Hello again.

I’ve been working on a new blog post for months. It is concrete, helpful, but cold, somehow off-putting. Every time go back to cut it I make it longer. Less tolerable. I know because even I get bored reading it. That’s the usual process of writing this blog – I falter but then make it happen.


I just can’t make this one happen. Not now.

So you’re getting “Hello” instead.
Maybe it happens to you.


I’m running from all the “shoulds” I set myself up for. On the lam. Depression seeped in under my closed door and is in my air. My son says it’s the dark of winter that steals hope. But the world outside. The horrors so many live, our humanity lost is the true dark of winter. Not my frame of mind sitting here, not my reality that just feels far away.

I’ve had so much joy in my life the past few months. Why do I retreat from it and sink into myself? I throw my arms open to embrace it, but come up empty. I’m just wrapping myself in myself. Maybe there is nothing else to do but live with that, and one of these days my arms will open. Or I will act as if they have.

I got a cold. Lost my voice. My mother, who’s also sick, can’t even hear me when I call her. My sister deals with my her needs and tells me not to worry. To take care of myself. I feel superfluous. have shut the doors.

Brain injury taught me about feeling useless. It lies in wait just under my thin skin.

But for now, I apologize to you. I’m tired of living with sorry but I’ve left you hanging and wanted to say why. I feel you out there. Want to keep the connection. To have the conversation. So here’s my word of the day:


It will turn to “Can” one of these days. I hope soon but tomorrow is a cypher when my chest is weighted down and it’s hard to move or breath. I am not telling you this so you will feel sorry for me. Since my brain injury people think it’s inspiring just getting on. I may be getting on, but for now I’m stalled. I want you to know I’ll be back. I know I will. And hope I’ll have something to say.

Thank you for listening.

7 thoughts on “Hello again.

  1. Madelaine December 16, 2016 / 3:12 pm

    Laurie –

    THe language and the emotion of this piece is inedible – so beautifully written. I hear you and feel for you and wish that there was a magic way of saying its ok. But you know there damn well isn’t – the bottom line is your wait it out, you try to train your thoughts to move towards light, you lean on a few folks, and diligently remind yourself of the good things – maybe if you can, you can channel it into something to create positive change. You are so talented, so amazing and such a good hearted human being. Know that you are cared about and loved.

    Liked by 1 person

    • laurienyc December 16, 2016 / 4:48 pm

      Thank you, Madelaine. For now (how long?) I am in this dark fog. It does lift, that I know as I have been here before. Your (immediate, unstinting) understanding and care help me remember.


  2. Scott La Point December 16, 2016 / 8:54 pm

    Laurie: Thank you so much for sharing your struggles and for inviting us survivors to join you and to console you and to ask ourselves, “Why do I fixate on myself to the exclusion of others?” Is it true that all psychopathy and psychopathology and psychological maladies and illness is due to the absence of relationship? Is the measure of wellness othercenteredness, and if so, why don’t other people reach out to those with brain injury despite our closed arms? Your world is one I feel privileged to view from afar, yet it feels so close. I for one am thankful you’ve invited us into yours.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Jasper Hoogendam December 17, 2016 / 2:56 am

    It’s the feeling you mention, “I may be getting on, but for now I’m stalled.” That’s not how we’ve been living our life. I re-injured myself 10 days ago and am stalled and feeling discouraged. Your sharing makes it seem a bit more okay to feel that way. It reality and we need to cling to hope. The hope that we can still contribute to our community albeit in a different way, not the way we would have chosen. A big thanks.


  4. Jenn Smith December 18, 2016 / 8:18 am

    I have recently climbed out of the toilet bowl …the one where you just don’t know how deep in the shit of depression you are until you finally emerge as a “floater.” Tonight, I will sit at the warming center (literally, that’s all that’s expected of me) so others, many who also have a psychiatric illness or other brain injury of sorts, will have somewhere warm to sleep and I will feel useful and needed among my new “friends.” It’s the darkness of winter, the damage to that bugger of a brain, and a dash of depression that takes us all to that miserable toilet bowl every now and again. Take your time coming back…just don’t stay gone too long.


    • laurienyc December 18, 2016 / 9:41 am

      Jenn, just read your note. It sent a prickly chill through me. Your warming room, even as a metaphor, comforts. That too takes time when you’ve been out in the cold. Thanks.

      Liked by 1 person

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