On Befriending the Stranger In My Head

Because Every Part of Our Being Is Worthy of Belonging.

Tonight’s cotton candy sky, just outside my cottage studio.

I looked out my studio window tonight to cotton candy clouds and she pulled me out the door, camera in hand, to capture some of this waning evening light.

It has taken me the better part of 6 years of brain injury recovery to accept befriending the stranger in my head was even a possibility.

She is the raw to my refined.

The edge to my softness.

The wild to my wonder.

The profanity to my profundity.

But are those last two really that far apart?

Sometimes the most revolutionary words have only 4 letters and rage at the things we’d be sleeping through if we didn’t feel them in our bones.

Maybe that’s the real profanity— Sleeping through the seasons when things are crumbling around us; not feeling the things that pull us towards change.

Some days she still screams in 4 letters. Words that are not safe or subtle.

L-O-V-E might be one of them… along with a litany of others.

To love this wild stranger in my head. It’s something I still don’t feel like I have touched much more than the edges of.

I spent the first years since her arrival cursing her existence and sometimes my own.

I wanted my old brain back. Full stop.

The brain that could catalog thousands of words and rearrange them on a page; and make it feel like flying.

The brain that didn’t make writing an exercise in squeezing ink from a rock.

The brain that had very safe, nicely labeled compartments and emotions that stayed where they were told.

The brain that could problem solve and handle stress without folding in on itself.

The well-behaved brain that followed instructions, could focus for hours, figured things out on the fly, and devoured academic papers like delicacies.

Not this feral creature in my head that had opinions on everything.

The lights were too bright, the sounds too loud, and coffee, who in their right mind could stomach that?

Not this stranger who spun her way through space and dragged me along for the ride.

I spent the first 2 years trying to shove her into a corner or a basement or out a window. Just give me my old brain back.

My head pounded in response and I curled into balls in many corners.

The unwelcomed intruder that took my words and my strength and left me with no alternative, but to embrace weakness and rage because there were no other options.

The only option was to learn to breathe again through it all.

I was angry at her mere existence. I didn’t know that weakness and rage would become paths to learning to trust myself in new ways.

I hadn’t yet realized this stranger in my head was also me… Frayed edges and all.

Eventually, the war between us cooled to an icy silence.

One day 3-4 years in, I started thinking about this idea—The Wonder Habit™. I knew something was “there”, but I didn’t know then what it was.

I began to assemble notes and pick my way through what felt like ancient libraries on my hard drive filled with academic papers.

Things began to take shape. I puzzled out models till I landed on this. There’s a lot of research undergirding us here.

The Wonder Habit™ is more than art prompts. It’s about leaning into life and relationships and experiences with CURIOSITY. And having that curiosity make space for greater CONNECTION to ourselves, one another, and the world around us.

So much of our disconnection with others is because we are also disconnected from ourselves. We cannot give what we do not have.

As I chose to lean hard into being curious about the way my brain had changed and was changing, I started to see some of her wild ferocity as a brave embrace of life.

When we get curious, connection happens. And in the place of connection with ourselves and one another, this is where COURAGE is unlocked.

Courage and strength look like vulnerability and willingness to embrace our stories and be embraced by them.

Brené Brown famously talks about her research finding that the only accurate measure of courage is vulnerability. She also says that vulnerability is the birthplace of creativity.¹

As courage gives rise to CREATIVITY, we build resilience and begin to see the world differently. Living in a place of creativity opens us up to COMPASSION for ourselves and the world around us.

As I studied and sketched out these ideas, working them into my practice, I began changing.

I categorically do not want to just write about theories. It had to be real in me—this wonder habit. I had to walk it out and it needed to work itself out in me before anything else.

Part of that meant I began inviting my brave new brain to have a seat at the table.

When panic would set in from seemingly nowhere and everywhere, I started responding with more curiosity than cursing.

Hmmm, I wonder if I tried ___, would that make it better?

Curiosity spilled over into Connection and Courage and Creativity and Compassion in ways I could not have dreamed.

Slowly, the stranger in my head became a friend with gifts at the very least equal to her many frustrations.

I began to get to know my brave new brain and trust there was a better story ahead of us than behind us.

You may not have a brain injury, but we all have parts of ourselves, of our stories that at times feel strange and distant.

Parts of our being we push aside as unlovely. Weakness that gets walled off because it isn’t acceptable in an Insta-perfect world that bows at the altar of power and influence.

Beloved, every part of your being is worthy of belonging.

Every part of your story is worthy of being welcomed home and cherished.

You are welcome in this space. This is a safe place to be who you are.

And I am so glad you are here.

1. https://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_the_power_of_vulnerability