Use the filters to browse the information we have available or to narrow your search results for a specific audience (e.g. caregivers, military, children), a preferred type of content (e.g. videos, blogs, articles), or by topics of interest (e.g. family concerns, legal issues, symptoms).
Life after brain injury is, if anything, surreal. Just when you think you’ve mastered life as a survivor, something else happens, something you never saw coming. The silver lining is that one of the skills that can be mastered after brain injury is simply the ability to roll with things, to not get flustered, and to understand at a deep level that it’s just part of the journey and that, in the end, all will be okay.
Those who know me well know that I am a big fan of peer support for brain injury survivors. While there is a lot of information to be gained from the medical community, the subtle and at times not so subtle nuances that come with living the brain injury life can’t be taught from books. As a TBI survivor, my own lived experience is my greatest asset in my advocacy work. It’s the sharing of this lived experience that creates strong bonds and lifelong friendships within the survivor community.
Life after brain injury remains a bit surreal. One might think that after fifteen years, I would have mastered the subtle nuances of this second life, but not even close. Occasionally, I am reminded that I live on a different plane than the neuro normals of the world but I've found ways to adapt and celebrate.
March is Brain Injury Awareness Month, my 16th as a brain injury survivor. Looking back, until my life became defined by brain injury, I had never heard of Brain Injury Awareness Month. For several years after my injury, the goal was simple: I wanted to be the person I was prior to my injury. I wanted to be “the old me.” But what if I told you I could be better than my old self in ways I never saw coming?
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.
On November 11, the fifteen-year anniversary of the accident that changed everything came to pass. I marvel that it’s been a decade and a half since I was struck while cycling on Main Street.
I’ve had fourteen anniversaries before this year’s milestone. One might think they are all the same, but this year was tough. Perhaps the toughest.
Last week, while scrolling through my news feed on social media, I had a rather abrupt realization: my life looks pretty normal these days. As I scrolled through my posts from the last few weeks, a picture emerged — a picture of someone enjoying life.
You might be asking yourself what changed. That’s the same question I asked myself. It’s a simple question with a complicated answer.
Brain injury anniversaries are complicated. Like an unseen gravitational force, my mind is drawn back to that day. But this year feels different. My anniversary is still many months away… but thoughts of it are already creeping in at unexpected times.
There is more to wellness than treating brain injury alone. I am a living, breathing, oftentimes thriving human being with a whole lot more than just a brain injury.
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.
For a long time after my brain injury, I was focused on the conventional definition of recovery. I wanted to get back to the place where I started. I wanted to be me again. But the passage of time, and lots of fighting my fate, have proven to me that there is no going back. I will never “get over” my brain injury. Like my shadow that follows me on a sunny day, I am forever bound to my brain injury. And today, I am okay with that.
"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.
Looking back over the years, I never expected to live a life defined largely by being a brain injury survivor. Early on, I was completely unable to see that there might be a silver lining to all that has come to pass ...
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?
Time seems to pass faster every year. It feels like just yesterday that I first presented at a brain injury conference. It was 2013, and I was asked to offer the keynote address at the Brain Injury Association of Maine’s annual conference. No one was more surprised than me to receive the invitation.
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.
Predatory practices are common around military bases. Young servicemembers and those in transition — either moving from base to base or preparing to separate or retire from active service — are easy targets. As soon as you pass the gates off base, you see “Pay Day Loans!” and “Buy Now! Pay Later!” Like servicemembers, veterans are also targets.
Mindfulness has taught me that true and lasting peace only comes in the moment. Right here, right now. In the moment, my past carries no weight, and the future does not exist. Life is truly a succession of moments.
U.S. Navy Ensign Timothy Bleigh clearly recalls when the bomb went off. The Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) tactical vehicle flipped several times through the air before it landed partly on its roof. Bleigh shares his story and reflects on how his difficult recovery, which included a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), influenced how he approaches patient care.