This my life now.

This is one of those things that everyone has experienced but don't remember. We all start life and have to learn what sensations, feelings, and issues there are with our new bodies. Our brain is the interpreter of all of these information points. It learns and develops neuron pathways to understand, to react appropriately to stimuli. As we grow, we (and our brain) learns what is what. But what happens when the interpreter is disconnected?

What happens when those pathways are disrupted or shutdown, even for a hot moment?

This is where a lot of us exist. Relearning, re-experiencing, understanding our bodies all over again. Sometimes from scratch square one.

Trying to explain to others how I don't know my body anymore. To explain that my body, my skin, is NEW to me. I was reduced to infancy and life is not easy. Society just doesn't understand this anymore. In fact, Society which is all around me are bad parents. The abrupt lessons it has taught me are just that, abrupt, unkind, and hostile in many cases.

I am now really the odd man out and Society does not appreciate that. It is disheartening in many ways. I've fought for them, I've sweated for them, I've made some bleed for them, and I've bled for them. And, at times, they really don't like me becuase I don't fit into what they expect or want.

Here is a nice way I described some issue:

"however since I am disabled many employers don't want to touch me. Nothing obvious mind you but brain injury does make my memory unreliable and my social skills less than par.  Add to the fact that I am built like a linebacker, I can understand hesitation and reluctance regarding my possible misadventures in the workforce."

So here I am, a little mental kid slapped into the body of a line backer. Trying to live, to exist, to be productive while at the same time my Interpreter (brain) is re-wiring itself. Signals come in and have to find out where to go. To seek the recipient, to be understood, to be. Added to which my Interpreter has to find new pathways to express itself. Pathways that are new, or broken, or just not quite healed.

This my life now and sadly I'm trapped in the same ruts over and over again. I remember, kind of, who I used to be. Where I grew up, my extended family, my service and I'm still trying to make sense of the things I remember. The things these memories make me feel, not all of it is good nor is it comfortable. I know that I might be repeating myself, good Lord my hindsight works great but is disengaged during any experience. I know that I'm trapped, stuck in a rut, going over and over the same spot again and again but I can't stop this ride.

Misunderstandings and Misbehavings

One thing misunderstood about my accident is that a 44 year old man was instantly reduced, mentally, to infancy. I had to relearn how to swallow (from life support), had to relearn how to feed myself (just by hand), had to relearn how to walk (while wearing depends), and had to relearn how to go to the bathroom (BY MYSELF!!!!). Now during my recovery I have been regrowing up.

Self assessed but I think I've grown up 4 years every 6 months. I am now about the age I was (mentally) when I was a Sgt serving under fire. If this rate continues, I'll be my correct age in about 2 and a half years. I really hope the accelerated mental aging stops then as I don't want to be 90 years old in a few years. I'll miss the landscape that travel would bring me if I do it normally. But this might explain some very embarrassing moments I've caused and experienced.

Here I was a mentally 8 year old adult driving back and forth. Here I am a mentally 12 year old interacting with very grown men and trying to be involved. Here I was a mentally 16 year old boy striving to do well with a project being rudely dissed by a grown woman in my church. Now I know, dealing with annoyances is annoying but that is not the point. The point really is why were you annoyed in the first place?

People have far too often leaned on my brain injury as their excuse for their own bad behavior or day. Instead of exploring the true question: Why were they annoyed to start with, they misplace their hostility my direction like poor parents. After all, I have no defense. I can't properly speak under stress and no one really listens to me any more. Even those who have sworn that they'd be there for me are the most guilty of misunderstanding and misbehaving.

To find a place that will help me properly grow up I've had to develop my relationship with other people who get it. Many of them are brain injured (un-diagnosed) and the others deal well with their brain injured fellows. They understand I only speak when I have to say something and the other noises that sometimes come out my mouth are mental farts that blurt out. They still accept me for my prior services instead of weighing what I can do for them now or what burden I present to them now. (Which might explain why I got fired from the Krempels Brain Injury Support Center!)

But all in all I refuse to demit from life. I will be engaged, I will be involved, if that is uncomfortable for you or you make me feel uncomfortable in that process.... we will, we MUST, go our separate ways.

I blurt.

People keep wondering why I seem to go through drastic social changes. When I'm silent; I'm annoyed, I'm inattentive, I'm "something". Normally I can't shut up so when I'm silent, "something's happening".

Silence is my way of trying to re-learn mental thought control. See, we all have ideas that pop into our heads: "Hey, that was silly", "Man, that really pissed me off!", "Good lord, how can someone do something so stupid!". We formulate societies by what we say and do but what does one do when what is said is no longer under control? Ask me what you think is a reasonable question but warning you might not get a reasonable answer. Nothing dangerous mind you, just not what you expected or wanted as an answer. And, in fairness, my answer might be formulated from nothing you said or asked.

See, I'm not mentally ill. I'm mentally disabled.

I can't control the things that pop out of my mouth (disabled). I CAN control what I focus on though (ill). Distinct difference but a profound one that many people just don't get. Yet I commonly get clumped into the "weird" category along with the degenerates that exist among us. Here I am, forced to relive memories none of you can endure but thank me for that service however after 5 minutes with me y'all shove me into the discard box. This bothers me. Here I am, a man who as a kid (19) was shot at and shot back defending this country populated by people who have no use for me now.

Be a target, shoot a gun, GREAT and thank you for your service!!!

Be disabled, be weird, F--CK YOU and your service!

Inez Thomason's Eulogy (Mother-In-Law)

I just want to take a minute or two to tell you about the woman I knew.

Inez Thomason was an incredible person. there are very few lives in this room, if any, that were not deeply impacted by her. As is typical I did not fully appreciate or understand this as a child or even as a young adult. It is not until, as they say, "I got out into the world" did I realize all that she had done with her life.

I wanted to share some the things I loved most about my Mom:

She is what you could call "thrifty". She could work a coupon and a sale better than anyone you will ever meet. I was often pulled into the plan; to stop at a certain store while it was having the right sale because she had already used the coupon or bought the limit at our local market.

Even a reduced price at McDonald's did not escape her eye. I would often find multiple Mickey D's sandwiches in our freezer when they were running a special. Sometimes she would bring home extras from a buffet in her purse. It was not just all you eat but all you could eat and then take home and freeze for later.

There was no such thing as a disposable anything. Plastic cups and silverware always got a second use (maybe even a third and fourth). Packaged condiments that came with any meal, if they were within her reach a large quantity was coming home with her.

She could never consider throwing anything away. She had clothing and paperwork packed in the house on Elston Street that was from before I was born.

She was the hard working women. Ever since I can remember she worked at her job 6 days a week and then worked around the house all day on Sun cooking and cleaning. I don't know if I ever remember taking a sick day or staying home when the weather was bad. And, I never heard her complain about it. Thanks to that hard work, I always had whatever I needed when I was growing up. You never realize how amazing that is until you see how many people are not so lucky. I am still impressed by all that she accomplished on her salary.

I saw her time after time help friends and family in need.

She was so brave. I know some of the obstacles she had to face in her life and I can only try to imagine picking up my life and moving to a strange area with 6 kids to start all over.

I am talking about these things so that you will all realize I hope, as some point, she knew how much I loved and admired her. She will forever be a part of my life and who I am. Anything good that I can point to in my life she is a part of in some way. I constantly find myself emulating her in some ways and wishing I could emulate her in others.

I will miss her greatly. However, I take comfort in the fact the she is happy and with my brothers Michael and Sonny, my Dad and all those who went before her. I love you Mom and Thank you so much. I will be forever grateful that I had you for a Mom.

PS: My wife wrote this about her mother. Different details but it is almost similar to what I would say about my Dad. Three months prior to the day of my accident she left us. I remember this event as, without a doubt, not only was I in that room when this was read... she impacted my life and I am blessed for the impact!

Thank You For Your Service

People routinely say this to me. It often comes off as, "Made eye contact and I must say something for having made eye contact. Hello doesn't seem good enough so I'll toss out the old stand by, 'Thank you....'" And those close to me wonder why I feel awkward when I am thanked.

Only ONE time did I get thanked in such a manner that I turned to the person (a woman), stood at attention, and gave her the sharpest salute I could. My wife's jaw dropped, from my firm expression of gratitude and the manner in which I was thanked.

As my wife and I was leaving a restaurant, with my take out in hand, a woman walked up having noticed my veteran license plate and seeing the "Insert War" Veteran hat. She greeted me so vibrantly and asked if I would allow her to by my lunch. She then handed me a $20 bill and quite firmly gripped my hand expressing the strength of her gratitude.

I truly regret not getting her name or using my phone to take a snapshot of such a resoundingly vibrant face. But it is that experience which helped me to learn that perhaps some of you out there... mean those words.

So I no longer shy away from being thanked and for that, wherever you are my dear, thank you for thanking me for my service.

This is who I am: Stranger, Yes. Offender, No

I'm recently back from a vacation to Philadelphia. Now, while on vacation I got in good exercise. I'd go walking for about 2 - 3 hours. New Jersey has these wonderful parks that encourage such efforts. Coming home I thought I'd continue the practice.

Now, I live next to the Middle & High School and behind the Elementary School. Kids by the dozens walk by my front door. Whenever I'm there I politely wave and give a short greeting and continue with my task. Almost ZERO interaction. However some of these kids are so appreciative of my service, I have a picture frame filled with a wonderful poem written by one of them on my living room wall.

So I had the practice of walking to one spot of High School grounds from my house. Measuring the distance, there and back was one mile. With my damaged equilibrium that would take me about 25 minutes to complete. I would do it NOT when the kids were going to school. No need to upset "normals" though I proudly wear my Desert Storm Veteran hat (with my airborne pin).

Having ended my vacation a day early I was sitting around the house and I realized that I could still do my vigorous walks. I walked to the High School, while passing the Middle School. My path took me out to a Greek Orthodox Church and to the local Fire Department. As I was heading back to Route 9 (my address) I went down Bartlett Ave.

As I walked down that way - I noticed a woman and kid having difficulty. I greeted them and asked if help would be appreciated. She turned and her face showed gratitude. I walked up and helped her empty the harvest bag from her lawnmower. The kid, and woman, just were not built in such a way to lift the bag to a proper position for easy emptying. (And it was heavy!!) Finishing up, and being thanked, I went to continue my walk and the kid started walking with me. I turned to him and asked him a question, "What's my name?"

"I don't know."

"Then I am a stranger! Now you go to Mommy or Daddy right now! Mommy or Daddy handle strangers, you do not!"

The Mom, who was looking a touch anxious, relaxed and waved thanks after listening to my lesson to the young man. The smile on her face, after helping and after teaching, was worth the experience. These are smiles that reach into my soul and tickle me. I am the oldest of six kids who grew up in a dangerous neighborhood. I know how parents worry and to make one smile in relief is joyful beyond words to describe.

I continued down Barlett with one of my hands smeared with grass cuttings and juices. As I walked I notice the Martin J. Flanigan Community Center was still open and I entered to wash my hand in the bathroom. I used to work at Flanigan. At the time of my accident, I was the Asst Spvr for Strafford County's Meals on Wheels program and that was the HQ for that activity.

So I knew where the bathroom was. Entering I passed the door to the gym while heading to the bathroom. Having some combat PTSD issues I always look and assess an area as I pass. So I glanced into the room to see what was going on. Some teenagers were at play and there was a Coach focusing their activity. I turned to continue to the bathroom when the Coach sounded off. "Who are you?!? What kid are you here to see?!?"

My aphasia kicked in with hostile verbal interaction suddenly in front of me. Stuttering I tried to talk but my talking was not fast enough for Coach. He approached me shouting at me and then I got worried that he might make the mistake of making physical contact with me. The Army taught me how to terminate such an attack and I got terrified that I'd fall back into habit and accidentally harming the dumb coach. I never even got to say my name. He didn't care: I was some perverted sex offender acting up on his watch!

Here I am, mentally disabled, walking into my old workplace, wearing a combat veteran hat, being accosted by a 6 foot PLUS overweight guy (which describes me as well) trying to figure out how to answer "ANSWER ME DAMMIT ANSWER ME DAMMIT". At my size and inability to speak, I'm a police shooting waiting to happen. Am I offended? Heck yeah. The picture frame with the poem inside it was handed to me by our Mayor. The honor of that still shivers in my spine.

Now, this is where people don't get this: I AM MENTALLY DISABLED. Not crazy, not perverse, not stupid. Just sideways in cognition. 2 plus 2 equals the same thing it always did. It just takes me longer to remember how to do math - math itself. Adding is easy for me, lickety split, but remembering and figuring out if math is appropriate at that moment... that takes longer.

It is moments like this that cause me great mental distress. I'm a member of Mensa (meaning I'm not dumb by far), I bled for the freedoms of my fellow citizens (Yes, purple heart-ed I am), I used to jump out of flying vehicles (planes mostly but sometimes helicopters), and I wielded death in my hands (M16 with an M203 attached).

So for a guy who got stabbed a couple of weeks after jumping out of an airplane to shoot bad guys and launch grenades at distant mortar emplacements to no longer be able to speak in the face of an a$$hole I could take out without building up sweat.... that is who I am now.

A Stranger, Yes. A heart broken one that can't always speak.

Offender, No. Even if you put your hands on me and I break your face/body for doing so.

PS: I'm realizing a trend here. Society does not know, or care to know, how to treat me. It seems that my being sideways is trouble for them. As such, when I was faced with the surprise question "Live or Die" why did I choose to continue living? Don't know but I endeavor to find out why.

Do not mistake me being odd/weird as hostile or dangerous.

See, all of my life I have been the odd man out. Growing up, the white tall kid where no white kids dare existed, even now. Army, an officer wannabe who got disqualified but jumps out of Airplanes (???). Civilian life, PTSD sufferer without any violent tendencies. The list goes on...

Throughout all this there has been some consistencies: Integrity, Honor, and Loyalty. Within this wreck of a body lives the soul of a Marine. Fortunately, a brain lives here as well. (/joke)

My accident has damaged my brain in ways Doctors still don't know. I am now high risk for strokes, aneurisms, slip and falls, again the list goes on. However, what has not been damaged is the core of who I've been all my life. Now, with some brain injuries this is not the case. With mine, I am STILL me with some small changes.

The biggest change is Aphasia. Another change is my tendency to blurt which may be a regular sign of my Aphasia. Blurt - say something suddenly and without careful consideration. I don't just blurt verbally as well. I blurt on social media also. Which may, for some people, explain my annoyance with the people of the world who don't know or don't properly remember me.

I didn't say I did not say that.

I said I am not the one who said that.

Yesterday I shared someone else's joke. I thought this joke was funny even if a bit off the beaten path. Of course I have always thought I was funny just off the beaten path. Before accident as well as after accident. I shared this joke on Facebook and on Google Plus. Facebook has been a medium of family connection, Google Plus not so much family but other computer geeks like me. Via Facebook family got concerned about my intentions, like gestapo-ish overseers, while on G+ laughter ensued and chit chatting over the topic engaged.

The family was worried about Police involvement of my life.

"John people get arrested these days for stuff they post on Facebook!"

Yes, ID10T's do. In fairness, gobs of people get arrested every day. The list of people unfairly or unjustly arrested also grows every day. That being said, while unfair arrests happen apologies are rarer. There is always some charge that can be made in every situation.

My charge, off the back? Breathing. Add in possible conspiracy involvement, causing terror to short people for being so tall, forcing the general public to treat me nice by looking like a line backer, and guilty of being odd and brain injured. He is now guilty of being Mentally Disabled, of course he's stupid and crazy NOW!

The truth is I'm a police shooting waiting to happen. Even with a Veteran license plate, heck given the Hollywood disrespect of our PTSD issues a Veteran license plate is increasing my odds of being some nice guy shot down by the police. And that was BEFORE the accident!

So, to my friends on Google+ (especially the Eve Online buddies/targets!) thank you for getting that it was a joke and laughing along with me over the joke. To my concerned family: Shame on yall for forgetting who I am. Oh and bleep-bleep-bleepity-bleep-bleep.