It's easy to forget the problems of the past. Life moves on, you push forward with a new directive, move on and leave the issues of the past behind you. Until one day it sneaks up behind you and gives your memory a good old slap to the back of the head.
My life's been very busy these past few months. Chaotic, you could say. But it's been chaotic for a while, so that's not clear enough. It's been the good kind of chaotic, the kind where you're finally able to move on with your life. Buying a house, getting settled, a baby, a career... don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Ok, maybe I'm complaining a little, but it's all a welcome relief compared to the problems of the past. I've been so caught up with establishing a future that a matter of my past came back to haunt me on Monday.
I'm not sure if it's something I've written about before or done so in any great detail. I spaced out that morning as the alarm went off to start another week. I mean, really spaced out. A side effect of one too many concussions (and yes, one is too many concussions). Sometimes, these spaced moments consist of simple concentration problems, one too many things taking place at the same time causing me to lose focus. They're few and far between compared to before as I've been training my mind to block out what I don't want to hear in the background. Neuroplacicity in action, bitches. But that doesn't mean it was the only problem. Sometimes those moments take it to another level and I fall much further.
I guess this is another one of those posts where I write to understand what's going on in my head. Or not, as the case may be. Because that's what happens when I go this deep into space. Nothing. I go blank. And I know I've gone blank because I can feel myself wanting to tell someone I'm in trouble, yet nothing comes out. Sometimes, I'm stuck inside my own head and it feels like what a comatose patient must go through if they are truly awake in that slumber. Or maybe it's something completely different. Whatever it is, I become trapped in my own body until someone comes along to snap me out of it. Without anyone else around to bring me back, I could be stuck in their a while.
That's what happened on Monday morning. The alarm went off at 7:00 am and something was wrong. It was too dark for it to be 7; it was that damn Daylight Saving Time. Too late and before I knew what was going on, I was stuck. I know now that an hour passed before I could muster up enough conscious thought to grab my phone and call my wife, who was asleep on the couch downstairs. When she answered, I wasn't ready to speak, so I pressed the 1 button repeatedly to form "SOS" in morse code. Yeah, fucked up, right? To know morse code and not have the ability to speak. Welcome to the damaged brain.
By the time my wife came upstairs and helped bring me back, it was near 8:30 and my brain was toast. I was as useful as a toddler at work and the bulk of the day was spent resting and regaining my mental strength.
It used to happen a lot, sometimes two or three times a week. Now, items a rarity. Just enough frequency to let me forget it's a problem until it comes back to kick my ass one more time. And there's no cure, just more training. Like a muscle or a broken leg; you have to work it back into shape. So I'm back in the gym once more, flexing the cranial muscle to avoid another event from happening a little longer than the last. It will happen again, I must remind myself. And I must be ready.