Hi guys. I'm confused. I have two documents on here that I want ............... talk2hand ................
Just which one is better? They are both 2 1/2 pages long. They're both good, but....

A: Hi guys. Have you ever heard of TBI? It’s totally fine. I’m here to explain it.

What is TBI? If you guessed Tiny Bunny Infestation, sorry. That's wrong. It stands for Traumatic Brain Injury. From there, it gets pretty damn complicated.

The world of TBI is just as crazy diverse as the human race. Some have physical problems, while others do not. I am one of the latter. My problems are all in my head.

I am quite proud of my TBI. It's my best friend, which is great, because even if I wanted to get rid of it, I can't.
Now, TBI’s can happen to anyone at any age. I know some people who are TBI’s now, because of a car crash in their 20’s.

TBI’s vary extensively for each specific case. The problems I have may not be the same as another person.
Some call TBI a disease. They are not wrong. And some others say they are not a TBI, but living with one. They’re not wrong either. Each individual can say it in whatever words they want. I call it brain damage.

My story is rather short. I was born in 1986. I was 21 months at this point.
My mom and dad were having a get together at my grandparents house right on Lake Michigan. Time passed and people decided to swim. A lady stepped on a doll. Someone asked mom, “Where’s your little one?” And a search began. I can only imagine the horror everyone must have felt to hear that a lady stepped on a doll at this point. My uncle recognized my clothing and jumped in. Everyone formed a chain to pass me to the dock. Again, imagine how horrified they must have been to receive this unconscious infant in their arms. When they passed me to my mother, on the dock, I was this discolored potato with water coming out of everywhere possible. I try, but can’t even imagine what that looks like.

When my mom comes to this point in the story, she’s crying hard and stops telling it. It is a difficult story. I feel terrible for her having to go through that emotional trauma. That day must have been on repeat in her head for months. Actually, it probably still is.

Through the years, I’ve been able to squirrel away other bits of information. My dad told me, only once, that I was in the hospital for 6 months and not breathing for 7 days. I have no doubt that mom was by my side all through those terrifying 6 months. She says that she begged for me to speak. Out of nowhere, I whispered, “Momma.” I haven’t shut up since. The date was August 22, 1988. Or somewhere close to that.

Now. As I see it, water just got in my head, and broke things. Like teenagers at a party. That’s really all there is to it. Some pieces don’t work at all, and some were only a little, halfway, or mostly broken. But can still be used.
Another way I like to look at it is the lake took some stuff and gave me some stuff. Example: It took away my ability to drive. But I now have this amazing writing skill that people dream of. I call this and a few other things my “superpowers”, because they’re just incredible, like flying.
Let’s see if I can explain this correctly. The things that are completely broken, as in, cannot be used, are…well, my driving ability, academics, abstract concepts, lying, the ability to keep myself safe, organization skills…

Mostly broken things are…maturity, keeping things secret, short-term memory
Halfway broken…my social skills, the skills to take care of myself, haha, the ability to shut up…
A little broken…um..my sense of balance, …
And my five senses. Smell is the only one that was not heightened. Sight, hearing, touch and taste are all super sensitive. Hearing is one of my superpowers. If I am touched unexpectedly, I jump. If a balloon pops, I jump and give a little screech. And I get veeeery picky about pronunciation and dialect.

My superpowers are amazing!! I love them! Uh…well, anything to do with words. Learning languages is fun for me. My long-term memory is the best. Nobody can ever recall what I can. It’s not like I can recall super specific details about the days or people or items; it’s a couple levels below that. I can recite the quadratic formula, T’Was The Night, and three verses of The Raven on cue.
HONESTY!! I am honest to a fault. Seriously, guys, sometimes this is a bad thing. I can’t keep things inside my own head. If you are stupid, I will say it. Confronting. I am fabulous, and totally should get paid for it. I do not mind losing friends if they can’t take what I say. What comes out of my mouth is not under my control. It’s like vomit and totally pushes its way out before there’s time to get out of the damn door. Sometimes, this is bad, though usually it turns out to be pretty silly. And, sorry. I can’t be a lawyer. I’m not THAT careful. Or that smart, honestly.

Oh! Another superpower is that I do not embarrass or humiliate in social situations. Once I was at a movie with a guy I had an enormous crush on, seriously, you couldn’t miss it. It was that obvious. We were just about to go into the movie, and I came out of the bathroom, all ready to go. He pointed to my belt, which I had left unbuckled. To anyone else, that would have been terribly embarrassing. But…I just redid my belt, and went on. I think I might have said, “Oops…” or something and smiled. That sounds like how I would react. But that was over 10 years ago. Some of the memory has faded into the long lost abyss.

I consider myself a realist. I’m, for sure, no optimist. And pessimism isn’t quite my thing. I don’t play the stupid game of who has the worst life…I would definitely loose. Although, I am fabulous at arguing. And making a damn good point. Arguing with me is just not a good idea. Not because my point is more valid, but because NO ONE can beat my loud voice. It’s like a gorilla beating his chest. It puts fear in the person. It’s some scary s**t, man. Being a drama queen is sometimes fun, for me. Not you.

Another superpower would be my ability to observe and see clearly what others cannot. People say I’m observant, and I am. Emotional trauma is what’s obvious to me. People don’t see that. But I do. I know when to be sensitive and when to be harsh. I know when you need truth.

I often say things that people have reactions to. I’ve gotten all kinds of reactions to my words. Like “I can’t believe you would say that!” or “I’ve never thought of it that way.” I’ve even gotten a few “How dare you!”’s. But no slaps…which is a little odd. But it’s good.

People can share things with me. It’s odd. But my guess is because I don’t lie. I don’t exactly keep everything to myself though.
When a person is telling me a personal thing, I’ll probably tell my mom. But there’s a catch. You get my back-breaking honesty too. If you don’t like that, then don’t tell me your s**t.
My mom is my best friend and I love her to death. We have our mom-daughter fights, but she’s incredible. Mom is the one I run to and she’s the one I want when I’m scared. I tell her absolutely everything. Well, I’m a horrible secret keeper, but…she’s the one I tell. Once I’ve told her, no one else has to know. And she’s a great secret keeper.

The only thing with this kind of honesty, is that if you give it, you have to take it too. And I can. No worries. I have a very thick skin. Those who don’t, are a problem for me. It seems really mean, but…if they are offended by a simple word, then I’m really not allowed to be friends with that person. And the N word is the only one I do not say. I feel it’s disrespectful. Others may not feel that way. You can feel however you want, and I will too. I don’t like that word.

I like all other words though. Curse words rock. I love them. My mom doesn’t like cursing. Don’t worry. I’m able to watch the cursing, but..ya know….at times it does slip out. Not around kids though. I lock up when I’m with kids; or try my very best.
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B: I’m not a millionaire or heiress but I’m pretty damn close to it. Probably more than half the world would kill to be in my position.
Every damn thing is paid for and taken care of. From my meals to my origami paper. But even wealthy people can find things to complain about. And complaining isn’t even hard. It takes no effort, whatsoever. It never takes long to find something.

My family is fabulous. I love them. But my mom doesn’t wanna watch Wreck-It-Ralph two days in a row. My sisters have things to do. Gail is a full time nursing teacher and has two toddlers. Tina is a metal smith. And Judy is in pharmacy school.

I will never want for anything. Literally. I’m no spoiled brat, but everything will always be taken care of for me. And that’s not a bad thing at all.
Honestly. I love my life. I just wish I had something to do with it. And could make some friends, who had cars and money. Go ahead. Call me a gold digger. It’s not a lie.

Having money and spending it on nice things isn’t bad. But not having money is. This means not only do I not have a job, but I can’t even pay for a soda without asking my mom.
-I wanna go see a movie. But mom won’t like it. So I’m ******** wanna get a Pumpkin Spice Latte, but mom’s hands hurt.
-I wanna go out, but my sisters are all busy.
-I wanna buy a thing, but mom says she can’t afford it.

It gets annoying at the very least. I’m a 30 year old woman, who really has no choice but to be 15 years old.
Every TBI is different. The world of Traumatic Brain Injuries is just as crazy diverse as the human race. Some are good at things and some are not. We all have different strengths and weaknesses. One of my strengths is words, and by this, I mean, anything at all to do with words.

For instance, I can describe literally anything. It doesn’t even have to be in my personal memory. People seem to think that’s amazing. A weakness I have is that I am unable to drive. Some TBI’s can drive but can’t do other things. I am currently studying Italian.

TBI’s aren’t stupid. I am self-aware. A lot of TBI’s are not. Or they are. It depends on the injury itself, when it occurred, and what parts of the brain were effected. Brains are very complex little balls. They are so much more complex than anything humans have ever known. Therefore, this is really difficult for me to tell about to a person who is not troubled by it in any form.

I look like any person on the street. I can walk and talk with ease. Anyone who sees me thinks I am what they define as “normal”. But how I define normal is actually quite different then their definition. But talk with me for 2 minutes, and you’ll get the feeling that something’s up. Thinking is where my problems lie. And I mean this in the way of thinking before I speak, keeping thoughts to myself, and just thinking in general.

It’s why I am unable to live alone, have a job, go to college or have a child. A lot of people would call me a loser because of this. It’s not a lie. But you need to know my reason for it.
I am unable to live alone because I need reminders and cannot keep myself safe. Let me explain. I need reminders to live as an adult human. As in, “Sarah, have you eaten?” or “When was the last time you showered?” or “Brush your teeth”, “You need to put on new clothes”, “Brush your hair.” And many many more.

Most people do not need to be reminded of these things because they do them routinely, without even thinking. I’m like the people who need a machine to keep breathing. They just don’t do it naturally. My situation is exactly the same. I don’t remember to brush my teeth or take my pills or brush my hair and such on a daily or even partially regular basis. I need reminders to do those simple routines. That’s all there is to it
.
Let me explain the other part before I get into more probing questions. I cannot keep myself safe. This involves recognizing danger signals. Remember that I said my problems lie with thinking? This is part of it. For example, I have stories of getting into some very dangerous situations that most people would get out of. I will tell you one.

I am unclear about how long ago this was. In my early 20’s, I was hanging out downtown, reading for some reason(reading is not a hobby of mine and I will tell you why.) It was in the beginning of evening. This random guy came up to me asking to speak with me. I was free to talk. He was old enough to be my grandfather. His name was Ray. He had a white beard and hair but seemed happy. For most women, the danger alarm would be going off when they saw this man approaching in the peripheral. I have no idea what we talked about, but somehow we got into me complaining about my lack of freedom. Again, for most women, they know to avoid this topic with a random guy they haven’t met until 5-10 minutes ago. The danger alarm would be loud enough to rival a police siren. Ray asked if I wanted a ride on his motorcycle. I agreed.

I got on the back of his motorcycle without thinking about it in the slightest. If my sister’s best friend hadn’t seen this happen, maybe I wouldn’t be writing about it. When we were in a part of town that I didn’t recognize, my brain started working. What was I doing??? How could I let this happen?? How would I get out of this??? I resolved to call a friend and tell her I was in Carrier Park with a random old dude in the dark. But did I? No. I was scared by this time, but had no idea how to carry out this plan. We got off the motorcycle, and I did not get my phone from under the seat. Besides, what would the guy say or do at my request? I just went along with him. He took my hand in a soft and romantic way. I could tell that was wrong. But I didn’t say or do anything about it. He then kissed my lips softly. THAT got my brain working. I asked to go back now. Softly. I think my face might have gone pale and my body rigid and tense. Luckily, he agreed to do this. I really have no clue what would have happened if it had gone the other way.
He took me back to where we met and I really have no recollection of getting home. After this had ended, and I realized exactly what I had done, I cried for hours, continuously.

I have at least 2 more stories like that one. My mistakes aren’t little ones. They’re enormous, tragic and life altering. And they will continue to happen in my life. I will continue making mistakes like that. As horrifying as it is, I have accepted the fact that I will never learn.

My karate instructor will read that and be blown out of his mind. Most people will be rendered speechless. I have that talent.
That’s how my TBI affects me. I have other problems, but they are incomparable to this. When it comes down to it, I am simply incapable of sensing danger, in any form. Trauma, also in any form, has little to no effect on me. I have been raped 3 times. Simply because I don’t pick up on danger signals. When others, who are watching, pick up signals that I do not and offer to take me out of danger, I do not agree. Why? Because I am unaware. That’s all there is to it. Everyone sees these signals but me. Even the person who is going to rape me knows I know nothing. I’m a target for ill-intentioned people. And that’s why I’m not allowed to live alone.

Danger makes no difference to me. Traumatic experiences make no difference to me. I learn nothing. This is not the only reason I am not allowed to be responsible for myself but it is the biggest.

This is also a reason that I have more courage than the average person and why I volunteer for dangerous tasks. It’s not being reckless. I just…have no fear. I don’t even know what it is. I wish I did. Then I could watch out for myself. Fear is a very important part of being alive at all. And I just don’t have it. Even animals and plants have fear. That’s why they defend themselves in the ways that they do. It’s why sheep have the “safety in numbers” thing down. It’s why snakes and spiders are poison. It’s why foxes are quick. It’s why you never see a wild tiger. Everything has fear. Everything is protected. Everything has a defense method in place. Except me.
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They are both just me talking to myself really. I don't know.... evil