Why am I hearing almost identical remakes of what were already great songs? I heard a remake of Depeche Mode's Personal Jesus today. I was disappointed that there was no attempt to make it "their own." Creativity can't be dead!

Remaining positive about life is difficult. My therapists say that this is common, but I don't really have a method to combat this....other than begging my friends to give me positive feedback and encouragement. I no longer have motivating brain chatter, and I miss it.

I find that I often just seek distractions from this silent and painful Hell.

I still cannot believe that I've had brain surgery...at 30!....at 30!!!

It's crazy because I had no symptoms for the HUGE time-bomb that was in my brain.

I am not you. You are not me. Truth be told. I barely feel like me now.

Boundaries

My mother does not understand the concept if boundaries. She barges into my room in the morning to lecture me on what she thinks I should do, think, or feel. I just want this to end.

Not sure why I feel so alone. It could be that not many people visit. It could be that no one can really relate to what Ive been through. I'm struggling with all of this

omeone suggested I repeat a mantra or something every morning. I think that idea is complete bullshit. I

Recollections - NICU & Rehab floors

I don't remember a lot of the neuro ICU. I screamed and cussed a lot. I had tubes everywhere, and nurses repeatedly had to put arm and leg restraints on me to keep me from pulling everything out. Unfortunately, the hospital staff decided to insert a catheter into my bladder while I was conscious. I fought the best I could, but they forced it in.

Lots of people visited, but I recall nothing of the visits.

The Rehab floor was slightly better, but I was still miserable. The medication didn't do anything to help me feel better. My vitals were checked constantly, especially once I had fallen asleep. The medication was typically in pill-form and didn't go down easily. The injections in the stomach (to prevent seizures, I think) were bad, but I was able to tolerate them toward the end of my hospital stay.

Therapy felt like torture, and I hated leaving my room for this regularly scheduled anguish. The diaper-lady roommate made me freak out about germs. The family was always around, and I felt crowded. I paced the halls a lot once I was allowed to use a cane.

I called a number of friends today, even though I knew most would be at work. I just needed contact with people.

It's Good to Hear Your oice

This is what I want people to say to me. I want to hear how you are happy I am still alive, that I am not just a memory, even though I may be in your memories.

Salt in the Wound

Lat week, Jeremy felt the need to make it clear to me that we are not and will never again be together. While I was aware that we weren't together, we were making progress prior to my hospitalization. I think his timing last week was bad - I am struggling to find solid ground on which to build myself back up, and having the proverbial rug pulled from under my feet was not helpful. I became very depressed and felt myself sink into the blankets and pillows on my bed. I cried for several hours.

Luckily, I have some really wonderful friends who keep picking me up and dusting me off. James made sure to hang out with me over the weekend. I really needed the time out and the supportive discussion. I wish there were words that could convey how thankful I am to him for being a good friend when i needed one.

Good Day

James picked me up and took me to Ann Arbor. We parked the car and walked through the Diag to my favorite place in Ann Arbor. We talked about relationships, recovery, pain, and work.

We stoppedd for sandwiches at Amer's - my favorite sandwich shop in that entire city. I was thrilled to be conversing with such a good friend, but even more thrilled that I recovered a memory of the day prior to my aneurysm rupture - an entire day that has become a gap in my memory. I recalled where I was sitting when hanging out with Wes on March 13th. I didn't neceesarily need that memory to move forward with my life, but I wselcomed it, nonetheless.

James an I then went to a book store where I vowed to NOT buy "bargain books."

We walked down Main Street, and then headed to my condo in Ann Arbor to check on my cats. We talked for a couple of hours, which was really nice. I like that he doesn't expect me to be exactly who I was prrior to this whole nightmare. Eventually, he brought me back to my parents' house where we watched the tail end of the baseball game.

All-inall, it was probably the best day I've had since waking up after surgery.