Writing has always been an integral part of my life. When I was younger I wrote. I wrote a lot. I had notebooks packed and filled with stories, observations, and essays that I wrote in my free time. Some kids would draw when they had “study time” in class, and I suppose some would actually study. I spent most of it writing.
I continued this hobby into the military. I spent downtime filling tiny little notebooks while in basic training. I got to my unit and we used Dungeons and Dragons as the catalyst for world-building and creative writing. A small group of us also used Warhammer for the same thing. With multiple playgroups I either wrote or heavily contributed to more than one campaign and setting. It has always been there.
In addition to writing I loved cartoons, and I loved acting. I was in every play I could be in. Even the musicals, though I was very uncomfortable singing on stage. I thoroughly enjoyed getting out there and pretending to be someone else. All through high school I told myself, and the world, I was going to be an actor. I didn’t need to be rich and famous, I just wanted to act. I wanted to act and I wanted to write cartoons. Animated ones. I wasn’t very good at drawing, and I’m still not, but I loved the medium and I loved writing so I was convinced I could partner up with someone and we could write and create together.
Late in my graduation year, just before the 9/11 terror attacks I made a decision that would change and derail all of my youthful hopes and dreams. I decided to enlist. As I previously stated, I carried much of my hobbies into the military, so it wasn’t a total loss. But, I also went through a lot of changes that altered my perspective on life, as well as endured some injuries that would, for better or worse, change the way my brain works.
After I completed my Active Duty enlistment I would stop writing for a while. I know this happens with hobbies, and I don’t attribute it solely to the Army, but I do know it contributed. I was struggling with learning how to be a civilian, and this is something I would continue to struggle with for almost 10 years. Nothing had purpose, nothing had meaning, and I now had to derive my own purpose from my actions. This isn’t something I was used to, nor prepared for.
I didn’t start writing again until my first stint at college. I had taken an English Comp course at a local community college, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The professor was an obstreperous, argumentative, old lady that pushed and bullied her students to see how they would react. When she started pushing me, a 20-something-year-old combat veteran that was alone in a sea of children, and I pushed back; she immediately took a liking to me.
As time progressed I found myself struggling to write consistently. Something I had done so often and derived great joy from was becoming increasingly difficult as I got older. It wasn’t because I didn’t love it anymore. I honestly had no clue. I did tons of research on it. ”Why can’t I write?”, ”Why is writing becoming harder?”, and all of this Googling and research all netted me the same answer. It is difficult because you aren’t consistent with it.
As a creature of habit (My first 4 hours of EVERY day are virtually the same, right down to what I eat for breakfast), I decided to incorporate writing into my routine. Surely that would help, right?
It did not. I would sit down, find writing prompts, have story ideas, etc… Some days I would stare at the screen. I’d find myself zoning out, losing 2 minutes here, three minutes there, instead of putting word to screen, or even pen to paper. Other days I would find myself on a tear. I would pour my heart and soul into what I was writing, and then once I finished the allotted time I would stop. I would then find it near-impossible to return to something unfinished. I would try to reread it in order to get a better scope of where I was at, or simply to proofread and edit it, but I’d find my brain unable to concentrate on the task at hand.
At the time I just assumed this is the struggle many writers have, and to some degree it is. But I learned much later on that the degree I find myself struggling isn’t the same as “normal”.
Fast forward some years, and I’m now an older man that is soon to turn 41. Writing is more of a struggle than it has ever been. Daily workouts require constant convincing, and so many things in my life have become a chore. Last year I decided to explore getting my VA disability rating increased, which has been its own special brand of pain-in-the-ass, but it was during this process that I had to meet with a 3rd party psychiatrist. And within minutes of our conversation she told me to get tested for ADHD, as I was displaying almost every classic symptom.
Well, I did. and was prescribed Adderall. It has helped. I can focus, I can accomplish tasks at hand, and I can write a bit more often. It has definitely improved my quality of life. And after getting “diagnosed” I started looking into it a lot. I wanted to do my own research. If this was something I was going to have to live with, I had better learn how to work with, and around, it.
In my research I learned that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), as well as Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) can have symptoms that mirror ADHD. I found this interesting, and this makes a lot more sense. You see, the VA’s stance right now is that adult-onset ADHD isn’t real. It is simply undiagnosed from childhood. But the struggles I have now, I’ve never had until post-military service. It seems unlikely to me that I would have undiagnosed ADHD, especially given the lack of any symptoms or markers when I was younger.
What is most likely is that most of my issues and symptoms are presenting due to repeated exposure to blasts and explosions (While I don’t have any physical injuries, I was in close proximity to more than one blast such as IEDs or Mortars). In addition I suffered more than one concussion while in. This repeated head trauma, in my opinion, is the most likely culprit, and has come up on more than one occasion.
The most recent time it was brought up was at my Optometry appointment last week. It was my first time seeing a VA optometrist. It was a pretty positive experience, she was a very nice young lady (It feels weird to be old enough to say that about a Doctor).
She was looking at my eyes with her equipment and she said “Have you suffered any TBI?” This question was unprompted, and way off topic from the casual small talk that was currently ongoing.
“Yes,” I responded.
She looked back to my chart, and medical history, flipping through pages.
“It won’t be in there,” I responded.
“Oh did it happen prior to your military service?”
“No. It happened during,” I said, and she looked visibly confused.
I then had to explain to her that at my age, we spent most of our lives being told that concussions weren’t that big of a deal. You could just “walk it off”. Take a knee, face out, drink water, and stay vigilant. We also weren’t told that repeated exposure to blasts also cause TBI, which would have been really good information to have earlier in life. She wasn’t really sure how to respond, other than giving me that god damn look. That sad, feel-sorry-for-you look so many people get when they learn about this stuff. I hate that look.
At the time I didn’t think much of our conversation. It isn’t unusual to be asked about medical history. But once I got home and was talking to my beautiful fiancé about my appointment did it start to raise any flags. She and I were simply talking about the weather (there was a pretty nasty snowstorm raging, and I had to drive through it for my appointment). Then as a non sequitur she tossed in (while looking at and into my eyes) her random question about TBIs. There was a reason she asked, and I forgot to ask why. Piss. Another side-effect of what is going on. I tend to forget things or get lost in the moment.
Fortunately I’ve got a note about it, so that when I see her again in 3 weeks I can ask her. I’m curious to know what prompted the question, and I’m curious to know if my eyes somehow show signs of TBI. I’m not an eye doctor, so I cannot confidently say this is even possible, but I have no doubt there is something there.
As I continue this journey to recovery and health, I will strive to continue to write. I want to finish Outlanders. That story has more meaning behind it than anyone will ever know. I also want to continue to share my journey with everyone. and I will do my best. Thank you for reading.
Chris