Heart Balloons

This is my 4th attempt at this post. I struggle to find words that articulate my feelings. In recent days I have been rejected over and over and over – which adds additional anxiety in trying to convey these feelings to other people. I don’t know how my words will be taken, if they will be taken seriously, or with the intent that I want them to represent.

              To be honest with you, my previous drafts have been much more eloquent, and I may post at least a version of them later. But I have been hurting for far too long and I cannot “continue to pump more air into my heart balloon.”

              Around the time of my anniversary, I was hit brutally by some people I thought were friends. If being ‘spit upon’ then abandoned was not bad enough already, taking advantage of so many of my vulnerabilities when they know about them is even worse. At that point I stopped being able to do things that I enjoy – learning, studying, rollerblading – and I began to analyze why.

              I thought of many different analogies and metaphors. The best representation that I came up with is ahead, so bear with me. As people, we want to be a happy, beautiful, high-floating heart balloon. What every person knows but not many accept, no one is always floating high. That’s because in this made-up analogy there is no knot that you can tie at the bottom of this balloon. This means that sometimes occasionally, sometimes frequently someone must pump helium air into your balloon.  

            I have a hole in my balloon. I am definitely an extrovert insofar as I get energy, happiness, motivation, etc. from being around other people – more specifically, peers. They give me the drive to keep pumping air into the balloon. However, when they leave (further inducing my abandonment issues) they stretch my hole even larger. Without repair to the hole, deflation is inevitable. 

Over the last 11 years, I cannot seem to hold on to a single one of my peers. I feel like I have been abandoned. Cognitively I know that may not be the case. However, that is what I feel. I don’t know what it is exactly that I do. I know that I think that I’m still 16, and that is not okay. I don’t have a choice in that. I know that I expect a lot of other people because I feel like I’m still a dependent. I know that I require a lot of patience especially when the TBI takes control. But I also know that I have one of the largest hearts of anyone I’ve ever met. My initial statement at an orphanage in the Philippines was imprinted on my Filipino friend’s heart “I don’t even know you, but I love you!” I think that I was loved everywhere I went before the accident; I assume that it was for that kind of reason. I am still that person behind the TBI. I wish I had more control of the TBI and that others could see past it.

  Just as my balloon is deflated, so are many, many others. If you feel like you’re doing well right now, I bet there are many people in your family who are not. Or maybe you’re not floating so high. Self-esteem is critical, exterior support is crucial; so let us all find a way to be Angels Among Us, by offering a “kind word from a stranger [or] a phone call from a friend.”