Do you mind? Playing tricks on me?

Published July 29, 2015 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

And on to the next bit about the madness in my head.

In addition to the random weird crap that happens to me because, well, it’s me,  (a elephant once patted my car’s roof while I waited at a stop light.)  there’s a whole bunch of new and improved stuff going on there in the grey wrinklies.

Post brain trauma recovery and therapy is focused on two stages; 1) to get you out of critical care and back on your feet unncumberd by an IV wheelie or plastic wear attached to your plumbing and 2) get you as close back to the who you were befrore the brain fairy whonked you with her wand and excellent sense of timing.

Both of these things involve therapy and coaching by teams oddly humurless people.  Because there is a whole play about that process, I won’t bore you with those specifics. Physical therapy left me with better balance than I’ve ever had. My range of vision is better than most people on the road.

Now here’s where the story gets fun: All of the brain games I played; the diabolical monkey version of the tower of Hanoi (I wish I was kidding about that), the word scrambles, the processing speed exercises, all of those were required to get my synapses firing and perhaps rebuild some of the pathways that were destroyed when that three centimeter bleed wiped out approximately nine centimeters of brain matter.

With all of that work going on in my head, I have a difficult time sleeping. Plus I also have anxiety issues. (I was pretty high strung to begin with.)  The combination of those things creates some neuroses on their own.  My brain sometimes tells me things that are hard to ignore.

Anyone who has survived middle school knows to what cruel taunts I am referring. Hard to ignore, but not impossible.

And then there’s the other stuff. Like just plain being sad, like we all get, and a good cry usually helps, except I can’t. When I do cry like I want to (World’s worst sixties song.) I get a terrible headache and any brain trauma survivor knows that headaches will freak you out more than anything  Wes Craven can create.

Much of this brain power is created by evolution.

From the good people at Wikipedia:

Pareidolia (/pærɨˈdliə/ parr-i-doh-lee-ə) is a psychological phenomenon involving a stimulus (an image or a sound) wherein the mind perceives a familiar pattern where none actually exists.

Common examples are perceived images of animals, faces, or objects in cloud formations, the “man in the moon“, the “moon rabbit“, and hidden messages within recorded music played in reverse or at higher- or lower-than-normal speeds.

Pareidolia is the visual or auditory form of apophenia, which is the perception of patterns within random data. Combined with apophenia and hierophany (manifestation of the sacred), pareidolia may have helped ancient societies organize chaos and make the world intelligible.[1][2]

So it stands to reason that my brain is changing with all of the challenges I present to it. It’s concerning.

That’s why I’m medicated.

More to the story tomorrow.

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