“Even in times of trauma, we try to maintain a sense of normality until we no longer can. That, my friends, is called surviving. Not healing. We never become whole again … we are survivors. If you are here today… you are a survivor. But those of us who have made it through hell and are still standing? We bare a different name: warriors.”
― Lori Goodwin
“What if I lose what little control I have left? I may live in a prison now, but at least I know my way around it.”
― Nicole Deese, All for Anna
My friend, deeply involved in MMA, had a twist break in his knee. He went through many months of painful rehab. Exercises that strengthened not only the knee but the surrounding muscles that supported the knee, possessed every waking hour. All he could think about was being back to normal and doing what he loved, with the same proficiency. He recovered and won several more titles in welter weight MMA. But, what happens when I have a break in my brain? When I can’t do what I used to because of an injury? If it’s not seen, I’ll have no sympathy. My healing process, as I engage life with my mental limp, should warrant the same compassion. Yeah, I appear crazy, and you can’t understand because you can’t see. What if I wore a bandage around my head? Put blood on gauze and covered one eye and bruised my face? Would you then understand mental injury? Ask my vets, my service brothers and sisters…they will tell you of injuries never seen, but agonized over. Take mental wounds seriously friends, acquaintances, and family. If my mental wounds were to be seen, you would be shocked and cry, while I try to gather my spilled insides and make sense of the exploded mess in me.