Confessions of a Concussed Cyclist: there are no words to describe

April 22, 2021

I enjoy writing.  I have since I was a little girl.  But there are times I really want to write a Confession, I want to tell you about something specific but there is just no way to describe it.  How can I explain to you what happened when I can’t even find the words?

I may not have the perfect description but let me start with an image.  Imagine pouring water into an already full cup.  The cup can’t hold anything else so eventually it spills.  This has become my favorite analogy for brain injuries over the years.  My cup is full, so stop pouring!  Yesterday, I woke up with my cup full.  

I went to work (I work a few hours a week at my local bike shop; this is all my rattled brain can handle now) and I did my best to act ok.  I smiled, I laughed, I did what was needed of me but inside my brain was flooded. It was screaming. Noise, after noise, after noise.  Within about 10 minutes of being at work I wanted to cry and I had to actually stop myself from hitting my own head because I needed it all to stop.  I know it would have done no good, but that sensation was there…pound my head to just make it all go away. 

Initially my plans were to get all my groceries after work but with my flooded brain (my overflowing cup) I decided to just grab a few things and get out.  Stores are not easy for me on a good day (they are bright, loud, overwhelming, busy, etc.) let alone on a day that my brain literally feels like it will explode.  A rude customer was pushing on my last fraying nerve but I managed to get out of the store (without a police escort, thank you) and I retreated to the safety of my apartment.  Even in my quiet apartment, everything was just too much.  So blinds were shut, noise cancelling headphones covered my ears, work clothes were exchanged for comfy clothes, and I just laid down.  Eventually I could tolerate the tv being on so I vegged out to a dvd.  It was barely 2 pm. Dinner became a frozen pizza, dishes piled up in the sink, messages on my phone went unanswered.  

Today, my cup is about ¾ full.  Thankfully I had nothing that had to be done today so I stayed in pajamas, I kept my rooms dark, I watched movies, and I let my cup drain a bit more before I need to get back to being a functioning adult tomorrow.  

Brain injuries are invisible; you can’t see the damage and often you can’t see the torture I’m going through.  I’m sure many people think I’m a pain when I complain about lights, noise, etc. but if you could understand the hell that goes on in my brain 24/7 I think you’d be surprised I don’t complain more often. I think you’d understand the want to just hit my own head trying to make it go away. I think you’d understand why I drop what I’m doing to plug my ears.  I think you’d understand why some days I just don’t have the words to explain it.