The Learning Force

Love this!

How schools can nurture every student's genius - Trish Millines Dziko Forget home economics and standardized tests, education visionary Trish Millines Dziko has a much more engaging and fulfilling way for students to develop real-world skills. Get schooled by Dziko as she shares how project-based learning can transform public education and unlock genius for the next g...

From the mouth of Dr. H.

“Ambiguous loss” is something people experience when they look the same on the outside but feel completely different on the inside. It’s something I didn’t understand before but I now understand all too well. However, ambiguous loss is not specific to those of us with a brain injury. It can happen to anyone who loses a huge part of their identity and what makes them “them.”

Ambiguous loss forces people to deal with all sorts of new and unfamiliar emotions as they’re trying to figure out who they’ve suddenly become - frustration, confusion, fear, anger, bitterness, embarrassment. These emotions, plus many more, were all things I dealt with after my brain injury. But by changing my perspective, I found a way to move forward in the midst of them - it was literally a matter of “life and death.”

You see, following my brain injury, I had suddenly turned into a brand new person. In many ways, it felt like the old "Jeff" had died. And for the longest time, this made it very difficult to move on. But I eventually stopped seeing my situation as one of "death” and started to view it as one of "life.” Instead of thinking about all I’d lost, I began thinking about all I’d gained. Instead of focusing on the old me who’d died, I started seeing a brand new me who was still very much alive.

If you are dealing with ambiguous loss, I would encourage you to stop looking at all you’ve lost and to start looking for all you’ve gained - what you end up finding just might bring you back to life.

- Jeff

From Dr. H

When I sat down to write a book to tell my life story, it didn’t take me long to decide two that chapters would be enough to cover most everything that’s ever happened to me. The first chapter would be called “Before My Brain Injury” and its second would, obviously, be called “After My Brain Injury.”

However, I soon began to feel uncomfortable with what I’d chosen to call the second chapter. I knew the word “after” wouldn’t be accurate. It indicates a sense of finality. It gives the impression that something has ended when I knew very well that my brain injury hadn’t. It hadn’t left me and never would. I knew that I needed to figure out a better name and find a more accurate word for chapter two.

Because I'm not the greatest wordsmith, I had to use a dictionary to help me in my search. And I finally found what seemed like the near perfect word - “wake.” I would call chapter two, “The Wake of My Brain Injury.”

Now, when I was growing up, I always thought of “wake” as simply being "the water behind a moving boat.” And if that’s what you think of as well, I know this probably seems like a very strange word to use. But I found another definition for the word! Wake also means "the aftermath or consequences” of something and “the aftermath or consequences" of my brain injury is a place I will be living for the rest of my life.

Here’s just a few things you’ll read about in this new and now appropriately titled second chapter of my book.

- I try to do many of the things I used to be good at, only to find out that I no longer am.

- I try doing much of what I previously liked doing, but many of these don't bring me the joy they once did.

- I return to my medical practice, a job I knew and loved. But after just three years, I’m suddenly forced to retire.

- I look exactly the same on the outside but feel completely different on the inside.

- I worry a lot about what other people think of my "disability," suspecting others believe I might be fabricating or exaggerating my injuries in an effort to gain sympathy and attention.

- I often second guess myself and my effort, wondering if I would have had a different outcome if I had just worked a little harder in my recovery.

- I am not nearly as confident as I once was and start having a difficult time making decisions, always worried I'm making the wrong one.

- I start doubting my ability to be the husband and father my family needs me to be.

- I begin to deal with many issues (i.e. depression, anxiety, OCD) that I’d never dealt with before.

- Because of my short term memory problems, I'm forced to rely on various coping strategies that I never had to before.

- I become very rigid in my daily routines and get flustered when something doesn't go as planned.

- Fatigue becomes a major problem for me, especially after activities that require a lot of thinking. I even have to start taking a nap every afternoon.

- My communication skills aren't as good as they used to be, often struggling with finding the right word to say and with maintaining focus during long conversations.

- I sometimes lack what’s known as "social IQ," meaning I occasionally say or do something without fully thinking about how it might affect others.

Okay, now I know you’re probably thinking, "What a depressing way to end a book! I don’t think I even want to read it!” But I’d encourage you to read it anyway because that’s not all that’s in this second chapter.

- I begin to discover new skills and strengths.

- I start discovering meaning and purpose in places and things I never had before.

- “Perspective" becomes something I consider quite often and I start understanding how much it can determine my attitude.

- I no longer look at comfort as being the ultimate goal and start learning to embrace the uncomfortable, even seeing it as necessary if I want to keep growing and maturing.

- Remaining as "normal" as possible was always a priority of mine but I no longer strive for it. Instead, I start learning to accept and embrace that I’m now a little bit "abnormal."

- Going against everything I used to believe, I start understanding how we can find “strength in our weaknesses.”

- I always understood humility as something I could just think or talk about. I now realize it's something I need to practice as well.

- I start not taking things for granted, understanding how it can all be gone in the blink of an eye.

The Wake of a Brain Injury” hasn’t been an easy place for me to live. And I certainly wouldn’t recommend going to live there - or anyplace that sounds like it - if you don't have to. But if you ever find yourself in such a place, just try to remember a lot of good can happen while you’re there. Try to trust that whatever “wake” you’re living in can serve a purpose and it might be exactly where you needed to be.

- Jeff



FindingNormalBook.com

ANewNormalMovie.vom