Finding My Better Angels

by Penny Costello

Regular readers of this blog know that I am a traumatic brain injury survivor, after sustaining a concussion in a fall eight years ago. As March is Brain Injury Awareness Month, I’m back with yet another chapter on the topic. I’d love for this to be the last time I’ll be compelled to write about it, but I can’t make any promises.

When you research the topic of concussion or Mild Traumatic Brain Injury on the internet, very often you will read that, in the majority of concussion cases, symptoms will resolve in a matter of weeks. But for some, the symptoms can last for months, or even years. In those cases, the condition is referred to as Post Concussion Syndrome. People who live with this condition can experience cognitive difficulties with focus, concentration, task initiation and completion, memory, and self-regulation, along with physical symptoms including headaches, neural fatigue (brain fog), tinnitus, light and sound sensitivity, and irritability. I experience several of these symptoms to this day.

In past lives, I was a sound and lighting engineer, a certified event manager,  a producer at Nebraska’s PBS station, and later, a grant writer and social media specialist for a local nonprofit. In 2013, a year before my injury, I started a freelance video production business as a side hustle, creating video content for start-up businesses.

In the week leading up to my injury, I was in production on a series on Nebraska Public Media called “Now What?”, a panel discussion program broadcast quarterly about elder and dementia care. The particular episode we were producing was titled “Understanding Brain Trauma”. Two of the guests on the panel for that program were Chris Stewart, a Resource Facilitator for the Brain Injury Alliance of Nebraska (BIANE), and Dr. Sanjay Singh, a Neurologist in Omaha.

In preparation for the studio production, we visited Dr. Singh at Creighton University Medical Center, and shot a video segment portraying the process of being seen by him for a brain trauma evaluation. In that video segment, I played the part of the patient.

A week later, I found myself at the bottom of a thirty-foot ravine with multiple neck fractures and a concussion. But the show must go on, and go on it did, thanks to my colleagues who finished editing the program for broadcast while I recuperated, having embarked on what has thus far turned out to be a lifelong journey to my own very personal understanding of brain trauma.

A Process of Redefinition

I loved my job. Developing story ideas, deciding who to interview to tell different aspects of those stories, traveling to locations around the state and helping bring those local community stories to a statewide audience, being part of a stellar production team, all of that fed my soul and satisfied my curious nature. It was an honor and a privilege to be able to do that kind of work.

After the concussion, something was different. I could still come up with story ideas, decide who should be featured, what I would ask during the interview. Verbally I could tell you the story, what it would look like, how it would play out. But when it came time to actually compile and organize footage, script and then edit the story, that’s where I hit a wall.  

Something was blocking the flow from my brain through my hands to a keyboard to a script or an editing timeline. A process that I had once loved and thrived upon had now become endless and excruciating. Not only for me, but for those colleagues and clients who wanted and needed me to be successful in completing the production.

Over time I had to face the fact that my video production career, or managing projects that were deadline-intensive, and demanded many hours each day staring at computer screens, were better left to those who were not grappling with Post Concussion Syndrome symptoms.

That was a very tough pill to swallow. And while I didn't want to let my brain injury define me, I came to understand that, for a time, I would have to let it redefine me.

I still have a video project from my side hustle awaiting completion for a client and friend who has kept the utmost faith in me finishing it, and who has offered infinite grace and patience. Failure is not an option on that one. It may be the last thing like that I do, or maybe in the process, those long-locked doors to creativity and joy will be reopened. A girl can hope.

Rediscovering Purpose

Shortly before I opted for early retirement from my public media career, I crossed paths with Peggy Reisher, BIANE's Executive Director. That encounter led to an invitation to serve as a board member for the organization, I got involved as a volunteer, and I began attending their annual conference.

When the COVID 19 pandemic struck, I got to redirect my television production and interviewing skills, along with newly acquired skills as a Zoom Pilot into creating and facilitating virtual support groups hosted by the Brain Injury Alliance four times monthly for people living after brain injury, their family members and caregivers throughout Nebraska.

In getting to know the people in these groups, I’ve learned that my experience is far from unique. While much has been learned about brain function and its ability to heal from trauma, the fact is for most of the people impacted by brain trauma, it’s an invisible injury. You couldn’t tell by looking at or speaking with that person that they’re grappling with those impacts on a daily basis. That invisibility often hampers their access to support services, rehabilitation therapies, and employment. Well-meaning friends, family members, and colleagues, in a sincere effort to be supportive, will say things like ‘You look great!’ or ‘You’ve got this. You just need to focus.’ And sometimes, ‘You just need to get used to your new normal.’ You just need to… If only it was that simple.

I’ve come up with a couple of pithy responses to those well-meaning, but less than helpful ‘just-need-to’s’.

1) On this journey of living after a brain injury, sometimes it’s hard to know whether this is a bump in the road, or it’s the road.

2) This is NOT my new normal! I’m forging new pathways.

Thanks to the Brain Injury Alliance, I’ve also been able to access training to be a certified peer support specialist, which has made me a better support group facilitator and mentor to others on this bumpy road, and it could lead to new career opportunities.

Recently I attended the 2023 BIANE Conference in Kearney. I was asked to moderate a panel discussion with the organization’s team of Resource Facilitators, including Chris Stewart, who introduced me to the Brain Injury Alliance all those years ago.

As I sat at that table in Kearney with the Resource Facilitators preparing for the panel discussion, I remembered how I had begun my journey toward understanding brain trauma, and my friendship and collaboration with the amazing staff of the Brain Injury Alliance. Looking back on the past eight years and pondering the synchronicity that led to that moment, I had to smile. That smile extended to the depths of my soul. I felt a wave of gratitude and recognition for … whatever the force is that watches over me, that was with me in the bottom of that ravine, and that has led me on this path to purpose and fulfillment in the years since.

The term “Better Angels” came to mind. Later, I looked up the famous quote by Abraham Lincoln.

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

As I read it, it struck me that brain injury survivors, or anyone who has experienced a life-changing injury or illness, at some point has had to process the feeling that their brain or body has been at war with them. We’re all seeking the moment when ‘the mystic chords of memory will swell.’ Perhaps that quote can serve as a metaphor for healing for people going through that process as it did for America when Lincoln said it.

Meeting My Better Angels

When Mary Kay Roth had the idea to start this blog, I wanted to continue to develop my skills as a writer and storyteller. Joining this very accomplished group of journalists, writers, educators, and community leaders has been not only an honor, but also a way for me to forge a new path, and to see if I could hold my own in such esteemed company. But it hasn’t been without its challenges.

Sometimes the words and ideas flow from my brain to the keyboard, and sometimes they don’t. And while my sister Mavens of Mayhem are kindly tolerant of what I call my mercurial meanderings, it bothers me when I sometimes can’t churn out the content every fifth week, as they consistently do. Recently, in a conversation with Mary Kay, Marilyn, and JoAnne, I expressed my frustration and embarrassment over deadlines missed, and my bouts with writer’s block. I asked for their advice for better establishing a habitual practice of writing.

The responses I received were kind, constructive, and compassionate. While they understood my struggles, Mary Kay and Marilyn stressed the fact that they miss my voice in those weeks when it’s absent, and assured me that what I have to say and how I say it through my writing is unique and of value. All of that was much-needed salve for my soul, and my motivation. Then JoAnne echoed her faith in my ability to work through this struggle. “Not only that,” she added, “but I expect you to do that.”

Each in their own wondrous way were saying, “Yeah, I get that it’s hard, but you’re worth it, so show up, for us, for our readers, and for you.” 

Expressing those gentle expectations was the best way they could help me be successful. They were being my better angels when I couldn’t summon them myself. Sister Maven Mary Reiman was unable to be with us that day, but she is an equally supportive and angelic presence amidst my bouts with Mayhem.

Meanwhile, back at the conference, I ran into Kim, the neuropsychologist with whom I did rehabilitation therapy in the months following my injury. It has been nearly five years since I’ve seen her. But in our sessions together, I spoke with her at length about the struggles I was having getting projects finished, and grieving the loss of the joy I used to reap from crafting and editing stories. Reconnecting with her at the conference was an unexpected treat. She asked about my family, I told her about the virtual support groups, peer support training, and how much I enjoyed being involved in those efforts.

And then she said, “I have to ask you. Did you ever finish that video project you were working on?” Yes. That one. The one that is still waiting to be finished.

Another better angel encounter. All I could do was smile at her and reply, “No, I haven’t. And thank you for asking, because it is my next big goal to by golly get it done. Failure is not an option. I am determined to finish it. I can’t not do it.”

Then she said, “I still have your email. I’m going to send you my contact info. When you get the video done, I’d really like to see it.”

Better angels indeed. My better angels are present, accounted for, and they have my back. And as we come to the close of Brain Injury Awareness Month for 2023, I’m grateful for the deepening and evolution of my own awareness, not only of the impacts of brain injury, but also of the power of our inter-connectedness. And I'm committed to be a better angel for others whenever possible. 

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a video project to finish.

***

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Facts Matter

by Mary Reiman

I watch a television program, Alaska Daily, because the main character, a journalist, is always looking for the truth. As she says, ‘because facts matter.’  Eileen is tenacious. Later in last week’s segment she said ‘...so do the right thing.’

It confirmed what I have been thinking all week. 

Facts matter...at least they should matter.

It was a cold, blustery afternoon when I walked up to the big green door on the south side of our State Capitol. Perhaps the weather was an omen. 

I did not expect a warm and fuzzy reception. I was an opponent to the bill.   

But I did not expect what was ahead as I walked through those majestic hallways. 

I located the committee room with closed curtains making the room feel colder than the air outside, there to testify against a bill that would curtail access to educational resources. Age appropriate information. Accurate information. Information on both sides of the issues to help us form our own opinions. Facts. 

As I listened to the proponents of the bill, I realized there was a deeper agenda. A hidden agenda? 

For the 2 weeks since then, I have been trying to figure it out. What was the true purpose of the bill? Why were so many of the proponents from other states? 

I have testified in years past, this seemed more ominous.  

What did they truly want to accomplish? Why did the senator sponsor this bill? I wanted to ask those questions when I was testifying but each of us had only three minutes to speak. Three minutes to try to explain why we are concerned about the ramifications of the bill they are proposing. 

At the end of each bill being considered, the chairman of the committee announces how many on-line comments have been received. The number of proponents and the number of opponents. Six bills were discussed that afternoon. By the third bill when I testified, three of the eight senators on the committee were still in the room, plus the senator who had sponsored the bill seated in the audience.

And then it was over. 

I wanted to talk with the senators during their break. However, I believe the men in the red coats were in the room to stop people like me who had questions for the senators. Could these concerns have been addressed without legislation? Where did the proponents locate the salacious material they described? Would they please cite their sources? Most importantly, did anyone consider having a discussion with representation from both sides of the issue before it was determined that new legislation was needed? So many questions. 

The whole afternoon was a wake-up call for me. 

In the past, I looked over the legislative updates in the daily newspaper but did not always go to the Nebraska Legislature: Search Bills and Resolutions to give my position on bills coming up for a vote. 

Since last week, it’s different.  

I am reading bills more carefully, trying to get into the minds of those writing bills, as well as those sponsoring the bills. 

Opposing bills that are intrusive or unnecessary to protect our individual rights, supporting much needed humanitarian legislation. 

Consider LB 739. This bill will increase appropriations across the state to support funding for services to survivors of domestic assault and sexual violence. Mostly women and children, these survivors need a variety of services. Medical, psychological and legal services, as well as shelter. Sadly, demand for these services has increased greatly in the last 5 years, at the same time significant cuts have been made to a federal funding source. This funding is needed. Your support of this bill must be submitted by noon tomorrow, Monday, March 20th.

When you see a bill that raises the hair on the back of your neck OR one that makes you nod in agreement because it needs to be funded, go to Nebraska Legislature: Search Bills and Resolutions and give your opinion. In the top right corner, type in the bill number. Follow the screen directions and designate if you are a proponent, opponent or neutral. Click on the “Find Your District” box and your district will magically appear. 

Share your comments/opinions.

It is our right, whether we are a proponent or an opponent. Show them we are listening, we are watching.

Now, more than ever, make your voice heard. You don't need to attend the hearings at our Capitol. Make your voice heard from the comfort of your home. Check on the bills every day and share your thoughts.

Facts matter. Our voices matter.

The power of Women Talking

By JoAnne Young

 

If you are someone who tries to watch all the Oscar nominated films each year, you’ve probably seen “Women Talking.” I confess I’ve seen only two of 10 of those deemed Oscar worthy: “Women Talking” and “The Banshees of Inisherin.” 

 

“Women Talking” had the most punch-you-in-the-gut force. It's still there, bouncing around in my head. I can't shake it loose. It's telling me, we shouldn't be just talking. We should be shouting, bellowing, crying out. 

I followed up my first viewing with a podcast on “We Can Do Hard Things” with the director/screenwriter/political activist Sarah Polley … four women talking about sexual assault and “hope, survival, imagination and revolution,” about burning down the world order and building from the ashes. The podcast ended and a torrent of feelings rained down. Knowing I had some hours left on my rental, I watched the movie again. I had to stop every so often to absorb and let the emotions die down before continuing. 

 

It’s based on a true story of a Mennonite colony in rural Bolivia in which, between 2005 and 2009 more than 140 women and girls, ages 3 to 65, were raped by their cousins, brothers, uncles, nephews ages 19 to 43, according to reporter Jean Friedman-Rudovsky. For five years they would sneak into homes in the black of night and spray their victims with an animal anesthetic made from the belladonna plant. When they awakened, bruised and inflamed, with blood and semen stains on their sheets, serious headaches and no recollection of what took place, they are told it was wild female imagination or ghosts or Satan, punishing them for their sins. Or they were accused of lying for attention or to cover up adultery. The assaults resulted in pregnancies and deep psychological wounds.

 

Nine men from the colony were eventually found out and accused after one was caught and confessed the names of the others. They were taken to a nearby town and jailed, for their own safety. The rest of the men in the colony then went to town to bail them out. 

 

In the imagined book and movie, the women claim for themselves the power to decide how they would react to those rapes. 

 

The women, who were never taught to read or write, were told they had two days to forgive the men or be banished from the colony and thus, from God. As women of faith, that was not acceptable. They voted, instead, on three other choices: Do nothing, stay and fight, or leave together. While the men were away, three families of women came together in a barn to decide how to proceed, while the other women tended to the many chores. (Not doing so, they said, would result in mayhem.)

 

I was fascinated with their discussion, to watch the process that led finally to the consensus of what to do, for the wellbeing of their bodies, their children, their faith. 

 

During that talking, there emerged a fourth option: Ask the men to leave. They look stricken. One of older women says: “None of us have ever asked the men for anything. Not a single thing. Not even for the salt to be passed, or to take the washing in, or to open the curtain, to go easy on the small yearlings, or to put your hand on the small of my back while I try again for the 12^th or 13^th time to push a baby out of my body.”

 

Isn’t it interesting, she continues, that the one and only request we would have of the men would be for them to leave? The women bust out laughing. 

 

In the podcast discussion, which is another version of women talking, Polley describes the movie as a fable about all of us, about all the conversations we are having in our families, our friend groups, our churches, our states and our countries. It’s about what harms have been done to women, how women are taught to behave, either directly or through the lessons of what other women experience, how we learn to forgive ourselves and each other. 

 

How do we reimagine a different world for ourselves, our children, our grandchildren, one in which we don’t have to solve the problems of sexual harassment or assault, domestic violence or subtle or overt discrimination, through legislation or courts or education? One in which telling men simply to stop these acts is not shocking or laughable. 

 

We are in the barn, too, talking. 

 

The movie and book, and the true story of these women in Bolivia, have given me a new view of the individual and groups of women I meet with and our conversations. I never walk away without at least some insight into my life, into theirs. 

 

Sarah Polley has talked and written about her own sexual assault as a teenager, how her assailant was nearly twice her age, and how she responded by not reporting it, by treating it for years as a funny party story about her worst date ever, by being deferential to her attacker when she would see him. In reality, it was a “traumatic, violent encounter” and she was terrified and hurt. 

 

It made me think of my own #metoo encounter at age 9, one I have thought of as probably not serious enough to count as a #metoo experience because it was not a first-degree sexual assault. Even so, it has affected me to this day in ways I seldom talk about. 

 

This story of women talking is about us all, about domestic violence, date rape, verbal assaults in person and via social media. Name calling and threats. 

 

“It’s about looking at all of us and all of the conversations we’re having,” Polley says.

 

“Women Talking” has been Oscar nominated for Best Picture and Adapted Screenplay. My guess is it won’t win Best Picture. But it will be the most profound in the hearts and minds of many of us who saw it. 

Follow us on Facebook at 5 Women Mayhem.

A New Level of Outrage

 by Marilyn Moore

Remember that attraction at county fairs or other such gatherings, where you could swing a sledgehammer and see how hard you could hit the target?  It was kind of like a giant thermometer, and if you hit it hard enough, the indicator would go clear to the top, and red lights would flash and bells would ring?  I have an internal such indicator, my outrage thermometer, and it’s been getting a workout.   

In a legislative session in which the majority seems determined to restrict some pretty basic rights, e.g., citizens who want to vote, women who want to be in charge of their own bodies, students who want to learn all of history, not just a white-washed (literally) version of it, it seems there’s a new reason for outrage every day.  The most recent, but surely not the last, is a new revelation this week about the misleadingly named Opportunity Scholarships.

That’s the name given to what is in fact a huge tax break for persons or corporations who donate funds for the purpose of providing scholarships for students to attend private or parochial schools…the latest attempt to use state funds to support private schools.  This effort uses the sleight-of-hand process, in that instead of allocating state funds directly, which would be a politically unpopular, and perhaps unconstitutional, decision, the tax laws are re-written to let the donors do it instead, and reward them with a major tax break.  Not just a deduction, but a credit.

There are more than 500 non-profit organizations in Lancaster County.  For every one of them, if you make a donation, you get a deduction on your state and federal income tax, if you itemize deductions.  The donation is subtracted from your gross income, which lessens your tax liability.  In the case of Opportunity Scholarships, however, the donor gets not a deduction, but a tax credit…a direct dollar-for-dollar credit against the state income tax that is owed.  That’s a huge difference (do the math on your own tax form to see how it works), and it clearly sends the message that the State of Nebraska values a contribution to private and parochial schools more than a contribution to any of the thousands of other causes that are supported by non-profit organizations.

The writer of the proposed legislation, LB753, states that it is in Nebraska’s interest to assure that all students receive quality K-12 education, and that it is possible that some students’ needs could be met better by a private, rather than a public school, so therefore it serves the State of Nebraska to support private schools through donations that result in a tax credit.  I might argue that it’s also in the state’s interest to assure that children have reliable access to healthy and nutritious food, and that children live in safe and healthy homes, and that they have access to regular health care.  By the same argument that is advanced for donations to scholarships, the State of Nebraska should also offer tax credits for donations to the Lincoln Food Bank, and Habitat for Humanity, and Clinic with a Heart – all of these, and countless more, fill in the gaps of unmet critical needs in children’s lives.  But no, these worthwhile organizations, providing essential services for children and families, are worthy of only a tax deduction, not a tax credit.

These arguments, and many others, have been heard in the legislature’s Revenue Committee, because a tax credit will, of course, reduce revenue to the state.  Or, as LB753 is structured, it will require state resources to offset the tax credit.  And the bill has been advanced out of committee, with $25 million set aside to fund it, and debate by the full legislature will begin this coming week.

The most recent outrage on this bill is the news that broke earlier this week (February 27), in a story by Aaron Sanderford of “The Nebraska Examiner.”  Sanderford reported that a group of three non-Nebraskans contributed more than $700,000 to the Nebraska Federation for Children, for the explicit purpose of electing Nebraska senators in 2022 who would support using public money for private education.  And in that group of three big spenders, the identifiable name is Betsy DeVos, former Secretary of Education in the Trump administration, who made it her major goal at the federal level to use public monies to support private education through out-spoken advocacy for charter schools and vouchers at every opportunity.  Why, one might wonder, does Betsy DeVos care about legislative seats in Nebraska?  I would speculate that it’s part of her playbook to erode support for public schools, leaving a vacuum for private, and for-profit private, education to take more and more of the public dollars.  

If gaining influence in the Nebraska legislature is Betsy DeVos’s goal, her $700,000+ investment paid off.  According to Sanderford, the group supported nine candidates.  Particularly high dollar amounts were invested in four races, and of the four, three were elected, all of whom support the use of public dollars for private schools.  

Political observers note that this is the largest infusion of “outside” funding supporting local legislative races.  One might anticipate that such funding will continue, and that it may play out in local races, too, like elections for mayors, city councils, county commissions, and school boards.  As the spring primaries approach, and the campaign ads fly fast and furious with overtones of evil, follow the money…who is paying for that ad….  

But I must add, outrageous as I believe public dollars for private education may be, and especially the presence of non-Nebraska money in that effort, the greater outrage in this session is the harmful, hurtful, and downright ugly language used about and against our most vulnerable children, the LGBTQ kids, and especially the trans kids.  This is the student population with the highest suicide rate of all, and we, the State of Nebraska, are talking about denying medical care to them, denying opportunities on sports teams, dictating the most personal of decisions (how and where to use a public bathroom), and in general sending a message that these students, and their parents, are somehow or other “less than.”  

If we as a state adopt Opportunity Scholarships, and it turns out to be a bad public policy, which I believe it is, future legislatures can change it.  But if this anti-gay, anti-trans language continues, we can never undo the harm that is inflicted on individual children right now.  And that’s truly outrageous.