Life After Brain Injury: The Socially Awkward Chapter

Now in my fifteenth year as a brain injury survivor, I'm still learning how to live with what I've got. You’d think that by now I’d be a pro, but not even close. And as happens so often, other survivors teach me more than any professional ever has.

A couple of weeks ago, I read a post by a fellow survivor that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. They described themselves as “socially awkward” since their brain injury. Oh my goodness, did that hit home hard.

Those who have known both the "before" and "after" versions of me can vouch for the fact that I was an extrovert before my injury. I could strike up a conversation with anyone. Within a couple of minutes, we’d be friends. Professionally, I attended many trade shows, on my feet and shaking hands for twelve hours straight. I loved being a people person.

</Insert life-changing accident and subsequent traumatic brain injury here>

Two ticks of a clock. That’s all it took. And just like that, the person I was—was gone forever. The Socially Awkward chapter had begun.

Ya know what’s difficult? Trying to make small talk while stuttering. How about those word-finding issues? It can be downright embarrassing. But this is not a short list.

Have you ever gotten halfway through a sentence and…

Oh, where was I? Then halfway through the next sentence and… poof—there goes my conversational continuity. It’s embarrassing, and it shreds my confidence and self-esteem.

"Hey Sherman, set the Wayback Machine to present day," said the twelve-year-old kid who still dwells within.

That extrovert still exists, but like so much of life after brain injury, it’s complicated. While I still might make small talk in the grocery store checkout line, more often than not, it’s just a friendly hello. Being in small groups can be a source of abject terror. I speak slowly and deliberately, fingers crossed in my mind that I don’t screw up.

After get-togethers with fellow humans, almost without exception, I ask Sarah the same question: “Did I say anything stupid?” My esteem is still more fragile than most people might think.

These days, I do more things alone than I ever did. Quiet time doing yard work brings me peace. A small home improvement project or two comes with no real risk of exposing my brokenness.

Do I expect to be this way for the duration? Actually, yes. But it’s okay. I’m a reasonably happy guy these days. And maybe by sharing this with you today, I can get it out of my head and move on.

The nice thing about writing rather than speaking? I don’t stutter. And if it takes time to find a word, it really doesn’t matter.