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What do you need? You, meaning you reading this blog. Because I promise that there is a way that a yoga practice can give you part of what you need—if not all of it. And I rarely make promises. Ask me. Test me. Try me.
During Steven’s many years of rehabilitation, when tanks ran empty, when exhaustion hit so hard that not even a double shot of espresso coupled with dark chocolate could revive me, silver linings showed up in the form of everyday people...
An accident happens. A brain injury rocks your world, and not in a good way. Fear rises like a tide, and soon enough, a tidal wave of anxiety. Janna offers a simple yoga practice to calm the "what ifs."
Here comes another caregiver confession: sometimes I feel guilty. No matter how hard my day has been, no matter how much my body hurts, or how overwhelmed my head feels, I know it will never compare to the challenges my husband faces in navigating this complicated world as a TBI survivor.
How do you love the man who can’t express emotions the way he did when you first fell in love with him? How long do you continue to gaze into eyes that don’t see your heart? How many times do you say, “I love you” to someone who doesn’t respond?
Without yoga, I would have let go of hope or a future. Without yoga, I would have stayed sad and angry forever. Of all the tools in your box of living with brain injury, I want yoga to be one of them. I want to ask what it is you need?
When her husband was first home from the hospital, Abby Maslin realized she would have to teach him who he was before he was hurt -- from someone who liked to shower daily to reading the paper on Sunday mornings.
I cannot remember the first time I recognized grief for what it was following our son’s traumatic brain injury, but it has come to feel like a familiar acquaintance. These are some coping strategies that have helped me get through to the other side of my own grief.
First word, first step…you remember! Our plan included helping our sons through their “normal” firsts: high school, college, career, marriage, and children. Nowhere on our “normal” firsts list was finding ourselves sitting by our son’s hospital bed praying that he would live.
I can’t believe that I’m coming up on seven years out. As time continues to pass, my perspectives change, and my insight deepens. Sometimes I forget that those close to me still hurt. In the reflection of their inner pain, I see my injury for what it really is.
Elise Rosenhaupt discovers that her life before her son Martin’s devastating traumatic brain injury has prepared her for helping him through his rehabilitation and recovery.
When to stay? When to go? When to get professional help? These are some of the hardest questions we will face in our post-TBI lives. These are gut-wrenching decisions to make. I know that not only from my own experience, but from the network of caregivers I communicate with everyday.
Like those of us who have been at this business of life after brain injury for a long time, I am aware of the stages that we go through. I know that I am experiencing "recurring grief." During these times it can be very hard to “find the good and praise it..."
I’ve been fortunate to have a few personal encounters with people who are rocking the boat of brain injury awareness, and from them, I’ve gathered some valuable pearls of wisdom. Here they are...
The greenbrier plant is not what it appears to be. It’s innocent looking while invasive. It comes raging back after you cut it down, and it can choke what’s underneath. If this sounds a little bit like traumatic brain injury, it is.
As caregivers, we have to tread very delicately in interpreting our loved one’s behavior. When our default assumption is to blame brain injury, we run the risk of creating self-doubt in the survivor.
One of the distinct markers in the aftermath of my son’s brain injury is the presence of an emotional space I’ve never before experienced called ambiguous grief. For both survivors and family members, it can be challenging to address the path of this type of grief.
In the blink of an eye for our sons, and with an unwelcomed knock on our door for my husband and me, our family changed in a way that we could not even begin to comprehend.
I never wish to glamorize the process of returning to work, nor unfairly claim credit for it. TC was at the helm for most of this journey. With that said, there are a few pieces of wisdom I’ve gathered from the experience...
In the past ten years, I found myself laughing when I thought of Hugh’s pre-injury days—those glorious days when I thought I was so busy and hectic. Once the dreaded accident phone call came and I rushed to the emergency room, I discovered what busy was all about.
Taylor is still fragile in his recovery, and yet stronger than many can imagine. In that analysis, I also see myself and many others who are navigating the tightrope of brain injury.
Brain injury has been a type of boot camp for our family, a crash course in thickening our skins and tackling struggle head-on. And although none of us signed up for it willingly, I think we can all agree it’s been strenuous and valuable preparation for whatever challenges lie ahead.
Navigating through neurostorms is just one of the many challenges we have had to face. Hopefully, by sharing our journey, we can help educate and empower other brain injury survivors and their caregivers.
As weeks and then months went by, the monitors were gradually removed and it became more important for family and friends to communicate with nursing staff regarding Josh's neurostorms.