My Fears and Uncertainties in “My Wonderland” (25th Post)

 “Stuff never gets easier - you will just handle ‘hard’ better” (Karen Lawson). The prospect of being a Villager - a.k.a. employee in my “Wonderland” was both exciting and terrifying. For people suffering from Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), the work environment can hold more curses than blessings. I was desperate to create solutions to manage my undiagnosed TBI symptoms. Here were some of my dilemmas. I was easily distracted by any new shiny object. People stated they found my verbal expression and behavior to be tangential. I had an exaggerated startle reaction which either upset others or resulted in people laughing at me. When I struggled with a challenge I was always at risk of exploding into a rage, rant, or crying a flood of tears. In discussions, due to my TBI-induced perseveration, I excessively repeated my point. Consequently, people would often remark they grew tired of me beating a dead horse. I encountered difficulty in following lengthy instructions and directions. Initially, I heard, understood, and retained the words people spoke to me. However, at some point, their words began to jumble around in my brain and resisted linking together to make sense. Unbeknownst to me, after my second head wound, auditory hypersensitivity manifested and added itself to the list of TBI symptoms. Consequently, loud and/or repetitive noises would become a distraction, and aggravation, and might set off my 0-100 anger fuse. The worst challenge was TBI anosognosia - I was unable to recognize or understand how I came across in social interactions. My brain damage resulted in the world becoming too stimulating, too fast-paced, too exhausting, and too overwhelming. All these obstacles made my workday very distressing and challenging.

I had the great misfortune of not receiving any form of medical rehabilitation after the 2 head wounds. Therefore, even with the kindness and help from the Villagers, by the end of the workday, I was in a state of utter exhaustion. All I wanted to do was to be totally alone, do nothing substantial, and definitely not be required to think. My brain was completely silent. At that point in time, I did not know my brain’s silence was known as neuro fatigue from TBI. 

To add to these known dilemmas, one day in Wonderland I encountered a disturbing, bewildering, and depressing perception of myself. While utilizing my desperation skill of observing and studying other Villagers, I was horrified to discern, that in contrast to their adult problem-solving skills, my solutions to issues were child-like. And curiouser and curiouser (as Alice said in her Wonderland), the Villagers appeared to respond to me as if I were an adult. Yet I actually felt child-like and not an adult. Astonished by all these new and glaring perceptions of myself, I concluded in some aspects I was not maturing. Using another fairy tale -  I had a Peter Pan complex, and tragically, no Wendy to help me grow up. At this point in my existence, I did not have the critical medical information that a part of my brain had been limited in development or destroyed. I was panicked and confused by these alarming discrepancies. I had no idea why this was happening to me, or how to fix myself, or even how to explain to others I was living in “ Never Neverland.” As a consequence, due to these challenges, when in Wonderland I was constantly haunted by the question - “how can I be me here and avoid trouble?” I was desperate to create solutions to manage my symptoms while 

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working. And so I did. I utilized my ability to ask for help. I trusted my belief in the kindness of strangers.

I relied on the organization to “organize” me and rarely deviated from their policies and procedures. I hid the symptoms deep inside me as I had no words to explain them to myself or others. I presented facial features and used voice murmurings to convey I understood the Villagers’ instructions and guidance whenever their words sounded like a jumble in my brain. I would agree on anything with anyone or just keep very quiet. Sometimes, when I was overwhelmed in Wonderland I would take my break and/or lunch hour and retreat to the restroom or an isolated place in the garage and cry, rage, or rant in order to try and decompress the pressure that had built inside. I would keep busy at work in order to limit social interaction. Due to the undiagnosed anosognosia, when interacting I would ask people how I was coming across. If I realized I was not coming across as I had hoped, I would address that. Each day in “Wonderland” I would enviably need to seek out some type of assistance for aspects of my job. Terrified I would wear out my welcome for help, I constantly expanded my “Villager To Go to List.” I also created a rotation cycle for the Go-To List. I always expressed deep gratitude for the given assistance. I tried to be useful and volunteered to help my fellow Villagers whenever I saw an opportunity to do so.

For the most part, I effectively did my job, was happy at my “Wonderland,” and enjoyed being with the other Villagers. Never in a million years could I have guessed the Villagers had become a substitute for my executive functions. Two years later and being 6 months away from high school graduation, one day, curiouser and curiouser, I received an unexpected tea party invitation from the “Mad Hatter” - a.k.a my department manager. The Mad Hatter encouraged me to consider working full-time in Wonderland after graduation. The Mad Hatter went on to recommend I apply for a supervisory position. Feeling so lost and like a child, I never imagined anything like this would happen to me in Wonderland. I was mystified and stared at the Mad Hatter in disbelief. Panic surfaced. Given that I had not yet solved the puzzle of me, this was a very big rabbit hole to fall into. I was certain if I obtained the position, the “Red Queen” would soon be screaming “off with her head.” The only words that emerged in my head were run away, run away. I fought off feelings of fright and flight. I was then able to thank the Mad Hatter for the suggestions. I followed that statement with “I have no idea how to be a supervisor.” The Mad Hatter replied, “we will train you, “and we will help you learn.” My inner alarms immediately turned off and were replaced with bright warm light. The Mad Hatter had used my all-time favorite words “we will help you.” My disbelieving stare morphed into a luminous smile. I agreed to apply right after graduation. Curiouser and curiouser, this possibility felt surreal.

I never applied for the supervisory position, because Fate intervened. 6 months into my senior year in the “Merry Old Land of Oz, my “Munchkin’ friends showed me a life-changing, brighter yellow brick road in Education which led me away from my beloved “Wonderland.”