The Search to Create Executive Functions (7th post)
As one grows physically in years, so does the complexity of life. The human brain requires 25 years to fully develop all its capacities. The forehead area of the brain houses what are referred to as Executive Functions (EF). The functions have to do with cognitive abilities, organizing, planning, decision making, problem-solving, self-identity, and the ability to fashion a future. EF’s assist a human in planning, maintaining, and expanding a functional and healthy lifestyle. My EF’s were damaged by TBI, thus could not fully develop. Consequently, as I encountered more complex life situations to navigate, resolve, etc., my solutions were often child-like or simply non-existent. The lack of development in my frontal lobe cortex from the TBI, resulted in me feeling like a child inside - no matter what my age. My feelings of desperation usually involved the challenges to find ways to safely and productively navigate through my life. At age 12 I did not know the two forehead concussions had damaged my EF’s. My parents, teachers, and doctors never suspected brain damage when I discussed my life problems and challenges. And, I found it was difficult to accurately describe my life challenges, as I could not find the words to use, due to the cognitive impairment from the concussions. Most of the time I would just say ” I feel trapped inside.” Meaning, I could not manifest the dreams and desires inside me. The feeling of being trapped inside, haunted me day and night.
One of my desperation skills was to observe others in hope of finding the solutions to my undiagnosed TBI problems. Growing up, I observed my peers. I noticed as time progressed their actions and lives showed evidence of the maturation process. However to me, they somehow magically solved problems, made decisions, planned for a future, and gained knowledge of their self-identity. But, I was not progressing in kind. Instead, I progressed in anxiety, panic, helplessness, and feeling overwhelmed. The only self-identity I knew was my TBI-induced personality. People would point out my talents, accomplishments, or the pleasant aspects of my personality, yet, I was not aware of them. Over the years I taught myself to smile and say thank you, but would wonder what the heck are they talking about? Another strategy was I would change the subject, or just walk away and wonder, how do they know that about me? Other times it was not praised. They would ask “Why can’t you follow directions?”, “Why does it take so long for you to decide things?” “Why do you act like you don't know how to do that?” - I just saw you do a fantastic job with X, and so how is it you cannot do Y?” “Why do you keep spelling or pronouncing the word wrong?” I found these comments baffling. I had no answers to their comments. In turn, I would ask myself - how are they able to do something I cannot? I could not explain this enigma to myself or others. As a result of the TBI diagnosis in 2019, I now know what to say to those types of comments. I say “I have two TBI’s to my forehead which damaged my EF’s.” “Therefore, I am unable to do XY or Z because of ABC, and here is what I need help with. Whew !!!!! My life has become so much easier!
Since the concussion, at age 5 I had not slept through a night. Any noise and light would immediately wake me up. The concussion at age 10 made insomnia worse. At age 12, my family informed me I had additional nocturnal behaviors. They reported if anyone walked by my bedroom during the night I would yell “go away.” Or I would demand to know who they were and what they wanted. My sister reported I would sit up in bed and speak in rational complete sentences. When she responded to what I had said,I would say nothing and then lay back in bed. Only then did she realize I was sound asleep. My family found my nocturnal behaviors comical. However, I was alarmed and distressed over their reports, since I had no memories of these nocturnal activities. In my late teens, night terror added themselves to my list of nocturnal behaviors.
By age 12 my anger became more difficult to control. Also, I began to feel indifferent about the messes my anger created. I continued to mispronounce words and not be able to sound out the spelling of many words. Math beyond the basics was something I could not tackle. Sometimes people talked too quickly, I could hear the words however I could not make sense of the words. I would have to ask people to talk slower or to repeat themselves.
There were other problems. Some sounds were very distracting and loud sounds bounced around in my head. Loud sounds could not be processed by my damaged brain. I feel like my eardrums or head were going to explode. Discovering earplugs was a godsend. To this day, I always have several pairs of earplugs with me. I struggled with and continue to struggle with chronic disorganization. My paper piles rarely make it into my file cabinets. The sense of smell supports our sense of taste. I have a diminished sense of smell from the TBI. Consequently, the taste of food is a neutral experience. I eat food mostly for sensation and texture. Therefore,I will never be a foodie. Cooking, preparing meals, and what I serve requires decisions. These decisions are challenging and fatiguing to my TBI brain. So, I have very simple meals and usually eat the same foods every day. Having a lack of EF’s means the less I struggle to use them, the better I feel. When I struggle to use a damaged set of EF’s, the struggle results in fatigue, and nothing gets done.
Growing up with TBI was not my only challenge. Post Traumatic Stress (PTSD) added insult to injury. I developed PTSD in grade school. From the 1st grade to the 9th grade I experienced the tragic nightmare of being forced to attend a Catholic school where physical violence, gender inequality, sexual and emotional abuse was rampant. In addition to suffering, many of these nuns and priests induced traumas, I also witnessed my classmate’s suffering. The hyper-vigilance I developed at age 5 became even more fine-tuned from PTSD. The traumas also enhanced an already exaggerated startle response I had from the first concussion at age 5.
And then one magical day my 12-year-old self discovered a new desperation skill. I discovered the” kindness of strangers.” This concept came as a complete surprise for the following reasons. My parents did little to integrate themselves or our family into the social networks of the neighborhood. My parents mostly kept to
themselves. They also discouraged my sisters and me from interacting with the adults in the neighborhood. I was told many times to not discuss “our family business”. What comes to mind now when I think of this phrase is the rock group - The Doors. One of their lyrics to a song, “Strange Days” is “People are strange when you're a stranger.” Due to both the school and home environments, and issues discussed above, this is why the concept “kindness of strangers” came as a complete surprise to me. Since I was abused by people I knew, the abuse resulted in PTSD. Kind was a word I never used to describe most of the people I knew.
At age 12, I wanted "spending money." The neighborhood recreation center had a job board for pre-teens. I acquired a job ironing clothes for a woman in our neighborhood. I was thrilled. I walked to her house, ironed her clothes, she paid me, and I walked back home. When I returned the next week, she very kindly told me I did not know how to correctly iron some of the clothing. I was horrified and thought she was going to fire me. Instead, she said, “let me show you how to correctly iron these clothes.”At first, I thought I misheard her. Then I realized not only was she actually going to help me, she also wanted me to continue to work for her.
That day as I slowly walked home, I reviewed and studied the whole experience. I knew there was something to learn here. The woman who hired me was unlike anyone I had met before. She did not yell, humiliate, hit, neglect, or reject me. She was an anomaly to ponder. Instead, she spoke kindly to me. She was so kind to me in our interactions, an aha moment came - she was a kind stranger, which meant not “all strangers are dangerous.” Eureka!!! I had found another desperation skill to add to my collection. Now, whenever needed, I could ask strangers for help. This was still daunting however, my feeling of desperation were stronger than feeling shy, silly, weak, or any other feeling which prevent a person from asking for help. Still, there was the possibility of rejection. What if a stranger refused to assist when I asked for help? That posed a dilemma. After pondering, I devised a solution. I had another “ Ah-Ha” moment. I created a rule - ” The 10 Person Rule.” I committed to asking strangers for help. If the 1st person rejected me I would ask a 2nd stranger for help and so on up to the 10th stranger. If by 10, no one would assist me, I would stop asking strangers for help with that situation. I was thrilled with this plan, and I put the plan into action. To this day I still use this plan. The plan has proved to be amazing. I have never even had to find even a 4th person. And bonus, now as part of my history, I have so many lovely stories to tell others about “the kindness of strangers.”