As I sit waiting for some brilliant, creative idea to drop from the heavens so I can start writing again, I find myself reflecting over the past few years.
In October of 2015, I was invited to contribute as a blogger for Huffington Post. In December of that same year, I sustained a life-altering concussion. The unending downward spiral that ensued soon ended not only my creativity but my ability to do much of anything. I worked part-time and it took my utmost to muster up enough energy and smarts to commit to my job as the result.
I lost so much during the months following, becoming a shell of who I once was, any vibrancy and optimism shot all to hell. A bump on the noggin and poof, I was gone. Dark days became darker, hope had abandoned me and mostly I plodded through the fog, wondering when I’d ever feel ‘normal’ again. My entire being – personality, physicality, mentality, emotions – they all took a hit. The sucky part was that none of it was visible (well, except for the 30 lb weight gain) so then I felt judged and misunderstood, and sometimes like people didn’t want to learn or to understand what I’d been through or what my injury meant for the future.
As a single mom raising teenagers, sorting myself through a traumatic brain injury (TBI) was the absolute last challenge I needed. Seriously. All the cliches only made me want to throat punch people:
Everything happens for a reason.
Every cloud has a silver lining.
What’s the lesson you need to learn?
Time heals all wounds.
You’ll get through it.
This too shall pass.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
I call b.s. Cliches help us feel better when someone is struggling, they don’t help the individual we say it to. Just stop. Our need to offer support in the form of words can be utterly insensitive and unnecessary.
What if this doesn’t pass? What if this is my new reality? Always trying to pull words from the sky, garbled sentences, and fog? What if the brain bleed that showed up on an MRI a year later never heals? Thankfully migraines are few and very far between now! What reason could there possibly be to inflict continued misery? Don’t try to answer that, it doesn’t require a response.
As the calendar transitions and the buzz revolves around a fresh start, new beginnings, a clean slate, blah blah blah, I question what that means for me. I’m definitely not a resolution type, and the proverbial weight I feel when I think of committing to some major transformation leaves me questioning the hype around the new year.
Having said that, I love the idea of a clean page, a new chapter, so maybe using the new year to propel me forward isn’t such a bad thing after all. It has definitely given me pause this year, as I recognize a desperate need to heal emotional wounds and to nourish my soul.
Which brings me full circle. What does that mean to me? Writing. Friends. Connectedness. My kids. What do I grieve the loss of most since my brain injury? All of the above but particularly my kids. One of them wonders if I’ll ever pull out of my “deep depression”, another says our relationship is broken because my personality has changed so significantly and the other says most of our conversations revolve around me asking for chores to get done. Doesn’t sound all that appealing, does it?
Since I finally feel like I’m on the path to renewal, maybe the blank pages before me – literally and metaphorically – are just there, waiting for me to be who I am now, to forge a new path, to offer hope to others. Piece by piece, little by little, day by day, glimpsing remnants of hope, piecing together a new future.
I am not an optimist, because I am not sure that everything ends well. Nor am I a pessimist, because I am not sure that everything ends badly. I just carry hope in my heart. Hope is the feeling that life and work have a meaning. You either have it or you don’t, regardless of the state of the world that surrounds you. Life without hope is an empty, boring, and useless life. I cannot imagine that I could strive for something if I did not carry hope in me. I am thankful to God for this gift. It is as big as life itself.
Vaclav Havel
While there is life, there is hope.
Lana says
I’m so glad you’re back at it, Shandra. Your words are important. YOU are important. Thank you for writing again. You will cause important ripples.
shandracarlson says
Thank you my friend. “It takes a village” seems to apply to life, not just raising children! <3
Steph c says
Thank you for being exactly who you are – true, honest, deep, raw – thank you for sharing this with us. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize the depth of what you’ve been going through. I love you
shandracarlson says
Oh Steph, we aren’t in each other’s faces every day but we are always in each other’s hearts and I know you are always, always there. I love you.
Amanda Block says
Oh, Shandra, I miss you! You are beautiful and courageous. Also, may I borrow the Havel quote?
shandracarlson says
I miss you too! Let’s fix that? And of course you can use the Havel quote, lady. 😀
Robert Gignac says
Welcome back to writing SC – we’ve missed your passion and insight. I’ll strive to avoid cliches – my guess is a throat punch from you would hurt like… ya know!
shandracarlson says
Thanks, BG. Hahaha good thing you’re provinces away, no throat punches to worry about :).
Jill says
We are nothing without hope, for each other and self. Love you and what’s ahead. xo
shandracarlson says
Love you! And yes, what’s AHEAD! xo
Cheryle Paterson says
Glad to see you writing again. I sure missed you.
shandracarlson says
Aww Cheryle, thank you. Much love.
Patti says
Hey my dear friend. It’s so good to see you back tapping the keys to share yourself with us. It’s quite a journey and love blog around hope. Without hope there is only darkness. I ‘hope’ we can catch up soon. I sure miss our convos, the deep down real ones. Love you!
shandracarlson says
Deep down and real – the only way for us! I miss you too, I’ll message you to set up a time! <3
Karen says
Wonderful. Beautifull. True. I am so thrilled you wrote something so honest and so you. I love the old you and I certainly love the new you! I am not sure what I was expecting as your return piece of writing but it outdid what I was hoping for. I am so proud of you.
I especially loved the spot where you placed in “blah, blah, blah”. Sometimes words really are empty.
So, do you have time to fit in a celebration coffee?????
Karen
shandracarlson says
Thanks, friend. Who knew blah blah blah could ever have meaning?! See you soon. <3
CinDy says
Your honesty an openness are so admirable. I enjoyed reading this and look forward to more!
shandracarlson says
Thanks for your kind words, Cindy!
Tara S says
This is the first of your posts I have read (as we are fairly newly acquainted…). You have a wonderful way with words and I love the honesty with which you write. And just so your teenagers know, sounds like a pretty typical household to me! I look forward to many more posts. Hope it lends to some rediscovery and new discovery. 🙂
shandracarlson says
Thanks for taking the time to read, Tara, and for your encouragement! 🙂
Sandra says
Write on, brave friend! Write. On.
~s~
shandracarlson says
Thank you for holding space and for offering a safe space for me to heal. Always.
Jennifer Billesberger says
Shandra – I agree it’s so hard to find our “place” and our path after such a drastic change that is so invisible to most. Thank you for putting a voice to this; and here is to both of us finding our greatness, our creativity and our vitality again. xoxoxo – Jenn
shandracarlson says
Jenn, I’m glad it resonated and yes, may we find our place. I love the word “vitality”, that sparked something in me! xoxoxo
LRB says
Your writing is honest & tender and more of that is required these days. There’s a rush to soothe through clichés instead of listening to how that person is feeling or what they are going through.
Thank you for the reminder to slow down and really listening to your family and friends when they are struggling.
Keep on sharing and shining. I’m always on the sidelines cheering you on.