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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...

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

Almost 12 years ago my life changed forever as I joined the brain injury club, a club that no one ever expects — or wants — to be part of. And early on, the phrase “recovery is lifelong” completely and totally annoyed me. I had always been and remain a classic Type A personality. So, it comes as no surprise that I wanted no part of the “recovery is lifelong” model of living out the rest of my life. My plan was to get over my brain injury and move on. 

Last month, Sarah and I took a trip to rural Maine for another first-time life experience. I was more excited than fearful when I jumped out of a plane at 14,000 feet and I can now add skydiver to my life résumé! Had I listened to the advice I received from doctors a decade earlier, the thought of jumping out of a plane would have seemed preposterous.

I know today — 12 years post-injury that time is indeed a healer of pain, a giver of perspective, and a bringer of joy.

Three of my four sons abruptly walked out of my life with no explanation and no communication. I was being ghosted long before that term even existed. It was, by far, the most painful part of my journey.

Amazingly, this is my 100^th article for Brainline, and I want to share some of the things I’ve learned along the way — things I wish someone had told me early on. Some are painful truths that took me time to accept, others unexpected joys and blessings that have come with the journey.