Confessions of a Concussed Cyclist: talk to me

October 14, 2021

This past summer, after a round of testing, it was brought to my attention that my PTSD was worse than I’d ever let on and/or that the doctors ever realized.  It was then recommended to me that I go to therapy because clearly, my way of coping/dealing was not working.  My first thought was “yup…not surprised…I knew it was bad!” My second thought was “oh great…therapy…again!” and my third thought was “okay…I’ll do it!”

Since my TBI I have seen two different therapists.  One said “you got hit by a car, your life turned upside down, of course you’re upset” and then tried with all her might to get me to meditate.  *insert eye roll here* After weeks of her only focusing on meditation I became a therapy drop-out.  The second therapist, whom I was seeing strictly for PTSD, ran out of ideas after she suggested “get back on your bike” to which I replied “I am!”  She was stumped, apparently that was the end of her expertise and after she told me “typically with PTSD therapy, you confront the fear…seems how you’re on your bike, I don’t know what to do for you.” Therapy strike two.  

This summer, although I knew I needed to return to therapy, I was not interested in a third strike.  But I always “play the game” and so I went to a counselor (not a psychologist like the last two) and I went with a man this time (seems how the women didn’t work out) hoping maybe that combination would actually work.  It’s too soon for me to know.  At times I think “damn!  He’s good!  This will be ok!” and  other times I think “nope!  Strike three!”  I find myself thinking that whoever I talk to, they don’t have a brain injury; they cannot possibly understand what I’m going through.  They cannot possibly understand how hard this life is.   They cannot possibly understand how it feels to have everything you worked for, ripped away from you.

I know I need to do something.  I am being dragged under with the weight of brain injury and PTSD.  Yet, I think I’m not ready for this.  I think “I can’t do this!” I want to put the weight down that I’ve been carrying for seven years, but I’m not ready to do the work that’s required to put it down. It’s scary. I write my Confessions, but not once, NOT ONCE, have I verbally told my whole story (the events, the emotions, etc) to a single person.  The emotionally draining story of August 19, 2014.  The new guy…he wanted to hear it.  He wanted every single detail I could remember. 

Our first visit he commented about me being strong, and wouldn’t it be nice to just stop, to put the load down.  It would be wonderful.  But I am a bottler, I always have been.  I only tell certain people, certain things.  I’m never a fully open book with anyone.  In counseling, you can’t heal if your book is only partially opened.

I will say that it has only been two sessions but he’s already above the other two therapists…he doesn’t force me to try and meditate and he actually wants me to talk.  I feel like I have seven years worth of anger, frustration, resentment, and sadness to unload.  

“If you fight it forever,” he said “you’ll never heal.”

“What do you need to help you accept what happened to you?” “I don’t know because I can’t wrap my brain around what happened and why.  When I face it head on, I can’t cope.”

I’ll try to not be a third time therapy drop out.  I’ll talk, he will listen, and together we will try to work towards me accepting my “new” life.