Turn Text Only Off

Page Utilities

 
BrainLine Kids is a service of WETA logoTRI logo
 
Janna Leyde Blog Banner

Growing Up with Brain Injury

Comments [19]

Janna Leyde, for BrainLine, August 27, 2012

Page 1 of 2 | Single Page

Growing Up with Brain Injury

Janna Leyde

Multimedia

You can never predict when the epiphanies, the realizations, those a-ha moments are going to hit you.

I was in a bar. 2010, somewhere in New York City, and my friends and I were celebrating someone’s birthday or someone’s best friend being in town for the weekend — details I don’t remember. I do remember the Amazonian woman wearing what looked like an ’80s bridesmaid dress and the kind of plastic heels that come in a men’s size twelve. She was insistent upon predicting the futures of bar patrons. 

“You …  m’dear, are birthing a creative project,” she said, cradling my right palm. “Oh, it’s a life’s work. It will help others. I see you meant to be a healer. I see you a teacher…. Yessss … a teacher!”

She stretched the skin on my palm.

“Oooh, and honey child, you get your life together and a man’s a-comin’.”

Her hands were rough and she smelled like cheap sunscreen, plastic, and coconut. I thought about my book, about the chapter outline that I had just sent to my editor friend. I thought about the yoga teacher training program that I had just written a fat check for. I smiled and handed her a crumpled $5 bill, and she followed me over to my friends. We huddled around her as she pulled uncanny predictions from our palms. And then someone ordered a round of drinks and someone else dragged me to jukebox. Eventually, we forgot about the drag queen psychic.

A few hours later she came back, asking for my left hand.

“Oh my…” She was shaking her head. “I should never do people’s pasts.”

“It’s okay.” I wondered if you could see brain injury in someone’s palm reading. “Just tell me.”

Divorced parents, neglect, broken family, rejection, isolation. Her interpretation of my past spewed from her glittery lips in ugly words and phrases that I didn’t relate to. You were abandoned, abused.  “No, I was not abused as a kid.”Yes, abused. Definitely emotionally, psychologically abused. Yes, you were. And your parents are separated. I shrugged. It’s your dad. Yes, your father. He… “Oh.”

“It is time you admit these things.” She was squeezing my hand, leaning in close, overpowering me with glitter and the scent of suntan lotion. I pulled away to fish around in my purse for money. “Honey child, just admit these things and then you can move on.”

I thanked her, handed her $10, and willed myself not cry in the East Village bar as I sought out my friends. Three hours later, I was sitting in the dark at my kitchen table, feverishly Googling phrase after phrase: kids of divorced families; symptoms of emotional abuse; symptoms of psychological abuse; broken families; single parent families. I was taking notes. I was sobbing. Sad tears. Happy tears. I was realizing things.

It was my a-ha moment. I finally began to understand fifteen years of terrible feelings and why it was okay to have them. I understood why I was writing my book — the story of growing up with my dad’s brain injury — and why other kids (young and grown) needed it.

We — the kids of brain-injured parents — suffer in ways very similar to children who come from divorced families, children who have been emotionally or psychologically abused, children who have dealt with loss, children who have been neglected. We watch family dynamics flip and roles change, or dissolve. We feel paralyzing confusion. We feel guilt and remorse. We feel the need to fix things we can’t fix.

But it’s brain injury. It’s not divorce or death or abuse. Brain injury is no one’s fault and even when you try to tack blame on a place or a person, it doesn’t work. It’s misplaced. You — the kid — must be strong.

You did not lose the love of your life, your childhood best buddy, or your partner until death do you part. But you did lose your mom or your dad. And yet you didn’t really lose them, because they are not dead. They are something else that no one can really explain to you. Not even your friends who have been through death or divorce.

Mom or Dad is … different.

Yet, in the wake of it all, after one parent changes so does the other, and thennothing pans out the way you had planned, and it’s all out of your control. At some point you realize you have a choice: roll with it and grow up into someone you didn’t know you’d be or isolate yourself and get the heck outta Dodge as soon as you can. Either way, life is not going to be the same again. You — the kid — are not going to be the same.

I chose to roll with it.

I was fourteen when it happened on a rain-slicked highway. He was a passenger in a car that slid into a pile of other cars, and he hit his head (too hard). It was July, a random Tuesday, and he was supposed to come home and take my friends and me waterskiing. A Tuesday a few days after our father-daughter trip to New York City. A Tuesday full of typical teenage woes — bad skin, dumb boys, tedious to-do lists, Western PA rain.

One moment I was changing into my favorite white swimsuit. The next, I was sitting in a waiting room at Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh, surrounded by my family and family friends, all crying and planning and reassuring each other. I had my purse and notebook to keep me busy. I watched the news. I watched a pair of parents discuss plans about their son who had just been a motorcycle accident. I watched a woman try to speak Spanish to a nurse who could only speak English, something about a “ladder” a “husband” and a “fall.” I watched doors, hoping that my mother would come back through them. I watched for someone I knew to smile.

It was July 30, 1996, the beginning of “the after” that would forever follow “the before.” We all know the path — the hospital, the waiting, wishing, planning, pleading. The weeks of coma-silence (for some, for us). The hopeful explanation of recovery, the plans for rehab and for readjustment. Pills and paperwork. Searching for the new normal in a sea of inconceivable changes.

The second day at the hospital, a nurse handed me a book to help explain the inconceivable changes that were coming: When a Parent Has a Brain Injury: Sons and Daughters Speak Out.

Written exclusively for BrainLine by Janna Leyde, writer and yoga teacher.

Click here to read read Janna Leyde's blog.

For more information on Janna Leyde's memoir, He Never Liked Cake, click here.

Comments [19]

I was 8 when my mother suffered a tbi from a minor car accident. Those years were lonely, anxiety ridden times and I am still dealing with the effects probably more than my mom knows. I can identify with this piece so well. So much hurt, anger, resentment and confusion to this day but no one to "blame." PS facebook group link does not work and just redirected me to my home page. I was interested in checking it out. anyone have the correct link?

Jul 25th, 2013 2:34pm

The FB group has been started: https://www.facebook.com/groups/242838299190932/edit/

May 9th, 2013 3:27pm

It's kind of backwards to say that I'm happy that so many people are relating (so many kids like us!), but I think we all know what I mean. Thank you so much for reading and sharing. You can buy the book on amazon now (amazon.com, search: He Never Liked Cake. Yes, I'm going to start a support group, because I see there is yet to be one. If you are interested, friend me on facebook (Janna Leyde) and let me know and I'll invite you to the group. I think that's a great idea! Also, stay tuned as there will be another BrainLine article on this subject. Much love to you all, kids, parents, friends, caretakers and survivors alike. none of this is what one would call easy.

May 9th, 2013 3:05pm

I am so happy to hear you have written an book about this subject. My dad's car accident was in 1993, I was 23 years old. It was frontal lobe injury. He used to be an academic who never liked football. He is now a football fan and is impossible to relate to. It's all so sad to know that I could not fix it. But tonight, by reading your words, I realise that I too have been denying my feelings, grinning and bearing it and carrying on regardless. Dad, as I knew him, is no longer with us. The man who has been left behind needs care. I will look for your book.

Apr 15th, 2013 3:00pm

Thank you so much for sharing this. I know it will "hit home" with so many people who had to grow up in this situation. It would be nice if you started a support group on Facebook for children of parents with TBI's. Again, thank you.

Apr 5th, 2013 3:10pm

I had a baseball-sized brain tumor removed on 7/25/96....our 20 yr. old daughter was 3 back then. She plans to go into music therapy. I will pass this article on to her and those in the brain injury support group which my husband and I have established. The injury is to everyone in one way or another, and it takes a long time to heal! We are still learning how to function together (along with our 12 yr. old son born 4 years after the brain surgery)....and years from now, we will continue to deal with the impact which brain injury has on both the children and spouse of the injured. Thanks for sharing!

Mar 29th, 2013 5:07pm

Hello all. Just wanted to let you know that you can purchase my book, He Never Liked Cake, through Amazon, B&N.co--or an ebook here: http://goindiebooks.com/435450/. The official launch date is March, 20th, but I wanted to share with you folks a little early :) Thank you for all your kind comments!

Mar 13th, 2013 9:39am

thnax for sharing your story, it will no doubt help others to get through the tuff times and also help you , God bless u all xXx

Jan 10th, 2013 4:53pm

Thank you, you have brought tears and yet, you have made me more passionate.. I am a man who had a truamatic brain injury 6 years ago. I able able to do this-I can still resume most of my activities. My children and my wife are the strong ones. We need more forums like this one.

Jan 10th, 2013 4:26pm

I want to thank you for opening my eyes to what my children went through. I will definitely be purchasing this book.

Jan 10th, 2013 3:51pm

I am a TBI survivor of 5 children...it will be 6 years ago May 7, 2007. My oldest was going into 6th grade and my youngest just 4 years old. In the past I have tried to talk them about it, especially my oldest 3 but not sure if they know how to share what they have been feeling. I recently had a great breakthrough of healing (just few weeks ago) and I wonder what they are thinking now. They have been gracious, understanding,etc. but after reading this article, I wonder if I anyone...even myself...has ever tried to come at from their perspective. ON this day, I will begin to tread those waters...carefully and respectfully. Thank you so much...

Jan 10th, 2013 3:14pm

This is amazing and enlightening. My husband suffered a brain injury when my twin daughters were 14, same age as you. I am sure you would all be kindred spirits. Your work will help many children cope and feel understood. I cannot wait to read/share you book!

Jan 10th, 2013 2:53pm

Thank you all so much for your kind words and comments. It is inspiring (all things considered) to know I am not the only one out there. For years and years, I felt I was. Much love to all of you!! And--I\'m excited that you\'re all excited for my book :) You can get the latest and greatest updates here: https://www.facebook.com/HeNeverLikedCake?ref=hl

Dec 19th, 2012 11:12am

Thank you for giving me a deeper look into how my daughter must have felt all these 18 years since her dad suffered a brain injury. She has been so supportive, but I know she must have felt hurt in ways I might not have understood. I'm hoping we can both read your book and work on any hurts that remain.

Dec 18th, 2012 4:07pm

Thank you so much! My mother's accident was 25 years ago. I was five years old. You spoke the same feelings I've had for so many years. "The before", "the after", how everyone assumed everything was alright, and growing up fast. It is only now that I am realizing that I'm not alone. We need to help the forgotten children of brain injured parents.

Dec 18th, 2012 3:17pm

so sorry for your loss, but seems like it helped mold you into a strong and amazing woman.

Dec 18th, 2012 10:40am

It is always so difficult to know what to do when you are young I have an uncle who was never the same person but I knew I still loved him but didn't know how as a child. It was scary, confussing and a let down that he changed, which ment others had to change. I am looking forward to reading your book and pray that it gives you some direction as to where do you go from here...

Sep 13th, 2012 10:20am

Thank you - hearing that means a lot to me!!

Aug 28th, 2012 2:56pm

Can't wait to read that book of yours. My son has a TBI so I can relate somewhat. Your words were perfect!

Aug 27th, 2012 4:07pm


BrainLine Footer

 

© 2014 WETA All Rights Reserved

Javascript is disabled. Please be aware that some parts of the site may not function as expected!