These words recently graced my little iPhone screen today: “I feel like you’ve let something or some kind of negative feeling go over this last week and you seem legitimately lighter, happier and I’m just proud of how far you’ve come with everything.” I had to read it twice, and then I needed to step away from my desk, go for a little stroll around the campus, and pull the ever-present bandana out of my pocket and wipe away the copious tears that rolled down my cheeks. In the hours since I received that text, I’ve read it maybe a dozen times. It wasn’t so much that someone else noticed so much as it was that the very feelings expressed have been radiating through me the last couple of weeks. The last few years have been the most horrifying, trying, physically debilitating as well as emotionally devastating. I’ve turned inward, again and again, looking at myself as opposed to outside influences, causes, or excuses, digging diligently to find what it is I needed to do to release the pain, burden, and weight of the travesty’s that have haunted me these last three years. Unbeknownst to all but a select few, the trauma, damage, and ever-evolving struggle from countless TBI’s (Traumatic Brain Injury’s) is far worse than the repeated strokes I’ve suffered (four to be exact) since March of 2014. The real battle lies within in a space far beyond the mind. The simplest of tasks can seem insurmountable at the most frustrating of times. From names to tying my shoes, to the very horrifying realization that I sometimes forget where I’m going. The most frightening conversation I’ve had in that time was with my Neurologist. The mention of CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) stopped every sense within me with the exception of absolute horror. For a few minutes, I sat quietly and alone listening to him over a speaker phone as I lay in the ER alone after my most recent stroke. Yet I did not hear much past his first few sentences. If you are unfamiliar with CTE just give it a google and you might begin to understand the absolute and sheer horror of hearing those words on the worst day of your life.
My most recent stroke would prove to be the most horrifying and debilitating. I spent approximately eleven hours alone in an ER. I had a few friends and an ex-wife reach out but the one person I wanted so badly to be with me was not interested in being beside me. That’s the hard and fast truth and I’ll leave the reasons, a timeline of events (yes this person knew I was in the ER) right there. My fear was vastly different not only because of the words uttered by the Neurosurgeon but also because of the severity and quickness for which this one came on. I was genuinely afraid like I had never been before. I wasn’t angry at being alone, I was saddened that for once I simply wanted a hand in mine, a voice to speak for me when I couldn’t, and a companion to fill the void that was being excavated from the hope I had built since my first stroke three years prior. Ironically it was that time alone in those moments that awakened me to the fact that the strength I needed, the companion, and most of all the kindness and affection I so desperately wanted in that very moment….lie within me. I had it all along. My solitude, my inability to articulate my words (fun stroke byproduct), and my absolute horror, allowed me to sit quietly alone in that room. I sat as the Care Flight staff came in and out, trying to coordinate and decide should I be flown to a level one trauma center. I’d be able to intermittently text a few people but I, of course, made it sound like everything was fine. Inside I was anything but.
On that day I’d discover a strength for which I am still trying to understand. I’d cry alone in a dark room. I’d be unable to eat for days. Was CTE a real possibility? I knew what it was and I knew that it was/is a progressive degenerative disease found in people who have had severe a severe or repeated blows to the head. I fit that bill alright! As the days passed after that neurological incident…I began to hear Dr. Larson’s words reverberating in my consciousness. Asleep, awake, in meetings… “This has all the symptoms of CTE Mr. Meyer”…so I dug in and began reading more. I also turned inward once again and away from the things in my life that weren’t improving my quality of life. The things for which brought me no joy suddenly became life draining. I realized as I read, asked more questions, and spent more time alone and meditating, that CTE cannot be truly diagnosed while we are alive. It is only through the study of brain tissue after death that they can determine whether or not you truly suffered from CTE. It’s so vastly complex that it’s unlikely it will be truly understood in my lifetime. And so I continued to look internally. I began to shift my focus to what was “wrong” with me. I stopped counting the things I hadn’t quite accomplished, the un-chased dreams, and I began to look at life through my own eyes. The eyes of a man who’d endured these things in silence and alone. You see no matter who stands beside you…the real battles of TBI’s, Strokes, or even CTE…are waged internally. I slowly began to shift my focus to the things “wrong with me” and began to spend more time alone quietly falling in love with all that was right with me and all the amazing days I already had in this life. My relationship would fall apart and it was truly refreshing to finally let go of something that was only bringing me further pain and suffering. I began reaching out (and involved my daughter) to friends and family we hadn’t spoken to in some time and simply told as many people as I could how wonderful they were. How much they meant to me. How beautiful they were/are and how much I appreciated them. It was, and still is, one of the most uplifting and healing things I have done and continue to do.
I continued to release negativity and doubt allowing more positivity and light to enter those voids. Living with a diagnosis that “could be many things and yet is surely not something minor” can stop you in your tracks or it can ignite a fire to change your perception. Releasing that which brings you down is a simple act. Acknowledge it, your part in it, feel it, and let it go. Simply by feeling it and saying “I’m done with this” or via some ceremony. For me, I sat alone in the backyard and burned the pages of a journal I had kept full of the pain….and cried as I watched the ashes float to heaven or fall peacefully into the snow. No true blame. Simply neutrality and acceptance. It’s a practice I strive for each day. Gratitude instead of hate. Acceptance instead of pain. Love where once lived anger. I hurt less now…inside. My headaches have begun to subside and the other “issues” seem to have slowly calmed down. Is it over? I have no clue but to paraphrase one of my favorite movies (The Shawshank Redemption); “Remember, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies”. I know that if I can replace the negative things with some form of hope or kindness…then maybe…just maybe…I will live on! I’m feeling more clear with each passing day and within each practice of gratitude, grace, FORGIVENESS, kindness, hope and the replacing of the life suckers in my own life…I’m feeling like “YES..as a matter of fact I am letting so very much go and I am lighter than I’ve ever been”. My self-love is beautiful and so altruistic and kind. Not arrogant or conceited…simply a matter of releasing that which does not serve the continuity of happiness for which I hope evolved into a life worth remembering. Whether that’s another day or another 40 years….I’m free now….free! My diagnosis is uncertain and ever evolving..and yet my path is clear….release the pain and fill the void with love! Release!
