Brain Injury: A wholistic approach to sharpen your focus
A good friend said to me ‘having brain damage makes you act like a golden retriever in a yard full of squirrels’. He’s not wrong.
Just this morning, I found myself bouncing between one issue to another, wanting like mad to write this blog, solve the case of Friso’s missing school trousers and listening to my husband’s account of a meeting he had last night.
In the mean time, what was running thru my head was that I am always late.
There’s always so much to do.
And apparently, I suck at everything.
So I find myself screaming in my head and beating myself up.
I lack the focus to see things as they really are and the problem-solving skills to act upon them.
It is a curious dichotomy that we, as brain injury survivors, have been placed in. Everything catches our attention at the same degree, the same level of importance, all the time.
Like a butterfly lazily drifting from flower to flower, we cannot tell the difference between a deserving event, one that is time sensitive, like Friso’s trousers and one that we can and should take our time with, like listening to my husband.
To stop this vicious cycle our brains play a not-so-funny trick on us, called perseveration. When we perseverate, our minds persistently nag over and over about one topic, theme or event that consumes us entirely.
We lack the creative thinking to stop the cycle.
Our inner voice has been marred to make us think that what we are saying or doing is exactly what the situation deserves.
Suddenly, our brain sees concreteness. Either it’s black or white. No in between. No grey.
Here are 6 things that have helped me tremendously to stop the madness of this destructive spiral.
Implement a schedule.
I am nothing without a schedule. My damaged brain knows what she can expect from one moment to another. It leaves no room for surprise. While this might be super boring for others, to the stroke survivor, or anyone who’s suffering from brain damage, it’s essential.
Pick & choose.
Some time after my stroke, I realised that I had choices to make. The loss of my writing and the use of my leg were all I could focus on. I couldn’t keep up with all of the positive influences, like essential oils, learning a new language or tapping, that were surrounding me at the time. I had to decide for myself what the focus was of my rehabilitation. I wasn’t choosing against occupational therapy. I was choosing for speech therapy. Reserve the right to choose for yourself. No one knows the road that you have walked better than you. Don’t look back.
Give me a moment!
I have to chuckle, because, for me, this doesn’t always come out in the correct way. It’s more like GO AWAY from me! However, learning to respect your boundaries and give yourself room, might not come easily to you. Practicing this, albeit in a nicer way than go away!, will create the space.
Can you help me, please?
I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t know how to ask for help. It is not part of my makeup. Being caught in a distressing situation like my stroke made me realise just how fleeting moments are and how to savour them. Asking for help doesn’t mean that I am weak. It simply allows me to extend my reach further.
Get out of your own way.
All that hemming and hawing, flittering from one flower to the next, does my head in. Be gentle with you. Allow yourself to adapt to the new you. Finding your 2.0 is an arduous task. Find something, a mantra or a quick meditation, that can refocus you.
Do the work!
If we want to get to our 2.0, we have no choice but to put our heads down and make it happen. No one is going to do it for us. It might seem onerous, even grueling, at times. You might not see the fruits of your labor. Believe me, I have many moments of doubt. Stick-to-it-ness wins every time.
It is said that human multitasking is the ability to perform more than one task or activity at the same time, such as speaking on the phone while driving a car. (Wikipedia) Pre-stroke, I was boldly, unabashedly smug with myself that I could perform multiple functions at once.
Now, I beg the world to slow down.
We’ve carved out a way of life that doesn’t stop for anything or anyone. Not even a stroke can stop the train from bulldozing it’s way thru. If we don’t ask for help or accept that we cannot do it all or get out of our own way, we will surely fall by the wayside.
I think of a solar-powered light. It uses up every ounce of energy it has throughout the night and renews itself with the rising sun each day. It is not unlike us. We need the sun.
Just like the Golden Retriever, my brain gets caught on squirrels, or thoughts about the children or what I am going to do this weekend. And I treat them equally.
I’ve lost the ability to think creatively or to pay attention to those things that matter and leave the others behind. It takes me a very long time to figure out complexities of everyday life.
Putting these systems in place has helped me to fight the urge to break apart every syllable of a conversation I had with a friend. Or to make a painful decision.