There is something to be said about silence. But I won’t be pushed into it when there’s arrogant behaviour staring me straight in the face.

Trust me, most of my life would be way easier if I just stayed silent. But somehow my mouth seems to work faster than my brain these days. It’s partly the consequence of having a brain injury.

Huh.

It’s still weird to me to say that out loud. I mean, it is and it isn’t. I joke about it all the time. Post-trauma joking to push past the sadness, you gotta find the funny. That’s how I feel about it anyway. I could feel bad about it or I could sing it from the tree tops and leave you to deal with your uncomfortable. It’s not my comfort to carry, I’m too busy making fun of my own trauma.

I wonder what it’s like to not have a brain injury now. Which is weird. For forty years I lived without one. And for the last four years that I have lived post-brain-injury, I’m still me. I’m still fucked up but now it’s just a little more specific.

I’m still tired but in a different way. I still get drunk but I only need 2 or 3 drinks instead of 10. I’m still medicated but just…more.

Life hasn’t changed that much. Except the feelings. I feel like I feel things more deeply now. More intensely. The world feels more intense. Brighter. Louder. More emotional. More dramatic. I feel like the word is coming at me with PMS and all my