Servere social indifference

I had a craniotomy in May 2014. This is an acquired brain injury. I was severely ill. I have ptsd. I resonate with your post but from a different angle. This is a hard time for everyone. I had a lot of therapy and I have reached the point where I need to remove myself and set boundaries with the apathy in society.

Thank you for your reply. Its good to know im not alone.

Tagging a few Mayo Clinic Connect members who may have some input on feeling social indifference after a TBI: @earthchild @kb2014 @kayabbott @scottrl @gregd1956 @carmanlingraves @dawnpereda.

In 2012, I had an accident from my bicycle, I block from my house. My life changed like marriage changed ; my college changed my life; end of high school changed my life and on.

I changedfamilie to a different life from my accident: lost of memories decade ago; lost 80% of my mind to understand of what I did in my great job and on…

But changes to me and my brain of GOOD stuff, too.This is a short human-life. I [Believe Jesus Christ has the next after this human-life. Good or Bad for ever. I’ve given to Christ when I was a little kid… ❤️

My poor brain got scrambled after my stroke.
So much changed!
I even lost my taste for pizza. That might sound like a joke, but pizza was a major food group.
But those changes weren't permanent. After a few years, I got back to a lot of my prior tastes. Music, food, books, company, you name it.
You may have a similar experience. Brain trauma is mysterious, and even the uninjured brain is enigmatic.
Be patient and compassionate with yourself and others. You may be on a long journey.

I had a moderate TBI 32 years ago Sunday. TBIs are insidious; they smack you around emotionally and physically. Recovery happens, but it is very slow; two steps forward, one back, plateaus... The injury also strip one's filters, noises, emotions, senses are all more invasive. Injuries damage our walls that keep us safe. With me, coworkers would joke about me being "drame bamaged" and each time felt like a gut punch. I isolated myself from people for 1.5 years, until I had rewired enough to tell them to stop. Seems simple enough to stand up for oneself, but when you are submerged in the damage there is no extra energy. Am I the same person as before the accident? Not quite, my emotions are still a bit closer to the surface than before, but that actually balances my previous Mr. Spock. A few memories are missing, but they have been replaced with new ones. When I isolated myself I tried to find positive things to look forward to that helped with rewiring, books, puzzles (OK, I cheated a lot with them), and nature walks. It is OK to be safe from the ugliness. It helps to focus not on what one has lost, but what you still have and try to rebuild on those strengths. Most of my recovery took 1.5 years, but the full rewiring was 8 to 10 years. The injury nailed the word finding area of my left temporal lobe and emotional and smell/taste of my basal frontal lobe. I will post my dream in a separate message.

My dream was a few weeks after my rollerblading TBI. I am a writer and started a journal of my steps in recovery. I was only able to work 4 hours a day without being exhausted, my memories and abilities were jumbled, and my smell and taste were gone. The day before the dream I went to see my neurologist; he was upset because another patient of his just died from his TBI, a fellow that was rollerblading with his 8 year old son.

In the dream there a large room is full of strangers partying, talking loudly, milling around, and having a good time. I stand and watch, stuck in place while people flow around me as if I am invisible. The noise, the motion are tremendous and invasive, and the lights are brilliant white and yellow. I can't sort things out. I am floundering. Next, the dream switches. I am working the cash register in a sidewalk chocolates shop; the aroma engulfs my senses. It is wonderful to smell the chocolate while the owner explains how to use the old-style cash register. Now my dreams have a lot of aromas and flavors. A man with a gun walks up and shoots me point blank between the eyes. As I lay unconscious, flat on my back on the concrete sidewalk a crowd gathers around me and discusses whether to send me to the hospital or an insane asylum.
I wake up in the asylum in a large sunny room with bright yellow-gold walls and lots of women happily chatting and working on arts and crafts projects. Electric ranges and refrigerators line one wall, but there is a problem. The electricity is out in the room and the women can't finish cooking dinner. I walk over and rewire the yellow-gold electrical range and then a woman resident removes from the oven a large roasted turkey that has a temperature probe sticking out near its thigh. Then I wake up.

I'd like to send you a hug. I've just learned I'm sensitive-autistic, but in trying to get help to learn what that means I encountered so much ugliness I had a breakdown. I'm 71 but when testing for autism in the 1980s became available, the misogynistic medical profession excluded all non-males. So I'm alone but I'm lucky to be retired so I can hide from all of it. Yes we live in a hateful society and it's safer to hide from it. Btw, I too have traumatic brain injury and PTSD. Best wishes,
Franki using someone else's phone

Thank you for the message and good luck on your journey.
I recently watched the most beautiful little short film on Apple TV. If you can, ask someone to get it for you. Its called "the boy, the mole, the fox and the horse"
The message in it really stuck with me and helped my thinking quite a lot.
I wish you only peace and happiness x