Abandonment Does Not Define Your Worth

 Since my accident, I have felt completely worthless. I have been shamed and disgraced. I was discarded from friend groups that wouldn’t be friends if it weren’t for me. My best friends replaced me. The first boy I ever loved told me I was a threat to society. I was used, abandoned, forgotten. For fifteen years, this has shaped how I see myself: irrelevant, replaceable, like my existence is a net negative—or at best, a big fat zero. Even though, for the first sixteen years of my life, all I ever did was make the people around me feel better.

I recently asked a friend why he loved me—why I mattered to him. He told me it was because I have infinite worth. But that wasn’t what I wanted. I needed more than just “infinite worth.” I wanted to know why I mattered to him. I wanted him to tell me how I helped him, or shaped him, why/how I am unique and irreplaceable to him.

Then my mom gave me an analogy that provided another perspective. She said our time on Earth is like a big puzzle. Without even one piece, the puzzle isn’t complete. That means every person is irreplaceable—not because of what they do, but simply because they belong. Even though that analogy sounds great, the abandonment, the pain, the heartache has attacked my internal worth for the last fifteen years. It didn’t affect me much on a personal level. But it did sound like a great illustrator to help you see what I’m trying to explain—and maybe it can begin to shift my mindset, even though that means rewiring a hard fifteen years.

Part of my problem has been that I didn’t have the right language for this. Semantics really is a big deal after TBI—and my speech therapist will attest to that! Once I was able to separate worth and value, things began to shift.

My worth is infinite, inherent, and unearned. It doesn’t change whether I’m having a good day or a terrible one. It doesn’t depend on what anyone else thinks or how many people show up for me. Worth is who I am as a child of God—equal to everyone else, neither better nor worse.

Value, on the other hand, can often feel transactional. It’s how we see the effect we have on others and the world around us. That value exists whether or not someone else recognizes it—but our ability to feel that value is often tied to whether they reflect it back to us. Our perception of value is what’s fragile and fleeting. Heavenly Father sees the whole picture—the eternal perspective—and so He can see our full value, even when we can’t.

I still don’t feel valued or appreciated. The loneliness of feeling irrelevant and unseen has left me with zero value in my own eyes. But I’ve finally been able to begin to understand that I still have worth, even though I don’t feel valued or appreciated. I’m trying to embrace it when someone tells me I make a difference, when someone shows they see me.

If you’re struggling with worth, remember that your worth is no different than anyone else’s.
If you’re struggling with value, try to remember that your value doesn’t disappear just because others don’t reflect it back to you. It’s not about productivity or recognition. It’s about the impact you make, even when you can’t see it.
And if you’ve been like me for the last fifteen years, maybe just knowing there’s a difference between worth and value might help. I hope so.

Validation

 I feel the need to address the reality of the physical consequences of an invisible injury. Everything about the physical body is driven by the brain. So naturally, when the brain gets injured, the rest of the body gets injured, even when you cannot see it. The debilitation is so real that any situation can stir emotional chaos within the entire soul. I absolutely cannot emphasize this enough. The most random things can become a trigger for my PTSD, and for the last 10.8 years I have struggled trying to distinguish between the different parts of myself. (additional information in these posts: Dissociative Brain Trauma , No Longer the Victim, The Riley Transformation, New Year, New Understanding, Love Yourself, What is a Traumatic Brain Injury, After 5 Years, It's Time for..., Shannon as a Temple)

My dad helped me write this post. But I had to put in a few cents, so I have inserted where I come in. 😊In regards to my dad’s post, we are NOT trying to make life difficult, we are NOT trying to be self-centered, and we are NOT trying to convey a message contrary of appreciation and love.       

              Dad: From my observation, a common challenge with brain injuries is the lack of self-esteem.  This often comes as the individual looks at their current situation vs their life before the brain injury and sees their deficits.  How we respond to their expressions of frustration, inadequacy, anger or discouragement can have a significant impact on how they feel about themselves.  That is where the concept of Validation come in.

              Validation is acknowledging that a person’s opinions, experiences, feelings and expressions are real, and that it is OK for the person to have them.  It is not accepting that they are true or based on fact or that we agree with those expressions.  It is simply allowing an individual to freely express their views without judgement, reprimand or incrimination.  Particularly in our society, we have a tendency to immediately reject and condemn the expressions of others when they differ from our own.  When that happens to us, we feel threatened and belittled—or in a word, invalidated.

              Validation does not come naturally to most of us. When someone expresses to us that they are feeling lonely or depressed, we often respond with something like, “Hang in there, things will get better.,” or perhaps “I know exactly how you feel because I have felt that way before.”  Although well-intentioned, those comments come across as dismissive of their feelings or shift the focus onto us and our feelings.  A more validating response is a sincere, heartfelt expression of, “That must be really difficult for you,” or “I can’t imagine how devasting that must be.”  Those responses offer empathy and understanding, not empty platitudes.  And more importantly, they allow the conversation to continue and be meaningful.

              Shannon insert here In addition to the more appropriate responses my dad mentioned above, it would be extremely helpful to then ask, “is there anything I can do?” But please, only ask if you will actually do something if offered a suggestion. Know that more than anything we just need someone to listen and we likely won’t have anything else you can do.

Another common response is justification. “I was super busy/I don’t have enough time” “Try looking at it from my perspective” “You need to be more sympathetic.” Any of those tells me that I am not enough. It says that whatever you’re using as an excuse is far more important than me. It also tells me that you don’t think that I understand what [busy/pain/stress/school/depression/fatigue/family/guilt/shame/etc] feels like. But validation is key, also in helping people with depression. 

              Dad Again, validation does not equal agreement.  One does not have to accept the premise of another’s feelings to have compassion.  We do have to realize that no matter how we may feel about a given situation, it is real to the other person.  Perception is reality, even if it is not truth.  As we sincerely and honestly validate the feeling and expressions of others, it helps build self-esteem and places us in a position to help that individual address and manage those feelings they are having.  Validation – Try it!!

            Shannon again: As brain injury survivors, we already feel inadequate because we lost all of our dreams, hopes, desires and most of all abilities - functions of our bodies and emotions. Justifying, dismissing, or simply invalidating communicates that you believe we are inadequate as well. Feelings are always valid, even if they are not justified (or true) the feelings are always valid. But even someone who knows that, like myself, still feels absolutely defeated when someone is redirecting the conversation away from my pain to focus on them. I feel like my feelings don't matter because I don't matter. This is an enormous problem. Please, help us all out - not just those with TBIs, but all of your relationships will improve if you practice a little more validation. 

My Ongoing Social Struggles

I haven't posted in a long time especially because I've been avoiding feeling anything for a long time. I distract myself in every way possible so that I can avoid the difficult emotions. With all of the heightened anxiety and lack of normal resources to help cope, I stuff everything that comes up into a tightly sealed bottle.
My life really does depend so much upon other people. It shouldn't. I know it shouldn't. But my life, post-accident, does. Other peoples' honesty, consideration, concern, etc matter a lot. The way other people view me or treat me defines and shapes the person I am. When I've had a peer who I felt truly loved and believed in me, I've thrived. I was growing and becoming the kind of person that I want to be. Why can't I do that for myself? It's what I want. I'm trying my best to love myself, I'm doing my best to focus on the Savior. But the pain is so real, so deep and so overwhelming that I just need someone to hold me. I need someone to care for me. I need sweet, unconditional (tangible) love from someone who chooses to be with me without any sort of obligation or alternative incentive. I don't want to feel this way. I really, really don't. Especially when literally no peer will love me. I have had ONE male peer give me a second glance in TEN years. But he doesn't even think twice about me now.

I feel so hopeless; so pointless. I am far too aware of my surroundings; who I am vs who I was and everyone around me. I know that when I spin out of control no one will come back, but there's nothing I can do about it. I know that I'm too much to handle often times, but I don't know how to stop it. I know I say or do wrong things but I don't know how to read social ques. And for me, social is everything. Social plays into everything else. Connection is what life is all about really. We came to the Earth to make connections with people and grow spiritually. How do those things happen? Through relationships! So how are you supposed to feel when you can't sustain a relationship despite everything else? How are you supposed to feel when people look at you as disabled when you don't feel disabled? How are you supposed to feel when people judge you for things that you do not do when you simply cannot do them? How can you feel worthwhile when everything around you tells you that you are worthless? How are you supposed to have any sort of motivation when you can't feel any joy? What am I supposed to do? I watched a doctor show recently that talked about only doing what makes you happy especially when you're in depression. But nothing makes me happy. Literally NOTHING.

After 5 Years, It's Time for a New Identity

     Exactly 5 years ago today, right around this time, absolutely everything changed for me. I was a junior in high school, about to finish up the year with dazzling colors. I loved people – regardless of any race, gender, height, orientation, disability, religion, even regardless of how awful someone would treat me. As you can imagine with someone like that, I had friends on my right and my left, wherever I went. I was excellent at math, currently taking AP Calculus. In fact, I was pretty dang good at every scholarly subject – and always had to have an A to prove it. I was very spiritually strong although it was kept mostly to myself. I loved the fact that I could get ready – and look stinking cute! – in less than 15 minutes in the morning.  By this time, I had worked myself up to one of the most valued debaters on Lone Peak State Champion Debate Team. From debate, I also met this cute kid I called my boyfriend. We had been “dating” for over a year and he knew everything about me. He was such a sweet kid and was absolutely okay to be with me and all sorts of my other friends – even when my other friends were all guys. If I wasn’t at school, debating, or hanging out with friends, I was most likely rollerblading. My favorite thing to do on my rollerblades was begin at the top of my very steep driveway, go all the way down very fast, and jump off the curb. Then I would go right back to the top and do it again… and again. And now that state had finished for debate, I had just gotten a job at Snoasis – the best job ever! I loved taking orders, making and serving snow cones.

     With all of the varieties of friends I had, coming from so many different backgrounds, I helped a LOT of people with a LOT of HARD stuff. I prayed multiple times for God to send some angels to a friend in need. Even after someone would accuse me of terrible, awful things; after someone would treat me like trash; and after someone would not give me the time of day – ignore or even avoid me, I just continued to treat them with love. Yes, times obviously would be hard, and I’d feel very hurt; I know that I had all sorts of challenges, but I was constantly working through them because I knew that eventually, I’d be able to come out on top.

     But it only took one motorcycle with a broken throttle and one backhoe parked in an odd spot to take my entire life and throw it all away. Initially, people – family, friends, doctors, EMTs were concerned if I still had any life left in me at all. As the next 2 weeks went by, I was on life support, in a coma, and people started wondering why so many resources were being used on someone who might not survive at all, and even if they did would likely be brain dead, or paralyzed. After I came out of the coma, I was put through vigorous therapies, but I was unable to comprehend the reason why. I was asked simple questions like, “What does a cow say? What number is between 3 and 5? How many hours are in a day?” I was so frustrated because my brain had not registered that it had been injured, so I thought I knew the answers to all of these questions, even though I did not. I also had to endure physical strain like I’ve never even imagined before. Re-entering this life, completely dependent on others, I had to teach my brain how to do everything – from walking and talking to swallowing and holding my head up - all over again. 

     Because I had not registered that I was severely injured and actually needed to be in a hospital, I was bound and determined to return home as quickly as possible, regardless of how much care I actually needed. Doctors warned and instructed me of a lot of things that would be harder to do as a result of my Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI). With the amount of trauma I had taken, I was unable to accept that I had a TBI, let alone that I had any added difficulties. When friends came around, I felt like they were treating me differently and I still could not believe that I was any different, so I became frustrated. However with a TBI, frustration does not stay as frustration. It turns into anger, lashing out, and threats of all kinds of ridiculous things. Before long, I had run every single one of my friends out of my life. Amongst everything else, school was excruciatingly hard, I couldn’t hold a job for very long, and my spirituality had plummeted. For the last 5 years, there has not been a single day that I have woken up and been happy to be alive.

     For the last 5 years, I have felt intense pain physically and emotionally. For the last 5 years, I haven’t been able to understand why I’m still here, living. Over the last 5 years, I have asked Heavenly Father to take me home countless times. Over the last 5 years, I have struggled with accepting what happened to me. However, the time that I said, “Shannon, it’s about time that you gave yourself permission to emotionally heal,” was possibly the most emotionally painful time. That was 5 months ago and I’m not done yet. With 5 grueling, heartbreaking years, and a lot of faith, trust and insight I am learning to accept my TBI and my life with it.

     I don’t want people to think of Shannon as the person I have been after my accident. Shannon L Blackham worked way too hard to let a stupid motorcycle and a dumb backhoe destroy her name. So please, stop and think about everything you knew about me before my accident. Think about that moment when you heard that I had been in a terrible accident that could possibly take my life. Think about how heartbreaking it was to think that someone who loved you so much and whom you loved in return could suddenly just be taken from you. Stop there. Please, don’t go any further. Shannon L Blackham DID DIE that day; the itty bitty pieces of Shannon that are still fighting inside of me are torn down by the TBI 99% of the time. The TBI has tainted the name of Shannon Blackham and her history in the lives of my own and others. Let us hold the good memories of Shannon and keep it at that.

     The image that I have of Shannon L Blackham is very great and therefore holds high expectations. Trying to live up to the image I have of that name is an extreme struggle. Given my new set of circumstances, I am not able to reach many of my previous hopes and dreams. I need closure from the life I lived before the accident. I recognize that closure doesn’t come to all people in the same way. The TBI wiped my memory of nearly everything therefore I don’t know what really happened after my accident. I only know that this traumatized, brain injured person does not act in accordance to the way that Shannon would have lived. Additionally, one of the strangest things, is that occasionally some random note, shirt, picture, or landmark will flood back dozens of memories with a particular person. The hard part about this though, is that all of those memories can be incredible, but because of the way our lives parted, it tears me apart. It destroys me every time I think about certain people from my past; it kills me even to drive past my old high school; the worst part is knowing that it is all my fault. Or at least it’s the person trapped inside of a traumatized, brain damaged body’s fault. It hurts more than one could imagine that I will never have the ability to be the Shannon L Blackham from before the TBI.  The last 5 years I have been in a state of limbo – no longer being Shannon Blackham; someone largely devoid of personal identity, friends, companionship, confidence, motivation and a desire to move forward. In short, I have been controlled by a TBI.

     As the hardest yet beneficial thing to do, I am saying goodbye to everything I have ever known. In so doing, I’m going to try to reset my goals, dreams and expectations. To do this, I need an entire identity switch. Please do whatever you can to not associate the person you’ve seen for the last 5 years with the name Shannon as she has been TBI. Although selfish, going forward, I’m asking everyone to stop calling me Shannon and start calling me Riley. I need to be able to put Shannon L Blackham to rest and embrace a new persona. A persona that I do not feel the need to justify every action by explaining my TBI, a persona that can accept my new set of qualities and challenges and stop comparing them to everything I was before. With Riley I hope to be able to once again find joy from no longer equating myself to pre-accident-Shannon.

Love sincerely,
     Riley

Heartbreaking Life

Scene 1:
I've been hanging out with this friend for a few years and he suddenly won't talk to me. I start to ask one of his friends questions and he texts me. So I said, "What did I do?"
"You bug the shit out of me."
Scene 2:
We liked each other in junior high, and we were the absolute best of friends. Before he left on his mission, we talked about how great it would be to see all of our old friends again, returned with honor. I went to his homecoming, wishing to welcome him with all my heart; but he never even acknowledged my existence.
Scene 3:
We were great friends in high school debate. Even though her parents didn't want her around me because of my "spiritual influence," we were still together quite often. In fact, I was there for her, and I walked her out of thoughts of suicide. I saw her at the school earlier this semester, and I needed to do a project on someone from a different country, so I asked her if I could interview her. She agreed, but never returned a phone call or text.
Scene 4:
I met someone and less than 24 hours went by before he said that I "annoyed him to the point of no return."
Scene 5:
In a matured mindset, I wrote a letter to an old boyfriend, explaining that it hurts me more than one can possibly imagine that I don't know what happened between us. I apologized for anything and everything I had ever done that has ever hurt him. I did not ask him to become my friend again, I did not ask him to like me again, I did not ask him to forgive me, I only asked him to acknowledge that he had received my email. That acknowledgement never came.
Scene 6:
I don't like to pick favorites (or bests) but if you look at how often we spent time together, this person has to be my best friend all throughout high school. I was there for her in ways that any typical person would think absurd. Parents divorce, health issues, step-parents, familial suicides, other girl issues, financial struggles, friends, the list goes on. But when I needed her, where was she? She found a new best friend. And now, she won't communicate with me, no matter what.
Scene 7:
My first class back in school was Social Work. You'd think that this would be a great place to meet people who truly care, who want to stay friends, right? Wrong. Or at least wrong in my case. In my defense, he did stay friends with me for about a semester after social work class ended. But then, he was sick of me too. I'd call and ask if I could stop by and say hello, his response was always, "NO."
Scene 8:
I met a very attractive young man classic skating. He told me that he wanted to see me again and he started writing me letters. It was truly adorable. Then he began making excuses, excuses that I believed for a while. Excuses for why we couldn't write anymore, or why he couldn't meet me for this date or whatever.
Scene 9:
I am still hurt by one boy, and his father, and his stake president, every single day. Every single day, it hurts to think that I'm not good enough. Not just that I'm not good enough for this one boy, not just that I'm not good enough to his dad, a bishop, or stake president. Although I know that it's not true, these people have en-graven the feeling that I'm not good enough for my Heavenly Father.
Scene 10:
Finding a friend, boy or girl, who actually cares about me. Someone who will truly be there for me through thick and thin. Someone who will let me care about them. Someone who loves me no matter what. This scenario hasn't happened. The hope for this one gets dimmer each and every time I interact with someone because of the previous scenes I've outlined and so many others just like them.

To say the least, I've gotten far too used to being ignored, avoided, or even blocked by the people I care deeply about. To anyone who has demolished me from their life, I have something that I would like to say:
I am so incredibly sorry. It breaks my heart knowing that my existence in your life was disgusting enough for you to discard of me forever. I wish I could stop pestering everyone, including myself with my presence. Whether you want this or not, I'll never forget you. I love you, I always have, and unlike you, I actually can say with absolutely no doubt that I always will.