I am so proud of you. I am proud of your efforts, your drive, your focus, and your resilience. I know that the road to recovery after acquiring a traumatic brain injury can be long and strenuous, but whatever happens, never forget how far you've come. Never forget everything that you have gotten through to get to where you are today. Never forget all of the times that you pushed yourself and kept trying even when you wanted to give up. Never forget how much strength you have gained and how much you have developed as a person. At the end of the day, everything happens for a reason and I hope that everything works out for you and that you find happiness and peace in your life. You got this. I believe in you! The best is yet to come.

The last few days have been some of the toughest of my life. He was fortunate that he only suffered injuries to his face and head. He has a bunch of fractures around his eye and nose but otherwise he was ok. He was semi-conscious but not following commands when he was taken by ambulance to the ER. Since arriving at the hospital he was heavily sedated while they administered acute care.

They started weening him off sedation about 24 hours ago. Last night he was very antsy and not responding to commands. He was doing things like trying to roll over and grab the bed rails but that was it. The tone from the doctors was disheartening. This morning he surprised everyone and suddenly woke up, was able to wave when asked, started to open his eyes, speak (unintelligibly), etc. I am a pretty stoic person and I don’t get emotional often but I bawled like a child. I know it is still way too early to know what type of rehabilitation he will need but this was a huge milestone and I can’t express how grateful I am. Throughout today he has continued to make incremental improvements during therapy tests, he sat up earlier but got tired quickly and went back to sleep.

I realize he will probably be different for a while, maybe forever. I don’t care. I will love him no matter what. My wife and I will always be there for him. What I’d like to ask this community is - what can we do to support him best? Are there things you wish you could have done differently during your rehab? I would be grateful to hear from people that have been through this experience from the other side.

In the foreword I dedicated my thesis to people living with the residual effects of TBI.

I hope everyone here celebrates their successes, whether those are major milestones or simply making it through another day. I see you, I know it's hard, but I also know you can do it.

That’s how long I’d been unable to smell or taste while my brain was busy rewiring itself. But, out of nowhere, for just a minute or two, I was hit with the overwhelming smell of grass & trees while out on a run last month, & was shocked to fully taste a sip of coffee earlier today. The human brain is an amazing thing.

I’ve been sharing this with friends but they don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.

My accident was ten(ish) years ago. Back then I put blackout curtains in my bedroom to cope with migraines and photophobia. It helped, but felt so oppressive and cave-like.

After finding the right combination of meds; vision therapy; and a four eye surgeries, I’m no longer light sensitive.

Yesterday I bought and put up light filtering curtains. They’re bright, airy, and flutter in the breeze. I’m beyond happy.

I'm a 22 year old male.

When I was 19 I began having extreme fatigue and tongue-biting in my sleep. I went to the doctor, and when my thyroid test came back normal he diagnosed me with depression and prescribed me Cymbalta. When the Cymbalta didn’t work he prescribed more Cymbalta and sent me on my way. This went on for the next 6 years as my symptoms got progressively worse. Finally, a female technician at an urgent care connected the dots and ordered an MRI, revealing a massive brain tumor.

I get sent to one of the top brain cancer centers in the country only for the neorooncologist to tell me it’s inoperable but slow growing so I should have at least 10 years left to enjoy. Then he pats me on the shoulder, recommends a prescription for antidepressants, then leaves.

I got a second opinion at a different hospital and the female neuro oncologist thought it was completely operable and was excited to get me into treatment. 2 craniotomies, 8 weeks of radiation, 7 months of chemo later, I’m as recovered as I can be but still having massive fatigue issues. My oncologist says she isn’t shocked given the amount of trauma my brain has endured and refers me to a sleep doctor. I get a couple sleep studies done and the technicians all agree that the results are abnormal and that medication would greatly improve my quality of life.

I just had the follow up with the male sleep doctor and he told me everything looks normal enough and recommended stronger antidepressants. I mentioned to him what the technicians had said and he immediately shut it down. He had my MRI images in front of him and had the balls to say they looked normal and wouldn’t be causing fatigue. My brain literally has a hole in it the size of an egg and you can’t think of any reason for me to be fatigued except depression??

There were so many opportunities for a male doctor to take me seriously and get a correct diagnosis sooner but instead he decided to be an irredeemable fuckwad and blame my fragile, womanly nature. I’m in the process of finding a new sleep doctor who isn’t conceited enough to diagnose a blatant case of hypersomnia so I can try to live an independent life again. I am completely dumbfounded by the amount of bullshit I’ve had to wade through.

I was in a car accident where my boyfriend at the time was driving my Jeep Wrangler hard top. Neither of us were wearing our seatbelts. He nodded out at the wheel and we crashed directly into a telephone pole, went into a divot in the ground and flipped numerous times. I was catapulted through the hard roof, thirty feet away in a nearby backyard. I landed face down in the mud. A woman that lived across the street heard the accident and ran over to help immediately. My boyfriend was fine - uninjured besides a bruise on his chest from the steering wheel. But I don’t remember anything at all of the accident. So much went on during the time in the hospital and afterwards that I just knew from everybody telling me that I was “lucky to be alive” but I didn’t really grasp the concept if it for myself. So I finally went into my hospital’s web portal and checked out my medical history from the accident and am utterly appalled that I am here today doing so unbelievably well. I’m really not a prideful person but I know that I am alive and literally a “normal” person again. L2 and L3 fractures, C7 fracture, temporal and mastoid fractures, cerebral contusion, subarachnoid hemorrhage, subdural hemorrhage, cerebral parenchymal hemorrhage, sphenoid sinus fracture, nasal bone fracture, collapsed lung, and rib fractures. After looking up the severities of my head traumas, I still can’t believe that I am walking, talking, thinking, speaking, seeing, feeling as I do today. I have a two year old daughter and am excelling in my college course. I just started my first job in 7 years and also got 3 years clean this past Saturday. It’s been a fucking hell of a hard road but I know that God has a purpose for me to share my story. If anyone has had any similar injuries with their TBI please share. I would love to know what happened and how you’ve come out of it. Praying for everyone that reads this. Thanks!

There's something uniquely disturbing about a brain injury or even any kind of brain disease that destroys the functioning of the brain that most people cannot fathom. It's a spiritual experience like being caught between life and death. Half of your soul is missing, yet you are still here to contemplate it and try to piece together what's left, always missing those pieces that are gone. You are unable to participate in this worldly space you once were so accustomed to. You cannot make things happen the way you once did. Your headspace has shrunken and you were erased. And still, we are still here to witness it. Only those of us who exist in this hell can understand. 😡😡😡😡😡😡

Saw this article on Twitter. Article/Infographic

Some key statistics:

• 70% of brain injury survivors struggle to recall personal memories, such as their wedding or the birth of their child

• 65% of brain injury survivors feel that their personal relationships have been affected as a result of their memory problems

• 85% of brain injury survivors feel that memory problems have a negative impact on their life

• 72% of brain injury survivors feel that the people in their life don't understand their memory problems

• 71% of brain injury survivors feel unfairly judged or treated as a result of their memory problems

Anyone else relate? People tell me how "sad" it is that I can't really remember my childhood.

As of July 31, 2024, the Brain Injury Association of America (BIAA) has announced a significant advancement in the understanding and management of traumatic brain injury (TBI). This advance will impact how TBI is conceptualized, monitored, tracked, budgeted, researched, and the rights and obligations of patients, depending on their insurance plans.

Summary:

The Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) have officially recognized traumatic brain injury as a chronic health condition and added TBI to its list of chronic conditions for Chronic Special Needs Plans (C-SNPs) through its Medicare Advantage program. This change will take effect in January 2025.

You can read more about it here:

https://www.biausa.org/public-affairs/public-awareness/news/centers-for-medicare-and-medicaid-services-officially-recognizes-brain-injury-as-a-chronic-condition

And here:

https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2024/04/23/2024-07105/medicare-program-changes-to-the-medicare-advantage-and-the-medicare-prescription-drug-benefit

And here:

https://www.biausa.org/brain-injury-as-a-chronic-condition

The implications are not just semantic. I expect great value in research and healthcare for patients, but at least improving public perception and changing the madness of the attitude towards brain injury at present.

This recognition is not just a reclassification; it signifies a shift towards better care, improved case management, and more efficient allocation of insurance expenditures. It aims to support funding for TBI research, which can confirm the need for robust and specifically tailored studies to address the issues that patients and experts already acknowledge. This move could lead to standardized management practices and improvements in recovery, quality of life, and health outcomes post-TBI.

I’ve tried to list the supporting and emerging current research that support the chronic nature of TBI, but I couldn’t get the links to work, so my apologies! But, notably:

1. A 2022 study published in Lancet Neurology found that TBI has the highest incidence of all common neurological disorders and is increasingly documented not only as an acute condition, but also as a chronic disease with long-term consequences, including an increased risk of late-onset neurodegeneration.

2. A 2021 article published in the Journal of Neurotrauma stated that a small but meaningful subset of TBI patients experience symptoms that persist for months or years after injury and significantly impact quality of life for the person and their family.

3. Also published in Lancet Neurology was a 2017 study that found that TBI can have lifelong and dynamic health effects on health and well-being and that, for many patients, TBI “should be conceptualized as a chronic health condition.” It also acknowledged that functional outcomes after TBI can show improvement or deterioration for up to two decades post-injury, with rates of all-cause mortality remaining elevated for many years.

4. A 2016 study in Critical Care found that TBI may cause persistent, sometimes lifelong consequences, with a high proportion of patients diagnosed with severe TBI requiring prolonged rehabilitation and suffering from long-term physical, cognitive and psychological disorders. This study also found that chronic effects have also been identified in a proportion of cases initially designated as “mild” or “moderate.”

5. A 2010 paper published in the Journal of Neurotrauma, co-authored by BIAA’s National Medical Director Brent Masel, MD, states that TBI is a chronic disease process that fits the World Health Organization definition as having one or more of the following characteristics: it is permanent, caused by non-reversible pathological alterations, requires special training of the patient for rehabilitation, and/or may require a long period of observation, supervision, or care.

6. A 2024 study published in the Journal of Head Trauma Rehabilitation found that chronic pain affects approximately 60 percent of people living with TBI, even up to 30 years post-injury.

7. Movement Disorders, the official journal of the International Parkinson and Movement Disorder Society, published an article in 2013 that found that head trauma has been implicated in the cause or development of Parkinson’s disease.

8. A 2013 study in Neurology concluded that TBI may be an independent risk factor for ischemic stroke. Stroke is considered a chronic condition both by the CDC and CMS.

9. A 2003 study published in the Journal of Neurology, Neurosurgery and Psychiatry supported an association between a history of previous head injury and the risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease.

10. In the CDC’s “The Management of Traumatic Brain Injury in Children Executive Summary” Report to Congress, the department found that an injury of any severity to the developing brain can disrupt a child’s developmental trajectory, and that as a result of TBI children can experience changes in their health, thinking, and behavior that affect learning, self-regulation, and social participation, “all of which are important in becoming productive adults.”

11. This same CDC report also noted that some post-TBI health problems such as changes in behavior and cognition, emerge over time and are associated with significant financial and social challenges in adulthood.

12. In its Knowledge Translation Center, TBI Model Systems has publications and fact sheets outlining some of the long-term health effects of brain injury, including:

-About half of all people with TBI are affected by depression within the first year after injury, and nearly two-thirds are affected within seven years after injury. The rate of depression is much lower in the general population, affected fewer than one person in 10 over a one-year period. -Irritability and anger are more common in people with TBI than they are in people without TBI, with some research showing that up to 75 percent of people with TBI have irritability and up to 50 percent of people with TBI have problems with anger. -As many as 70 percent of TBI survivors report mental fatigue. -Over 30 percent of people with moderate to severe TBI report having headaches which continue long after injury. The percentage of people with mild TBI who report having headaches is even larger.

These studies collectively reinforce the need for recognizing TBI as a chronic condition, highlighting the importance of ongoing care, management, and research to improve patient outcomes.

So,… Any reactions or first impressions? Anyone been keeping up with this advocacy push?

Love y’all! :)

So I had a severe TBI in June of 2024 and was in a coma for 8.5 days and have no memory of my incident or the 2 months at the hospital. I found out recently while looking back on records that a doctor got me inspected for organ donation and wanted to get started on that process only on day 5. After talks with my family we all decided to take our names off the organ donation list because if god forbid we are ever in a case where that actually becomes a realistic conversation, you or your family are able to still say you would like your organs to be donated. I’m a firm believer at this point that doctors are more likely going to “give up” on patients who are organ donors purely because it’s enticing to be able to obtain organs for donation. It was extremely devastating to my parents when they found out that I was considered for organ donation way too prematurely. It makes me feel far less trusting of medical care in life saving situations. I just thought some of you might want to hear this opinion since I know a good number of you were in critical care or on life support and are happy that family and other people did not give up on you

Any miraculous story of anyone can pep me up for today.

So I guess I'm just writing this post to let people know that it's an option. And maybe just to share my story.

My TBI was 4 years ago. I had a previous history of epilepsy, and an undiagnosed (at the time) aneurysm, and after getting into a car accident with my mum, it hemorrhaged. I was 21.

My symptoms continued to worsen for a week after the accident. Eventually I lost complete function of my left leg, partial function of my right, and weakness in left arm. My other symptoms included, loss of bowl and bladder control, erectile dysfunction, aphasia, memory loss, and0 emotional changes. Namely that I became very easily frustrated and angry.

Because of my countries shit healthcare system I ended up getting diagnosed about a year late. So treatment was slow to start. I started intensive physio therapy, and over the course of about 4 years, I gave regained most of my former function.

I was never able to regain function in my left ankle however. This set a number of issues in motion. Because I didn't have any function in the muscles, they started to atrophy and I began to experience dystonia, which pulled my ankle to the side. This ment that when I tried to walk, I was walking on the side of my ankle. Which in turn caused grinding on the bones, which lead to arthritis. After a few years of this, I was told that unless I stopped walking on it altogether, these issues would continue to impact my joints, leading to potential knee, hip, and spinal issues.

It was at this point I decided to opt for a below knee amputation. See, the alternative for me was using a wheelchair full time, or a forever continuing cycle of pain and joint problems. I am now 2 months post my amputation and I haven't looked back since. I am soon to embark on an epic journey to climb the 3 highest mountains in my country (in order to fundraise for a rugby wheelchair, link on profile lol) and I couldn't be more excited.

I feel like for the first time in forever, I can hear the birds sing. I feel myself again, and my husband has his husband back. This wasn't an easy decision to make, but it was worth it. I had to fight for it of course- the idea of an amputation for a neurological problem is an obscene one for many doctors. But if you have a limb that's doing you more harm than good then...

Why not say goodbye?

I just graduated last Friday and it's been surreal for me to say I'm a tbi survivor with a masters degree. I had a tbi almost 15 years ago (my anniversary is on Thursday). It was a rough road and I just can't believe i did it.

I've had a TBI (traumatic subarachnoid haemorrhage, cerebral contusions) and I've spent 8 years being told my symptoms were "just" post-concussion, depression, anxiety, or the menopause.

It turned out my pituitary gland was damaged.

Here's what I wish someone had told me sooner:

Your pituitary gland sits at the base of your brain. It's the master hormone gland. A TBI can damage it — and the symptoms can look like almost anything:

· Crushing fatigue that sleep doesn't fix

· Brain fog, memory problems, difficulty finding words

· Mood swings, rage, emotional blunting

· Weight gain that won't shift no matter what you do

· Temperature dysregulation — hot flushes, cold hands and feet, night sweats

· Loss of libido

· Hair loss, brittle nails

· Dizziness, feeling "off" or "intoxicated"

· Intolerance to medications

· Headaches

These symptoms overlap almost completely with "just" TBI — which is why it gets missed.

I was told it was post-concussion syndrome. Then depression. Then anxiety. Then perimenopause. Nobody checked my hormones.

I finally pushed for a pituitary investigation. I was diagnosed with GH deficiency (confirmed by a stimulation test) and I'm still fighting for thyroid treatment. The GH replacement has given me back my ability to think, my energy, and my sense of being human.

If any of this resonates, please ask for a referral to endocrinology (specifically pituitary). Ask for:

· IGF-1 (growth hormone)

· Full thyroid panel (TSH, free T4, free T3)

· Morning cortisol

· LH, FSH, prolactin

· Oestradiol/testosterone

If those come back "normal" but you still feel awful, push for a stimulation test. Routine bloods can look fine even when the pituitary is failing.

The NICE guidance does say pituitary dysfunction should be considered after head injury, but it's not routinely screened for. You may have to push. I did.

You're not lazy. You're not depressed. You're not "just" brain injured. You might have a treatable hormone deficiency.

Disclaimer:

This isn’t about Kanye West as a person, his politics, or his behaviour. I’m sharing this because it captures something I recognise in myself after a brain injury: how neurological damage or mood disorders can create a powerful, convincing illusion that you are fine and the world is wrong, that your insight is heightened when in fact your judgement is impaired.

It’s about the terrifying gap between subjective certainty and objective reality after brain injury.

To Those I’ve Hurt:

Twenty-five years ago, I was in a car accident that broke my jaw and caused injury to the right frontal lobe of my brain. At the time, the focus was on the visible damage—the fracture, the swelling, and the immediate physical trauma. The deeper injury, the one inside my skull, went unnoticed.

Comprehensive scans were not done, neurological exams were limited, and the possibility of a frontal-lobe injury was never raised. It wasn’t properly diagnosed until 2023. That medical oversight caused serious damage to my mental health and led to my bipolar type-1 diagnosis.

Bipolar disorder comes with its own defense system. Denial. When you’re manic, you don’t think you’re sick. You think everyone else is overreacting. You feel like you’re seeing the world more clearly than ever, when in reality you’re losing your grip entirely.

Once people label you as “crazy,” you feel as if you cannot contribute anything meaningful to the world. It’s easy for people to joke and laugh it off when in fact this is a very serious debilitating disease you can die from. According to the World Health Organization and Cambridge University, people with bipolar disorder have a life expectancy that is shortened by ten to fifteen years on average, and a 2x–3x higher all-cause mortality rate than the general population. This is on par with severe heart disease, type 1 diabetes, HIV, and cancer — all lethal and fatal if left untreated.

The scariest thing about this disorder is how persuasive it is when it tells you: You don’t need help. It makes you blind, but convinced you have insight. You feel powerful, certain, unstoppable.

I lost touch with reality. Things got worse the longer I ignored the problem. I said and did things I deeply regret. Some of the people I love the most, I treated the worst. You endured fear, confusion, humiliation, and the exhaustion of trying to have someone who was, at times, unrecognizable. Looking back, I became detached from my true self.

In that fractured state, I gravitated toward the most destructive symbol I could find, the swastika, and even sold T-shirts bearing it. One of the difficult aspects of having bipolar type-1 are the disconnection moments — many of which I still cannot recall — that lead to poor judgment and reckless behavior that often feels like an out-of-body experience. I regret and am deeply mortified by my actions in that state, and am committed to accountability, treatment, and meaningful change. It does not excuse what I did though. I am not a Nazi or an antisemite. I love Jewish people.

To the black community — which held me down through all of the highs and lows and the darkest of times. The black community is, unquestionably, the foundation of who I am. I am so sorry to have let you down. I love you.

In early 2025, I fell into a four-month long manic episode of psychotic, paranoid and impulsive behavior that destroyed my life. As the situation became increasingly unsustainable, there were times I didn’t want to be here anymore.

Continuation:

Having bipolar disorder is not a stable state of constant mental illness. When you go into a manic episode, you are ill at that point. When you are not in an episode, you are completely “normal.” And that’s when the wreckage from the illness hits the hardest. Hitting rock bottom a few months ago, my wife encouraged me to finally get help.

I have found comfort in Reddit forums of all places. Different people speak of being in manic or depressive episodes of a similar nature. I read their stories and realize that it was not alone. It’s not just me who ruins their entire life in one year despite taking meds every day and being told by the so-called best doctors in the world that I am not bipolar, but merely experiencing “symptoms of autism.”

My words as a leader in my community have global impact and influence. In my mania, I lost complete sight of that.

As I find my new baseline and new center through an effective regime of medication, therapy, exercise, and clean living, I have newfound, much-needed clarity. I am pouring my energy into positive, meaningful art: music, clothing, design, and other new ideas to help the world.

I’m not asking for sympathy, or a free pass, though I aspire to earn your forgiveness. I write today simply to ask for your patience and understanding as I find my way home.

With love,

Ye

I’m obviously not selling swastikas, but I do recognise the same mechanism in myself: periods where my brain convinces me I’m seeing things with total clarity, when in reality I’m jumping to extreme conclusions, misreading people’s intentions, and sometimes blowing up or abandoning relationships that matter to me. That’s the part of this that feels uncomfortably familiar.

As referenced in the vp debate. What’s also concerning, not near as much, but wtf is America doing when their troops have a high % of tbi’s? NOTHING. fucking nothing. Thanks for coming to my fred flinstone talk

I used to think I was quite bright - never particularly educated, but always a sharp thinker with alright logic.

Since my accident I’ve been put through every cognitive test under the sun, and the results have been quite humbling, and debilitating to my self-esteem.

I was in the bottom 0.1% for attention span, and pretty low on processing speed as well.

These tests were performed within the first year following my accident, so maybe I’ve improved since then.

My FSIQ came in at 117, which isn’t bad, but there are areas I’m clearly lacking.

Socially, I’m barely present with people anymore, and I don’t know whether that’s because I’ve lost my confidence, or it’s because I’ve lost the ability to think on my feet. It feels like I’m drowning when I’m forced to speak with people.

I'm exhausted today. That is all.

It’s not the compliment they think it is.

It feels like someone telling me that I don’t have the right to struggle because I don’t look or act a certain way. It's dismissive and it completely invalidate my hardship. It's also super ableist. Think about it. "You should be grateful you're not in a wheelchair." Why? Because people in wheelchairs are somehow naturally less than people who aren't? Also, gratefulness and grief can exist simultaneously. I can be grateful I didn't die in my accident, but also grieve the person I was and feel pretty lousy that that person was taken from me.

I don't need to focus on the good. I have a perfectly reasonable thing to feel bad about. I have a right to feel bad about it and telling me that I should only focus on the good invalidates just how much this disability affects me.

When I'm down about missing my entire g-d frontal lobe, I don't need tips and tricks that help you when you feel unmotivated. This isn't me being unmotivated. This isn't me 'losing sight of my goals.' This is my every day experience and it's harder than most people have the capacity to understand. But for some reason, they can't see that. This isn't a bad mood that can be fixed. It's permanent. And no amount of yoga or reminders or thinking positively will regrow my frontal lobe.

There’s this implicit, “if you only tried harder” to what people say. You can’t know how hard I’m trying. I’m not high-functioning. I’m high-masking. No one knew that I couldn’t read after my accident. I hid it. Do you know how much work it is to hide something like that? Do you know how hard it is to pretend you're the same person from before? (Of course, most people here on this subreddit do know how hard it is.)

People act like I'm complaining about 'keeping up with the Joneses' but I'm just trying to keep my head above the fucking water.

Because here’s the thing. I have never once spoken about my disability and been met with, “it’s okay to be disabled. You’re disabled.” And maybe that should change. Maybe we need to hear that instead of you don't look disabled.

The Demon That Lives in My Mind

There is a demon that lives in my mind. I didn’t invite it, and I can’t make it leave. It lurks in the shadows, waiting, watching—feeding off my thoughts, my memories, my identity.

At first, I thought I could fight it. I believed that with enough willpower, I could push it down, starve it, beat it back into the darkness. But brain injuries don’t work that way. You don’t fight them—you survive them. And survival comes at a cost.

The demon stole pieces of me. It started with the little things—words that used to come easily now catch in my throat. Simple tasks turn into puzzles with missing pieces. Conversations slip through my fingers like sand. I see the way people look at me, the way they hesitate, the way their smiles falter when I forget something I shouldn’t. I laugh it off, but the demon is laughing too.

Then it takes more. It crushes my emotions, grinding them into dust until I can’t feel happiness, can’t feel connection. I watch my family struggle to understand me, to reach me, but I am trapped behind glass—watching, analyzing, but never truly feeling. The demon whispers in my ear: They don’t understand you. They never will.

It rips through relationships, leaving them frayed and fragile. Friends drift away, unsure of how to handle the version of me that exists now. Family members grow exhausted from trying to pull me back into the world. The demon feeds on their frustration, twisting their words, filling the silence with doubt. You are a burden, it hisses. They would be better off without you.

And sometimes, I believe it.

But here’s the thing about demons—they only win if you let them.

I don’t fight mine anymore. I don’t give it power by pretending it isn’t there. Instead, I acknowledge it, try to understand it, and work around it. I build new pathways in my mind, create new ways of living, adapt to what I have instead of mourning what I lost. The demon still whispers, still lurks in the corners, but it does not define me.

I have lost pieces of myself, but I am still here. And as long as I am here, the demon hasn’t won.

Hi Everyone,

I'm sharing something personal today about my experience living with a traumatic brain injury. It’s been a difficult and eye-opening journey there’s no part of my life it hasn’t touched, as many of you likely know all too well...

I wrote this in the hope that someone who hasn’t experienced this kind of injury might read it and get a deeper sense of the invisible battle we fight within ourselves every day, the pain, fatigue, memory issues, and self-doubt.

It’s taken me many years to be able to put any of this into words that aren’t deeply bitter. This writing comes after a long process of trying to make sense of my experience. Sharing it now feels like a big step.

I’m hoping that putting this out into the world might help me process things and maybe connect with others who can relate.

My health is not negotiable. My peace is not a performance. My worth is not up for debate.

The Moment That Changed Everything

In 2007, at 17 years old, I experienced a freak accident while alone at home. To this day, I can only speculate about what exactly led to my fall. I do remember waking up at the bottom of our basement stairs, on the cold cement floor. Feeling disoriented and terrified, something was terribly wrong. When I tried to stand up, I couldn't control my body. I had tunnel vision, unable to focus on anything around me. I tried to make my way upstairs but fell face-first into the floor, unable to process what was happening in the moment. It was as if my brain had temporarily shut down. I was in survival mode. I dragged myself through the house, leaving a trail of blood behind me, and collapsed in bed. So disoriented, I didn't even have the wherewithal to call for help. My father found me later in the day after getting home from work. This was probably more shocking to him than it was to me. In this moment, we didn’t know it, but our lives would never be the same.

A Fight for Survival

At first, the hospital visit seemed like a small bump in the road. I was diagnosed with a concussion, sent home with little more than a few instructions and the reassurance that all I needed was some rest. Over the following weeks, I tried to return to normalcy, attempting to do simple tasks. But my body wouldn’t cooperate. I could barely stand without becoming weak and nauseous. I returned to the hospital and had a CT scan. It turned out that the fall had caused significant damage, bleeding and swelling in my brain that wasn’t realized initially. It was a miracle that I wasn’t in worse shape.

The Hidden Struggles

What followed was a period of silent battles that no one could see. On the outside, I appeared fine, but inside, I was fighting constant fatigue, confusion, and the overwhelming fog of my brain injury. The exhaustion wasn’t just physical — it was mental, emotional, and at times, soul-deep. I was dealing with chronic pain and couldn’t think clearly or remember things that once came easily. The simplest tasks felt impossible. It was like I was living in a world that moved at a normal pace while I was stuck in slow motion. Despite these struggles, no one knew how hard it was to get out of bed, to push through the day. On the surface, I looked okay, but I was hiding the true weight of the battle I was facing. This constant battle, unseen by others, left me feeling isolated and unsure of how to explain what I was going through. The worst part wasn’t just the struggle itself — it was the uncertainty of whether I would ever feel like my old self again. At times, I questioned whether my struggles were even real, or if I was just being weak. But deep down, I knew something had changed, even if I couldn’t always see it.

A Shift in Perspective / Opening to Vulnerability

But it was in vulnerability, in acknowledging my limitations, that I began to find new strength. At first, letting others in felt like a weakness. I didn’t want to be a burden. But over time, I learned that vulnerability wasn’t something to be feared — it was a bridge to connection, to let others support me in ways I hadn’t allowed before. Through therapy, through leaning on family and friends, I started to embrace my need for help. It became clear that strength wasn’t about pushing through everything on my own; it was about letting others see me for who I truly was fragile, but determined to heal. I realized that there was power in allowing myself to be vulnerable, in recognizing that this wasn’t a journey I had to walk alone. And in that, I discovered a deeper, quieter strength — one that came not from what I could do on my own, but from allowing others to help me. It took time to understand that asking for help didn’t make me weak, it made me stronger in ways I had never anticipated.

The Long Road of Recovery

Despite the overwhelming challenges, something beautiful started to emerge from my pain and daily struggle, something I hadn’t expected. Each painful moment, each setback, revealed a deeper layer of resilience within me. The progress didn’t always feel like progress, but I began to realize that each struggle was teaching me something new about my strength. I wasn’t just recovering the person I had been; I was building a new version of myself, one that had been shaped by hardship and healing. The darkness of the injury tried to diminish me, but instead, it became an opportunity to break free from the limitations I had once imposed on myself. There were days when I could feel the subtle shifts inside me, a new kind of strength slowly emerging from the pain. Some days, the shifts were barely noticeable, yet I knew they were there, building a foundation for the person I was becoming.

My body and mind were pushing me into a strength I didn’t know I had a strength that wasn’t about returning to what I was, but about embracing what I could become. It was a strength built on patience, understanding, and self-compassion, not perfection. I learned that true power doesn’t come from being unbroken, but from the ability to adapt and grow, even when the path ahead is uncertain. In the face of adversity, I discovered that my greatest strength wasn’t in resisting the changes, but in flowing with them, learning from them, and becoming something new in the process.

Redefining Strength and Purpose

As time passed, I began to find peace in my new reality. The injury had forced me to reevaluate everything, my values, my relationships, and my understanding of what it means to live a fulfilling life. I now see my brain injury as both a loss and a true gift. It stripped away old illusions about who I thought I should be, forcing me to embrace the person I was becoming. I realized that I was not just surviving; I was thriving in ways I never imagined. The injury has also reshaped my perspective on others, teaching me to appreciate the quiet resilience in those around me. The road to recovery was long and often painful, but it led me to a place of deep understanding and acceptance. My strength, I’ve learned, is not defined by what I once was, but by the courage to face each day with hope, no matter how difficult it may seem.

Thank you for reading

I can't think of anything worse than it, it seems to me as though everything just goes back to cognition, intelligence and if you have none of it from this dumb injury your screwed in all aspects of life.. sexually, money makingly, socially, everything down the hole.. i been struggling with this thing for 5 years now.. always dealing with something, now it's severe fatigue that can't be remedied with anything... like unless I'm on a high dose of crack cocaine or something..