That Day Ruined My Life

My daughter said something yesterday, after 14 years of living with a severe tbi, I have never heard her say before. “My life was ruined that day!”

I had been sitting in the car and waiting for Veronica to get her manicure and pedicure, which is normal for us. But it was 97 degrees, and I was waiting in the car. I usually take this time to read a book or look at my phone or call people. I could have gone in the shop where it was air conditioned, but the problem for me was, having a tbi too, I did not want to hear the chatter of voices and music playing in the background. I wanted to sit in complete silence. When Veronica returned to the car, I complained a bit about how long her appointment had taken, and she said I should have gone home, and she could have ubered home. I don’t like her to uber alone because I worry it is not safe for her. Veronica said, as she often does, “I wish I could drive,” which is often followed by, “I want to try again.” Knowing this is not a possibility because she has already been trained and tried 4 other times in the past, and has not been able to, I said, “You cannot drive.” She abruptly began yelling, “I know I can’t drive! I can’t have kids! I’ll probably never get married! And I will probably live with you and dad forever!”

“THAT DAY RUINED MY LIFE!”

All I could think of was the times Veronica said she was still happy and has a good life even with all that has been taken away. I had no words. I could say nothing to make her feel better. As her mom, I want to fix.

I was wrong. Veronica was upset and after talking a bit more, I learned Veronica was not going to say she wanted to try driving again. She said, “I know I can’t drive! I remember that!” Next time I could approach it differently. Next time I could ask her, “Are you saying you want to try to drive again?” and give her the opportunity to say, “No.” instead of assuming what she is thinking. Maybe this downward spiral of yelling and crying sadness could have been avoided if I had not so blatantly pointed out Veronica’s lack of ability to drive. The things she cannot do are known by her every single day she cannot be on her own to have the freedoms of others. She yelled with her raspy, strained, quiet voice, in tears, “I don’t get to do what others my age get to do!”

The sadness I feel for Veronica’s losses are crushing. I can’t fix this. All I can do is pray that God shows Veronica why he kept her here on this earth and pray she can find happiness in what she has been given, which is so much, yet some days, not enough.