I've written before (I think) about the pause that I get every time I tell somebody about my year from hell. If I mention just my girlfriend's accident or just my accident, there's a short pause. If I mention them both, it's a long pause and a sympathetic look. Then there's usually some weirdness for awhile after that, I'm not sure why. I guess because most people don't know what to say about something that major. It's just as hard for me to understand being on that side of things as it is for people to understand being on my side, which I wouldn't wish on anybody. I was all kindsa screwed up physically in the aftermath of everything. I've mentioned the surgeries, the brain issues and the physical therapy (which I hated) but have never gone into detail about the supposed mental state I was in at the time. There was concern from my doctors that I had intentionally tried to off myself and that it had been a coincidence that the driver I chose to crash my car into was drunk. (Thankfully the cops determined that wasn't true cuz it wasn't. First, I would never take myself out under any circumstances and second, I would never intentionally harm another person in that way). But while still operating under this theory, the hospital brought in every head analyzer they could find to interview me and try and determine my state of mind. The overwhelming consensus was post-traumatic stress disorder and depression and all recommended I begin some sort of counseling as well as medication. I refused both for months and instead focused on my physical therapy. For some reason I had this mistaken belief that if I could just get back to walking and using things and words correctly again, life would be how it was before. That determination is what helped me accomplish all of those things much more quickly than my doctors thought I would. But it also helped me linger in my illusions for that much longer and delayed my emotional recovery. I became almost addicted to the illusion for a long time and it infected every relationship I had.
My doctors and my family were constantly on me to try medication and especially to get into some sort of counseling program to deal with my feelings and thoughts but I remained resistant. It wasn't always just because of the illusion aspect, it was also because my stubbornness took over and faked being fine. Finally, to get everyone off my back, I agreed to medication. Then I abused it. My mom continued to hassle me to talk to somebody so I went to one session but lied and said I was continuing to go. I completely took my family and friends for granted during this time because here they were researching everything they could about TBI and PTSD and trying to find the latest therapies but I was making no effort at all. It seems like the more doctors confirmed my diagnosis, the more determined I became to not take their advice. It's always easier to run than it is to deal. I eventually did learn how to cope without meds or extensive therapy. I've found, especially in the last year, that writing and making peace with my girlfriend's family have been the keys to my finding my way out of the fog. She's been gone eight years and I'm just now able to really talk about the good times (and bad) and look at her picture again. Progress I never thought I would make but also never thought could take so long, if that makes any sense.
There are two types of people in the world; those who really know what tragedy and trauma are and those who don't. I tend to get along better with the former. I click better with people who have had to fight to become who they are. I don't talk about my accident much anymore because it makes most people around me uncomfortable. But I was recently dragged into an outing with a friend who brought along someone that works with trauma victims. Major props for that, I know what a pain in the ass we can be when we don't wanna deal and I know how majorly damaged we can be in general. But this chick seemed fascinated by trauma vics and was wanting to get into my head and know every detail about how I got through it. And this was all before the (much needed) drinks arrived. I mean, seriously? I have no problem talking about it with somebody I like and am comfortable with. I actually welcome talking with people who are genuinely curious because I don't think I've fully dissected it myself, which is hard to do when no one around you wants to relive it. But to go right off the bat and want to get into the psyche of a trauma survivor...I don't know, it kinda creeped me out. I don't think it was so much the questions as it was the morbid fascination she seemed to have with trauma in general that was weird, wanting to know all the gory details and such. I just got the feeling that she hasn't gone through a whole lot in her life but wishes she had a story to tell, you know? I can't stand people like that. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing if you've never gone through anything traumatic. I think it's amazing that some people are blessed enough to never experience the most negative of life. But I've found it's made for more interesting people when they have to overcome something. I'll admit that I like some drama or struggle in a partner because I feel like I can relate better to someone who has had to battle to become who they are. And I enjoy hearing stories about how people have overcome something but this was not that. Maybe I just didn't get where she was coming from but still...creeped me out.
