What happened to me?

I’m not talking about the wheelchair, I’m talking about ME.  I used to be the kind  of person who happened to life;  now, life  happens to me.

& I don’t like it.  Not one bit.

People treat me differently, and, again:   I’m not talking about the wheelchair, I’m talking about ME.  This more than just the old “I’m brain injured, not brain damaged” kind of thing; it’s much more insidious than that.   My  prized sense  of autonomy  and my sense of taking for granted I’d be able to roll with whatever punches life gave me is gone; kaput, finito.

And  I want  it back. Hell, I NEED it back.

URGENTLY; yesterday.