Scene 19 - It's a New Year

**************Scene 19 - It’s a New Year*************

I remember when I left Magee Rehabilitation Hospital.

It was December 23rd, and I was going to be Home for Christmas
What’s more, I was going to be home for New Years Eve,

and this was the big one -
into the Year 2000 -
And I was returning home for the Mother of all New Years Celebrations -

See, Bloomsburg, my town, was going all out with a First Night celebration -

It’s this
city wide spectacle to bring in the New Year,
and there was going to be live music downtown,
and games,
and street theater,
and the rotary club was dancing the polka,
and there was Lots of Fried food,

- it was my First trip downtown,
and Everyone was there.

I was walking around - with my parents help -
We saw my friends there,
and my parents’ friends,
and people who I had never met before but who had heard about me through their friends
- it’s a small town thing -

and I thanked Each and Every person for their love and support,
and I told them,
without your love and support I would not be where I am today,
So thank you.
Thank you.
Thank You.

And sometimes it might bet a little bit weird - but then I would laugh,
and I remember Balloons, and confetti, streamers, and thinking This is My New Year

I was returning home
Alive.

I had been given a chance to view life in a new way.
I had been to the Gates of Hell
and I had visited Heaven.
and now it was time for me to share all that I had learned.

And it was going to be good - it was going to be Real good -
A new Life with new Millennium.

Here we go…
Five,
Four,
Three,
Two…

************************************************

This was my Celebration.

Or, at least, that’s how it felt.

I’ve always had a theatrical flamboyance, and to have my homecoming seem like it was heralded by a citywide celebration was amazing!

Be clear - cognitively, I knew that this New Year party wasn’t about me - but it felt like it might be - just a little.  It felt - this was the scene in the family television drama when - when the boy graduates - when the father reunites with his daughter - when the hero comes home. 

That’s what I wanted it to be - the grand conclusion - because in the TV show, once the protagonist completes his or her transformation and makes the return, the movie is done.  You can stand up, brush the crumbs off your lap, go to the bathroom, wash your hands, and move on with your life feeling a little bit happier because the movie worked out.

In my story, I felt like I had gone through my trails and learning at the hospital - yes they had told me that the healing would continue for years, that I would continue to discover and experience new limitations in my abilities - but now I was out!  I was coming home!  Things would only be better from now on!

I thought.

This was my Celebration.

Upon reflection, this moment brings up two sensations - joy and melancholy.

First, this is a moment of joy - let’s just call it for what it is -  a moment when I am celebrating the work I have done - with my community - to bring be brought back from the hospital - now the emotions and events have all been squished together in my head - its a porridge of momentary memories - but I remember coming home - waving goodbye to the nurses - leaving the hospital - I remember a golden warmth in my household - to celebrate Christmas - and I remember that First Night - excitement - celebration - maybe the journey wasn’t over, but the end result was clear -

- and I can’t help but view this with a tinge of melancholy, because I know the difficulties and pain still to come.  It’s that moment in the movie when it seems like everything is perfect, but then you look at the time and you’re…maybe 20 minutes into the film.  Having seen this film before, I know the hardest parts are still ahead - but we need to be clear that the real emotion in this bundle is joy.

JOY!

Had I known the future, perhaps I wouldn’t have reveled in this with the same exuberance, but at the time I had no idea, and it didn’t matter - at that time, I don’t know.  We can never have certainty about a future moment - we can make a prediction, but any prediction might easily be disrupted by a stiff breeze.  What we feel NOW is true - and in that now, I felt joy.


Therefore, I’ll take the memory for what it is -


It’s a bit ignorant - yes - but that doesn’t matter- it was what it should always be.

I believe we should try to allow pure memories such as this to exist - unaffected by future memories that tint the past.  Examples - this might be acceptance to a college that later turned out to be a disaster - a relationship beginning with magic and ending in catastrophe - a moment of
- ?false? - hope in recovery.  The fatalist might argue that this momentary pleasure creates a false optimism - that a moment is truly happy only when we can reflect upon it from the future.  To this point I argue that, as humans, we often do feel the greatest pain after the greatest joy - but if we don’t remain optimistic that we will feel such joy again, why do we try?

Returning to the film metaphor, this is when the hero has just completed some great task - maybe he’s climbed a mountain, but danger lies ahead - the movie’s not done yet.  If I’m watching this film, this is when I want the camera to pull back so we - the audience - can appreciate the scenery.  In recovery, as in life, there are countless mountain tops - and these are consistently followed by struggle - I suggest that when you’re at the top of the mountain, take a moment and enjoy the view.

That’s what I got - take it for what it is.

Scene 18 - The Return...Almost

Happy New Year everybody!  Its been a while since I've posted - I got caught up in the holidays activity and my end of semester teaching work...but I'm back.  I've got a lot of exciting plans for this year ahead, including some future work with this piece, so please keep reading and I look forward to sharing stories with you!

But now...for the first post in the new year...

************Scene 18 - The Return...Almost*****************

For Larry, this is his second stay at the Crumley House.

Only had one accident, but two stays,
see, the first time I stayed at the Crumley house, I had just graduated high school,
and I heard all these stories in my school about people getting ready to…
go to college…get a job…I don’t know…
DO things…
and I wanted to Do things to,
and I couldn’t at the Crumley House, there are so many rules and restrictions, and I couldn’t DO all that I wanted to Do -
So I left.

I went out, found a…job…
stayed at an apartment with some -
some people I knew, and…

it was hard.
Like, no one understood -
where I was coming from, why I needed help sometimes, and…

I got real depressed.

So I thought back in my life, to when I was happier,
and I remembered my time at the Crumley House,
see there, people knew what I needed,
understood me, where I was coming from.

I had friends there
and I didn’t feel…
Different.

************************************************

As a survivor, I deeply appreciate this story. 

I admit that I do have an affinity towards Larry’s stories - because we are close in age - but this story is particularly moving because it begins as a story about The Return - the move from the safety of a rehabilitative environment to the noise-chaos-danger-excitement that is the modern world.  This transition is one that every survivor must make - the return to one’s former life, or some variation of that, is one of the goals - spoken or unspoken - in recovery.  A survivor wants to find some semblance the life that was, but moving from a hospital environment to one’s former setting - to use choice language - is a big F-in’ change.  This change will cause Hope, Pain, Joy, Anger, Faith, Inspiration, Frustration….  

The survivor has changed -

Yet, those in the survivor’s previous life (family, friends, colleagues…) have not - at least not to the same recognizable degree that the survivor has changed - and thus will likely not understand that magnitude of these physical and emotional changes.  Supporting friends, family, colleagues say -

“You’re out of the hospital - you’re walking!  You’re Alive!  Oh my God - Congratulations!  YOU DID IT!  I’m so happy for you - now lets go hangout exactly like we did before.”

but a survivor cannot live exactly how they did before.

The inevitability of change after TBI is a theme we have harped on throughout these writings, but I am using this entry as an opportunity to recognize that, while a survivor has changed, the world that the survivor came from has not.


A survivor may understand that he or she must interact with the world in a new manner, but that world (friends, job, school…) has likely not been prepared for this, and should not be faulted for being unable to accommodate said survivor.  Every person is relentlessly bombarded with difficulties to some degree, and the challenge of adapting to a survivor’s new set of skills is a burden for which most people don’t have the time.  And let’s be honest, it’s not fair for people on the peripheries of a survivor’s social circle to be expected to take on such a task - a survivor should be able to call attention to his or her new abilities in any setting, but the challenge of learning how to fully use these new abilities is the survivor’s responsibility. 

That said, it is tiring and may feel self-defeating to repeatedly need to explain one’s new skills - especially when those trying to listen just don’t have the training or experiences to understand the changes.  In Larry’s words, “No one understood - where I was coming from, why I needed help sometimes…”

This story begins as a story about the Return, but it takes a turn when Larry decides to go back to the Crumley House - to not return - at least not yet - to continue rehabilitation in a setting that is safe and supportive.

This is NOT giving up.

This is accepting what is and adjusting plans in order to make a more complete return when the time is right - when a survivor is ready.  A person cannot grow without support, and if a survivor is not ready for the Return - does not have the support he or she needs - attempting to make the transition can leave a person flat.  Larry did not find the support he needed - no one’s fault, it is simply what was - and was fortunate that he had the wisdom to return to the Crumley House where he knew this support existed - where he could be his new self and more fully grow.


To finish, in Larry’s words, “…There, people knew what I needed, understood me, where I was coming from.  I had friends there and I didn’t feel…different.”