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Living alongside David Grant's TBI was a treatment-resistant case of PTSD. For over fifteen years, he lived with innumerable night terror events. The kitchen calendar counted the bad nights. A good month noted three or four bad nights. A tough month, like last November, came with nineteen night terror events. Last November was as bad as it gets. Life was unsustainable… until it wasn’t.
And if there’s one thing that I’ve learned from having a brain injury and PTSD, it’s this ... recovery is not linear. There will be gains and there will be setbacks. But equally important, I know that attitude is everything. And despite how tired I can feel, I remain full of hope. And that covers a lot of ground.
As it turns out that pivotal day — when I was hit by a car on my bicycle and sustained a brain injury — opened the door to the purpose-driven life that I now live.
"I’ve seen both sides of the suicide coin, both as a surviving family member as well as an actual survivor. I have a deep empathy for those who think life would be better off without them, but I know that they are wrong. When you feel that way, you have no perspective; you are unable to understand that there are people who love you unconditionally and who would be shattered had you succeeded."
The day after I was hit on my bike, a local neurologist literally high-fived me, telling me that I had no discernible neurological issues and sending me on my way. But it became painfully clear almost from the beginning that something was not right.
When I started treatment again for my PTSD, I said that I'd give it 90 days. No sudden or irrational decisions, just a three-month treatment test drive. Ninety days have come and gone, but here I am, still not seeing any relief. What do I do?
If, within your own personal or professional circles, you know someone with a brain injury or PTSD who has been living the survivor life for years, please know that time does not equate to freedom from challenges. Reach out to those you know and ask how they are really doing. You might just be surprised by what you hear — and how much your asking means.
The holiday season is upon us and that means family time and reflection. But this year just feels off. I’m not sure if it’s the change of seasons, the upcoming holidays, our added pressures at work, or just the stress of everything going on in the world, but my husband, Russ, and I have both been stressed.
At the end of the day, I don’t really care why playing a role at the Renaissance Festival alleviates some of my husband, Russ's symptoms of PTSD, I am just glad it does!
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.
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.
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.
This month has been a whirlwind of pain, triggers, and generally not great behavior from both Russ and myself. Our eldest daughter, Elizabeth Shade-Ware, died unexpectedly in her sleep. Suffice it to say, I am a wreck...
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.
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.
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.
I almost died giving birth. I don’t talk about it much because I didn’t die. I am here. Baby just turned 6 and her little sister is 4. They are thick as thieves and their dad and I are over the moon. But I almost died.
“During pregnancy, a mother celebrates the journey with family and friends — think baby names, baby showers, nurseries, tiny clothes … smiles from strangers and proud hands on an ever-expanding belly. The journey of being pregnant is both personal and public. So, what should be one of the most magical experiences shared with family, friends, and colleagues becomes one of private emotional and physical trauma in a closed room, an experience that is then often not acknowledged nor spoken about. The mother returns home still looking pregnant, her hormones still acting as if she is pregnant, but her arms and heart are empty.”
September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. If you are military-connected then you know the 22-veterans-a-day average. You’ve seen the blue ribbons plastered everywhere on base/post. If you are a veteran or caregiver, you’ve seen similar posters at the VA. You’ve probably gone to an annual suicide prevention training or two. You know the signs, you know what to look for and what to do if you are worried about someone’s safety. But nothing can truly prepare you for when it happens.