Ninety percent of the world’s woe comes from people not knowing themselves, their abilities, their frailties, and even their real virtues. Most of us go almost all the way through life as complete strangers to ourselves.
Sidney J. Harris, American Journalist, 1917–1986
Three years ago, I was petrified. My brain was different – it felt as though I had been hijacked. My mind was slow, clumsy, deficient. As someone who has always relied heavily on their intellect, I felt utterly, terrifyingly abandoned…by a piece of myself which was still technically there, but didn’t feel like mine anymore. If you had told me then that I would come to be somewhat grateful for this, I would have scoffed (at best; more likely, I would have been mad). In some ways it’s as though I had allowed my intellect to replace my identity; I had mistaken who I was with what I was capable of.
One thing I have never been is artistic. In high school, I was very selective in who my Biology lab partner was: a total burnout with zero academic ambition, but excellent art skills. It was utter symbiosis: I had all the knowledge, and he had all the skill (seriously – no one wants to see me try to draw a crawdad). Fast forward to this last weekend, and you find me disassembling my aunt’s coffee table so I could make it into a wall-mounted plant hanger. I’m not saying that the last three years have made me believe I may be the next Michelangelo; however, I consistently surprise myself with just how creative I am becoming. One has to wonder: is my creative side “new”, or was I so reliant on my intellect that I never stopped to explore and nurture my creativity?
What else have I been missing?
I know that finally figuring out what to do with an unsteady, quirky little coffee table isn’t exactly news-worthy…and yet it is. Slowly but surely, I am figuring out what to do with this unsteady, quirky little brain. I have slowly learned to love my brain for the new things it’s mastering, rather than hating it for all the old things it’s forgetting.
PS: I wish I were all sunshine and rainbows about all of this…but I’m not. There will be another post that touches more on that side of things, but know that it’s still a struggle. While I have learned many ways to compensate for the cognitive losses, they are still there, and I am still learning. I still feel the loss; there is still grief. I still doubt my broken little brain, even while striving to show it patience, kindness, and graciousness.
The Girl with the Glass Brain 