Freedom

Hello there, I realise it’s been a while.

About a year in fact.

The reason it’s been so long?  We’ve been getting on with life; lovely, normal, reassuringly boring life.

With the exception of a stress related seizure in January, Jake’s health has been bordering on rude and his recovery has been steady; steadily improving in every possible way.

This ceaselessly amazing progress touches every part of our lives and is, for the most part, a source of unremitting joy.

Let me give you some examples.

He travelled up to London on the train last week…on his own! I dropped him at the station and SIL met him at the other end, but still, on his own!

He is also now confident (and capable) enough to stay home alone overnight unsupported, even taking responsibility for ministering to our ever expanding, furry zoo.

The most remarkable shift is in his mind-set; a couple of months ago we received the renewal paperwork for Jake’s disabled badge, something that just a few months ago was an essential tool in supporting Jake to access life outside of our home.  Today? Today it has expired because he has decided that he no longer wants to think of himself as disabled and anyway, he’s hardly using his walking stick now so doesn’t feel he needs the badge anymore!  Extraordinary.

Those of you who have travelled some of this journey with us will appreciate how jaw droppingly astounding all of this is. (Droppingly – I do so like to make up new words; I get it from my Mum, she’s at master level and should be revered).

The downside of this increasing independence and insight for Jake is the gut wrenching sense of isolation and loneliness he now feels as the drama subsides, people move on with their lives and no longer have time. This, according to those in the know, is also a common stage along the well-travelled brain injury journey. You can’t imagine his disappointment at not being the exception to this rule.

For me, this new sense of independence has meant that I also have a great deal more freedom; freedom to work (although I could do with a more regular flow if you know anyone in need of a copy writer); freedom to have a full social life; make genuine personal choices and, dangerously, freedom to think.

The freedom to think is tricky and not all it’s cracked up to be.  The freedom to think has made room for self-doubt and a growing realisation that I’m not needed so much anymore. Having been a committed, ferocious warrior wife for so long, I suddenly find myself lacking purpose. The freedom to think feels like teetering over the precipice, wondering if anyone would really notice if I fell. I’m not so good at heights.

What does all this mean? It means its tipping point time (again).  If the last four years have taught me anything it’s this; tipping points are magical, terrifying, wonderful, unsettling things. They challenge and compel you to do, well, something. I have (tautology warning) absolutely and completely no idea what that something is, but I expect it will show itself soon.