There is stuff I have to do. I am coming to terms with that. Being on disability so far has been about getting used to uncertainty. I can't say I am there yet but I am working on it. Leaving my job felt like I was losing my identity. Who am I if not a teacher? My TBI doc and super specialist on the subject, like well-known in the field and all, gave me some great words of wisdom this summer. I am working so hard to let go of the anger. I still have nightmares about the Witches of Westwick. I was telling Dr. S. how one person really could have made a difference and really helped me and she didn't.

He said, "The way you had to leave sucked. It was not nice and could have been handled differently. Leaving that place, on the other hand was the best thing for you. It was not good for you to be there. Anyone who tried to help you stay was not doing you any favors."

It is time to move on. What am I going to do? Well, for now I am remaining open to possibility. B. and I may move out of the country in a couple of years. We are definitely working on selling our apartment. I am exercising and have lost 14 pounds. I am doing my artwork. I am working very hard at my cognitive therapy so I can do more outside my apartment. I am taking an online class towards my degree. This is the hardest part. It is also the part about which I am the least certain. What if I can never teach again? Dr. S. does not think I can. Why am I working on my Master's degree then? It seems kind of pointless, but I do not want to close the door or give up. I am so stubborn. I guess I need an outsider to ask me what I am doing. Am I kidding myself? I sure did about teaching for four years.

I really wish people understood how incredibly deep inside my brain my surgery was. It was not on the surface. It was way down in my brain stem and pons and cerebellum. They cut off my ear and sawed a big piece if my skull off. They went in there past the temporal lobe and looked around. They could not even find it at first. Imagine if a peach was my brain. They cut off the skin, went past the flesh, and then started probing the pit. I know a lot of other people have brain surgery. Certainly at work there were three other people in the community that I knew of. Did they have cognitive changes? Not that anyone noticed. Did they need six months to recover? No way, one of them went to a public event a week after surgery. Did they lose their jobs and most of their friends? I don't know because I am not friends with anyone from there anymore but they hadn't last I knew.

This is what I need to let go of! Nobody, nobody, nobody, I worked with will ever understand! And I have to stop caring. It does not matter anymore. I am free and I am resting and I am feeling more at peace than I have in a very long time. The only people that matter to me DO understand or at least they are trying. I do not have anything to prove to anyone.

So I am working on using my time more wisely these days. I scheduled a big clean up yesterday and then I stopped and made art. Willfully and deliberately. I hate schedules! I need some discipline though or nothing will get done. Mental rigidity! That is what I am working on right now.

"Oh, you TBI!" (shakes fist in air)