The Swinging Pendulum of Self-Esteem: Life After Brain Injury

Over the last dozen years, I've come a long way in accepting this new life with all of its challenges – both seen and unseen. Most of the time, I'm okay with coexisting with the brain injury challenges that still haunt me. Catch me when I'm tired, and you can be quite certain that aphasia will creep in, accompanied by a most annoying stutter that I picked up as an added attraction to my life.

Memory problems still dog me, but my workarounds have proven to be quite effective. My Google calendar functions as my external memory, keeping track of important dates and other details of my life. But you can only rely on compensatory strategies for so much.

Sometimes, like this morning, I am reminded of my challenges by a full-frontal attack – one I never saw coming. And like most other brain injury survivors I know, I struggle with low self-esteem, often thinking of myself as just a bit less than those who wander our planet with uninjured brains.

Sarah and I are back from a few days of much-needed vacation. Sarah is in between jobs, and it was a perfect time to go someplace we've never been. We both got off the grid for a few days and explored Charleston.

While it may sound as if I was commissioned by the local Chamber to write a feel-good piece about this magical city, I was not. That being said, we were both enthralled by all that Charleston has to offer. Every meal was a culinary experience, but it was the charm of the people that was the most memorable part of our trip. There was a kindness, a genuine authenticity, and a gentleness to most of the people we met. Smiles came easily, conversations were meaningful and enjoyable, and the week skipped by like a stone on water, from one amazing experience to another.

I am blessed to have a few close friends who stuck by me after my injury. They are part of a smaller social circle that I'm a part of. They love me unconditionally – brain injury or not, and occasionally poke innocent fun at my injury, never at my expense. It's nice to be accepted for who and what I am.

This morning dawned and it was time to reconnect with a couple of friends. When Sarah and I travel, we can be tough to reach by intent. Recharging is good for us. In an early morning conversation today with a good friend, he made a comment in passing that kicked the legs right out from under me, the full-frontal attack that I never saw coming.

"Not sure if I'm repeating myself," he said. "But then again, you repeat yourself ALL THE TIME, so what's it matter."

He went on to tell his story.

But I was already lost in the dust of the conversational tail lights. What did he mean that I repeat myself ALL THE TIME? Was it just in conversations with him, or does everyone I speak with regularly think the same thing and just not say anything?

I was devastated. In a single tick of the clock, I went from looking forward to a quiet Sunday to feeling lower than whale poop on the bottom of a very deep sea. I am hypersensitive about my injury. There are times I go to great lengths to not let my challenges show, so desperate am I to look (and sound) just like everyone else.

It's been over four hours since that conversation and I still feel sucker-punched in the gut. He meant no harm, and I still count him as a friend, but man o' man, just to hear one of my challenges laid out there left me feeling naked and exposed. He said it as casually as if discussing the weather.

Self-esteem is a bit of a pendulum in my life. When I feel okay with my fate and challenges, I really do feel okay. Acceptance runs high, and I am right with the world, broken or not. But when my feelings of self-worth are crushed when the pendulum comes crashing back in the other direction, it’s a soul-sucking sense of uselessness that follows.

And like I’ve done since my second life began in 2010, I chose to write about it, to try to sort it out. If you happened to see my esteem around anywhere in your travels today, reach out to me and let me know where I can find it. It seems to be nowhere found at the moment.

~David