Twenty‑Three Years Later: What I Know Now
There’s something I didn’t understand back in day rehab when I fought so hard to prove I could drive: divided attention isn’t a fixed skill. It changes with time, age, priorities, and the way you choose to live your life.
Near the end of my rehab, driving was the milestone I wanted more than anything. It represented independence, adulthood, and the life I was determined to reclaim. So when a therapist told me she wasn’t ready to recommend me for driver’s rehab because I “lacked divided attention,” it hit me harder than I expected. I believed I was ready. I felt ready. And hearing someone else say I wasn’t made me feel like the finish line had been moved just as I was reaching for it.
That moment didn’t just sting — it lit a fire in me. I wrote a letter to the day‑rehab staff explaining why I believed I was ready and asking for the chance to prove it. That letter wasn’t about anger. It was about advocacy. It was about reclaiming my voice in a process where so much felt out of my control.
And eventually, I did get cleared. I did drive. I did prove myself.
But now, almost 23 years later, I see divided attention through a different lens.
I can still do it. But I don’t trust it the way I used to.
Part of that is age. Part of it is the long arc of neuroplastic recovery. And part of it is simply wisdom. I’m over 50 now, and I’m not focused on every detail the way I was in my twenties — especially not the details that don’t matter. If something doesn’t need to be stored, tracked, or juggled, I’d rather not force my brain to hold it.
It’s not fear. It’s not limitation. It’s discernment.
I’ve learned that divided attention has a cost, and I’m no longer willing to pay that cost for things that don’t align with my purpose. I’m intentional about where my energy goes. I’m selective about what I take on. I’m focused on the people and responsibilities that matter most: my close friends, my family, the survivors I support, the doctors and therapists who shaped my journey, and the communities I try to motivate today.
This is the part of neuroplasticity people don’t talk about. Recovery isn’t just about regaining abilities — it’s about redefining how you use them.
I don’t need to prove anything anymore. I don’t need to multitask to feel capable. I don’t need to stretch myself thin to feel whole.
I choose what deserves my attention. And that choice is its own kind of healing.
Keep fighting survivors!