell my name? Or tell people how much I love them?
This balance is so hard. Enjoying what you have and striving for what you want.