Massive growth, but not the kind you think it is

Having an “insult” to the brain is not a reflection on me, the relationships I’ve developed over my entire life, or my approach to doing the hard work.

What is harder for you: starting something new, or returning to something you used to do after an absence?

For some, venturing into the unknown is scary. We might have no reference by which to judge how well we are doing. Starting something new requires an incredible amount of bravery. We might feel foolish, struggle with self-doubt, and assume others know more than ourselves.

For others, returning to an activity after an absence can be harder. We might regret why we stopped “doing the thing” in the first place. We might compare our current selves with our previous versions—the you who was a faster runner, the you who was more fluent in a foreign language, the you who had a higher paying salary.

For me, it’s more difficult returning to things I used to do (but stopped for whatever reason). Returning to prior activities requires acknowledging regret, shame, or a feeling of powerlessness.

Part of my new scar over the left parietal lobe. Also, check out my dope gray hair!

Over the last eight weeks

Over the last eight weeks, I have been a bit down on myself. I had a brain surgery, someone close to me died, and I have come to realize that a few family members are toxic.

While recovering from brain surgery sounds complicated, at times it feels like the easiest of these obstacles. Having an “insult” to the brain is not a reflection on me, the relationships I’ve developed over my entire life, or my approach to doing the hard work.

That said, the deficits I now face challenge the very perceptions I have of my cognitive capacity. The number of therapy activities in which I am engaged (e.g., physical, occupational, speech) highlight I am not the same person I was a few weeks ago. I suffer from scattered thoughts, and stumble over words and limbs that may never be what they once were.

I suffer from scattered thoughts, and stumble over words and limbs that may never be what they once were.

A new version of me is only possible after I put in the work

On the other hand, if I listen to my own words (typed into this very blog more than a decade ago), I should know a “new version” of me is yet to be revealed… only after I put in the work.

Putting in the work: physical therapy plus regular exercise in the garage.

If I am truly patient, I may discover this new me has the capacity to be more creative than ever before. I may see things in my chosen field (healthcare and patient-partnered research) that other people do not see. This is the value I bring to the world.

Right now, at this moment, I am learning a lot by living through what feels like the hard and painful parts. This is the learning experience I get to reflect upon months and years from now.

If I keep my eyes open, I will discover a point of view that is uniquely mine.  

The mere fact that I am brave enough to try again—to return to work or the level of physical activity I once pursued—means I never stopped in the first place. I am living through a necessary pause to give my brain and relationships a moment to recalibrate. I am reframing my sense of self. I am growing.

This is not the end but rather the moment where I level up and prepare for a period of massive growth. And I am excited.