It’s hard to believe that it’s been 1 year, 2 days, since my day of freedom. Although that day was supposed to be July 17th in 2008, in actuality it was July 18th, a Friday. This past spring, it seemed like June, when memories reared up of June last year filled with pre-trials and insurance company self-righteous intransigence, went on forever, and then suddenly the first year is over. The 18th came and went, and I felt good, hardly thought about last year at all. But what a year it’s been.
The big lie was exposed for what it is, all the problems I’ve had were not due to fighting the insurance company, but due to the brain injury and all that flowed out of that initial event. The one thing ending the insurance fight did do though was it allowed me to come out and be myself online. It was strange at first, but now that anonymous life seems but a distant strange dream. I continue to improve spontaneously; it’s true what people, not doctors, told me: improvements will continue for years and years, even a decade or more later.
The best part of these improvements is that I’m now writing my second book. For awhile there, I wasn’t sure my butchered imagination was up to the task, but it’s regrowing too. I had a great meeting with my editor last week about my outline, and I have a pile of homework to do before I can start the fun stuff: the writing. I’ve already begin the homework, and it’s a good feeling. The best part is, being free, I will not be grilled on doing it, how much time I spend on it, when, where, its quality, who’s going to read it, and I will definitely not be mocked at, laughed at, told I have a nerve to think I should get income replacement for writing. Real human beings don’t do that.
