DON’T THINK TWICE IT’S ALL RIGHT

Having returned “home,” or at least being around family, I began to think, mostly about who they were when I knew them before I was diagnosed. Which then got me to thinking about who I am, or in my case, who I was. There are just certain attributes to one’s character that can stay or change. Sure, we’ve all grown up and our outer beings may be modified, but that core… it should stay with you.

In this instance, I was remembering my older brother when we were young. He was always kind, quiet, helpful, and more. He’s still that, but grown up. He does get upset, as he should because our public schools never dealt with his dyslexia properly. His teachers were frustrated at him about why he wasn’t “gifted” as my older sister and I, and basically told him to go read in the corner; the disturbing aspect there was that he is dyslexic and reading just doesn’t go well for him. Bad solutions, bad attitudes, bad schooling. Yet his temper about this injustice is mild at best; he’s not holding back either, it’s just how he expresses himself.

“[It’s] a statement that maybe you can say to make yourself feel better… as if you were talking to yourself.”

Then there’s me. I no longer recognize myself. Growing up I like to think of myself as more playful and kind in general. My brother and his wife kind of hinted that the traumatic brain injury I suffered triggered the massive change, and I can’t say that for sure is the true cause of my mental break. Being broke in Massachusetts, moving to Brooklyn with no job, moving to Portland with neither a job nor a place to live, and finally working at a Big Tech company are all things that blew my mind and led up to my dissociation with myself. My brother knew me best before I moved to New York, a city that practically forces mental illness on everyone. Living there simply couldn’t have been a positive for me.

Just keep track of who you are, if you can.