Having been a serious athlete from grade school through college, I know and understand the value of “team.” To work, or to play, with the same people on a regular and consistent basis grows the group’s morale while increasing an individual player’s self-confidence. I had that with my sports’ teams, my classmates, and even my office job, and today, as I write independently at home, I still have it, but in a different way. Today, instead of noticing the same faces from day-to-day, it is the subjects, or news stories that are most recognizable. The online presences of people I already know IRL, are features I, too, become familiar with. Sure, it can be lonely, but such is the future! To befriend “Siri” and “Alexa” seems to be the way our modern society is headed. So, get ready…
However, while many reading this blog will attest to the fact that the camaraderie and teamwork it takes to carry out predetermined office objectives are the things that motivate working adults, I found that just to see the same faces day in and day out is what motivated me. Yes, I wanted to succeed for myself, but I really wanted I most wanted to assist my team, my coworkers.
Ever since June 14, 2001 my life was never meant to be traditional. Today, right at this minute, I consider my version of “coworkers” to be the staff at Flywheel Sports (where I regularly take spin and barre classes), “Kenny” the one-legged homeless man I pass on the street everyday on my walk to spin class, the head doctor and his staff at The Brain Resource Center (where I undergo neurofeedback and TDCS for brain fitness and therapy), the regular bartenders and wait staff of the local haunts that I happen to frequent, the regular patrons at said restaurants and bars, and the fellow stand-up comedians whom I know from my earliest days of NYC living when I was a consistent fixture at certain comedy open mics. My version of “coworkers” changed most dramatically when I moved residences and also when the central ambition in my life shifted—like, when I went from familiarizing myself with New York City living and healing soon after the accident, to educating myself in finance, to writing jokes, and then to writing creatively for school.
And yes, between the effects of my brain injury (which are my freewheeling mind and unadulterated mouth), and the inevitable result of living in New York for so long, I now have no choice but to speak my mind. Almost like living without a filter, what comes out of my mouth comes directly from my brain. This brutal frankness has led to many disagreements, and in some cases, all-out fights between my “coworkers” and me, as well as between family and me, today, but I still refuse to remain silent.
Today, there really is no such thing as a “typical day” for yours truly. Each day of the week is consumed by attending to the many different communities that play parts in my life. Whether I’m including myself among “team exercise,” those members and “coworkers” will be different from my afternoons, during which I’m bound to writing from home, or visiting therapists and doctors. My days change at the drop of a hat. The way my own life runs certainly is not what other 30-something single females living by themselves in New York City would consider “typical,” but this life has finally become acceptable to me…and that has made all the difference.
My life and future is uncertain, and I’m fine with that…finally.