One Hour at a Time

Mar 27
Natasha

On February 12th, 2016, I sustained my first concussion, while snowboarding. The doctor in the ski clinic gave me stitches on my forehead, directly above the bridge of my nose and in between my eyes, the same spot as Harry Potter’s scar, I am told. I asked about headaches and other symptoms I should watch out for, since I’d never had a head injury in the past. “Well, you did not pass out, and you are acting normal, so I’d say a concussion is unlikely. You might have some headaches, but you can go back to work in two days.”

Two months later, I resigned from my job, because I was not healing fast enough and the anxiety of keeping my co-workers without my position filled was too much to bear any longer, in addition to managing the pain, and all the restrictions of my life necessary to heal. Those two months all started with my new doctor, who I will be forever grateful to, printed a note for two weeks away from work, and outlined all the activities I should stay away from. Then two weeks later, I would return, and leave with a new typed up note, with a new date two weeks from the current day. And so on. And so on.

Again, let’s put you into this experience compared to your current isolation. First, turn down the brightness on your phone. Actually, change it to black and white. Turn off all notifications, delete social media – yes all social media – and any unnecessary applications. You’ll have texting, phone calls, a meditation app, and an app to listen to audiobooks and podcasts. That’s it. Everything else will be too stimulating and will add to your pain. You must limit screen time. Speaking of which, put away your tablets and laptops. Way too much screen. Music? Maybe, very softly, and nothing intense. No rock. Nothing with high energy. Books? Put those all away too. Yes, all of them. Way too challenging for your bruised brain right now. Friends? Well, maybe one at a time. You’ll find that conversations are overwhelming, especially between two other people talking. Going to a friend’s house, if only for dinner, will also be painful, because they will have TV or a movie on, or music that is way too loud. And you’ll ask them to turn it down, and it will still be too loud. Walking outside? Okay, put on your hat, and your sunglasses. Actually, you should wear those constantly. Everytime you go into another building the lights will be too bright in there. While you are at it, get some earplugs, because everyone is too loud. No sports. Careful while walking. Careful while driving. If you hit your head again, you can die instantly. Cue the anxiety.

What are you left with?

I tried to find some meditative artistic activities. No musical instruments or singing. No writing. That’s right, a writer, at home, with no job and no responsibilities, experiencing an incredible new challenge, who is physically unable write. What did I do? I knitted 15 beanies using a knitting loom, then donated them to the cancer center where my mom was treated. I drew swirly lines upon lines on paper using a pen or marker. I meditated, everyday, using a course from the Headspace App focused on dealing with anxiety. After a few weeks, I was allowed to listen to simple audiobooks (using the Audible App). They would not be intellectually challenging, and I had to slow down the speed. Oh boy was I grateful for the option to slow the speed down. Without that, audio books would not be doable. I listened to them while laying on the couch with my eyes closed, so that my brain did not have to process anything but these slow-motion words.

After many more weeks my mind could not help but think about the precious time I was losing when I could be working on projects I had put aside, like that book I wanted to write. I tried voice recording a few story ideas, and it was still too much. Playing the recordings back, the story was scattered, the words were slow, and I was exhausted. Eventually, I found a compromise between the ideas in my heart and my brain that was unable to coherently purge the words to the external world. I was allowed to write on one 3×5 notecard at a time, one story at a time. Then, I had to rest, and could come back in an hour to write on a new single notecard. That’s how my book started. One notecard, one story, one hour at a time.

It took me another year to take those notecards and turn them into chapters. Now, I am in editing and looking for a literary agent phase. In these current days, I can sit in front of my laptop for eight to 10 hours each day, typing new essays, editing my manuscript, voice recording pitches for podcasts, and answering emails. It is a blessing to be physically able to work on whatever projects I like without any restrictions. Imagine if you had to restrict how you worked on your creative projects. Imagine if your brain was injured, and you could not utilize any of your technology and you could maybe only work for five to 10 minutes every hour. Imagine if you could not listen to your favorite news channel right now because it was too much stimulation and processing for your brain. Imagine you could not bake that new recipe because following directions was painful. Imagine that even going outside right now was painful because the light was too bright. Imagine that listening and watching your favorite artists perform live sets in their home studios was too loud and jarring for you and made the artistic melodies sound like clashing off-beat tones.

Appreciate your healthy brain that is able to process all the things that are keeping you sane, happy, and connected right now. You have a lot of options! There are only some restrictions, not as many as you think if you just pepper in a little perspective to your current experience.

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