Plastic dump truck, Dismantled toys
Singing carols of good girls and boys
Angry and colorful
Passionately wary,
A song in my head and a young boy to carry
On Monday night I had a run-in with our dryer door and it attacked my head. I was concussed. I slammed it closed a few times more to remind it that I was still in charge but lost my rage to stars and the sudden inclination to check for bleeding.
The pain had started at the top and traveled down to my neck and shoulder blade where it became dull and I soon decided to move on to chasing Knox off the dining table and washing the skid marks out of our decorative handtowels after Jude had decided to use them as toilet paper.
By late Tuesday afternoon, I was depleted of energy and could no longer continue with my day-to-day. Paul stayed home with the kids so I could rest and spend the evening throwing up. That sucked, that's all I can say about it. My stomach has never churned like that, vomit was a sweet-n-sour relief.
After that, I went to the ER to get myself checked out. We opted out of the x-rays since I was functioning alright and wasn't showing signs of neurological damage but was told I needed to take the rest of the week and weekend off from any work and to stay away from screens.
This is where things got interesting. It took me the remainder of the day and a few hours into Thursday to accept that advice. I couldn't let go of my responsibilities although my boss had already threatened to disable my access to our EHR software and company Gmail. It wasn't until I wound up making a ridiculous mistake at work that only a person with a concussion could make that I finally stopped. I emailed an already upset client, cc'd a provider, and addressed the greeting to my assistant, and yes, I sent it. I cleaned that up fast but finally realized it was no longer about me and I had to be responsible despite being a workaholic, which I am, and do not say with pride. It's a problem.
A concussion was the best thing that ever happened to me. It forced me to view my brain health through a new lens. I was advised to stay off screens and to not strain my eyes or my brain. "Do not work, try to avoid stress."
Had I been given that advice 10 years ago I would have surely ignored it and gone rock climbing. But after sending an email I was beyond proud of writing but foolishly demolished through a series of brainless mistakes, I was inclined to take it seriously. The fruits of my labor were spoiled and covered in wormholes, so I closed my computer and stepped away from my phone.
I painted, baked cookies, avoided my emails like the plague, went on leisurely walks, and listened to great music. A life without stress or a desire for distraction is one I knew little of but was pushed to explore. It was difficult, I was restless much of the time and found myself smoking more than usual and eagerly searching for projects. But something began to shift after two days of this. I was...calm.
When date night arrived with my husband, I could not have been more excited. I felt more present, more focused, and more appreciative of the moments we had together at the arcade and over dinner than I have in years; I was 24 again, but without the drama, naivety, and angst. I found more time to cuddle with my children and listened to them as if there was nothing else in the world I would rather do, and there wasn't; I was with them.
By day four, I began to replace feelings of boredom for inner peace. It was easier to arrange my thoughts and I embraced the silence that rested lazily between them. I had no desire to play games on my phone or distract myself with emails. This may sound like something small to many but, for me, it was a tiny little miracle that gave me the freedom, permission, and ability to be present with where I was in life and to ask myself how much a certain experience or situation really required the level of stress I wanted to invest in it. I made a choice to manage stress because I had no other option and the benefits were immediate. I have no idea what Monday will be like for me, I could very well go back to the same tense, up-tight person I always am. My hope is that the dryer door, which I now am terrified of, will serve as a constant reminder to take care of my brain and to sit with the silence, the chaos, and the joyful moments with more ease and intention. We'll just have to see.