The number of times I say “it’s a lot” in conversations about what’s going on in our lives is… well…. a lot!  It’s not easy to go from being someone intelligent, quick-witted, and confident to someone who is dumb and insecure. I know, I know, give myself grace and be kind to myself, yada, yada, yada.  For most of my life, I’ve been known for my sharp intellect and charisma. After my craniotomy, I struggled to retain information, form coherent thoughts, and I constantly doubt my abilities. I’m never sure if I have free time or am forgetting something.  I have had to relearn basic skills and rebuild my confidence from scratch, which is not an easy journey.

In February I went back to work, I had been doing great with all of my therapies and recovery and I was ready! Ready to get back to life without that golf ball weighing me down. It started really well, but then my adrenaline wore off, I pushed myself too hard, and reality came crashing down on me. I realized I would not be pre-tumor Colleen ever again, cue identity crises. I had been in denial, I imagined that after surgery I’d have some recovery time and then everything would just go back to normal like it never happened. I honestly think I had to believe that to help get me through surgery.

Early March is about the time that depression and PTSD hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in a state of perpetual misery, my ability to remember things and concentrate was terrible. Every single thought I had would vanish for a short interval or for good. In the middle of a sentence, I would lose my train of thought, but not in a normal way, more like my train of thought took a nosedive off a cliff and my mind would go blank.  I never thought that your mind could be completely blank, and before you think oh wow that would be great, trust me, it is absolutely terrifying to have no thoughts whatsoever.

My brain was getting overloaded so easily that I felt like I was inebriated all of the time. People would talk and I couldn’t make sense of the sounds that were coming out of their mouths, it all sounded like the teacher in Charlie Brown.  I am used to being able to multitask and switch focus like a ninja, but now I was suddenly completely lost. It was like I had developed a serious case of ADHD. Something as simple and quick as Sean popping his head in my office to ask if I needed anything would derail me for hours before I could get back on track.

I have never felt so embarrassed in my entire life. There is no way for anyone who hasn’t experienced these things to understand them, no matter how much they want to. I had to start wearing earplugs in public to prevent sensory overload. If I did get overloaded my brain would just stop processing information and words would sound jumbled and unintelligible, making it nearly impossible for me to contribute or follow along with the conversation. This inability to focus and process information effectively greatly hindered my productivity.  I stopped wanting to go places or see anyone because I was second-guessing everything I said and did. I had never experienced insecurities when it came to my mind or my ability at work and let me tell you I do not recommend it.

My neurosurgeon did an incredible job of ensuring that my incision was not visible. He left enough hair between the incision and my forehead to help conceal it.  At first, I thought this was great, but after I started having all of these difficulties I wished he had shaved that hair too because not only did this make it easier for others to overlook my recovery but also made it challenging for me to discuss my needs and limitations. It became frustrating as people often forgot about my surgery, leading to expectations that I couldn’t meet and it made it difficult for others to grasp the severity of my condition. As a result, they expected me to participate in activities that I simply couldn’t handle.  Ironically, with how bad my memory was, the one thing I couldn’t forget was the fact that my brain has a hole in it and it doesn’t work like it used to.

I wanted (and still want) people to ask me about it, it is always on my mind so there is no chance of me forgetting and getting mad if someone mentions it. A brain tumor, brain surgery, and recovering from brain surgery are all very scary things but it’s my reality, so pretending it doesn’t exist or didn’t happen only makes me feel misunderstood and frustrated.  What I truly want is for the challenges I face to be acknowledged.

This is my brain, it serves as the control center for every organ, body part, and thought. Without the brain, our bodies would cease to function. From processing sensory information to controlling emotions and movements, the brain plays a crucial role in our daily lives. So when it is not functioning properly, everything is impacted.  I have a traumatic brain injury without all the fame and fortune of an NFL career.

All of these things kept snowballing and getting worse. The simple fact that things were getting worse and not better was alarming and (shocker) gave me more anxiety and made me feel more depressed. I thought I was going to have to quit my job and that I would spend the rest of my life in a haze and a constant state of confusion, insecurity, and shame. Always looking back at the old Colleen and never being able to live up to a fraction of what she was able to accomplish.  I feel like I’ve lost a part of my identity, and it’s hard not to constantly compare myself to who I once was. I wasn’t able to articulate any of this, my brain was mush and I couldn’t make sense of any of it. Every day felt like a battle as if I was trapped in a never-ending cycle of self-doubt and disappointment.

I was scared, I was lost and I felt isolated. It is hard to explain to someone who loves and cares for you that asking how you are doing and if you need anything has a negative impact instead of a positive one. It’s counterintuitive. Instead of providing comfort and support, their well-intentioned questions just taxed my brain even further.  I felt helpless and had been trying everything I could to fix myself. I continued speech therapy and was doing logic puzzles as often as possible, if there was a way to improve I was going to find it. In a conversation with my boss during this time, we were talking about the grieving process and how what I was dealing with was like the death of who I used to be. He told me that this wasn’t something I could overcome with pure brute force as I have for most problems I have encountered in my life. This struck a chord because that is exactly what I was trying to do. I was working my ass off but it didn’t matter how many logic puzzles I did, I couldn’t seem to move the needle in a positive direction.

I started to think about the nature vs nurture debate and it tipped my scale in nature’s direction big time. I never thought I took my intelligence for granted but, fuck I really was special, and now I’m not. I now realize how fortunate I was to have been born with a certain level of intelligence, and how much of a difference it has made in my life. This was great for giving me more compassion for people who may not have been as lucky as I was in the brain department but that was the only positive I could find. It reminded me of the Presidents of the United States of America (POT USA) lyrics from the song Lump: “Lump lingered last in line for brains and the one she got was sort of rotten and insane.” Unfortunately, I can now relate to those lyrics all too well. Talk about fitting – I guess that makes me the rotten and insane Lump.

I’ll go into more detail about getting out of the dark hole I was in in another post but the short version is I had tried everything I could think of and was working with multiple therapists, but I was stuck in a dark hole that I just couldn’t climb out of. I finally sought out a psychiatrist who prescribed me some medications that helped me tremendously. Slowly but surely, I’m crawling my way back up and feeling more like myself than ever. I’m not completely out of the woods yet, but things are looking up.

I joined a support group on Facebook for people with Meningiomas and that helped a ton. By helping others who were having dark times I started feeling better about myself. It is so much easier to tell someone else who is struggling things like: “You don’t always need to be the strong one. Cry, yell, ask for help, whatever you want, and don’t feel guilty about it! You have a freaking brain tumor, it’s a BIG deal, it affects everything in your life! You deserve to feel anything you want whenever you want and not have a single person judge you for it!” This was an actual comment from me to someone I had never met but only share this one common experience with, so why couldn’t I say those things to myself?