Over the past three years, my life has been consumed by post stroke rehabilitation. I have learned all sorts of interesting and boggling things about this brain I have, which had the misfortunate to be injured during the line of life duty. An existential mishap. I feel blessed, however, that I don’t go down without a fight, and that may be due to my stubborn, foolhardy, and fanciful nature at times. There has been progress in becoming a little more able as I look back and remark at what I couldn’t easily do six months, ago, one year ago, two years ago and three. If I were to suddenly wake up tomorrow without any symptoms though, I’d probably feel like something was terribly wrong, as I have become accustomed to these daily challenges now. It’s become part of who I am and what I do to get through each day.
This worldly construct we live in has made little concession for brain injury, and yet all around me, I see irrationality and unsoundness of mind. I’ve come to appreciate why ancient peoples sang songs, told stories and meditated on spiritual and natural matters. The brain is indeed an instrument, it is more than a mere tool or device. We can change the way we think, we can change the way our brain works for us, we can hone it and mould it, plasticity is an amazing property.
The visual-spatial issues I have are still ever present, and I still partake in daily rehabilitation. The rehabilitation is actually enjoyable because I make it so. The symptoms are disconcerting and sometimes debilitating but they would be even worse if I didn’t try and balance things out with a little pleasure. I still take a stick out with me if venturing into the artificial wildness as I don’t know what kind of environment I may come across. I am fairly capable I think, a week ago I went to an anime and gaming convention with my youngest son, I was up and out at 7:30 am, and I didn’t go to bed until 1 am. I had no rest during the day, and was pretty much on my feet throughout the entire event. I caught public transport there and back. Took my son out for a meal. He struggled more with the long day than I did, but I have strategic mental resources and a survival goal embedded now in my being that I need to rely on.
It’s strange, but I feel truer to myself, if that can be considered a thing, or perhaps more naked. A lot of being human tends to be constructing ideas and ways of being that provides us with the concept of who we are. We clothe ourselves as we grow. I like the Bowie phrase, cracked actor. I feel in a sense, stroke is a crack in our sense of self. I got to a spike in the road, and the path that was Roman became blocked, my only choice was to take the overgrown path that snaked over hills, okay, let’s do it, let’s go down that path. I have all the kit with me now, all the necessary tools on my mental belt for coping with such a path, and if I don’t have the right tool for one particular reason, I shall adapt another.
I feel ready for autumn and winter, I really enjoy these seasons. All quietens down, and I feel like I can come alive again. I tend to bestir when people hibernate, and can operate at my own pace which suits me well.
I hope everyone is having a decent week of things.
I know of Incubus, they were prominent when I was a young teen, during that alternative rock and grunge period. After the clean-cut eighties, there was a resurgence of long-hair and stubble for men. I could never grow long, straight hair, as letting my hair grow only produced a rather large bouffant and I have never been able to grow a beard, can’t even achieve much stubble either. 
I’ve never been one for chasing other people’s ideals of success, I don’t even know what success is. I’m not very competitive, even with myself. When I was a child, I was convinced that all one had to do in life was have a chest full of costumes, and if one wanted to be an astronaut, doctor or pirate, all one had to do was put on the costume. Thus, I was never a high achiever in school. 