Identity & Brain Injury: Who Am I?
There has been much debate among the great philosophers as to where the self resides. Is it in your memory? Is it in the unique characteristics of your personality? Is it your thoughts? What makes you YOU? And what happens to our sense of self when the brain is damaged?
Identity crisis isn’t just reserved for the middle-aged. If you are unlucky enough to experience post concussion syndrome, crisis of identity can become an unexpected and difficult part of your recovery. Although I had experienced minor concussions in my life, I was not prepared for what happened to me after a car accident a few years ago. My memories of the accident only appear as flashes in my mind now. Stopped car, waiting to turn. Passenger seat, looking at the driver. He glances in the rearview mirror. His face fills with horror. Impact. Flying towards windshield. Seatbelt engages. Head flying backwards. Hits seat. Everything stops. He asks, “Are you okay?” I reply, “My head”.
Police estimate the car that hit us was traveling approximately 55-60 mph upon impact with no signs of braking. I was transported to a local ER where I was released only a few hours later with a completely normal CT scan and diagnosis of mild concussion. I left feeling grateful that my kids were not in the backseat and that I had been cleared of major injury. The first days after the accident went as expected with stiff muscles, neck pain, and typical concussion symptoms. Nausea, headache, sensitivity to light and noise, general fatigue and fogginess. Each day after was met with improvement and I returned to work a short time later.
But once I left the slower pace of recovery at home, I began to notice that my brain was somehow different. My workday was full of reading, analyzing, and summarizing findings but every mental task seemed like a climb up Mount Everest. I found myself reading the same sentences over and over and over. By the time I reached the period at the end, I couldn’t even remember the subject. I would spend minutes, staring at a blank email template, trying to remember the topic of which I had intended to write. What I remember most from that time in my life was the confusion and fear of what was happening in my brain.
I hit my breaking point in the middle of dinner in a public restaurant. Sitting across from my husband, watching his mouth form words, wanting desperately to understand what he was saying. Just like the car accident, I could see the expression on his face change to one of concern as he saw the tears welling in my eyes. Feeling wholly inadequate to communicate what was happening to me, I asked him to slow down and repeat himself.
I’d like to be able to say that, with time and patience, my brain healed and life went on as usual. And for the most part, that is an accurate description of what happened. But I am not the same person as I was before that accident. The part that no one tells you about recovery from a brain injury is that a diagnosis of mild concussion has no bearing on what type of recovery you will have. Those of us lucky enough to experience post concussion syndrome are left to live with an injured brain for months, or possibly even years, with no end date for recovery. We work our way through the stages of grief for the selves we have lost.
Despite having an engineering degree from a highly regarded university, I struggle with simple mathematical calculations in my head. Despite being an avid reader, plowing through books by the day, I now read paragraphs several times before fully understanding. I used to be full of confidence, thriving on analytical challenges. Yet I now struggle with anxiety and have to take a more laid-back approach to life. My social life has been put on hold due to chronic migraines and a constant need to avoid bright, noisy environments.
The past few years have been an exploration of getting to know my new self and learning to love whatever it is that I discover. My faulty memory has resulted in a new photography hobby and my becoming a master of checklists. I’m far more likely to recognize when I need help and I am willing to ask for it. My newly acquired aversion to noise has helped me develop more meaningful relationships by spending time with the people I love, one at a time.
You could say that I’m simply attempting a glass-half-full view of the world given my circumstances. But what I’ve learned is that the glass is both half full and half empty at the same time and there is no sense in clinging to either perspective. The reality is that I am not my memories, I am not my personality, and I am not my thoughts. Those things may come and go and I am still me. I am the observer of it all with a front row seat to my life. Just like at a concert, the front row is reserved for those who can live in the moment and enjoy the show. There are a few seats left if you want to join me!
To know yourself as the Being underneath the thinker, the stillness underneath the mental noise, the love and joy underneath the pain, is freedom, salvation, enlightenment.
-Eckhart Tolle
