The imagery of light and darkness lives in our dreams, mythology, and journeys of the soul. I have returned to it many times in these posts, reflecting my own thoughts, and those I am listening to in the stories of people with aphasia. I have written about the dichotomy of the before time and the now, of the used-to-be and the what-is. It is often how those who experience loss of any kind feel and see themselves. It is very hard to feel the evolution, the transformation that we experience moving ahead in time, day by day, in an inexorable path forward.
Recently, I came across some pictures of me as a young woman. I confess, I found myself staring at them, trying to integrate those images. The truth is, I do not see myself as does the camera. I have an internal image of self, that has never aligned with the cold eye of the camera lens.
Others probably see the resemblance across thirty-five years. I of course, see the differences. Changes in so much of who I think I am. Or was.
This, then, is some of what it must be like to be a person with aphasia: to cast glances backward and identify self, and then forward to a present that seems so different. And as for the future? It is completely unknown.
In the meanwhile, we move slowly from the darkness, searching for the light.