I sat down opposite the neurological registrar.
‘After your brain injury, Do you get the confusion?’ He said.

’yes’ I said.

’what is your biggest problem?’ He said.

’fatigue’, I said. ‘That’s why I’m here. Every time I try to work or volunteer, I’m left so badly affected by tiredness and dizziness afterwards that sometimes it feels like I’m destined to live in bed’.

’is it’ he said. The ‘it’ was elongated over two seconds. More like, ‘Is itttt?’

’yes. I’ve done years of inner work and therapy, but I’d like you to refer me to a therapist who specialises in brain injuries to see if that could help’ I said.

’is it’ he said.

’yeah’ I said. ‘I’m hoping they can help me with some advice on returning toworking life after having a brain injury’.

I’d been sat down for 5 minutes. It felt like 5 hours. Time to get up and leave. Then he said,

’So tell me why the fatigue makes you want the therapy with the brain injury therapist’.

’Well I’m 35 and don’t have many friends or social opportunities at the moment, and whenever I try to find some sort of purpose with some social interaction through work or volunteering, I’m left recovering in bed for days on end. I want to engage with life more!’ I said.

What a speech. For a brief moment I thought I’d reached him. Then he came up with this stinker.

’Have you tried having a rest during the day, it is very important’.
‘Yes I tried that 13 years ago when I bumped my head’ I said.

’Is itttt?’ He said.

’I could probably tell you more about brain injury than you can tell me, couldn’t I?’ I said.

’so you have the sadness?’

’the sadness?’

’the sadness yeah’ he said.

Turns out my speech went down like a fat kid on a seesaw

’did you just ask me if I have the sadness?’ I said.

’yeah the sadness’ he said.

’this conversation with you is making me very sad’ I said.

’is it?’ He said, in all seriousness.

’And how often do you have the tiredness?’ He asked.

’Well -‘ I started to say.

’All the time yeah, yeah ok most of the day yeah?’ He finished for me.

’No. I’d like to help other people with brain injuries maybe, put my experience to good use. Do you know of -‘

’Yeah, yeahhhhh, that’s the good thing to do. Yeahhhh.’

‘You’re not listening to me.’ I said.

’I am’ he said.

’You don’t let me finish my sentence. You remind me of my ex wife.’ I said (no malice intended there, she’d be the first to agree).

’So you get the anger?’ He said.

’When people don’t listen to me yes’ I said.

‘I will write up this letter for you about our meeting today and send it in the post’ he said.

The letter…

.. arrived in all its glory a week later. Dr sadness had decried that:

Depression and anxiety I do not believe is related to his brain injury.

Patient to commence Mirtazipan.

GP to monitor mental health and if worsens refer to community mental health team.

Well slap my bottom and call me Judy.

It seems Ask for therapy and you are recommended to take a strong medication used to treat severe depression, which is something I wasn’t actually surprised about..

But it made me angry

After all..

All the things I enjoy doing make me feel pretty dizzy.

Reading, writing, painting, walking.. I’ve yet to come across an activity I can fully indulge in to my heart’s content without feeling like I’m treading the deck of a ship battling a storm within about half an hour of starting.

So it makes sense that volunteering in a busy charity shop or working as a companion to someone would make me feel the same way.

But my main challenge after the meeting was that I hadn’t felt I had been listened to.

This triggered an old identity around not feeling good enough as I am

I was hoping for some support with reintegrating back into this part of society after suffering a severe brain injury.

But instead the entire meeting had felt like a tickbox exercise. I didn’t feel I had a voice, which is rare.

There was a language barrier, granted. But there was also a presence barrier, there was no presence. Whenever I talked, he talked.

Whenever he didn’t talk, he typed, or I could see he was busy loading up what he was going to say next.

My first reaction was anger.

It brought up memories from childhood, being bullied, or even more than that, how I felt right after my brain injury 13 years ago.

How dare he not listen to me

‘I’m just misunderstood’.

‘People don’t get me’.

But before I started down any of these rabbit holes fully (don’t get me wrong, I dipped a toe) a thought occurred to me.

Was I listening to him?

No. I was busy in my left character 1 brain, judging him and this experience to be a waste of time and feeling more important while coming up with victimhood stories like ‘I am just misunderstood’.

I was sucked into victimhood.

But If I’m being honest, lying down every day is something I know helps me, but Something I stopped doing many years ago…

..and why should he listen to me? Would I like it if someone told me that I HAD to listen to them?…was I seeing him as an alive human being with choice, or an object for my own victim gratification?…

..can i know that he didn’t listen to me? Or did he not listen in the way I ‘believed’ he should? After all, he prescribed me medicine to help me. He was helping me in the way he knew how to. As a 35 year old adult do i really need to collapse into victimhood when I believe someone doesn’t listen to me?

Why should people listen to me? What makes me so special?

The bigger picture

But let’s be honest. My anger wasn’t because of the doctor. He was just the mirror.

And because he is a person in authority, who can be used to project my frustration about life onto, the decision was made to fire up that old pattern of blame. These cycles are on repeat…

…or if I’m smart,i could realise that he was playing the role of a kind of therapist himself. After all, did my meeting with him not bring up anger, a fear of not feeling good enough and a deeper melancholy that is already present day to day?

Sounds like the very thing I was seeking was right in front of me

But oh my, don’t I face this same dilemma every day of my life?

The choice of whether to face my circumstances as an adult or from the eyes of when I was a child and never got my own way?

Someone asked me recently

‘Isn’t it ok to be a victim sometimes?’

And after a few days I have an answer.

’Is it ok to pretend to be a horse sometimes?’

What about a pig? Or A lamppost? Because just like a victim who sees the world through the eyes of a helpless child, I’m not actually any of those things either. I’m just not. I can waste a few hours blaming people and the world and pretending I am, that’s not actually wrong in any way.

But I’m not. I’m a 35 year old man who has agency and choice to do what I want. No one forces me to do anything, nor has anyone ever.

It’s not wrong to spend a few hours pretending I’m a child, or a horse, or a lamppost, but it’s not going to help me take my next Rational step any quicker.

Victimhood is a strategy

But when I look back at the ‘worst’ times of my life, I can honestly say these were the times where I entertained stories of victimhood quite heavily.

Or..

I’d use my emotions to try and change things. Even without realising, like when the shop assistant told me they’d stopped selling Dispseable BBQs, I would become angry as a way of trying to get what I want.

I should have won an Oscar for my lifelong role as the angry victim

Whenever I want something from someone, a PIP assessor to give me the right decision, for someone to let me out in traffic, for someone to complement me, I feel it. I physically take on a younger me. Anxiety in the chest, tense shoulders, heartbeat rising, neck stiffens (And there’s me wondering why stress exacerbates my health condition)

Then I’d expect the world to please me and get angry when it didn’t.

Which again, isn’t wrong

But it’s not going to help me write a letter of complaint about the experience with that doctor, which I managed to do from present 35 year old Mikey, who I hope will be taken more seriously than 9 year old, stamping of the feet whilst pointing the finger Mikey.

An old strategy

After my head injury, I felt flawed beyond words. I took on the role of ‘it’s not my fault I’m broken’ and as a result, life became a fucking nightmare.

My whole existence depended on pity and validation of ‘it’s not his fault, awww’. Then I wasn’t a threat. Then I was more likely to get what i wanted from people, through their pity.

Will you be a victim today?

Victimhood Is an old strategy. Maybe once it was useful. But ask Donald Trump, Bill Gates, Elon Musk or bloody Beyoncé if playing the role of a victim has is what has helped them get to where they are.

Just like with the experience with the doctor I had, i realised that it all comes down to a choice which is..

1. Feel angry that things didn’t go my way and blame him
2. See what happened as a part of life and something to grow from

Don’t get me wrong, i’m not perfect at this and I’m only sharing my insights. I slip into victimhood sometimes for hours before I wonder why i feel trapped and helpless.

But i guarantee you something, that all the circumstances in my life and every person in it is something I can and have applied this choice to.

‘When you’re heart is pure enough, you can learn something about yourself from anyone you walk past in the street’ – Nisargadatta.

I’ll finish here

Something else I took from my meeting was the power we all have to listen.

This topic is for another blog! But I will say…

Brain injury or no brain injury..

Don’t underestimate the healing power of being Present with someone, truly listening, not because you have to, but because you want to

I find it is quite rare, and I’m no expert in listening. But there have been a few people I’ve been lucky enough to meet who have this gift. There are people I’ve known who inspire me everyday. The gift of being present and choosing to listen, I could also call that love.

These people didn’t listen with their minds. It was from their hearts. I could feel them when i talked.

And I’ve learned a lot from them, whether they’re here anymore or not. They have helped influence my life, and many others, for the better, and that’s something I will always be grateful for.