It’s that time of year again…a somewhat unwelcome, but respected, time of inordinate reflection on my mortality and the paradox of my existence. In this July, I find myself exploring my sixth year of survival and what it means for my life to be “rich”.
For those who are close to me, they know I can struggle a bit more this time of year because my trauma is provoked by the impending date of July 3rd. This date is a reminder of how my body and soul almost left this earth six years ago, but with the aid of modern medicine, I survived.
And recently a friend of mine made a comment to me: “Jing, most people don’t know what it’s like to die.”
In response, my face became stoic, my gaze faded away, and with a slight nod of my head I responded, “Yes, you are right.”
This very behavior – withholding my true emotions – is one I mastered throughout my years of accelerated recovery. Masking was something I adopted predominantly to prevent the shared discomfort of others witnessing my pain and to alleviate the detriments of trauma on my mind and body.
Another habit I developed is efficient micro-reflection. At the moment where my friend said the poignant phrase about my death, I recognized how it hit me right in the soul. I know he did not make this comment out of unkindness, but rather from a place of pragmatism. My memory erasure forced me to accept there was a prior version of myself who no longer exists*. I believe these words precipitated formidable thoughts and feelings that reminded me of my painful truth.
His statement reminded me of how rare I am. Not rare in my discrete demographics; none of my identities on their own are uncommon: Wisconsinite, pharmacist, public health professional, Chinese, severe traumatic brain injury survivor, individual with a memory condition, Millennial, and so forth. However, when combined and with my journey, I endured to evolve through the many versions of myself at an unprecedented rate; this is what makes me rare…and lonely.
The beauty of my circumstance was the unintentional discovery of a pathway to hyper-fast healing and a unique way of thinking that allows me to live differently and with authenticity. The nightmare was the journey itself and the constant identity crisis of being relatable, but not. Once again, parts of me are relatable; but combined, not as much.
And perhaps in some bitterness, I think about how forced I felt to adopt the intricate existence I have. While many choose to develop certain behaviors out of their own freedom; in my circumstances, chronic pain and trauma constrained me to develop resilience if I wanted to survive. Similarly, these mortal properties also provided me many opportunities to practice hiding my true self as well. At this time of year, it is difficult not to forget how I was plagued with perceived, but not unfounded, loneliness for thousands of contiguous days because of my unconventional abilities, “disabilities”, and unrelatable dead/lived experience. Not to mention, the accompanying fatigue and confusion.
Yet where I am I now in my sixth year? Am I achieving what humans strive for? I know many contend for wealth, and taking a step back, am I rich? Perhaps yes, because now I have bountiful knowledge, connections, and abilities, including the capacity to blend in seamlessly with most people who have not experienced intense and chronic disability or trauma. As a survival technique, I had to learn how to live; and by luck, I had exposure to learn from many of the brightest individuals while pursuing my professional and doctorate degrees. I also realize my quality of life is very high – the ultimate goal. I experience some pain while healing from my first broken bone, but overall, I am very comfortable.
With these comments, you may notice how my mind can flitter between explorations of alternative realities and options that lead to inquisitions, critical analysis, and very purposeful actions. This thought process is what leads me to the questions of: Where am I now? Am I living up to my promise? Am I proud of who I am?
And if I distill my ponderings to my growth in year six of survival, overall, I find myself being disappointed in comparison to the other versions of me in prior years. I was the most complacent, weathered down, cynical, selfish, and least character-focused model of me to date. I lived longer than I anticipated (I contracted with myself to live for five years and set that as a time to strive for) and I remember a period this past year of where I felt almost lost about what to do, thinking: “I’m still here.” I began socializing more with people who shared my privileged identities and started adopting behaviors that were more “normal” based upon how they behaved. I chose to define my normal by selecting the prerogative environment over the desolate terrains of those with chronic poor health. I became the most “normal, healthy person” I’ve ever been.
My identity and thought conflict often manifest as guilt. I have a strong desire to respect my past, my journey, and the realities of underserved populations of which I am aware. I feel uncomfortable not acknowledging and assisting people with chronic disability, pain, and trauma because for the majority of my life these attributes were my reality. I know how hard it is to survive while chronically suffering. I know how much support and dedication is needed to overcome mental and physical hardship.
Yet I find that most people with the same physical body attributes and intellectual capacity as I do in my current day don’t want to wait for (slow-down the pace of life) or care for these populations in a sustainable manner. Now that I can keep up with most visibly abled individuals, I find myself tempted by their desires.
The desire to spend sunny days by the pool. To travel just because we can. To drink libations, be entertained by others, and remain carefree, simply because we have the privilege to do so…yet, I cannot shake that most years of my existence after brain injury, all of these aforementioned activities were laborious. I remember the hundreds of days where Death held my hand, sometimes reminding me of its hold in searing migraines that knocked me out to the point where I didn’t think I’d wake up the next day, sometimes in tinnitus or neuropathy which made me feel confused or trapped, all with the result of reminding me that I am mortal. Always reminding me that my battle was private; that others couldn’t see my issues; that I would have to be the one to vocalize my truth if I wanted help.
This understanding of the complexity of healing and transitioning identities is what underpins some of the offerings of The MindReset, like the suicide prevention training, the digital support groups, and this blog.
And as I digress, can you see the continual conflict brewing in my mind because of my past experiences, willingness to explore all sides, the challenges of my new growth, and my desire to uphold standards of support, inclusion, compassion, and kindness for all?
Of note though, not all my musings from this past year are filled with turmoil. I realized I do not feel as “othered” as much as I did in the past. For example, I wrote a recent reflection “Lonely No More” about what helps me feel less alone. And overall, gratitude, reflection, and small acts of kindness have become very natural behaviors for me. I have also developed my self-esteem to where know I can adopt, adapt, and conform to most environments if I want to; and it’s comforting to know that I have evolved out of a lack of confidence and the functional ability to connect.
For today, I would not like to write anymore – but will end this piece by sharing my gratitude. I am grateful for the ability to convey my thoughts in a manner that is heard; I am grateful for you taking time to read this post; I am grateful for my privilege, and I am grateful for the bountiful love and support in my life.
To all those in The MindReset Community, I am grateful for your voices and how your journeys continue to humble and remind me of my wealth. I am able. I have community. I have very much to be grateful for. Money is not the only measure of prosperity and I am very grateful to be rich at year six.
*Now I realize this is not entirely true. She (past-me) is part of who I am. We had our fully recognized “mind-merge” in the summer of 2018. It’s quite odd to talk about myself like I am more than one person, but it helps people, and me, understand the different versions of who I am and the striking division in my thoughts and personalities while I healed.
PS. If you didn’t notice in the featured photo, that was me earlier this year leaving the 5th.
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