Ten days prior to today felt glorious, like I was 30-something again, able to be productive, an over-achiever, work full-time plus, and enjoy it. Today I feel like I’ve hit a wall. I’m not foggy, but my brain seems to have an impasse. I left my phone at home without realizing until a half mile away. I’m exhausted; not physically but mentally. It feels like I had an all-nighter and took a three-hour snooze. But I don’t feel able to go back to sleep. I have energy and motivation. But cognition says STOP.
I also feel like a sensitive conversation could put me in tears. I looked at a crowded farmer’s market and didn’t want to go in. Instead I waited on the sidewalk with my dog. I don’t feel sad. Actually, I feel content; happy even. But my brain has shut off channels limiting programming to a few reruns. I can’t even verbalize this text. I tried. Somehow my fingers are doing the talking.
While clearly I can’t say I’m completely healed, I can say with certainty that these periods of heightened mental capacity have been getting longer and longer. In 2013 my head would be so foggy at the end of a work day that I could barely ride my motorcycle home. Last month my head would be foggy at the end of a work day, but I could still function well enough to buy groceries. In the last couple of weeks, I had no fogginess. My mind was clear. Even now, I seem to think clearly, but other functions like speaking are limited. Remembering is also limited.
If I went to a psychiatrist today with no medical history, I would not meet the diagnostic criteria for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. But because of my history, one may say that I’m still affected by the injury. Just a few weeks from now marks 17 years since 9/11. I’m happy to no longer be depressed at this time of the year.