The parable of The One You Feed describes a grandson with his grandfather and they are observing two wolves. One is a good wolf and the other is a bad wolf. The grandfather explains how we each have these wolves inside of us and they are battling for supremacy. One wolf is evil. She represents lies, hate, and self pity. The other wolf is good. She symbolizes love, empathy, and truth. The grandson looks up at his grandfather and asks, “which one wins?” and the grandfather responds, “the one you feed.”

I think about the battle between the good wolf and the bad wolf all the time. They are warring in the people I work with as we problem solve and attempt to reconstruct a meaningful life. I recognize the wolves as survivors struggle through a plateau or wrestle with the discomfort of being out of control. Control is a big problem, because it is an illusion in the best of times. Recovery from a brain injury makes our lack of control infinitely more plain. The things that used to feed our good wolves are sometimes inaccessible or not possible. For many survivors, not being able to work like they used to, love their partners as they did, or play with their kids is understandably devastating. It is so devastating that they begin to feed their bad wolf narrative with this insidious and mean story deceptively called “the new normal.” I HATE this phrase. The new normal is code for “I give up” and “I can’t” neatly packaged in a phrase that providers and survivors use to discuss the delicate topic of recovery.

The easiest thing to feed your bad wolf is the lie that recovery is linear. Recovery is your story, but it does not read like a classic tale with a beginning, middle, and end. Recovery looks like a heart monitor one minute in a-fib (irregular), the next bradychardic (slow), or tachycardic (fast). It is ALL OVER THE PLACE.

I have had surgeons weeping after they relearned to button their shirt and carpenters laugh with the ridiculousness of relearning how to screw in a bolt. I remember a middle-aged mother, shrieking with happy disbelief, as she tied her first post stroke wonky looking ponytail. I think about the first weak handshake or undershot high five of dozens of survivors who rode this roller coaster of recovery. These survivors chose to feed their good wolf with acceptance of what happened, perseverance, and flexibility. Perhaps the biggest indicator of rehabilitation potential is resilience or the ability to envision a future, despite past trauma.

The tapestry that you have spent a lifetime creating unravels in seconds after a neurological insult. Finding the eye of the needle to begin again can feel exactly like the eye of a storm with chaos surrounding you. Live in this disquiet and embrace the uncomfortable. Accept your good wolf and nourish her. The life you create promises to be colorful, unique, and perhaps better than you planned.