All of my friends and acquaintances were right there after my accident. They tried to help me recover, and they did, but their efforts, or the focus of their efforts, was misdirected. They tried to help me re-become and sadly that isn't possible.
The old me, that 45 year old war Veteran, disappeared in that accident. What was left was me and I needed to regrow up. Mentally and psychologically. Early in my recovery I was not "old" enough to understand much of what was going on around me. My church put their arms around me, my Masonic lodge tried to help me shoulder on through, and many local, and not so local, friends put a comforting hand on my back so that I didn't feel so lost.
What many did not understand was how much I did not understand.
For instance, all my food likes and dislikes have changed, significantly. So being out with friends who encouraged me to eat this or that as "the old me" used to love it, and the new me did not, might have been an oppsie.
Or another example, the old me used to have an understanding of decorum. A simple thing but a profound thing, at least between kids and adults. I used to be a 45 year old Adult, I was no longer. I'm not even close to that adulthood even now many years later. I am not the kid that I was, and I most definitely was a child. Here I was being reintroduced to affairs fit for the adult I was when I was no longer an adult.
Did I embarrass myself and those around me, Yes!
Did I generate hostility towards myself for lack of decorum and understanding, Yes!
Was this a mistake by others trying too soon to introduce me to who I used to be? Yes!
And therein lies the additional trauma, personal of course, from my accident. Each and every day I endure my condition, outwardly with a smile upon my face, and I hate it. There are times I want to fall down on my knees and scream at the Universe for placing me here. And I feel regret for the accidents and mishaps for my friends, brothers, and family trying too much, too soon.
I can't help but feel grateful for their trying however I can't help but feel regret for things that happened. I can only point to the wheel and say, "I wasn't driving, at all." And hope that many of those involved accept my regret as an apology while recognizing their involvement in those times.
One can only hope...
The old me, that 45 year old war Veteran, disappeared in that accident. What was left was me and I needed to regrow up. Mentally and psychologically. Early in my recovery I was not "old" enough to understand much of what was going on around me. My church put their arms around me, my Masonic lodge tried to help me shoulder on through, and many local, and not so local, friends put a comforting hand on my back so that I didn't feel so lost.
What many did not understand was how much I did not understand.
For instance, all my food likes and dislikes have changed, significantly. So being out with friends who encouraged me to eat this or that as "the old me" used to love it, and the new me did not, might have been an oppsie.
Or another example, the old me used to have an understanding of decorum. A simple thing but a profound thing, at least between kids and adults. I used to be a 45 year old Adult, I was no longer. I'm not even close to that adulthood even now many years later. I am not the kid that I was, and I most definitely was a child. Here I was being reintroduced to affairs fit for the adult I was when I was no longer an adult.
Did I embarrass myself and those around me, Yes!
Did I generate hostility towards myself for lack of decorum and understanding, Yes!
Was this a mistake by others trying too soon to introduce me to who I used to be? Yes!
And therein lies the additional trauma, personal of course, from my accident. Each and every day I endure my condition, outwardly with a smile upon my face, and I hate it. There are times I want to fall down on my knees and scream at the Universe for placing me here. And I feel regret for the accidents and mishaps for my friends, brothers, and family trying too much, too soon.
I can't help but feel grateful for their trying however I can't help but feel regret for things that happened. I can only point to the wheel and say, "I wasn't driving, at all." And hope that many of those involved accept my regret as an apology while recognizing their involvement in those times.
One can only hope...
