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Triggers are weird. A seemingly innocuous thing happens or there is a tiny deviation from routine and you or your loved one loses it. From the outside, it seems like a total overreaction but for the person who has been triggered, it is a fight-or-flight response.
My life will forever be marked by that day in November of 2010 when I sustained a brain injury after being hit by a car while riding my bicycle. It was a true "before and after" scenario. However, an unexpected consequence followed: my decades-long depression disappeared. I was as stunned as anyone …
A perfect example would be the day — about a year after my injury — when I decided to go out for a bike ride … in a snowstorm. My plan made perfect sense to me...
I feel ready to move through whatever comes next. After all, I really only need to worry about making today a well-lived day. Tomorrow is none of my business.
I need to be more open about who I am. All of me. I cannot be afraid. I won’t hide anymore. Now, I will be my true self. And I’m ready to stand with anyone else who feels the same.
The COVID-19 pandemic shined a light on the deep need that people feel for human touch and connection in hospital settings. Having relatives peering through windows at their loved ones or unable to enter hospitals altogether exacerbated the lack of human intimacy that is all too common in health care settings.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve discovered mindfulness and have learned the value of living life “in the moment.” It’s a learned skill that has enabled me to find peace in my life. In what amounts to almost an irony, I no longer have much of my past to recall. The future never really comes. By circumstance, rather than any virtue, I am now forced to live in the moment.
Social isolation and loneliness are increasingly becoming societal problems, as they contribute to polarization and affect our physical health. Mental health professionals, community advocates and health-care providers have been raising the alarm about this impending crisis.
Living with a brain injury is, by far, the most complicated thing I have ever done. There have been great joys, stunning victories, and, somehow against all odds, I’ve carved out this amazing life. Sometimes, I just need to remind myself that just because I think something, doesn’t mean that it’s true.
Sometimes it feels like I am a single parent. That breaks my heart to say because my husband really is a fantastic parent as long as he’s not triggered or having a chronic pain flare-up.
Last month, I found out that I qualified for a Cornell University research study about brain injury.... I ruefully admit that I was nervous going into the testing. What brokenness in me would they find? I do pretty well these days, well enough that most people might not notice my challenges. But I still have an ego and can be more sensitive that I care to admit.
Mind-full can be messy, sad, overwhelming, unproductive … and definitely not healthy. Mindful, on the other hand, is calming and satisfying; it can bring me back to my best self.
If there’s one thing that is all but guaranteed after a brain injury, it’s uncertainty. So much of what we face as survivors is unique to the brain injury community. Brain injury is often — but not always — invisible to others and no two brain injuries are alike. The challenges I face are often different from those other survivors face. Often invisible, and always unpredictable, brain injury is a unique confluence of challenges.
Experiencing three or more concussions is linked with worsened brain function in later life, according to major new research. The study – the largest of its kind - also found having just one moderate-to-severe concussion, or traumatic brain injury (TBI), can have a long-term impact on brain function, including memory.
Early on after my 2010 brain injury, "old-timers" in the brain injury survivor community told me that “it” would get better, but they never really told me what “it” was.
But this is how I’ve been feeling about the holidays this year. I just don’t want to. There is so much going on at home, at work, and in the world, and it’s all weighing heavily on my mind. There is just too much!
Picture a retaining wall — a structural feature that allows you to support landscaping and help prevent erosion. My retaining wall comes with its own definition because it is an emotional retaining wall that I — consciously, subconsciously, or both — constructed after my sons Aaron and Steven’s car accident in 2012.
It is with profound sadness that I share that someone very dear to me is nearing death. In fact, he may not still be with us by the time this is published. As one of the most cherished relationships in my life, his imminent death is kicking the legs out from underneath me.
Thanksgiving is a uniquely American tradition that includes feasting and sharing all for which we are grateful. But this year, I’m just not feeling it. There’s too much weighing heavily on my mind.
Doing something kind for another person, no matter how big or small, not only positively impacts our own mental health but it can also bring joy to someone else. Even tiny actions go a long way. It feels good to do good. And, in my experience, good begets good.
This is the month that I mark 12 years as a brain injury survivor. These “crash anniversaries” have pushed me to reflect; it’s hard not to look back at the “before and after” chapters of my life — sifting, shuffling, and reinterpreting the contents of each.
I am a big believer in working through what I walk through. If I have learned anything from everything that has come from the day of the crash, it is that we are each responsible for how we respond — and heal from — what happens in our lives. We must learn to heal our way.