The Aftermath

I have not heard a peep from the VESID counselor nor from the job handler. I have heard that I am "not motivated to work." And I wonder what caused those two to arrive at that horribly wrong guess. My post-brain-damaged problems with executive functions such as initiation is NOT equivalent to problems with motivation. Idiots! I don't have problems with motivation. I have many other problems, but that is not one of them. I declare VESID as having amotivational syndrome. Not me. Cripes.

It's alright. I choose to concentrate on the next clean thing. The dishes in the sink. The dog that wishes a walk. Phone calls to make. Volunteer work. Looking for a job in a bookstore or library.

And so I find myself on this Monday morning plotting my next moves without the benefit of those two professional/paraprofessional "helpers" in my life.

And one more thing: How dare you, all of you whose job it is to ensure that we the disabled land menial mind-numbing jobs, believe that we all disabled people everywhere sit home on our butts all day in boredom out of our minds without your sheltered workshops to labor at and without the benefit of your entertainment. Idiots!

just spike

IMPULSIVITY AND DECISION-MAKING 5/6/07

On my trip to various cities out west, I was directly confronted with my increased impulsivity courtesy of my traumatic brain injury. My first day in Chicago, I cursed out a store employee at the airport [under my breath] because he claimed not to have change "even if" I "bought something" which I was willing to do. I needed a single for the subway so I could get to the train station. I removed myself and reminded myself that he was doing his job and that was that. Mentally, I congratulated myself for exercising some restraint. I did get my change but not from him. I cursed out someone else somewheres else-- again under my breath-- but I remember neither the time nor the circumstance.

In Phoenix I had to admit that my impulsivity could lead to dangerous consequences. When I took one bus that turned before I needed it to and didn't allow the driver to complete an explanation [which she gave to another passenger a few stops later] that another bus was coming which would take me to my destination, I was left on a corner wondering if I should "walk" the remaining distance. Fortunately, I remembered something about calling and asking someone with sense about these things. So I called my friend with my [borrowed] cellphone and I learned that I should not walk through Papago Park on a hot day. So I waited for the bus. The first few days in the Sonoran Desert which was Phoenix Arizona, I noted that people carried water or Gatorade with them. It took me several days [and a very long walk to and from the zoo-- from and to a bus stop-- with no taxis in sight] for me to connect with the idea that I need to drink more fluids AND to also carry water or Gatorade with me.

In trying to keep up with the demands involved in re-learning how to utilize public transit, I put myself at risk for dehydration. I was "lucky" not to endure medical consequences for my poor decision-making combined with my impulsivity. By time I got to Sedona, I was carrying water with me almost everywhere I went. Sedona's weather was a tad cooler but hydration still a necessity. I also elected to take jeep tours rather than walk great distances to unfamiliar hiking trails.

This impulsivity is polar opposite to my pre-injury personality which involved cursing people out [not always under my breath] but did not involve risk-taking, especially with health concerns. I survived the Sonoran and learned a few things about my vulnerabilities and liabilities in the process. When the airplane taking me home was landing, I felt triumphant for managing to [mostly] take care of myself and [mostly] making good enough decisions over the past three weeks alone.

sapphoq healing t.b.i.