12 again

At age 12 when I returned home form the hospital after the sledding accident that damaged my brain, my parents thought it would be a good idea and good use of my time, since I could not return to school for sometime still (2 weeks or more, I don't remember), to write thank you cards to all the people who had given me gifts while I was in the hospital.
I cried when I remembered this.
I could not even do my homework or remember what the teacher who had come to my house had told me. I remember being back at school later and my mom being angry with the school for my failing grades. I remember the teacher asking me about all the work and assignments she had left with me and had taken the time to explain. I remember her disappointed look as I couldn't really remember it or what she had left me with.
I felt responsible for my moms anger.
I felt responsible for my teachers disappointment and the schools troubles.
I felt bad about the thank you cards I had not written...by myself with no help.
I felt bad for my family since they were the ones who remembered all the traumatic stuff but I got all the gifts.
They were glad that I was fine. That I had "fully" recovered. It was miraculous, I am sure.
But it was not.
I was not okay. I was not healed. My brain and who I was, was not the same and that didn't matter.
I learned that my needs were secondary. That my healing was less important. I learned that I needed to protect others from my injuries.

I vaguely remember the follow up with the neurologist. I vaguely remember him saying something about therapies, I was looking forward to it. But they never happened, because I was "fine."
It has been a cycle that has continued throughout my life. "your needs are more important than mine, so I will be fine for you, try to help and try not to be a burden, then maybe you will value me, maybe then I really will be okay."
It doesn't work.
It has broken me again and again.
It is time to change that I think.
...and yet the place that was supposed to be able to see that, to define it, to help me see it for what it is, made the same decision about me, even when I was trying so hard to explain that I needed their help. I'm that good at playing the part now I suppose. It breaks my heart again and again.
And currently I am tired. I did not leave 20% and this processing that feels important and needed is maybe not going to work as well or read as well as I'd like but I'll leave it, because it is my reality and part of this sometimes very slow process.