While I am not generally accustomed to journaling in prose, I will attempt to do so for the purpose of recording my days in a more transparent manner should my accounts ever be needed in a way that isn't cryptic. I am tracking my thoughts over time to see if any changes occur in my cognitive ability, my use of language, or my general demeanor.
Today I woke up at 5:30 with the rest of my family, had breakfast by 6:30, and got Professor, Aynsley, and Tristan out the door to work/school by 6:55. After that, I proceeded to empty the contents of my closet and reevaluate what I really need to keep.
Since dropping out of college and moving back to my parents' house, it has become apparent that I own too many things. Though this has been true for most of my life, it has been intensified since my brain injury: when my physical space is cluttered, my mind follows suit. It is also true that the way I exercise control over things when the world spins a little too fast for my liking is cleaning and throwing away things. My power resides in my ability to ignore the natural impulse to keep things out of emotional attachment and simply let go. I threw away a lot of things I really liked today because it made me somehow the master of my domain. It may be a dumb psychological response to my frazzled mind and my uncontrolled world, but it works out okay and hasn't hurt anybody yet. Cleaning out things rids me of the parts of the past that keep lingering and makes me feel able to move on. So, I moved a lot of country-kitchen dreams to the ba
After I had cleaned a bit, I helped Mom highlight her hair, all the while talking about ways that maybe God could have been involved in the concussion and the path my future might take as a result. I tried to convince her (and myself) that maybe God wished simplicity on my life and blessed me with the inability to make things so complicated. I tried to convince us both that maybe God longed for my dependence on Him, and my attempts at being independent made it impossible for me to learn dependence without a little prompting. I know in my head that these explanations are valid. I know that though my prayer life has been quite anemic recently, these hypotheses are probably true. I know that there is something to be learned in this. But my heart hasn't quite caught up to my head in its belief.
After highlighting and a bit of yoga, it was about 10am. I am aware that my energy and cognitive functions decline throughout the day and that if I need to get things done, the hours between 5 and 11am are the most conducive to activity. And that fact was still just as true today. By 10, my energy was pretty much depleted, my head was throbbing, and my level of confusion made productive activity a lot less likely to happen.
After trying to nap to subdue the headache, I gave up. All I want is bourbon and a French New Wave film. Except I'm underage and can't even drink. And we don't even own l'Année Dernière à Marienbad. So I'm not exactly thrilled with the circumstances. Time for a defeated bubble bath.
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