Data Points

Whenever I encounter a moment of crisis I go and work at my volunteer “job.” I am willing to perform the very tedious, boring, routine operations that no one else truly wants to do. Another staffer commented on my output. I responded that I really enjoyed endless, dull repetitive work. I saw from his eye response that this may not have been the socially appropriate answer. I appear to be doing a great many socially inappropriate things lately. This is one of the reasons I seek refuge in my “office,” slaving away at a mountain of paper.
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Unbearable

The book Ghost In My Brain arrived yesterday. The following quote is from the forward:

By the time high functioning individuals with post-traumatic head injury notice that their memories are not what they used to be, or that they have difficulty thinking through a problem they could once have easily solved, massive brain damage has occurred on a microscopic level. Because their symptoms are medically unverifiable and therefore untreatable, they are usually dismissed as the walking wounded, destined to suffer the pain, frustration, and humiliation of not knowing how much longer their condition will last or how much worse it will become.

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Drugs

On Thursday, I met with N. The experience was powerful and confounding. I commenced jotting notes to myself in an attempt to unpack what had taken place. This series of posts reflects the trajectory of that day, and my associated analysis.
 

I am unsure how we arrived at this topic. I believe we were discussing pharmaceuticals prescribed by our physicians. N was aware that I have refused medication. I was unable to offer her an immediate explanation for this refusal. When writing this series of posts, our conversation came to mind. It triggered a set of recollections. This is the explanation I was unable to give to N.
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