Dear Gentle Readers,
I just came back from my post box that I keep in the next town over. I don't go there very often as I only use it for Mira's List mail, which doesn't amount to much. To my surprise, I found some very beautiful and moving thank you letters and donations! I was incredibly touched. My favorite was a postcard with a picture of one of my readers with her beautiful child, along the sweetest note, thanking me for all I do. (You know who you are! Thank you!) That picture (and the other letters) made my day and reminded me once again why I do this—not to get compliments and money (although both of those are nice). It's about helping and inspiring others because others have helped and inspired me.
Some of you know that a few years back, ten to be exact, I was hit by a huge truck (a big-ass 18-wheeler) on the New York Thruway. I never fully recovered from my traumatic brain injury (TBI) (a Diffuse Axonal Injury, to be exact) but I would never be where I am today (published author, working artist and happy blogger!) without the help and encouragement from certain friends and arts foundations (in particular: The Volgelstein Foundation, The Author's League Fund, The Pollock Krasner Foundation, Pen American, and The Gottlieb Foundation.)
I remember writing one foundation, a year after I had received a $3000 emergency grant from them, to see if they would break their rule just this once and allow me to reapply for more financial aid. It took me about three days to write the terribly mis-spelled and poorly constructed letter due to cognitive deficits at the time (now it takes me about three hours—still a long time but better than three days!). I expected them to say no, sorry, those are our rules. Instead, within A WEEK I got a check for $4000 and a letter that simply said, "Let us know if we can be of any more help to you. Wishing you a speedy recovery."
Friends cooked for me, took me shopping and helped me re-organize my apartment so that it was easier to deal with. For example, I had to take all my art off the walls and cover up my bookshelves with a sheet because of sensory overload. I had to put signs on cabinets so I knew where things were. One friend put post-it warnings around the place so I wouldn't make mistakes, like putting my hand on the burner to see if it was hot (that was a common one!) or telling me to shut off my toaster oven and stove.
I am, and continue to feel grateful to those friends and institutions. Their presence reminded me that I was still me deep inside, even though I often couldn't find the proper words for things (aphasia) or said terribly inappropriate things in public (that would be frontal lobe damage, folks. Quite embarrassing, really.). Because of their support, I never viewed myself as a victim and still don't, even though I am one of millions, like those with Lupus, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), Fibromyalgia, etc. who walk around with an invisible disability. We TBI-ers are always told "Well, you don't LOOK brain damaged" or "Oh, we all get that way after forty." But no one gets like this over night unless they get knocked upside the head. And you will see more and more people walking around with TBIs in the future, as many of our soldiers are coming back from Iraq and Afganistan with mild to severe head injuries.
Anyway, the people close to me who "get" my disability (if you met me, you'd never know), know that it takes me a long time to form sentences properly on the page, and that I can't do something intellectually taxing (like writing) AND do something else in the same day, like say, go out to coffee with a friend, take a chatty walk in the woods with a pal, or go food shopping (too much stimulation and sensory input). I must manage my time carefully so I don't get lost or press down on the accelerator instead of the break when at a stop light (NOT a good thing!). But regardless of how long it takes me to write, it is extremely important for me to do this blog. I wish this blog had been around when I had my accident. I would have used the links and gone straight to the posts about emergency funding. I would have even written me a thank you letter like one of the ones I got today. Those little notes sure go a long, long way, I tell you.
What I do every time I post is to imagine someone like me, ten years ago, someone who is a bit overwhelmed, a bit exhausted and confused but who is very driven to do her art. I imagine that person has talent and passion and will try her hardest to never give up. That person is not going to be devastated by rejection letters, by illness or disability and will, time and time again, persevere for one reason only: she has to make art, no matter what.
I do this for you, dear reader, but I also do it for myself. It empowers and delights me to know that I can help a few people find time, money and a peaceful space to create. Ten years ago, I never would have imagined doing that. So thank you for sticking with me since the beginning of this blog. I hope this relationship continues a very long time.
May you all dream big dreams in 2010 and may some of them, if not all, come true!
Yours,
Mirabee