I have been on this brain injury roller-coaster for over 2 and a half years, and there are times I think I’m surfing it pretty well. But just when I might be getting a little too cocky, I have a lack of insight. I fail to recognise I’m pushing too hard. My behaviour changes, but I think I’m just having an understandable and reasonable reaction to a difficult situation. The rest of the world has a different opinion…
Here’s a typical example:
My partner James and I have decided we need to invest in a new front door. Currently it’s white, but if you have read 5 signs that you need to pace yourself better for brain injury recovery, you will know I recently painted the garage door. It is now a smart and up to the minute shade of charcoal grey. (I’m actually very proud of it, as you might be able to tell.)
As well as wanting to update the colour of the door, it’s locking system sometimes can be a bit hit and miss. It’s never unlocked, but sometimes it won’t let you back in! So I’m fed up with its attitude, and it’s had its last chance! So James and I went to a showroom to check out some replacement doors. I was pleased with this as I was excited by the idea of being able to complete the makeover I had started. You would think then I would be happy and enthusiastic. Wrong……
Quickly I descend into a petulant child, but I don’t recognise it.
Tired of our current overly complicated, and unreliable locking system, we needed to test drive the alternatives. James really wanted one where you did not need the handle so you could open the door one handed. This would make it easier went carrying shopping in from the car.
James was testing a sample door and lock, but it was close to a wall. So when you were trying to experience how it worked when you were inside the house, you were trapped in a tiny space. With both of us in there I felt very claustrophobic and anxious. But I still think anyone would. Perhaps I should have given myself more time to recover and calm down, but being me, I didn’t. That was the first sign of my lack of insight.
Then James said I should have a go at unlocking the door from the outside. (This is when my inner diva started to throw TVs out of her hotel room window.) I tried a few times, and for some reason I couldn’t do it. It’s no better than our current haphazard system. James calmly made me try again, and yes I could in fact operate it just fine. It didn’t occur to me that my bad mood was affecting my ability to do anything. And the mood continued for hours, until I had a long nap.
A lack of insight can leave me with such a hangover.
The following day I was shattered. I kept falling asleep and any plans I might have had for the day were off. But I still didn’t understand why. The penny didn’t drop until James told me he noticed I slipped into a state when testing the door lock. I’d almost forgotten all about it. And then I remembered how annoyed I had suddenly become, and how I couldn’t contain my contempt. I was surprised because I thought I could spot my moments now.
Luckily James is good at staying calm and not taking offence when I get like this. But I realise the majority of people would find me very frustrating. So if family and friends are not sure how to deal with these situations, I suggest reading 8 ways to manage a lack of insight after brain injury by Headway. Also on that page they have a link to their fact-sheet which is really helpful. We all have an inner diva, just don’t let her think she’s boss.
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4 replies on “What having a lack of insight to your own brain injury is like”
Hi, Michelle.
You’ve chosen important topics to address on jumbledbrain, and you write with clarity (and insight, I should add). You may not hear much from me (information overload: emails, twitter, blogs, and life of course) but I will be following. These pieces are worth finding the time to read. I’m glad to have discovered your voice and point of view.
Thank you
Thanks Laurie, I always appreciate anyone who gives their time and energy to to read my work. And thanks for your kind words ?
I agree with Laurie. You are a gem! You tell it like it is, explain it calmly and clearly, helping anyone to understand what it’s like. I applaud your efforts. I’m a TBI survivor also. It’s been 31 years! I was 37 years young when I was in a horrible car accident that changed my life from then on. In my younger years I had the energy to counsel, advise and educate survivors and the people in their lives. Now I live with too much pain from secondary conditions like fibromyalgia and arthritis to be involved like I wish I could be. When I found your posts on Pinterest, I was thrilled that a fresh voice had emerged to do this work. You are the best thing that has happened to TBI in a very long time even though I know it was the worst thing that could have lappened to you. Be strong! You are helping survivors and those that want to understand immensely! Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.
Sandy you’re too kind. Of course I feed off the incredible energy I get from all of you too. We all try to find our purpose in life, and hope to make a difference in some way. I commend you for the support you have offered people over the years, and I hope my small contribution fills a little of the gap.