Today marks 2 years and 9 months since I injured my brain.

I am doing much better. I walk well, run a little, cook, listen to music (easy), drive for 25 minutes at a time. I also use screens for several hours if necessary, eat almost everything – except lactose and gluten, participate in intense conversations without a problem. Most of the time.

But there are times and there are days, days like today, when I feel like I will never recover. I get a feeling that I will always be a slave to this roller coaster of brain function.

Yesterday, I drove for almost a total of 2 hours during the day, including two trips of 35 minutes each. This was my record and it tired me out quite a bit. Then, I coached girls soccer for 2.5 hours, made dinner, and stayed up until midnight. This morning I woke up at 7:50 and couldn’t cope. I dropped our exchange student off at school in the morning, drove home, and decided to cancel my car appointment because…my eyes and brain were just too tired.

I know this can happen, but I was also convinced that I had planned the week well to modify the pace of my activities so as not to overwhelm myself. The physiological result was a disappointment. I feel incapable of managing even my limited life. I feel weak, small, irresponsible, useless.

And then I got angry, at the oven that wouldn’t close…but really at all the constant inconveniences of this circumstance. That I don’t have enough brain energy to finish the bread I started to make, that I can’t be a support for anyone, that I can’t contribute much financially to the house, that I’ve been on the defensive for 3 years against possible misunderstandings from people I’ll have to help out with, that my eyes get tired before I figure out how health insurance works, that my eyes get tired very quickly in the sun and also in the car, that I have to cancel a plan because my nervous system was overwhelmed by the noise of the garbage truck, that I can’t go to my nephew’s game because he’s in a noisy gym, that I can’t go to my niece’s birthday party because of the noise in the house, that someone young I met in the last few months laughed when I said I was smart.

And I cry for the many indignities I’ve suffered.

I used to cry, cry, moan, suffocate with the fear of never getting out of the low, dark cloud that surrounded me.

Now, after crying and letting the tears flow, I think about how much I can do, see the physical and emotional progress, and slowly go about my day. I make a list of things I would like to do, and I do only what makes me feel calm. I ask my body if it wants coffee (decaf) or not and I listen to it.

Now, I treat myself with kindness in these moments.