This might be what blogging is all about. You see, I met a gal in Eugene, while there for the Track & Field Olympic Trials, and when I got home we became friends on FB.
At least that's how I think we met.
Of course I immediately forgot how I had met her, and am still not sure. I read her posts, and enjoyed seeing pics of her here in K-Town last summer and thought, Wow, she has family here? That thought was followed quickly by How did I meet her/how do I know her?
Anyway, here's the connection or at least a connection: I had been a track star when I was younger but she is a track star now! She competed in the Master's World meet! I was so excited to write about my find that I've only read bits of her husband's blog http://minnows-team.blogspot.com, but I was tickled by the picture with her 4x400 relay team.
They were bronze medalists at WORLD'S! She's only been married a little longer than me so we're both newlyweds... well kinda. I read her husband's blog about her dialogue with her relay team. Oh, she's that teammate! I thought. Every team needs someone like that. Reason: because then all the other teammates try to reassure her, and because they are busy with that, they can forget their own frazzled nerves!
Here's a shout out to Betty Shaefer! Master Trackster Extraordinaire!
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Saturday, December 28, 2013
23 Years Since
This time I'll start with the head injury aspect of my situation, so I don't forget. Memory is a hard thing for those of us who have hit our heads really hard. But, I am fortunate that my recall of way-back-when is not so bad, it's the day to day stuff that's hard to retain.
Throughou the holiday season, I've been running into childhood/family friends and acquaintances. It's sometimes hard to distinguish between the two, because there were folks around here who knew of me even if I didn't know them. And I've come to realize there are people who assume that we were closer than I remember. That part my stem from the TBI.
My dad owned and ran the town's favorite watering hole (my family referred to it as The Bar.) It was simply a beer joint with sawdust on the floor, swinging doors and relaxed atmosphere. Really good homemade pizza and sandwiches are also on the menu which hangs on the wall near the kitchen. It's the kind of place you can walk into, guaranteed to find someone you know. Lots of locals hang there, as do cool tourists. Dad was also the local radio voice for both high school football and basketball back in the day.
Because of The Bar and dad's radio fame, people knew me first as my dad's daughter.
Another reason was that I ran fast. I broke, and held several high school, and state track records in sprints, hurdles, and long jump. I continued running at the University of Oregon, where I hold a record I set 30 years ago, and I even ran in the '80 and '84 Olympic Trials.
Dad, the consummate bartender, was very friendly, and was certain everyone was just as interested in his children as he was. Hence, many bar regulars were better versed in AIAW/NCAA women's track and field than I probably was.
Finally, folks know me because I was in a serious car crash and sustained a Traumatic Brain Injury. That was in 1991, when we were living in Southern California, and it did some serious long term damage; I was in La La Land for some time, and lost much needed motor skills. Needless to say, the folks back at The Bar in Montana then became quite knowledgeable regarding head trauma.
So, if people had lost track of me over the years (I lived all over the North West as well as California) they became reaquainted with me after hearing Moose's daughter, the track star, almost died in a car accident, and is probably still a basket case!
My issue: When I see people only occasionally and that know me, but don't know me, I realize that what flashes on screen in their brain is this: Lexie - Moose's daughter - track star - HEAD INJURY! They see me limp, and one of my eyes wander and begin to talk very slow, and very loud. That's when I want to shout, My hearing was not effected!
HOW... ARE... YOU... DOING/FEELING??? They ask as if I was just released from the hospital. It has been 23 years since my crash, after all.
Throughou the holiday season, I've been running into childhood/family friends and acquaintances. It's sometimes hard to distinguish between the two, because there were folks around here who knew of me even if I didn't know them. And I've come to realize there are people who assume that we were closer than I remember. That part my stem from the TBI.
My dad owned and ran the town's favorite watering hole (my family referred to it as The Bar.) It was simply a beer joint with sawdust on the floor, swinging doors and relaxed atmosphere. Really good homemade pizza and sandwiches are also on the menu which hangs on the wall near the kitchen. It's the kind of place you can walk into, guaranteed to find someone you know. Lots of locals hang there, as do cool tourists. Dad was also the local radio voice for both high school football and basketball back in the day.
Because of The Bar and dad's radio fame, people knew me first as my dad's daughter.
Another reason was that I ran fast. I broke, and held several high school, and state track records in sprints, hurdles, and long jump. I continued running at the University of Oregon, where I hold a record I set 30 years ago, and I even ran in the '80 and '84 Olympic Trials.
Dad, the consummate bartender, was very friendly, and was certain everyone was just as interested in his children as he was. Hence, many bar regulars were better versed in AIAW/NCAA women's track and field than I probably was.
Finally, folks know me because I was in a serious car crash and sustained a Traumatic Brain Injury. That was in 1991, when we were living in Southern California, and it did some serious long term damage; I was in La La Land for some time, and lost much needed motor skills. Needless to say, the folks back at The Bar in Montana then became quite knowledgeable regarding head trauma.
So, if people had lost track of me over the years (I lived all over the North West as well as California) they became reaquainted with me after hearing Moose's daughter, the track star, almost died in a car accident, and is probably still a basket case!
My issue: When I see people only occasionally and that know me, but don't know me, I realize that what flashes on screen in their brain is this: Lexie - Moose's daughter - track star - HEAD INJURY! They see me limp, and one of my eyes wander and begin to talk very slow, and very loud. That's when I want to shout, My hearing was not effected!
HOW... ARE... YOU... DOING/FEELING??? They ask as if I was just released from the hospital. It has been 23 years since my crash, after all.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Upworthy
Let me start by saying I consider Face Book, as well as Pinterest, simply new wave magazines. I can browse, read the things that interest me, or turn the page. And reading is not my only option, I can actually watch video clips; really well done video clips that make me wish I had some how ended up in that industry rather than education.
I can picture myself putting together really fun, informative pieces of film, or at least being part of a team that does. I am a very good team player!
Anyway, I saw a couple of real neat things this morning. I saw that Bill Gates was someone's Secret Santa. He donated to a cool organization that provides things that will help feed families in 3rd world countries, and to represent the gift he had given in her name she received a cute plush cow toy. That Bill sure is clever, isn't he?
And then I saw where a man was going to be given $25,000. He was supposed to make a movie trailer, but then got the movie company's permission to take those dollars to the Phillipines to procure food and other essentials for the survivors of the world's hugest typhoon. He bought the stuff, ferried it via bus (there were no trucks big enough) to the areas most in need, and repackaged it into family bags. Finally, he was part of actually handing those bags to typhoon survivors.
The sight where I find all this cool stuff is called Upworthy, you should go there.
I can picture myself putting together really fun, informative pieces of film, or at least being part of a team that does. I am a very good team player!
Anyway, I saw a couple of real neat things this morning. I saw that Bill Gates was someone's Secret Santa. He donated to a cool organization that provides things that will help feed families in 3rd world countries, and to represent the gift he had given in her name she received a cute plush cow toy. That Bill sure is clever, isn't he?
And then I saw where a man was going to be given $25,000. He was supposed to make a movie trailer, but then got the movie company's permission to take those dollars to the Phillipines to procure food and other essentials for the survivors of the world's hugest typhoon. He bought the stuff, ferried it via bus (there were no trucks big enough) to the areas most in need, and repackaged it into family bags. Finally, he was part of actually handing those bags to typhoon survivors.
The sight where I find all this cool stuff is called Upworthy, you should go there.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Loving Myself?
I returned to my home town kinda broken, but things have gone better than anticipated. Home for ~5 years now, I found a perfect mate; perfect for me that is. He is kind, caring, and very easy to love. We laugh, a lot, and live simply.
But, back to me of course because I'm the blogger, dam it! And, I now remember that I was going to focus more on How I live with the effects of my head injury.
By kinda broken, I don't mean physically; it was more of an emotional instability I know stemmed from my head injury. The old adage No one will love you until you love yourself, kept rattling around in my head. My conclusion was that I think very highly of myself; at least deep down anyway. My core belief being, I am better than just OK; I have a lot to offer!
But even as I write this I find myself returning to statements that include guess/might/maybe/probably and solidifying the statement by removing those words. If I can write less wishy washy then I know for sure I am living with less self doubt!
Truth is, I may not have really loved myself until Dan showed me that I was lovable.
So there it is, you can love somebody before you love your self, if that person is willing to help you get to the point of loving, not just them, but yourself.
But, back to me of course because I'm the blogger, dam it! And, I now remember that I was going to focus more on How I live with the effects of my head injury.
By kinda broken, I don't mean physically; it was more of an emotional instability I know stemmed from my head injury. The old adage No one will love you until you love yourself, kept rattling around in my head. My conclusion was that I think very highly of myself; at least deep down anyway. My core belief being, I am better than just OK; I have a lot to offer!
But even as I write this I find myself returning to statements that include guess/might/maybe/probably and solidifying the statement by removing those words. If I can write less wishy washy then I know for sure I am living with less self doubt!
Truth is, I may not have really loved myself until Dan showed me that I was lovable.
So there it is, you can love somebody before you love your self, if that person is willing to help you get to the point of loving, not just them, but yourself.
Monday, December 16, 2013
And Again...
It happened.
Flipping through Pinterest, (Pinterest = magazine) I stop on a Christmas treat and think, I've see this before.
The recipe called for popped corn, M and M's, pretzel pieces and vanilla candy melt. I immediately remember Yeah, ! I was goon make this and get those real cute bags I saw at...
But, because I had just written about my unrealistic plans, I stopped and thought, Oh, this just happened. Hmm? It didn't end well either. I then made a conscious decision to not continue planning, and I turned the page.
Wow! Add to Reasons for Blogging: Assists Head-Injured in recalling embarrassing moments Just in Time
Flipping through Pinterest, (Pinterest = magazine) I stop on a Christmas treat and think, I've see this before.
The recipe called for popped corn, M and M's, pretzel pieces and vanilla candy melt. I immediately remember Yeah, ! I was goon make this and get those real cute bags I saw at...
But, because I had just written about my unrealistic plans, I stopped and thought, Oh, this just happened. Hmm? It didn't end well either. I then made a conscious decision to not continue planning, and I turned the page.
Wow! Add to Reasons for Blogging: Assists Head-Injured in recalling embarrassing moments Just in Time
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Not Always Practical
Ok, so now I'll focus on the head injury aspect of my new life. New: because I have applied for the big D, and am now pretty much retired.
Now I have time to do all things that were once just passing thoughts. But I've told you, before, how the ideas in my head are not always practical, given my disabilities. It isn't unusual for me to picture myself easily accomplishing entirely new tasks, flawlessly. The fact that I didn't do said task prior to my head injury, doesn't cross my mind.
A holiday memory I've cherished forever is baking Christmas cookies with my best friend's family. We are making Spritz; green wreathes with red hots as berries, and red and white twisty candy canes. Yeah, I say to myself, I'll make those to take to the Life Skills kids! Those were the kids I was teaching when I left the daily education grind. Maybe I have time to be nice, I thought, and this plan could double as my attempt to be the nice person I kind of wish I was.
I quickly found the recipe in my husband's ancient Better Homes and Garden New Cook Book, and I recalled the loss of my own prehistoric copy of the Joy of Cooking. My ex thought old recipes didn't cook as good as new ones, and he trashed it. This New Cookbook was far from contemporary, but it was the book my husband, the cook, uses. It quickly became my New cook book.
I spend a couple days gathering ingredients, like almond extract. Who has that on hand? Probably a real baker type person, I thought. We had everything but the almond extract, and Red Hots, and it was then that I realized my husband really did do a lot of baking. I must admit I was waiting for him to glance at the cookie-makings and simply take over. In my head I heard: Oh. Lexie, were you making Spritz? I can do that for you, while I watch the game.
But this was my reality, now, and he probably thought I needed something to keep me busy. I started early in the day, and made sure everything I needed was close at hand. The recipe instructed me to cream sugar and butter, together, completely. I was thrilled because I knew exactly what that meant! This was going to be a cinch, I laughed. I did resort to mixing it with my bare hands because we have no mixer-thingy, but I finally got things all put together, and green. Yes, I decided to forego the red for the candy canes. I would start small.
Mixing the dough with my spic-n-span-clean hands was only the warm up, I realized, as loading the press was tricky, AND sticky. My previously dominant hand doesn't work quite like it should, and my non-dominant hand is now dominant. You know, I use to be right handed; everything that required any fine, fine motor skills was done with my right hand. And, yes, getting the dough inside the cookie press, required a lots of fine, fine motor skills. Just remember, using my left hand, the same way I used the right, is not always pretty.
After stuffing the cookie press full, I was ready to form wreathes, but the press wouldn't really press.
That is until I wedged the handle against my gut, and leaned into it. I was, in effect, using my body weight to push the dough through the press so that the long thin piece, that would form the wreathe, had fancy edges. I judged the length of the first piece just right, curled it into a circle and embellished it with a red hot. This may not be too difficult after all, I surmised.
The warm/fuzzy feelings ended there, though. My judgement on the next piece's length wasn't good so I set that chunk of dough aside. I pressed a couple more duds but became concerned about the bruise the dough contraption was more than likely leaving on my stomach.
Flipping the press over, I used the counter as a substitute for my gut. The handle slid on the glass cutting board and the whole contraption slid across the surface. During the melee, the top came off the press and I couldn't get it back on. Long, ugly story short, the press went in the trash, and the dough was formed by hand; my left, now dominant hand, doing most of the work.
Now I have time to do all things that were once just passing thoughts. But I've told you, before, how the ideas in my head are not always practical, given my disabilities. It isn't unusual for me to picture myself easily accomplishing entirely new tasks, flawlessly. The fact that I didn't do said task prior to my head injury, doesn't cross my mind.
A holiday memory I've cherished forever is baking Christmas cookies with my best friend's family. We are making Spritz; green wreathes with red hots as berries, and red and white twisty candy canes. Yeah, I say to myself, I'll make those to take to the Life Skills kids! Those were the kids I was teaching when I left the daily education grind. Maybe I have time to be nice, I thought, and this plan could double as my attempt to be the nice person I kind of wish I was.
I quickly found the recipe in my husband's ancient Better Homes and Garden New Cook Book, and I recalled the loss of my own prehistoric copy of the Joy of Cooking. My ex thought old recipes didn't cook as good as new ones, and he trashed it. This New Cookbook was far from contemporary, but it was the book my husband, the cook, uses. It quickly became my New cook book.
I spend a couple days gathering ingredients, like almond extract. Who has that on hand? Probably a real baker type person, I thought. We had everything but the almond extract, and Red Hots, and it was then that I realized my husband really did do a lot of baking. I must admit I was waiting for him to glance at the cookie-makings and simply take over. In my head I heard: Oh. Lexie, were you making Spritz? I can do that for you, while I watch the game.
But this was my reality, now, and he probably thought I needed something to keep me busy. I started early in the day, and made sure everything I needed was close at hand. The recipe instructed me to cream sugar and butter, together, completely. I was thrilled because I knew exactly what that meant! This was going to be a cinch, I laughed. I did resort to mixing it with my bare hands because we have no mixer-thingy, but I finally got things all put together, and green. Yes, I decided to forego the red for the candy canes. I would start small.
Mixing the dough with my spic-n-span-clean hands was only the warm up, I realized, as loading the press was tricky, AND sticky. My previously dominant hand doesn't work quite like it should, and my non-dominant hand is now dominant. You know, I use to be right handed; everything that required any fine, fine motor skills was done with my right hand. And, yes, getting the dough inside the cookie press, required a lots of fine, fine motor skills. Just remember, using my left hand, the same way I used the right, is not always pretty.
After stuffing the cookie press full, I was ready to form wreathes, but the press wouldn't really press.
That is until I wedged the handle against my gut, and leaned into it. I was, in effect, using my body weight to push the dough through the press so that the long thin piece, that would form the wreathe, had fancy edges. I judged the length of the first piece just right, curled it into a circle and embellished it with a red hot. This may not be too difficult after all, I surmised.
The warm/fuzzy feelings ended there, though. My judgement on the next piece's length wasn't good so I set that chunk of dough aside. I pressed a couple more duds but became concerned about the bruise the dough contraption was more than likely leaving on my stomach.
Flipping the press over, I used the counter as a substitute for my gut. The handle slid on the glass cutting board and the whole contraption slid across the surface. During the melee, the top came off the press and I couldn't get it back on. Long, ugly story short, the press went in the trash, and the dough was formed by hand; my left, now dominant hand, doing most of the work.
Still Trying
I spent the day kind of snooping around, and trying to make sense of this thing they call technology. Before today I could e-mail, create worksheets,and do other teacher-type things on my computer. I moved to a lap top and added Face Book, Games, and Shopping (lots of looking, not so much buying.)
But today l learned some things about blogs/blogging/blogger that I didn't know and I really needed to know some things! I didn't ask the question How does a blog get people to read it? But, I tried some things to increase readership.
Sometimes I think that my head injury said to itself, Hmmm? Let's hit this one with something like A.D.D.
But today l learned some things about blogs/blogging/blogger that I didn't know and I really needed to know some things! I didn't ask the question How does a blog get people to read it? But, I tried some things to increase readership.
Sometimes I think that my head injury said to itself, Hmmm? Let's hit this one with something like A.D.D.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Bored Yet?
This is what people want to know now, and no, I am not bored. I use to tell my 5th grade students Only boring people get bored. One needs to create their own excitement, situations in which you might find happiness, learn a lesson, or help someone out. The possibilities are endless, for those who are optimistic; few, for those who's glass is half empty.
My brain, at this point, is going 100 miles an hour, and I realize that I have never been very good at multitasking. When I was working it was all encompassing, and my brain didn't deal well with much else. When my kids were school-aged and I was a new teacher, I wasn't aware of this so I'd like to take a moment to apologize to them. I'm sorry I was crazy.
I was busy trying to prove to myself and to everyone in my path, that I was just fine. The head injury crash was way in the past, ten years or so. I was left with a limp, and a wandering eye, but as far as I was concerned everything else was a A-OK! My kids are grown now and they turned out OK. Better than OK if one considers where they could be. Maybe I wasn't as preoccupied as I think I was.
These are the things I no longer have to think about:
How will I get through the day?
How will I get through the year?
How can I make my job easier?
How can I change my thought process to make my job fulfilling?
Will I be here next year?
Where do I want to be?
How can I get to where I want to be?
What will I take for lunch?
And because I am free from these thoughts, my damaged brain can think about so much more!
My brain, at this point, is going 100 miles an hour, and I realize that I have never been very good at multitasking. When I was working it was all encompassing, and my brain didn't deal well with much else. When my kids were school-aged and I was a new teacher, I wasn't aware of this so I'd like to take a moment to apologize to them. I'm sorry I was crazy.
I was busy trying to prove to myself and to everyone in my path, that I was just fine. The head injury crash was way in the past, ten years or so. I was left with a limp, and a wandering eye, but as far as I was concerned everything else was a A-OK! My kids are grown now and they turned out OK. Better than OK if one considers where they could be. Maybe I wasn't as preoccupied as I think I was.
These are the things I no longer have to think about:
How will I get through the day?
How will I get through the year?
How can I make my job easier?
How can I change my thought process to make my job fulfilling?
Will I be here next year?
Where do I want to be?
How can I get to where I want to be?
What will I take for lunch?
And because I am free from these thoughts, my damaged brain can think about so much more!
Monday, December 9, 2013
Now What?
Now that I am officially retired, at least until track season, it's time to finalize my plans. But this head injured blogger knows that nothing is ever certain. Sometimes I am unrealistic about what is actually do- able, and I start things I can't finish. Of course I attribute this to my head injury, and pretty much blame all my short comings on that fact. My friends are quick to disagree. They choose to encourage, and I let them.
Exactly what was I going fill each empty day with? Plans included blogging, but I've been thinking things through, regarding my blog. I've always thought about it as a head injury survival guide, but I've written basically about myself. It's said you should "Write what you know!" And I do really know about myself, and my experiences, but the head injury stuff has been an after thought. Plans include more focus there.
A good friend suggested that I write about the scientific side of a TBI as well. Because he's a true academic, I figured I'd take his sage advice. We've been close for 37 years and he's never led me astray.
Stay tuned; I'll blog, craft, play Facebook games, read, blog... It's not certain, though.
Exactly what was I going fill each empty day with? Plans included blogging, but I've been thinking things through, regarding my blog. I've always thought about it as a head injury survival guide, but I've written basically about myself. It's said you should "Write what you know!" And I do really know about myself, and my experiences, but the head injury stuff has been an after thought. Plans include more focus there.
A good friend suggested that I write about the scientific side of a TBI as well. Because he's a true academic, I figured I'd take his sage advice. We've been close for 37 years and he's never led me astray.
Stay tuned; I'll blog, craft, play Facebook games, read, blog... It's not certain, though.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Hurry Up... and Wait
The Process
The process is not entirely clear to me yet, but I think I may muddle through. I sent the application on-line, and got a call from an office in North Dakota. ND, mind you, not Montana, which is where I am at. I was told my small home town didn't have enough workers to process the on-line apps so North Dakota was helping out. It's struck me funny because, as a child in MT, the simpleton jokes we told always included a North Dakotan.
We'd ask "How many North Dakotans does it take to change a light bulb?" "Three!" We'd giggle, "One to hold the light bulb, and two to turn the chair!" And here I was, relying on this worker in ND to get it right. But, it seems all she did was review my on-line app, to make sure the info needed was correct, before she sent it electronically to yet another place. Well, I thought, no wonder she was so pleasant!
I knew they were coming but I didn't realize it would be the next business day. It was good to have the "Work History" and "Functional" reports in hand so I had something to do, because I was now officially retired. I figured I'd be done in a day or two, but it was more difficult than I had anticipated. I finally wrapped my damaged brain around the two forms' strange questions and got it finished.
Our government is moving to electronic disability claim folders so the finished forms were to be mailed to a "scanning contractor" in Salt Lake City, Utah! There was a reference to my state's capital city in the send-to address though, so I felt better about sending the reports to Utah. Following Instructions on mailing the reports rivaled actual completion of said reports, sent them off...to Utah. There were no postage fees for returning them, I mean forwarding them, and that turned out to be the best news of all.
The process is not entirely clear to me yet, but I think I may muddle through. I sent the application on-line, and got a call from an office in North Dakota. ND, mind you, not Montana, which is where I am at. I was told my small home town didn't have enough workers to process the on-line apps so North Dakota was helping out. It's struck me funny because, as a child in MT, the simpleton jokes we told always included a North Dakotan.
We'd ask "How many North Dakotans does it take to change a light bulb?" "Three!" We'd giggle, "One to hold the light bulb, and two to turn the chair!" And here I was, relying on this worker in ND to get it right. But, it seems all she did was review my on-line app, to make sure the info needed was correct, before she sent it electronically to yet another place. Well, I thought, no wonder she was so pleasant!
I knew they were coming but I didn't realize it would be the next business day. It was good to have the "Work History" and "Functional" reports in hand so I had something to do, because I was now officially retired. I figured I'd be done in a day or two, but it was more difficult than I had anticipated. I finally wrapped my damaged brain around the two forms' strange questions and got it finished.
Our government is moving to electronic disability claim folders so the finished forms were to be mailed to a "scanning contractor" in Salt Lake City, Utah! There was a reference to my state's capital city in the send-to address though, so I felt better about sending the reports to Utah. Following Instructions on mailing the reports rivaled actual completion of said reports, sent them off...to Utah. There were no postage fees for returning them, I mean forwarding them, and that turned out to be the best news of all.
Monday, December 2, 2013
The Application is In
The decision was made after I crashed my 3-wheel recumbant (read: fancy trike.) My major issue post TBI is balance, which I have very little of, hence the trike. I ride it every day when I coach cross country at the middle school, which I will continue to do, even though I have retired. There are two of us coaching the 40 plus kids we start with at the beginning of each season.
I'm running off the trail now, so I'll get back to where I started. I tipped over going down a short, steep grade, and separated my shoulder and sprained my pelvis. Those are things I didn't realize for over a week however. But after my chiropractor x-rayed and started me on an intense rehab schedule, I had to finally admit that my body, in its compromised state, had enough of the daily grind, and I began to apply for disability.
Initially it was done over the phone, and although I thought I had received a denial to a preliminary something, it had been a full on denial; I made too much money. This I knew, and that I had to quit before I could go any farther. I did just that, and began an on-line app. But I found out I had been denied for real. I conversed with a lovely SS worker the day before Turkey day, and missed a call from her late that afternoon. I was "thankful" because it seemed I was finally on my way to approval.
Today was my 1st day of my Unofficial job; Applying for Disability. I got right on the phone to return the call I received from the kind SS worker pre-holiday. I was unable to reach her, of course, and was told that because I had been working with "A" she was who I needed to speak with. I imagined "A" sitting at her work station in North Dakota, listening to the message I had left, and saying to herself "Well, Montana can wait, I've got North Dakotans to help!" I was probably the only one she could reach at the end of that long Wednesday afternoon, trapped at work.
Although I am not one to "text" easily, unless it's one of my children, I silently wished I could text "A."
Initially it was done over the phone, and although I thought I had received a denial to a preliminary something, it had been a full on denial; I made too much money. This I knew, and that I had to quit before I could go any farther. I did just that, and began an on-line app. But I found out I had been denied for real. I conversed with a lovely SS worker the day before Turkey day, and missed a call from her late that afternoon. I was "thankful" because it seemed I was finally on my way to approval.
Today was my 1st day of my Unofficial job; Applying for Disability. I got right on the phone to return the call I received from the kind SS worker pre-holiday. I was unable to reach her, of course, and was told that because I had been working with "A" she was who I needed to speak with. I imagined "A" sitting at her work station in North Dakota, listening to the message I had left, and saying to herself "Well, Montana can wait, I've got North Dakotans to help!" I was probably the only one she could reach at the end of that long Wednesday afternoon, trapped at work.
Although I am not one to "text" easily, unless it's one of my children, I silently wished I could text "A."
Crap!
Wow, I feel like crap. I've allowed my life to get in the way, of this, in more ways than just a few. So much has happened in such a short time, that maybe it wasn't that brief after all! Good, or not so good, all the changes were instigated by me; I...
- Moved home to Montana
- Continued to date
- Met a few yucky guys
- Worked at an elementary school
- Met a few good guys
- Worked at another grade school
- One of the good guys became a good friend
- That friend introduced me to his best friend (BF)
- I asked the BF to go out, to prove that he would
- Worked at another school
- Fell in love with the BF
- Married the BF
- Bought a new house
- Worked at a middle school
- Filed for disability
- Resigned
That brings you up-to-date on my life, and here I am now! I can stay at home and write every day if I feel like it, or if I can remember to. My head injury allows me the use of that flimsy excuse.
I've filed for disability because of the difficulties the actual head injury left me saddled with. For years I was able to compensate for my issues but now I've pretty much thrown in the towel. I realize that 22 years post TBI I might deserve to relax some, but it's still a difficult concept to embrace.
So here I am day one of my "retirement," and already frustrated.
The Old Hospital
The Old Hospital
“This is where I began,” I said to the handsome stranger in the street. I barely heard his inaudible reply, but sensed he was perplexed. I continued by telling him I had been born in the building he was standing in front of. “It’s strange,” I continued as if I was speaking to myself, “Now I live on the 2nd floor.” I think I knew that I was boring him but I couldn’t stop. “The 2nd floor is actually the 3rd because the main floor is the 1st, but you have to go up a flight of steps to get there. And there is a basement which isn’t really all the way underground.”
He told me he was not from here, and was visiting an elderly aunt down the street. She had taken a nap and he decided to check out the neighborhood, when I caught him staring at the vintage building I now called home.
“It’s not a hospital anymore, obviously, or I wouldn’t live there, right? Now it’s offices, art studios and condos,” I rambled on as I fell into the intense green eyes staring at me. “And, the boiler room out back’s a coffee shop now,” I added without pause.
As I took a breath he asked, “Do you have time for a cup?”
“This is where I began,” I said to the handsome stranger in the street. I barely heard his inaudible reply, but sensed he was perplexed. I continued by telling him I had been born in the building he was standing in front of. “It’s strange,” I continued as if I was speaking to myself, “Now I live on the 2nd floor.” I think I knew that I was boring him but I couldn’t stop. “The 2nd floor is actually the 3rd because the main floor is the 1st, but you have to go up a flight of steps to get there. And there is a basement which isn’t really all the way underground.”
He told me he was not from here, and was visiting an elderly aunt down the street. She had taken a nap and he decided to check out the neighborhood, when I caught him staring at the vintage building I now called home.
“It’s not a hospital anymore, obviously, or I wouldn’t live there, right? Now it’s offices, art studios and condos,” I rambled on as I fell into the intense green eyes staring at me. “And, the boiler room out back’s a coffee shop now,” I added without pause.
As I took a breath he asked, “Do you have time for a cup?”
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The Veery
It took some convincing but I was allowed to drive, alone, to visit a very old friend at her cabin, the Veery, outside Great Falls. Althou...
