Making Steps Manageable

In my post, Small Steps, I described how a close friend and I regularly talk about breaking our recoveries into small steps; each step building on the last, but none building too far. In the post, Mike's World Tour, I described how I took a month-long trip from New Zealand to South East Asia to see how capable I was to travel. I did this before taking a year long world trip while I waited for my brain injury fatigue to reduce enough for me to work better.

My friend and I have an ongoing debate about whether this month long trip was a small step. I admit that, from the outside, it looks a fairly massive thing to take on. Yet I still argue strongly that it was a small step. I do so because it was very manageable.

It was manageable because I had a reasonably clear idea of what the difficult areas would be for me: coping with fatigue, coping with lots of very unusual situations. It is true that, although I had a clear idea of what the problems might be, I didn't know how big they might be. But, if my "small step" had gone badly, it wouldn't have been the end of the world. I was on a tour and could have holed up in my tour bus and hotel rooms and got through any big problems. In addition, I was lucky enough to have members of my family along with me to help me out if any one situation went wrong. In the end, though, my "small step" went well and I got enough confidance to embark on my longer trip.

I guess, to me at least, that's the true definition of a small step, It's small because I've made it manageable. I know the issues will likely be and, if things go wrong, it won't be the end of the world.

Cheers,
Mike

Small Steps

I have a close friend who's also a recoverer. She's recovering from various issues related to depression. That sort of recovery is no less is a long road than a recovery from TBI. As we go through our recoveries, one thing her and I often talk about is the need to break recovery into small steps; each step builds on the one before, but none builds too far!

We both think about where we'd like to end up and then break that goal into a series of small steps to get us there. Each step is taken with a very clear structure in mind if things go wrong. When you're taking small steps, it doesn't matter so much if you have to take a step back down.

Of the many things I've become able to do using small steps, probably the best demonstration of it is my return to full-time work. My goal was always to work full-time as a competition economist and my Occupational Therapist helped me break this into small steps. I took on a support role, doing a few hours a week of background work supporting other competition economists. I gradually built up my hours and the pressure I faced until, finally, I was once again working fulltime as a competition economist. As the graph in this post shows, it wasn't a fast process, but I did, in the end, get there.

In many ways, my slow progression just happened naturally. I would handle one bit of work ok and then accept a little bit more. I initially found stress difficult to handle, but, by increasing is slowly and with supports in place should I find any one bit too much, I gradually became accustomed to it.

Having a process in place to gradually become accustomed to things is key. Nothing should be rushed! Everything should be in small steps!

Cheers,
Mike

P.S. I've written another post on this topic, Making Steps Manageable.

Unsympathetic Reactions to Brain Injury

In the post, Sympathetic Reactions to Brain Injury, I described how peoples' reactions to the effects of a brain injury commonly fall into two groups. That post discussed the first and this one the second.

Not all comments that fall into the unsympathetic group are negative. Often, people are just going about their business, see something unusual and comment on it. Assuming I was already drunk (instead, I was well fatigued), a nightclub doorman once stopped me from entering his bar and said, "how many drinks have you had tonight?"

I admit, though, that more negative comments are sometimes made. I once was told (in no uncertain terms) that I shouldn't be using disabled carparking spaces because, to the speaker's eye, I looked completely healthy. I've heard about other recoverers who, for instance, have been berated for not filling out forms at the library quickly and correctly.

It is a strange fact of the human pysche that, for many recoverers (me included), even the more negative comments can be significantly less annoying than the sympathetic comments that I 've described. No matter how negative, though, unsympathetic comments get made because everyday people don't come across brain injury very often at all. They're just not aware of why my brain mightn't work quite right. It's easier for them to just think I'm a bit slow or a bit stupid.

If people react unsympathetically, I think it's pointless blaming them. Instead, I need to think about what I can say to make them see there's more to it than meets the eye. To the nightclub doorman, I can say, "Actually, it's not that I'm drunk, just that I had a bad accident a few years ago and my balance isn't so good now." To the library receptionist, I might say, "Forgive me, but filling in forms isn't one of my strengths. Can you help me out?"

Some have labelled unsympathetic comments with the much maligned word, discrimination. That seems silly to me as I can have so much influence over how people react to stuff about me. Why blames others without first thinking about what I can do to help?

Cheers,
Mike

Sympathetic Reactions to Brain Injury

Commonly, when people unused to brain injury see the effects of a TBI, their reactions fall in to one of two groups: sympathetic and unsympathetic. This post discusses the first group while (somewhat obviously) the post, Unsympathetic Reactions to Brain Injury, discusses the second.

Ok, sympathetic responses. Other recoverers out there will know what I'm talking about; things like: "You think your memory's bad, you should see mine and I don't even have your excuse of a brain injury!" or "Don't worry about it. I'm always forgetting peoples' names, too." Because of all my fatigue problems following my TBI, this one's my personal favourite: "You're tired? Yeah, I found that day/night/event really tiring, too!"

Such things have been said to me by some of the nicest, most kind-hearted people I know. Yet, at times, I've struggled not to find them incredibly condescending and very annoying. How could such kind things possibly be taken that way? Your brain injury could well be the hardest thing you've ever dealt with (mine is and, hopefully, always will be). The problems mine caused were unlike anything I'd come across before.

They were so different and so hard to deal with, it felt like no one could possibly claim to know what it was like. Comments implying otherwise seemed utterly ludicrous. How could any normal person understand how difficult this is? How can they try to make me feel better when they've got no idea what it's like?

My instant reaction was to grit my teeth and take the statement badly. What I needed was to relax! The person saying it certainly doesn't mean it to cause such anger. They are trying to make it a bit easier, to make the recoverer feel better about their troubles. Most important of all, they say it because they're being sympathetic and they're trying to their best to understand. Of good friends or anyone else, it's difficult to ask for more than that.

I realised this early on, but it still required effort to make myself relax when such things were said. Upon hearing them, I had to remember to think first, what does the speaker understand about brain injury, and then, second, how do they intend I take what they've just said. Making that a habit made it a lot easier to deal with overly-sympathetic reactions.

Cheers,
Mike

Escaping TBI Escapism

In the post, TBI Escapism, I set out why I think Mike's World Tour wasn't about about escaping my TBI. Yet I talked about how I could understand wanting to run away from it all. How can I understand it, but not have similar desires, myself?

I guess, as you may be picking up, a big chunk of it is the sort of person I am: forever positive and upbeat. That doesn't mean, though, that I entirely avoided having escapist thoughts. When they came on, I guess I was able to focus on what I still had: a reasonable amount of health (that is, at least my accident wasn't worse!), a close and loving family and, yes, something of a life to be had; a life just waiting for me to figure out how best to live it.

I know times can be tough and the mountain looks massive for recoverers to scale. I guess it's almost a given a recoverer will have times when they'll want to run away from it. Thinking about the amount I still had helped get me through times when that feeling came on. It helped me escape TBI escapism!

Cheers,
Mike

TBI Escapism

TBI Escapism: the desire to get away from one's brain injury, to escape its effects, to have a day when things are 'back to normal' - the way they were before the accident. I have written about the concept before in the post, Wanting to Leave Care. As I said in that post, the feeling is very understandable. Departing on a holiday might seem a way to get a break, to relax, to return and feel better placed to carry on the struggle that is recovery.

Unfortunately with brain injury, though, there ain't no where to hide. Your brain is something you take with you everywhere. There isn't any way you can leave it behind, even for just a few short days.

People might well read about Mike's World Tour and wonder, was it TBI escapism that motivated me to take it. I can assure the reader that it was not. Right from the word, go, I was very conscious of the effects of my brain injury on my travel. That is what made me take a month-long trip first just to see how I got on travelling with the effects of my brain injury. While I was away, of course, I was still recovering, still learning about my new brain worked, still trying to think of ways to make it work better. In that way, Mike's World Tour was very much part of my recovery.

I think there is one main trick for others to take away from this when thinking outside the box: never let go of the brain injury. Always be aware that your brain might not work the same anymore; alternative approaches might be required. But always believe that any TBI problem can be solved, or at least substantially reduced; always believe that you can and should be determined to recover.

Cheers,
Mike

P.S. I've written a bit more on this subject in the post, Escaping TBI Escapism.