‘We’re doing finger painting,’ Rose said, a big smile on her face.
Flick cringed. The last thing she wanted to do was patronise them, especially not with something so childish. ‘Isn’t that a bit simplistic?’
‘I tried it last night and as someone who has been painting professionally for nearly twenty years, let me tell you, I loved it. It was so freeing, and the feel of handling the paint with my fingers was wonderful. It also puts us all on a bit more of an even keel. My expertise as a painter largely comes from the skill of handling a brush. Without that I’m pretty much useless. I think it will be a good way to help express their emotions about how their injury has affected them.’
Flick still wasn’t so sure and that must have shown on her face.
‘Why don’t you try it today for yourself before you’re so quick to judge? Also I’ll give them the option, they can use brushes if they prefer.’
‘I think that’s a good idea and yes, I’m happy to join in with whatever you have planned. Right, I’ll go and meet them.’
She stood back up and walked down the hall towards the front door, trying not to look at Luke’s empty studio in case she started crying all over again.
She opened the door just as three people and a dog were walking up towards it.
‘Hello, are you here for the workshop?’
‘Yes hello, I’m Amy, this is Chloe, Michael and thishandsome chap is Charlie,’ Amy said, referring to the black labrador.
Flick knew Charlie was Michael’s emotional support dog and went everywhere with him.
‘Hi, I’m Flick, I’m sort of in charge here. You’ll be working with Rose today doing some painting.’
They all said hello.
‘Is it OK to stroke Charlie? I don’t want to disturb him if he’s working,’ Flick said.
‘Oh no, you can stroke him,’ Michael said. ‘He’d be most offended if you didn’t.’
Flick laughed and gave Charlie some ear scratches. His head was velvety soft and stroking him made a little of the pain she was feeling ebb away. Maybe she needed to get herself a dog. He could join her on her morning and evening walks around the town and clifftops and it would be nice to have someone to talk to so she didn’t feel so alone. She pushed thoughts about Luke away.
‘I’ll take you down to Rose’s studio,’ Flick said.
She walked back down the hall and they followed her. Rose was waiting nervously and smiled when she saw them.
‘Hello, come in, I’m Rose.’
Flick did the introductions, making sure to include Charlie who seemed to be constantly wagging his tail.
They all sat down and Flick took coffee and tea orders and then phoned them up to Polly who was going to come down shortly with cakes, biscuits and Danishes.
‘So before we start, I wonder if you might feelcomfortable talking about what you struggle with just so we can have a better understanding of what you’re going through,’ Rose said, gently. ‘No worries if you’d prefer not to.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Amy said. ‘I think what I struggle with most is people’s attitudes towards me. Friends, well not close friends but acquaintances or colleagues will say things like, “Oh but you look so normal,” like they expect someone with a brain injury to be fully incapacitated, unable to walk, talk, feed or dress themselves. And of course there are those who have suffered horrendously with their injuries, much more so than me, so I’m very lucky in that regard. But a visible injury or disability is so much easier to understand and empathise with. No one can see my disability so they just expect me to carry on like I was before I had my stroke. They’ll say things like, “Are you back to normal now?” which is just offensive, like my struggles make me abnormal.’
She shook her head and took a sip of water. ‘In reality, this, what I’m dealing with now, will probably always be my new normal. And eighty percent of the time, I’m fine, I don’t feel any different to how I was before my stroke. But when I’m tired I speak a lot slower, I find it difficult to form the words and I have to concentrate really hard on getting each word out. That makes me feel very self-conscious and not want to talk at all, unless I’m with these guys who understand or very close friends or family. At work, I really struggle towards the end of the day and my colleagues just don’t get it. They see me chatting away normally like I amnow at the start of the day and by the end I’m stumbling over my words, stuttering, and I know some of them think I’m putting it on. And that’s what’s so great about workshops like this and making friends like these two – they get it like no one else does.’
Flick smiled at that. The workshops weren’t just about giving participants an artistic or creative outlet, they were about making friends or talking to others who were in the same boat and that’s why they were so important.
Chloe nodded. ‘I’m the same as Amy in many ways but I will often substitute one word for another completely unrelated word. Ordering a cheese sandwich, for example, would likely turn into a request for a coathanger sandwich. It’s just one word in a completely normal sentence but it obviously stands out like a sore thumb. Everyone finds it really funny when I do it and that used to upset me. Now I can laugh at how ridiculous it is too but sometimes I find it really frustrating because the right word just won’t come. Again, it mostly happens when I’m tired, but sometimes I can surprise myself. Sometimes I don’t even know I’ve done it until people start looking at me strangely and I have to figure out which word I’ve said wrong. But like Amy it’s people’s expectations that are the hardest to deal with. They see me hiking up mountains or running marathons and don’t expect me to have trouble doing something as simple as talking.’
‘You two have hit the nail on the head,’ Michael said. ‘I can do everything I could do before my motorbikeaccident. I walked away with barely a scratch on me so everyone assumes I’m fine. I don’t even have language difficulties like these two lovely ladies. Everything on the surface is perfect. But I get so emotional and tearful over the slightest thing, which apparently is very common for people with brain injuries. I get told to man up, or that real men don’t cry, and I’m ashamed to admit, before the accident, that I thought it was weak to cry as a man. Now I can’t seem to stop. It is getting better, it might only be two or three times a week that I cry now rather than every day, but it’s the tiniest thing that will set me off. I can’t even say I’m depressed, not really. Most days I’m absolutely fine but then I’ll go to grab a banana from the fruit bowl and realise I ate the last one the day before and the tears will start. It’s the most ridiculous thing. But people’s attitudes to a grown man crying are just shocking, I’ve literally lost friends over it. Charlie here is a real help. When he sees I’m upset he will cuddle up to me or put his head on my lap and stroking him helps, it really does. And having Amy and Chloe to talk to. They get it.’
‘I can understand having Charlie helps, I think we all need a Charlie in our lives,’ Flick said.
‘He’s been a godsend,’ Michael said, stroking Charlie’s head.
‘I think that’s the thing about brain injuries, they affect everyone so differently,’ Rose said. ‘There is no one size fits all. Well, thank you for sharing your struggles. Talking about it really does help people to understand what you are going through. So today we aregoing to be painting with acrylics and, if you’re willing to get your hands dirty, I thought we could all use our fingers instead of brushes. Although if you prefer, I have a load of different-sized brushes you can use instead. You can choose to paint whatever you want, perhaps something that represents your frustrations with your injury or, if you don’t know what to paint, I thought we could all paint our famous wonky tree outside. You can paint realistically or use bright colours, you can paint in the style of Monet or Picasso, whatever you choose. There is no right or wrong today.’
