Letter To The Newly Brain-Injured Me

Below is the letter I wish the me of today could send the me who just woke up from a coma.

Dear Will,

I know you’re confused. I know you’re lost, and I know you have no idea what’s going on right now. It’s okay; everything’s okay- I mean, it doesn’t feel like it is, but it is, and it’s going to be. I need you to know that everything’s going to work out. It’s going to take some time, but it will. I need you to believe that this moment right now, this moment you are in is going to take some work; it’s going to take a great deal of hard work, determination, and you can get through it. Really though, I don’t need to tell you that. You don’t have a problem putting your nose to the grindstone; you never have. You have a problem with thinking the grindstone will fix things, that you can put enough blood sweat and tears into something to make it work.

I need you to understand that it’s okay to not be okay. You are going to have a hard time telling anyone this; people will ask you, “Are you doing alright,” or “Are you having a good day,” and, you’re going to smile, because love it or hate it, you can’t help it. You’re going to say, “I’m doing great,” though, you’re not doing great. You’re going to say you are, and some days, you’re going to say it so much that, on those days, you’re going to believe it. Stay in those moments. Rest in those moments where you feel okay but remember- promise me you’re going to remember- that it’s okay to not be okay.

Because, truth is, you’re going to feel like a failure. Many times, over the next years, you are going to feel like a wasted and squandered soul. There are times when your best isn’t going to be good enough. Remember that grindstone? You’re going to break your nose on it, and you’ll feel broken yourself. This is okay. Remember, things are going to work out.

That failure is going to push you to success if you let it. You’re going to fall, yes. Don’t be afraid of it though. Let yourself fail; I know, you struggle with that, because you feel that every time you fall, people think it’s because of your disability. Forget them. People will put you in a box whether you like it or not. Show them their box is a failed exercise by shattering it, by learning from your failure and becoming something beautiful. Other people do not control you. Do not let your fear of what they might think stifle who you are.

Every failure you experience, every mistake, missed opportunity, everything is not only a learning opportunity, it is a path towards where you need to be. Failure is good. Stop hating your failure and embrace it. You messed up? Good. Where is that taking you? You are struggling? Good. Learn your place beyond the struggle. I know, I know; they all sound like platitudes, but hear me Will, you are not a measure of your achievements; you are not your grades; you are not your friends; you are not what others think of you. Now, this one will come much later, but you are not your paycheck. If you never step off the ledge, you’ll never fly. If you let your fear of fulfilling the expectations you think people have for you, you will prove them right. Risk yields reward.

LIVE YOUR LIFE. SCREW UP.

Samuel Beckett once wrote, “Fail. Fail again. Fail better.”

Now, I know you love Mr. Beckett, but he’s wrong here. Fail. Fail again, but you can’t be focused on failing better; you must be focused on seizing the opportunity, and learning from not just the craft of writing, a specific activity or ability, but seizing the blessing the failure yields you. Failing better means trying the same thing again; sometimes, that failure is to show you to do something differently, something new. Your failures in life are going to redirect you.

Sometimes, those mistakes will point your life to something else.

You are going to feel like a failure in graduate school; that’s okay. God is teaching you about where you need to be. Accept that.

You are going to feel like a failure teaching high-school. (Right now, you think I’m crazy, but watch, it’s going to happen).

And, it’s okay. Accept what you see as failure, and let it point you to the next thing.

Make sure, though, to remember that no second of your life is wasted. Even in your “failures” you are being used. God is shining through you in ways you will never see.

Don’t let your failures take away your shine. Let them direct where you need to point your light, but always make sure to breathe on the ember and make it shine brighter.

You are healing. You are growing, and at any moment, any time, God is shaping you into who you will be and using you in the moments you cannot stand to be in and the moments you cannot enjoy who you are.

Your life is going to work out, trust me. Your failures? They will lead you to a beautiful woman who you will start a family with.

And, I know you, you little capitalist rascal; you want me to tell you your career will work out too. Right?

Yeah. You’re going to love what you do. You’re going to fall; everyone falls, but at the end of each day, God will continue to show you how much light he is shining through you. You will have days where you feel like limp, smoldering wick, but all the while, he’s going to be blazing behind you.

So, get out there. Live. Live and fail. Fall and tumble. Let your face be scratched and scarred, but even if you are missing a few teeth when you stand up, you’re going to be smiling so wide you’re not going to care.

Will Carter is a native of Roswell, Georgia. He suffered a traumatic brain injury in October of 2007, while he was a senior in high school. After a stay at the Shepherd Center, he went on to get his Master of Fine Arts in Playwriting & Master of Arts in Teaching. Now, he lives in Roswell with his wife and daughter and teaches at Kennesaw State University. His work has been published in Brain Injury Hope Magazine, The Purpled Nail, Uncomfortable Revolution, and His View from Home. He loves his job, sharing his story with his students, and encouraging them on to live their lives to the fullest.