The art of writing requires TRUST.  I hold a pen, I await the thoughts to arise.  As quickly as the ideas surface, I scribble them out onto my page.  Wait I am not merely scribbling, am I?  Surely these thoughts deserve more than a smattering of ink touching paper, they demand or perhaps expect to land with dignity, with respect.

I am choosing words to relate to others, to purposely and persistently probe my mind for the images that might resonate with family, friends, and strangers.  Writing requires this TRUST, the unseen mysterious momentum that urges my words to appear and then be shared.

It occurs to me that if a blog exists to provide words for others to read then it should be led by a mission statement, a reasonable guideline of sorts should surround my thoughts.

So, I begin again, to write here on my blog to literally expose my traumatic brain injury (TBI) recovery through my own words, my observations, and my understanding.  My mission statement – To offer a glimpse of hope to myself and to others who struggle with brain blurs!  What do I mean by brain blurs?  The moment when you try to hold onto a thought or an idea and then it disappears as if someone finger painted it into a lovely smear.

Its lovely because underneath its smudged colours lies a sweet, simple thought you managed to think forth.  Yet the smear so completely covers it, you can’t possibly rescue it.  The idea simply cannot be retrieved at present, it has become a brain blur.

Maybe you call it shutting down or hitting the wall.  The non-TBI world would call it forgetfulness, or with age a senior moment; scoffing at how seriously my brain blur affects me.  For me, and maybe for others with TBI, a brain blur throws me off course in the moment and/or perhaps for a longer period of time. It may trigger physical difficulties, anxiety or the anguish of thinking “uh-oh, what does everybody else see when my brain blur overtakes me?”

Fortunately for me, these brain blurs are happening less frequently.  However, when they do, they are still as debilitating and impacting as they have been for the past two years of my recovery.  That I can now actually focus on a mission statement offers me hope that I am regaining the ability to draw images from my mind and re-establish the ability to TRUST my words.