The headache and heartache of romance

BY: MARK KONING

As Valentine’s Day approaches, love is (supposedly) in the air, but what does that mean to a brain injury survivor? Personally, I’m not a Cupid fan favourite. Are my feelings brain injury related? I don’t know.

PHOTO: ANTI-VALENTINE’S DAY

The thought of recognizing a shared love with close family and friends basically sits well with me. But the celebration of romance? That just gives me a headache. I don’t have anything against the concept of a relationship between two people – whether it’s in a marriage or a ‘going steady’ deal – but the idea of personally entering into a romantic relationship with someone causes an intermittent cranial pain.

I find just the idea of cramming liaisons between two partners into one day overwhelming. I understand that romance is a blossoming thing that is not just about one calendar day, but still…

I’ve experienced a few relationships throughout my life which have resulted in happiness and heartache as tag-alongs. Some of these I’ve written about in my book, Challenging Barriers & Walking the Path.

Nothing I’ve gone through has grown into a long, lasting, relationship. These experiences have, however, lead to feelings of discomfort. I’ve been faced with not knowing what to do or say, and seeing as how I’ve grown up not knowing what to do or say, the feeling scares me. I’ve had, and still have at times, difficulties understanding myself, so trying to understand the opposite sex can result in a spinning effect.

It has taken me some confusion, and heartache, to understand and feel comfortable with who I am. I don’t know if I am ready for anything else.

This ABI has presented so many difficulties, but I think, for me, has also offered so much clarity. I’ve learned to work hard and take things in stride, so perhaps my Valentine is still yet to come.

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Mark’s passion to lend a helping hand, offer advice and give back has developed into a moral and social responsibility with the goal of sharing, inspiring and growing – for others as well as himself. His experience as a survivor, caregiver, mentor and writer has led to his credibility as an ABI Advocate and author of his life’s story, Challenging Barriers & Walking the Path. Follow him on Twitter @Mark_Koning or go to www.markkoning.com.

 

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Brain injury and intimacy: A gay perspective

G. Ian Bowles was 37 and living in Little Rock, Arkansas in 2001 when his vehicle hydroplaned during a thunderstorm. He slammed sideways into a bridge support and was in coma for six weeks. When he woke up six weeks later, he says he was first confused about where he was, then unsure if his orientation had changed. Was he still gay or had the brain injury somehow altered him? This is his story of life after brain injury and how he and his partner Tim maintained their relationship.

Brain injuries can be extremely difficult for family relationships, especially with regards to spouses or partners. It is one thing when accidents happen and a sibling or child changes in the emotional or cognitive realm. But when that happens to a spouse, it can be devastating. A relationship once built on experience and memory potentially loses much of  its foundation. Commitment and long-term love are suddenly much more important than reciprocated affection and immediate enjoyment.

Such concerns can be even more pronounced if the injured person is gay.

My accident happened in the American South, in Arkansas, where I had moved a year prior. When I woke from my six-week coma, one of the first questions that I was asked was where I thought I was. The last place I remembered was being at school, in Pennsylvania, which turned out to be two years earlier. When they started trying to convince me of my location, I thought it was a joke. When they didn’t give up, I thought it was a conspiracy. I remembered that I had been starting to “come out” before the accident. As a gay man, why would I move to Arkansas, of all places? Then snatches of memory started coming back, including the memories of the gay community in the state and my partner. Slowly it dawned on me that they were telling the truth.

Ian Bowles with partner Tim.

When I was first told about my accident and brain injury, I wondered if there had been any effect on my orientation.