OPEN LETTER

An Open Letter to My Brain

You have a lot of nerve, but you’re always on my mind

Dear Brain,

Please! It is 0500 and I should be still asleep.

Instead, you felt the furry, naughty kitty first nudging into the crook of my arm, then smooshing his black snout into my face in a subtle attempt to get food.

You need to ignore that selfish yet cunning behaviour and think of my needs first.

Instead, the second you registered his presence, you sprung to life.

Yes, I did go to bed earlier than usual last night so I possibly had already obtained my fair share of sleep, but I like to snooze sometimes you know? And those cats don’t rule this house. I do.

Or maybe you do?

We’ve had a pretty good relationship most of my life. You have either hidden or purposely forgotten my younger days, or perhaps you weren’t capable of remembering things from way back then as you were still learning how to function?

It would actually have been nice if you had some sort of system for retrieving those years as I would love to revisit them now. There are so many blanks.

The little snippets that you feed me every now and then are appreciated. The general consensus is that I had a happy childhood and was loved.

I know I was very particular with my school work and if it wasn’t done properly, you would make me rip the page out and start all over again. You would not allow me to have one mistake and being messy was not an option.

Brain, I know we had trouble wrapping our head around things like math and playing the piano and that we will never be another Archimedes or Ashkenazy.

In the end, we agreed that as long as I had a good grasp of the basics then I would survive the big wide world. Remember the day that I called out the math teacher asking why on earth I needed to know all that rubbish?

You made me do that to make you feel better I am sure. I can still hear him trying to defend himself and those silly equations. But you were right!

Thanks, too, for helping me make some reasonable effort to play the piano, but clearly my sister’s brain was better wired for that, and she was a hard act to follow.

I can still see the comments written by the examiner for my Grade 4 sight reading piano test:

The right hand played most out of tune, and the left hand joined in

How rude! I wasn’t much into it anyway.

I can still see myself sitting at the make-shift desk that I used to study for both school and nursing exams.

You helped me sort my material into smaller books or cue cards, all of which I still have and often refer to. We had to make acronyms to help you remember stuff and write things out repetitively to firmly pigeonhole them.

It was tiresome, I know, but we did it!

Your supportive nudges were all that was required for me to be successful both at school and in nursing. Thanks a million, Brain!

I love how you have flagged some things so that they can be found in an instant. I haven’t ridden a bike in a couple of years, but I used to do it so much that I know you will allow me to jump on and ride off with barely a wiggle when I finally do again.

By the same token, I have some grave concerns about driving. We have been behind the wheel since I was 15-years old but now we are used to navigating the streets on the right-hand side of the road.

Whenever I do finally get back home, will you be able to drive on the opposite side again? I get horribly confused and I need you to be on top of that one or it could be catastrophic.

To be honest, I think it is the most ridiculous thing ever that part of the world would drive on the left and the majority on the right-hand side. What moron came up with that idea?

Remember that car accident we had in France all those years ago?

You and I were equally perplexed because the car was veering at us from the left-hand side of the road and we started to think we were at fault. It was so creepy that you slowed down so I had time to react. How did you do that?

I’ve heard it is a common phenomenon in a crisis and related to the fight or flight response. I’m so impressed! Thankfully we were unscathed — but doing what you do best, I remember it like it was yesterday. Ugh!

Which leads to speaking French.

Who would have thought those high school lessons would come in handy one day? We weren’t much good at it back then and you were a bit useless the day of that accident, but I guess you were rattled too and forgot how to converse even the basics.

But look at you now.

As soon as you realized I needed to pass that mandatory French exam to become a nurse in Québec, you paid better attention and resurrected those learning tactics. My mouth seemed to open and shut automatically as you convincingly spouted out answers en français for me to nail that interview. Bravo!

Brain, why is it that you can vividly remember some memories that I just want to forget? Like that accident in France and the day I fell over and broke my arm when I was only 6 years old?

You really have some nerve.

I can recall every single detail, especially the excruciating pain when they wrenched the partially snapped bones back into place.

I also distinctly remember the first night when my heavily casted arm fell out of bed and I had to get mum to help me put it back in because we couldn’t figure out how to do that alone.

And how itchy it was while the cast was on. I wanted to ignore those irritating messages, but you had the ability to make them even more perceptible. That’s really not nice, Brain.

I will give you credit for helping me learn to write with my left hand, even though it broke all those messy rules we had agreed on. The one good thing from that whole experience was we got out of piano practice for a while.

You didn’t fare so well on the coordination or sporty side of things.

You helped me develop a good eye to play the goal shoot position in netball, but I wasn’t as skilled at escaping my defender. I hated gym class because you felt ghastly when we had to do forward rolls. Being upside down was not your thing.

You always encouraged me to give something a go, but I never excelled at sports. It’s a battle that we still have, right? I am dismayed I still throw a ball in such a way that the horrid analogy demeaning women’s abilities is indeed true.

Well, for me it is. You need to talk to my musculoskeletal system and sort that one out, please.

We’ve already talked about me being so skinny as a kid, and yet you keep dredging the whole body image battle up.

Seriously, Brain, can you just do something about it? Isn’t your job to stop me stuffing my face with unhealthy food or an extra portion? Aren’t you meant to be the one just marching me out the door to go for a walk regardless of the weather? Why do you have to keep coming up with excuses?

Yes, I know hormones are partly to blame, but you do realize that you control those too?

At the beginning of each day, we have an amazing conversation about what we are going to accomplish, and then you get distracted or cave. I’m depending on your strength so stop doing that!

I’ve also got a bone to pick with you about sleep.

When I climb into bed, it is my signal for you to wind down and relax. So why the heck do you suddenly turn into this creative monster that is shouting ideas, plans and thoughts into my head?

To boot, you know I will forget them if I don’t write them down straight away.

As much as they usually are light-bulb moments, I really, really wish you would save them for the morning or at the very least develop another small filing cabinet that I can actually remember to open.

This brings me to my final point; us two getting old.

You have served me very well up until now, and I hope you plan on sticking around for a while longer. I have seen what happens when other brains become diseased with dementia and it’s not pretty.

Part of me would prefer you pack up your bags before my body does as at least we won’t have a darned clue what is going on. Yes, it would be hard on my kids, but you’d be pleasantly cuckoo and I could still wander around aimlessly.

Brain, I can’t imagine how you would cope with my body giving up and you still observing, processing and filing information. I’d hate that more and I am sure you would as well.

I’ve seen that too, and it is even more heartbreaking being trapped inside a useless body but fully aware. Or, imagine you are desperately trying to say something, but the words don’t come out right — or at all — because that area of you is damaged?

Remember that, please?

In fact, when the time comes that I’m teetering on the brink of life (and I am talking quality life here) versus death, I hope you have the sense to just stop everything from working. Suddenly. Kaput. Finito.

But not just yet — I have a few more things to accomplish.

That’s it for now, Brain. I’ve given you a lot to think about, I know, but it’s good to clear the cobwebs every now and then.

We’re a good team for the most part, but like any relationship, we can get too cosy and start taking each other for granted. I need you, and you need me. Remember that!

As for those furry beasts, you know I love them to pieces, even when they do wake me. Maybe you could just play dumb every now and then? Thanks!