Neurodivergent musings

How many people do you know who live with a hidden disability? And even if you’ve been told, how well do you understand the challenges that person deals with? Let me share some insights that I have garnered from living with a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) for over a decade. 

My disability has affected every part of my life, yet to the casual observer, I look no different than before the car accident that caused my disability. A brain injury changes a person neurologically. This change to being neurologically atypical is not observable but it affects how a person interacts with their environment. It may affect social interaction, emotional lability, response to smells, touch, sounds, lighting and more. As Wendy Renzullen says, “Brain injuries are like snowflakes or fingerprints. No two are the same.” It depends on which part(s) of the brain sustained the injury. 

Assumptions are often made about the limits of a disability. I’ve had conversations like this:

“I guess bright lights bother you.”

“Not really. Bright lights are fine.”

“Oh?”

“It’s the noise made by fluorescent lights that bother me.”

“I didn’t know fluorescent lights make noise.”

“If I try to ignore the noise, I’ll pay for it later. It can take a couple hours to recover.”

“Oh.”

Making statements about the injury can be annoying at best, and possibly hurtful. Thinking that you are empathizing when you announce that you experience frequent headaches is not empathy. You can’t compare your headaches to a similar symptom being experienced by someone who has gone through a traumatic, life-altering experience. When the person shares some of the challenges, avoid making personal comparisons with your own experiences.

The better approach is to ask a question. Asking how the person is doing is least intrusive. Based on the response, you will get a hint whether the person is willing to talk about it. 

Two percent of Canadians are affected by brain injury, making it more prevalent than most people realize. Every three minutes, someone new experiences a TBI, most commonly due to sports injuries, trips and falls and motor vehicle accidents. Think about some of the larger social gatherings you might have attended lately, including at church. A gathering of 100 people will, statistically, include two people with a brain injury (a number that would be much higher if you include other hidden disabilities). Although your venue might be one that people with disabilities avoid. 

Doing things differently

Worship services tend to present several challenges. For example, the church I attend does a greeting that happens a few minutes into the worship service. After the minister gives God’s greeting, the fellow worshippers mill around, greeting one another. For me, this is chaos. It sends me into social sensory overload. To avoid this, I sit strategically so I can leave before the greeting, and I come back in when everything is settled down. But it takes time to work through different scenarios. Who needs to make accommodations? When should others show consideration and do things differently? I had considered making a request to the pastor or to the worship ministry, to eliminate the time of greeting. But I decided not to because I saw how engaging that time was for many of the worshippers. 

Brain injuries have daily effects. The changes are unpredictable, ranging from sudden tiredness, the quick onset of confusion to unexpected sensory overload and other kinds of annoying or concerning symptoms. People with brain injuries are at a high risk of depression or related mental-health concerns, meaning that any encouragement you can give them is very much appreciated.

My church’s tagline is “So that all can fully participate.” 

In the case of someone with a disability, what reasonable or responsible accommodations can be made?