Busy Day

After sleeping ten hours I got out of bed by 9:30 a.m.  I poured five gallons of diesel into my oil tank yesterday and had to prime the furnace for a morning shower. 100 gallons was being delivered later in the day. With success a hot shower and two cups of coffee slowed down my need for a nap. Did a little of this and a little of that and 3:30 came quickly. An hours nap was needed.
My love and caregiver bought me a fishing license today. It would be great to back into the peacefulness of fishing. I am reading a good book too. The old self often had three books going on at once. Being able to read now is different. It has to be more participant than thinking and processing. A story and not a feeding of the mind.
My current read... 
My love and caregiver is making plans for solo camping for a few days next week. She needs space too. She worries too much about me. I asked her recently, "If I was an eight slice pie, how many slices of me is a burden for you?" She told me, "six slices!" It's become a possible nickname. "Six Slice."
We sleep in separate beds. Intimacy is no longer what it was pre-TBI. But we do love each other and are growing both separately and together. I really feel as though I couldn't live without her but I support her life's plans if it is ever to be.
When people from the past see us again it is difficult for them so see where we hurt or have changed. Spending time with me some areas are seen but not well. The reason why many of us feel similar to ghosts. They really don't see us.
I really need a dog but it seems too difficult. The choice. The responsibility.
I've never been a smoker. A part of the cigarette league. I've smoked a peaceful pipe for years and years. After my injury the pipe was emptied of pleasure and replaced by the cigar. A good cigar. I love my cigars. Watching the chickens. Reading my book. Sitting in my free chair.
Good to see you. Thanks for stopping by. You should come over for a night's fire. Peaceful!

Looking for Encouragement

Seriously, If anyone stop by looking for encouragement, welcome to TBI! And as you find in your everyday path, finding here is similar to flipping a coin. In the rain. In the dark.
I have stories to tell. But why? I'm not a fan of talking about it. I've learned that a large portion of that is because so much of my TBI appears hidden. In some places it is an advantage. But in groups (as in my daughter and son in law's July 2nd 4th of July - comes with an awesome fireworks display too) I would rather stay home.
Everyone accepts and likes me. But I feel like I have something to hide. Something to not talk about or admit to. Perhaps it is due to the ways that I've changed. Some see the change and some don't. The problem lies in the knowledge which I have. I don't know what's changed. Not in a firm sense. Not something we can really talk about.
I'm weak, off balance and have gained weight. My strength has diminished. And then it often seems to me that I gained some mental illness. I have meditation history and it helps us develop a ride it where it goes mentality. To a good degree that remains. The rest is a rattling bag of bones. Like I lost many years and woke up as ninety something.
Feeling Encouraged? 

TBI Dreams, Drums and Drams

I will soon begin to participate in the local Adult Daycare. That I sit alone as often as I do is of some concern. For me, it is both a place of peace and of loneliness. Everyone I know wants to visit, have a fire or perhaps even camp out in my wooded place called home. Chickens, cats and wildlife require nothing of me. It's a good place to be.
Entering various links and pages where other brain injury survivors like to go can be a place that I also feel the need to avoid. A few TBI friends that I've made are good. There is an effort to take what they have and move forward. Some places make it seem more like a club. A group. Vision seems narrow even after many years have gone by. I know things are difficult but I don't want to settle in even if I'm alone a great deal of the time.
I spoke with a nurse from one of the programs and pondered over the whys of brain injury. Everyone seems to have bad dreams, anxiety and/or depression. Why does a good head whack go there when the brain can also dream of love and sandy beaches and play. Why the negative?
Even attending the local cruise nights and car shows I meet people who will avoid my car because it is not a muscle car crying for music of the 50's and early 60's. At one particular show many have claimed an area as their own as if the bounty of other great cars must sit at their feet and park elsewhere. Well, you know where I park. Move over rover. You got something to say? I meet polite with polite. I meet aggression with, "I'm not afraid to die. Are you?"

She's not perfect. She's from 1973. A good but complex period. VW's of the old era are reminders of peace and love. She's fun and moves along well. It's the poor man's Porsche.
I guess that I'm a little off track. Where was I going?
Eh, forget it.

Confusing World?

Venturing outside of family differences numbers in opinion multiply. Just take a small look into news, Facebook, religion and politics. Having an opportunity to just take a small look at the differences in opinion in your community would present interesting numbers. Expand that into race, countries and ethnicity and the numbers become as unfathomable as the number of salt in the sea.
Opinion and mathematics differ like fire and water although fire and water can be used together. Boil water or put out fire they can be used together in a multitude of ways.
Surviving a brain injury calls for simplicity because what I am able to do in a day changes by day. Steps forward and steps back are familiar to us all. In time the brain does slowly heal having us realize that our brains are the administrator or the king of our castle. To experience how the brain effects our bodies is unimaginable.
But the world of opinion, religion and politics operates differently. Or so we believe.
Imagine being black or native American in this country with the expectation that Jesus and Santa are white. That Christianity is our religion. What if Trump was elected as the President of the U.S. and other counties thought that we needed to be protected and changed. If foreign troops moved in and most of our major cities were bombed into looking like the broken down portions of New Orleans or Detroit and many other unlivable portions of America. How many of us would then become what would be labeled by our occupiers as terrorists.
With or without a brain injury the world is confusing. Mathematically there are formulas and equations that construct a this plus this and a minus that will equal the same numbers every time. When the power of a dollar usurps constructive formulas for the common good everything is effected. Even in our world of brain injuries numbers and causes have been downplayed. From High Schools and College sports to the NFL. For returning veterans. The need and understanding has been suppressed.
The dollar is our administrator and the King of our castle.

Making Sense, Scents, Cents since...

There are moments when I became aware of moments. Or time. The passage of time. I feel as though my brain injury happened six months ago. I'm dealing with recovery, (?) getting things together and dealing with what happened a little while ago. Then I come to understand (?) that I'm approaching two years since the injury occurred.  Two years? Pain areas, stiffness, memory and personality difficulties, imbalance and tiredness and on?
Christ! I did not get in a train wreck. I fell five or six feet and cracked the right side of my head open. The brain slammed into the left side (really?) and therein lies the problem.
Really? It did almost kill me.
Unreal...
In many ways I feel I'm ninety five. Life has moved on. Career over. My body has aged. The days have shortened along with ability. Like someone (me?) flicked a switch. How did I get here?
Old age slowly arrives. Not in a click or a flick of a switch. But it's here. Or is it?

The Collapse of Civilization Via TBI

Remembering an old film where a man had to cross the desert, ration water and keep moving until freedom or rescue is finally at hand. Some guys never make it. The main character manages to overcome such a life threatening obstacle and survives.
Hurrah for the star of the movie. How quickly we forget about the guy who dried like a raisin where his bones became picked clean by the hungry.
In my crossing of the desert I am finding it hard to focus on a dot on the horizon. It has been too much to fathom. If I was trying to save my water and make it to the other side it would appear a little more reasonable than this stumbling through the noxious fog of having a TBI. Brain injury is complicated and ever changing. Step forward and step back adding in a zig-zag and spiral line. Rationing water and moving towards a dot on the horizon is a rationale struggle with the hope that you'll make it. Zigs and spirals beyond everyday comprehension lure many to just drop in the desert of life and deteriorate to having our bones picked clean.
It took some time but I finally began to understand the reason for my desire to "tap out."  Due to feeling weak and dependent on the help of others a child or reaching an old age we do find ourselves dependent. But it is true then as well as it is now. We fight for independence and strength. I guess that it's natural.
Being watched over and cared for does bring an expectation or hope that we will smile and be happy. I don't like it. Tired, weak, confused and changed? So we put our best foot forward and be the best that we can.
Bill Hickock took shots to the back on my birthday. I know that it's odd that I always sat with my back to the corner. When I read of his demise I thought, "Hey. I can relate!" Much of my life has been independent yet giving. Watchful and guarded. Now I feel up for grabs.
Turning on the television doesn't help much either. American life seems to be always selling you on something. From goods to pharmaceuticals to politics. Making a buck is the number one goal and how it's done is an ongoing masquerade of making a buck no matter what the outcome.
As one who has observed the wisdom of Buddhist compassion I too feel that if I am nice, polite and cordial I am willing to surrender and die. Watching the animal kingdom naturally feed on each other is normal and acceptable. There was (and still is) a time when man must hunt and kill and eat their choice of meat. Toss in religion and/or country and we condone killing for power and riches.
My guard down now?