On Christmas day I hit my head. Hard.
We just finished emptying the car from a short but wonderful trip to Joshua Tree and the Integratron. I leaned over to pick up my backpack and CRACK, I smacked my forehead on a slab of ancient river rock encased in granite that covers the counter in my front hall.
I know concussion protocol. So I did a check of the important markers and here is what I found: I was a bit confused, had a throbbing lump on my forehead, my vision was slightly blurred, my pupils were definitely different sizes, I had an upset stomach, the world felt off kilter, and all I wanted to do was sleep.
Concussion. Again. Not fair.
I gave in to sleep and when I woke on day two, I made note of a few things.
When I looked around to assess my world, I realized that a couple really important things were still intact.
I saw the world in 3-D, HD, in full sensory color. Cool…so important to see beauty. I also noticed that my ability to wonder was solidly and securely in place. There was magic outside the window and I knew that I could think about all of that with new eyes every time I opened them. Those two things are so important to me and my perspective.
With that in mind I made these decisions.
First, last week I did a literature review on how writing / journaling aides recovery. Not much research out there but I know it works. I am journaling.
Second and on a very related noted, I know that this time I need to document, in the moment, so I don’t forget what I tried and what happened. I have written tons about how it is not possible, from both an ethical and a practical stand point, to measure what works and what doesn’t in the laboratory. Here is an opportunity to test and document in my laboratory.
Third, I need to be secure enough to share because this one is not about me — it is about maybe helping someone else and changing how others look at recovery. In the moment. As it happens. With intent.
Finally, I am, fully in alignment with what I know in my heart works and facilitates recovery most efficiently, going to expect the best to happen. One day at a time with purpose and intent. I’ve formally asked the question “what would happen if we just expected the best?” Maybe I will find out and learn from that.
I expect that today will be a good day and no matter how clouded my thinking, all will go the best possible way.
I expect that I will find my way through the fog that I know will close in today as it did yesterday (on day two) at the end of the day and that all will be clearer on the other side.
I expect that my sharing this will open a window of understanding for others.
I expect that my efforts will pay off for me and others.