A Manifesto for Understanding Brain Injury: Why Your Love and Support Can Change Everything
When a truck crashed through the wall of my bedroom while I was sleeping, throwing me from my bed in the middle of the night, my life changed forever. In that single moment, everything I knew about myself, my relationships, and my future was altered in ways I couldn't have imagined. This is not just my story—it's a call to action for every family member, friend, and spouse who loves someone with a brain injury. Your understanding, patience, and unwavering support can literally mean the difference between despair and hope, between isolation and healing, between giving up and finding a way forward.
Brain injury is not like other injuries. When someone breaks their leg, you can see the cast. When they have surgery, you can see the scar. But when the brain is injured, the wounds are invisible, and the changes that follow can be profound, unpredictable, and permanent. The person you love may look exactly the same on the outside, but inside, everything may have shifted. Their personality, their emotions, their ability to process information, their energy levels, their tolerance for noise and light, their memory, their impulse control—all of these can be affected in ways that are difficult to understand if you haven't experienced it yourself.
The night that truck came through my wall, I didn't just sustain a brain injury. I became a different version of myself, one that I'm still getting to know years later. Arica—that's me—is still healing, still discovering what this new version of life looks like, still learning what helps and what makes things worse. The journey has been long, complicated, and often overwhelming, but it has also taught me something crucial: the power of having people in your life who refuse to give up on you, who take the time to understand what you're going through, and who love you not despite your injury, but including it.
When a truck crashed through the wall of my bedroom while I was sleeping, throwing me from my bed in the middle of the night, my life changed forever. In that single moment, everything I knew about myself, my relationships, and my future was altered in ways I couldn't have imagined. This is not just my story—it's a call to action for every family member, friend, and spouse who loves someone with a brain injury. Your understanding, patience, and unwavering support can literally mean the difference between despair and hope, between isolation and healing, between giving up and finding a way forward.
Brain injury is not like other injuries. When someone breaks their leg, you can see the cast. When they have surgery, you can see the scar. But when the brain is injured, the wounds are invisible, and the changes that follow can be profound, unpredictable, and permanent. The person you love may look exactly the same on the outside, but inside, everything may have shifted. Their personality, their emotions, their ability to process information, their energy levels, their tolerance for noise and light, their memory, their impulse control—all of these can be affected in ways that are difficult to understand if you haven't experienced it yourself.
The night that truck came through my wall, I didn't just sustain a brain injury. I became a different version of myself, one that I'm still getting to know years later. Arica—that's me—is still healing, still discovering what this new version of life looks like, still learning what helps and what makes things worse. The journey has been long, complicated, and often overwhelming, but it has also taught me something crucial: the power of having people in your life who refuse to give up on you, who take the time to understand what you're going through, and who love you not despite your injury, but including it.
The Complexity of Symptoms: More Than Just Memory Problems
When most people think of brain injury, they think of memory problems or maybe difficulty concentrating. While these are certainly common symptoms, the reality is far more complex. Brain injury can affect virtually every aspect of how a person experiences and interacts with the world.
Personality changes are among the most challenging symptoms for both the injured person and their loved ones to navigate. Someone who was once patient may become easily irritated. Someone who was social may become withdrawn. Someone who was organized may struggle with basic planning and time management. These changes aren't choices—they're direct results of how the injury has affected different areas of the brain.
Sensory processing issues are another major component that's often misunderstood. After my injury, I discovered that certain colors, sounds, and textures could either help or hinder my healing process. Blue, for example, has always been calming to me throughout my life, but after the brain injury, this became even more pronounced. Wearing blue clothing, surrounding myself with blue objects, and even visualizing the color blue became powerful tools for managing stress and anxiety. This might seem strange to someone who hasn't experienced brain injury, but for me, it's a concrete strategy that makes a real difference in my daily functioning.
The fatigue that comes with brain injury is unlike normal tiredness. It's a deep, overwhelming exhaustion that can strike without warning and isn't relieved by rest alone. Simple activities like having a conversation, going to the grocery store, or attending a family gathering can be mentally and physically draining in ways that are difficult to explain to someone who hasn't experienced it.
Sleep disturbances are common, creating a vicious cycle where the brain needs rest to heal but struggles to achieve the quality sleep necessary for recovery. Emotional regulation becomes more difficult, leading to mood swings, anxiety, or depression that may seem disproportionate to the situation at hand. Executive functioning—the brain's ability to plan, organize, and manage multiple tasks—can be significantly impaired, making everyday responsibilities feel overwhelming.
Personality changes are among the most challenging symptoms for both the injured person and their loved ones to navigate. Someone who was once patient may become easily irritated. Someone who was social may become withdrawn. Someone who was organized may struggle with basic planning and time management. These changes aren't choices—they're direct results of how the injury has affected different areas of the brain.
Sensory processing issues are another major component that's often misunderstood. After my injury, I discovered that certain colors, sounds, and textures could either help or hinder my healing process. Blue, for example, has always been calming to me throughout my life, but after the brain injury, this became even more pronounced. Wearing blue clothing, surrounding myself with blue objects, and even visualizing the color blue became powerful tools for managing stress and anxiety. This might seem strange to someone who hasn't experienced brain injury, but for me, it's a concrete strategy that makes a real difference in my daily functioning.
The fatigue that comes with brain injury is unlike normal tiredness. It's a deep, overwhelming exhaustion that can strike without warning and isn't relieved by rest alone. Simple activities like having a conversation, going to the grocery store, or attending a family gathering can be mentally and physically draining in ways that are difficult to explain to someone who hasn't experienced it.
Sleep disturbances are common, creating a vicious cycle where the brain needs rest to heal but struggles to achieve the quality sleep necessary for recovery. Emotional regulation becomes more difficult, leading to mood swings, anxiety, or depression that may seem disproportionate to the situation at hand. Executive functioning—the brain's ability to plan, organize, and manage multiple tasks—can be significantly impaired, making everyday responsibilities feel overwhelming.
econdary Conditions: When Brain Injury Leads to Other Health Problems
What many people don't realize is that brain injury can trigger a cascade of other health problems that compound the original injury. In my case, I developed Adult Growth Hormone Deficiency (AGHD) as a result of my brain injury. This condition occurs when the pituitary gland, which can be damaged during brain trauma, doesn't produce enough growth hormone.
AGHD isn't just about growth—in adults, growth hormone plays crucial roles in maintaining muscle mass, bone density, energy levels, and overall metabolism. When you don't have enough of it, you experience fatigue that goes beyond what the brain injury alone would cause. Your body composition changes, often leading to increased fat and decreased muscle mass. Your energy levels plummet, making the already challenging process of brain injury recovery even more difficult.
The weight changes that can occur with both brain injury and secondary conditions like AGHD add another layer of stress and complexity to recovery. When your body doesn't look or feel the way it used to, when clothes don't fit the same way, when you don't have the energy for physical activities you once enjoyed, it affects your self-esteem and mental health. This creates additional stress, which in turn can worsen brain injury symptoms, creating a cycle that's difficult to break without proper support and treatment.
Other secondary conditions that can develop after brain injury include thyroid disorders, diabetes, cardiovascular problems, and various autoimmune conditions. The stress of living with a brain injury, combined with the physical changes in the brain itself, can trigger these conditions in people who never had them before. Each additional diagnosis brings its own set of symptoms, treatments, and lifestyle adjustments, making an already complex situation even more challenging to navigate.
This is why it's so important for family members and friends to understand that brain injury recovery isn't just about addressing the initial trauma. It's about managing a potentially evolving set of health challenges that may continue to emerge months or even years after the original injury. The person you love may need ongoing medical care, may develop new symptoms that seem unrelated to the brain injury, and may require different types of support as their health situation changes over time.
What many people don't realize is that brain injury can trigger a cascade of other health problems that compound the original injury. In my case, I developed Adult Growth Hormone Deficiency (AGHD) as a result of my brain injury. This condition occurs when the pituitary gland, which can be damaged during brain trauma, doesn't produce enough growth hormone.
AGHD isn't just about growth—in adults, growth hormone plays crucial roles in maintaining muscle mass, bone density, energy levels, and overall metabolism. When you don't have enough of it, you experience fatigue that goes beyond what the brain injury alone would cause. Your body composition changes, often leading to increased fat and decreased muscle mass. Your energy levels plummet, making the already challenging process of brain injury recovery even more difficult.
The weight changes that can occur with both brain injury and secondary conditions like AGHD add another layer of stress and complexity to recovery. When your body doesn't look or feel the way it used to, when clothes don't fit the same way, when you don't have the energy for physical activities you once enjoyed, it affects your self-esteem and mental health. This creates additional stress, which in turn can worsen brain injury symptoms, creating a cycle that's difficult to break without proper support and treatment.
Other secondary conditions that can develop after brain injury include thyroid disorders, diabetes, cardiovascular problems, and various autoimmune conditions. The stress of living with a brain injury, combined with the physical changes in the brain itself, can trigger these conditions in people who never had them before. Each additional diagnosis brings its own set of symptoms, treatments, and lifestyle adjustments, making an already complex situation even more challenging to navigate.
This is why it's so important for family members and friends to understand that brain injury recovery isn't just about addressing the initial trauma. It's about managing a potentially evolving set of health challenges that may continue to emerge months or even years after the original injury. The person you love may need ongoing medical care, may develop new symptoms that seem unrelated to the brain injury, and may require different types of support as their health situation changes over time.
The Power of Understanding: How My Partner's Love Made All the Difference
In the midst of all this complexity and challenge, I want to share what made the biggest difference in my recovery: having a partner who refused to give up on understanding what I was going through. My mate didn't just stand by and hope things would get better—he actively studied my condition, learned about brain injury, researched my diagnosis, and became an expert in what I was experiencing.
This wasn't easy for him. Watching someone you love struggle with an invisible disability, seeing their personality change, dealing with the unpredictability of symptoms—it would have been understandable if he had felt overwhelmed or decided it was too much to handle. Instead, he chose to dive deeper into understanding what brain injury really meant and how it was affecting me specifically.
He learned that when I became overwhelmed in social situations, it wasn't because I didn't want to be there or didn't care about the people around me—it was because my brain was working overtime to process information that used to be automatic. He understood that when I needed to wear blue clothing or surround myself with calming colors, it wasn't a quirky preference but a legitimate coping strategy that helped my brain function better.
Most importantly, he never made me feel like I was broken or that I needed to "get back to normal." Instead, he helped me discover what this new normal could look like and celebrated every small victory along the way. When I had good days, he cheered me on. When I had difficult days, he provided comfort without judgment. He never made me feel like I was a burden or that my injury was something that needed to be hidden or minimized.
His deep, unwavering love became the foundation that made everything else possible. Recovery from brain injury is hard enough when you're dealing with the medical aspects, the therapy appointments, the medication adjustments, and the daily challenges of living with cognitive changes. When you also have to worry about whether the people you love will stick around, whether they'll understand why you can't do things the way you used to, or whether they'll grow tired of accommodating your needs, the stress becomes overwhelming.
But when you have someone who studies your condition, who learns alongside you, who adapts their expectations and their approach based on what you actually need rather than what they think you should need, it changes everything. It provides a sense of security and acceptance that allows you to focus your energy on healing rather than on trying to appear "normal" or worrying about being abandoned.
In the midst of all this complexity and challenge, I want to share what made the biggest difference in my recovery: having a partner who refused to give up on understanding what I was going through. My mate didn't just stand by and hope things would get better—he actively studied my condition, learned about brain injury, researched my diagnosis, and became an expert in what I was experiencing.
This wasn't easy for him. Watching someone you love struggle with an invisible disability, seeing their personality change, dealing with the unpredictability of symptoms—it would have been understandable if he had felt overwhelmed or decided it was too much to handle. Instead, he chose to dive deeper into understanding what brain injury really meant and how it was affecting me specifically.
He learned that when I became overwhelmed in social situations, it wasn't because I didn't want to be there or didn't care about the people around me—it was because my brain was working overtime to process information that used to be automatic. He understood that when I needed to wear blue clothing or surround myself with calming colors, it wasn't a quirky preference but a legitimate coping strategy that helped my brain function better.
Most importantly, he never made me feel like I was broken or that I needed to "get back to normal." Instead, he helped me discover what this new normal could look like and celebrated every small victory along the way. When I had good days, he cheered me on. When I had difficult days, he provided comfort without judgment. He never made me feel like I was a burden or that my injury was something that needed to be hidden or minimized.
His deep, unwavering love became the foundation that made everything else possible. Recovery from brain injury is hard enough when you're dealing with the medical aspects, the therapy appointments, the medication adjustments, and the daily challenges of living with cognitive changes. When you also have to worry about whether the people you love will stick around, whether they'll understand why you can't do things the way you used to, or whether they'll grow tired of accommodating your needs, the stress becomes overwhelming.
But when you have someone who studies your condition, who learns alongside you, who adapts their expectations and their approach based on what you actually need rather than what they think you should need, it changes everything. It provides a sense of security and acceptance that allows you to focus your energy on healing rather than on trying to appear "normal" or worrying about being abandoned.
What Brain Injury Really Means: Beyond the Medical Terminology
To truly support someone with a brain injury, it's important to understand what the injury actually is and how it affects daily life. Brain injury isn't just about damaged brain cells—it's about disrupted connections, altered chemical processes, and changed patterns of neural activity that affect everything from basic survival functions to complex cognitive abilities.
Think of the brain as an incredibly sophisticated computer network. When that network is damaged, some programs may stop working entirely, others may run slowly or unpredictably, and some may work fine most of the time but crash under certain conditions. The person using this computer hasn't changed their fundamental desires, goals, or personality, but they're now working with a system that responds differently than it used to.
This is why someone with a brain injury might be able to have a perfectly normal conversation one day but struggle to follow a simple TV show the next day. It's why they might remember complex details from years ago but forget what they had for breakfast. It's why they might be fine in quiet, one-on-one situations but become completely overwhelmed in group settings or noisy environments.
The injury affects not just what the person can do, but how much energy it takes to do it. Tasks that used to be automatic now require conscious effort and concentration. Social interactions that used to be energizing may now be exhausting. The brain is working harder to accomplish the same things, which leads to fatigue, frustration, and the need for more recovery time between activities.
Understanding this helps explain why someone with a brain injury might need to cancel plans at the last minute, why they might seem fine on the outside but be struggling internally, or why they might need accommodations that don't seem necessary to someone who hasn't experienced brain injury. It's not about being difficult or making excuses—it's about working with a changed brain that has different capabilities and limitations than it used to have.
To truly support someone with a brain injury, it's important to understand what the injury actually is and how it affects daily life. Brain injury isn't just about damaged brain cells—it's about disrupted connections, altered chemical processes, and changed patterns of neural activity that affect everything from basic survival functions to complex cognitive abilities.
Think of the brain as an incredibly sophisticated computer network. When that network is damaged, some programs may stop working entirely, others may run slowly or unpredictably, and some may work fine most of the time but crash under certain conditions. The person using this computer hasn't changed their fundamental desires, goals, or personality, but they're now working with a system that responds differently than it used to.
This is why someone with a brain injury might be able to have a perfectly normal conversation one day but struggle to follow a simple TV show the next day. It's why they might remember complex details from years ago but forget what they had for breakfast. It's why they might be fine in quiet, one-on-one situations but become completely overwhelmed in group settings or noisy environments.
The injury affects not just what the person can do, but how much energy it takes to do it. Tasks that used to be automatic now require conscious effort and concentration. Social interactions that used to be energizing may now be exhausting. The brain is working harder to accomplish the same things, which leads to fatigue, frustration, and the need for more recovery time between activities.
Understanding this helps explain why someone with a brain injury might need to cancel plans at the last minute, why they might seem fine on the outside but be struggling internally, or why they might need accommodations that don't seem necessary to someone who hasn't experienced brain injury. It's not about being difficult or making excuses—it's about working with a changed brain that has different capabilities and limitations than it used to have.
What Brain Injury Really Means: Beyond the Medical Terminology
To truly support someone with a brain injury, it's important to understand what the injury actually is and how it affects daily life. Brain injury isn't just about damaged brain cells—it's about disrupted connections, altered chemical processes, and changed patterns of neural activity that affect everything from basic survival functions to complex cognitive abilities.
Think of the brain as an incredibly sophisticated computer network. When that network is damaged, some programs may stop working entirely, others may run slowly or unpredictably, and some may work fine most of the time but crash under certain conditions. The person using this computer hasn't changed their fundamental desires, goals, or personality, but they're now working with a system that responds differently than it used to.
This is why someone with a brain injury might be able to have a perfectly normal conversation one day but struggle to follow a simple TV show the next day. It's why they might remember complex details from years ago but forget what they had for breakfast. It's why they might be fine in quiet, one-on-one situations but become completely overwhelmed in group settings or noisy environments.
The injury affects not just what the person can do, but how much energy it takes to do it. Tasks that used to be automatic now require conscious effort and concentration. Social interactions that used to be energizing may now be exhausting. The brain is working harder to accomplish the same things, which leads to fatigue, frustration, and the need for more recovery time between activities.
Understanding this helps explain why someone with a brain injury might need to cancel plans at the last minute, why they might seem fine on the outside but be struggling internally, or why they might need accommodations that don't seem necessary to someone who hasn't experienced brain injury. It's not about being difficult or making excuses—it's about working with a changed brain that has different capabilities and limitations than it used to have.
To truly support someone with a brain injury, it's important to understand what the injury actually is and how it affects daily life. Brain injury isn't just about damaged brain cells—it's about disrupted connections, altered chemical processes, and changed patterns of neural activity that affect everything from basic survival functions to complex cognitive abilities.
Think of the brain as an incredibly sophisticated computer network. When that network is damaged, some programs may stop working entirely, others may run slowly or unpredictably, and some may work fine most of the time but crash under certain conditions. The person using this computer hasn't changed their fundamental desires, goals, or personality, but they're now working with a system that responds differently than it used to.
This is why someone with a brain injury might be able to have a perfectly normal conversation one day but struggle to follow a simple TV show the next day. It's why they might remember complex details from years ago but forget what they had for breakfast. It's why they might be fine in quiet, one-on-one situations but become completely overwhelmed in group settings or noisy environments.
The injury affects not just what the person can do, but how much energy it takes to do it. Tasks that used to be automatic now require conscious effort and concentration. Social interactions that used to be energizing may now be exhausting. The brain is working harder to accomplish the same things, which leads to fatigue, frustration, and the need for more recovery time between activities.
Understanding this helps explain why someone with a brain injury might need to cancel plans at the last minute, why they might seem fine on the outside but be struggling internally, or why they might need accommodations that don't seem necessary to someone who hasn't experienced brain injury. It's not about being difficult or making excuses—it's about working with a changed brain that has different capabilities and limitations than it used to have.
The Stress Factor: How Emotional Support Affects Physical Healing
One of the most important things for family members and friends to understand is how directly emotional stress affects brain injury recovery. The brain needs calm, supportive environments to heal effectively. When someone with a brain injury is constantly worried about being judged, abandoned, or misunderstood, their stress levels remain elevated, which actually interferes with the healing process.
Chronic stress floods the brain with hormones like cortisol, which can impair memory formation, disrupt sleep, increase inflammation, and interfere with the brain's natural repair mechanisms. For someone whose brain is already working hard to recover from injury, this additional stress can significantly slow down or even reverse progress.
On the other hand, when someone feels truly understood, accepted, and supported, their stress levels decrease, allowing their brain to focus its energy on healing rather than on managing anxiety and worry. This is why the emotional support of family and friends isn't just nice to have—it's medically important for recovery.
The stress of living with a brain injury is compounded by the fact that it's an invisible disability. People can't see the injury, so they may not understand why accommodations are necessary or why the person can't just "push through" their symptoms. This leads to well-meaning but harmful advice like "you just need to think positive" or "everyone forgets things sometimes" or "you look fine to me."
These comments, while intended to be supportive, actually increase stress by making the person with the brain injury feel like their very real struggles are being minimized or dismissed. They may start to doubt their own experience or feel pressure to hide their symptoms, which requires additional mental energy and increases overall stress levels.
One of the most important things for family members and friends to understand is how directly emotional stress affects brain injury recovery. The brain needs calm, supportive environments to heal effectively. When someone with a brain injury is constantly worried about being judged, abandoned, or misunderstood, their stress levels remain elevated, which actually interferes with the healing process.
Chronic stress floods the brain with hormones like cortisol, which can impair memory formation, disrupt sleep, increase inflammation, and interfere with the brain's natural repair mechanisms. For someone whose brain is already working hard to recover from injury, this additional stress can significantly slow down or even reverse progress.
On the other hand, when someone feels truly understood, accepted, and supported, their stress levels decrease, allowing their brain to focus its energy on healing rather than on managing anxiety and worry. This is why the emotional support of family and friends isn't just nice to have—it's medically important for recovery.
The stress of living with a brain injury is compounded by the fact that it's an invisible disability. People can't see the injury, so they may not understand why accommodations are necessary or why the person can't just "push through" their symptoms. This leads to well-meaning but harmful advice like "you just need to think positive" or "everyone forgets things sometimes" or "you look fine to me."
These comments, while intended to be supportive, actually increase stress by making the person with the brain injury feel like their very real struggles are being minimized or dismissed. They may start to doubt their own experience or feel pressure to hide their symptoms, which requires additional mental energy and increases overall stress levels.
Ways to Help: Practical Support That Makes a Real Difference
Supporting someone with a brain injury doesn't require medical training or specialized knowledge—it requires patience, flexibility, and a willingness to learn what actually helps rather than what you think should help. Here are some of the most meaningful ways to provide support:
Learn about their specific type of brain injury and how it affects them individually. Every brain injury is different, and what helps one person may not help another. Ask questions, read about their condition, and pay attention to what they tell you about their experience. Don't assume you know what they need based on other people you've known with brain injuries or what you've seen in movies or TV shows.
Respect their energy limitations and don't take it personally when they need to cancel plans or leave early. Brain injury fatigue is real and unpredictable. Someone might feel fine when they make plans but be completely exhausted when the time comes. Having the flexibility to adjust plans without guilt or frustration makes an enormous difference in their stress levels and overall well-being.
Create calm, low-stimulation environments when possible. This might mean dimming lights, reducing background noise, limiting the number of people in a conversation, or choosing quieter restaurants and venues for social activities. Small environmental changes can have a big impact on someone's ability to participate and enjoy social interactions.
Be patient with communication differences. Someone with a brain injury might need more time to process information, might lose their train of thought mid-sentence, or might need you to repeat things. Don't finish their sentences for them unless they ask you to, and don't act frustrated if they need clarification or repetition.
Celebrate small victories and progress, even if it doesn't seem significant to you. Recovery from brain injury happens in small increments, and acknowledging these improvements helps maintain motivation and hope. What might seem like a minor accomplishment to someone without a brain injury could represent weeks or months of hard work for someone who is recovering.
Help with practical tasks without being asked, but also respect their independence when they want to do things themselves. Brain injury can affect executive functioning, making it harder to manage schedules, remember appointments, or organize daily tasks. Offering to help with these things can reduce stress, but it's also important to let them maintain control over their own life as much as possible.
Supporting someone with a brain injury doesn't require medical training or specialized knowledge—it requires patience, flexibility, and a willingness to learn what actually helps rather than what you think should help. Here are some of the most meaningful ways to provide support:
Learn about their specific type of brain injury and how it affects them individually. Every brain injury is different, and what helps one person may not help another. Ask questions, read about their condition, and pay attention to what they tell you about their experience. Don't assume you know what they need based on other people you've known with brain injuries or what you've seen in movies or TV shows.
Respect their energy limitations and don't take it personally when they need to cancel plans or leave early. Brain injury fatigue is real and unpredictable. Someone might feel fine when they make plans but be completely exhausted when the time comes. Having the flexibility to adjust plans without guilt or frustration makes an enormous difference in their stress levels and overall well-being.
Create calm, low-stimulation environments when possible. This might mean dimming lights, reducing background noise, limiting the number of people in a conversation, or choosing quieter restaurants and venues for social activities. Small environmental changes can have a big impact on someone's ability to participate and enjoy social interactions.
Be patient with communication differences. Someone with a brain injury might need more time to process information, might lose their train of thought mid-sentence, or might need you to repeat things. Don't finish their sentences for them unless they ask you to, and don't act frustrated if they need clarification or repetition.
Celebrate small victories and progress, even if it doesn't seem significant to you. Recovery from brain injury happens in small increments, and acknowledging these improvements helps maintain motivation and hope. What might seem like a minor accomplishment to someone without a brain injury could represent weeks or months of hard work for someone who is recovering.
Help with practical tasks without being asked, but also respect their independence when they want to do things themselves. Brain injury can affect executive functioning, making it harder to manage schedules, remember appointments, or organize daily tasks. Offering to help with these things can reduce stress, but it's also important to let them maintain control over their own life as much as possible.
Activities That Help: Building Connection While Supporting
Recovery
Finding activities that work for someone with a brain injury requires creativity and flexibility, but it's absolutely possible to maintain meaningful connections and create new positive experiences together. The key is focusing on activities that are calming rather than overstimulating, that can be easily modified based on energy levels, and that don't require intense concentration or multitasking.
Spending time in nature can be incredibly healing for brain injury recovery. Walking in quiet parks, sitting by water, or simply being outdoors in peaceful settings can reduce stress, improve mood, and provide gentle sensory input that supports healing. These activities can be easily adjusted based on energy levels—sometimes it might be a long hike, other times it might just be sitting on a bench together.
Creative activities like art, music, or crafts can be therapeutic and enjoyable while also supporting cognitive recovery. These activities engage different parts of the brain, can be done at whatever pace feels comfortable, and provide a sense of accomplishment and self-expression. They also create opportunities for conversation and connection without the pressure of formal social interactions.
Gentle physical activities like yoga, stretching, or swimming can help with both physical and mental recovery while providing opportunities to spend time together. These activities can improve sleep, reduce stress, and help with some of the physical symptoms that often accompany brain injury.
Quiet social activities like watching movies, playing simple games, or having one-on-one conversations in comfortable settings can maintain social connections without overwhelming someone's processing abilities. The key is keeping these interactions low-pressure and being willing to adjust or stop if the person becomes tired or overwhelmed.
Routine activities like grocery shopping, cooking simple meals, or doing household tasks together can provide structure and normalcy while also offering opportunities for connection. These activities can help someone with a brain injury practice executive functioning skills in a supportive environment.
Recovery
Finding activities that work for someone with a brain injury requires creativity and flexibility, but it's absolutely possible to maintain meaningful connections and create new positive experiences together. The key is focusing on activities that are calming rather than overstimulating, that can be easily modified based on energy levels, and that don't require intense concentration or multitasking.
Spending time in nature can be incredibly healing for brain injury recovery. Walking in quiet parks, sitting by water, or simply being outdoors in peaceful settings can reduce stress, improve mood, and provide gentle sensory input that supports healing. These activities can be easily adjusted based on energy levels—sometimes it might be a long hike, other times it might just be sitting on a bench together.
Creative activities like art, music, or crafts can be therapeutic and enjoyable while also supporting cognitive recovery. These activities engage different parts of the brain, can be done at whatever pace feels comfortable, and provide a sense of accomplishment and self-expression. They also create opportunities for conversation and connection without the pressure of formal social interactions.
Gentle physical activities like yoga, stretching, or swimming can help with both physical and mental recovery while providing opportunities to spend time together. These activities can improve sleep, reduce stress, and help with some of the physical symptoms that often accompany brain injury.
Quiet social activities like watching movies, playing simple games, or having one-on-one conversations in comfortable settings can maintain social connections without overwhelming someone's processing abilities. The key is keeping these interactions low-pressure and being willing to adjust or stop if the person becomes tired or overwhelmed.
Routine activities like grocery shopping, cooking simple meals, or doing household tasks together can provide structure and normalcy while also offering opportunities for connection. These activities can help someone with a brain injury practice executive functioning skills in a supportive environment.
The Long-Term Perspective: Understanding That Recovery Is Ongoing
Perhaps the most important thing for family members and friends to understand is that brain injury recovery is not a linear process with a clear endpoint. It's an ongoing journey that may continue for years, with periods of improvement, plateaus, and sometimes setbacks. This doesn't mean that progress isn't being made or that the situation is hopeless—it means that recovery looks different than it does for other types of injuries.
Some improvements may happen quickly in the first few months after injury, while others may take years to become apparent. Some abilities may return completely, others may improve but never quite return to pre-injury levels, and some may require permanent accommodations or adaptations. This variability is normal and doesn't reflect a lack of effort or motivation on the part of the person with the brain injury.
The most helpful approach is to focus on what's possible today rather than comparing current abilities to pre-injury functioning or setting arbitrary timelines for recovery. This allows everyone involved to appreciate progress as it happens and to adapt expectations based on reality rather than wishful thinking.
It's also important to understand that someone can continue to improve and develop new coping strategies years after their initial injury. The brain has remarkable plasticity, and with the right support, people can continue to find new ways to work with their changed abilities throughout their lives. This means that hope and continued effort are always worthwhile, even when progress seems slow or stalled.
Perhaps the most important thing for family members and friends to understand is that brain injury recovery is not a linear process with a clear endpoint. It's an ongoing journey that may continue for years, with periods of improvement, plateaus, and sometimes setbacks. This doesn't mean that progress isn't being made or that the situation is hopeless—it means that recovery looks different than it does for other types of injuries.
Some improvements may happen quickly in the first few months after injury, while others may take years to become apparent. Some abilities may return completely, others may improve but never quite return to pre-injury levels, and some may require permanent accommodations or adaptations. This variability is normal and doesn't reflect a lack of effort or motivation on the part of the person with the brain injury.
The most helpful approach is to focus on what's possible today rather than comparing current abilities to pre-injury functioning or setting arbitrary timelines for recovery. This allows everyone involved to appreciate progress as it happens and to adapt expectations based on reality rather than wishful thinking.
It's also important to understand that someone can continue to improve and develop new coping strategies years after their initial injury. The brain has remarkable plasticity, and with the right support, people can continue to find new ways to work with their changed abilities throughout their lives. This means that hope and continued effort are always worthwhile, even when progress seems slow or stalled.
The Ripple Effect: How Your Support Affects Everyone
When you provide understanding, patient, and consistent support to someone with a brain injury, the positive effects extend far beyond that individual person. Your approach influences how other family members and friends respond, creates a more supportive overall environment, and helps reduce the isolation that often accompanies brain injury.
Children in the family learn important lessons about compassion, adaptability, and unconditional love when they see adults responding to brain injury with understanding rather than frustration. Other family members may follow your lead in learning about the condition and adjusting their expectations and interactions accordingly.
The person with the brain injury is also more likely to be open about their needs and struggles when they feel supported, which allows for better communication and more effective help. When someone feels safe to express their limitations without fear of judgment or abandonment, they can be more honest about what they need, leading to better outcomes for everyone involved.
Your support also helps preserve important relationships that might otherwise be damaged by misunderstanding or unrealistic expectations. Brain injury can strain marriages, friendships, and family relationships, but when there's a foundation of understanding and acceptance, these relationships can actually become stronger and more meaningful than they were before the injury.
When you provide understanding, patient, and consistent support to someone with a brain injury, the positive effects extend far beyond that individual person. Your approach influences how other family members and friends respond, creates a more supportive overall environment, and helps reduce the isolation that often accompanies brain injury.
Children in the family learn important lessons about compassion, adaptability, and unconditional love when they see adults responding to brain injury with understanding rather than frustration. Other family members may follow your lead in learning about the condition and adjusting their expectations and interactions accordingly.
The person with the brain injury is also more likely to be open about their needs and struggles when they feel supported, which allows for better communication and more effective help. When someone feels safe to express their limitations without fear of judgment or abandonment, they can be more honest about what they need, leading to better outcomes for everyone involved.
Your support also helps preserve important relationships that might otherwise be damaged by misunderstanding or unrealistic expectations. Brain injury can strain marriages, friendships, and family relationships, but when there's a foundation of understanding and acceptance, these relationships can actually become stronger and more meaningful than they were before the injury.
A Call to Action: Choosing Love Over Fear
Living with brain injury, whether as the injured person or as someone who loves them, requires courage. It requires the courage to face an uncertain future, to adapt to changes you never expected, to learn new ways of being in relationship with each other, and to find meaning and joy in circumstances that may be very different from what you had planned.
But here's what I've learned through my own journey: when people choose love over fear, understanding over judgment, and patience over frustration, incredible things become possible. Recovery may not look like returning to exactly the way things were before, but it can mean discovering new strengths, deeper connections, and a more profound appreciation for the preciousness of each day.
My story began with a truck crashing through my bedroom wall, throwing me from my bed and changing my life forever. But the most important part of my story isn't the accident itself—it's what happened afterward. It's the love that refused to give up, the partner who chose to study and understand rather than walk away, the discovery of small things like the color blue that could provide comfort and calm, and the gradual building of a new life that honors both who I was before and who I am now.
If you love someone with a brain injury, you have the power to be part of their healing story. Your understanding, your patience, your willingness to learn and adapt, your consistent presence—these things matter more than you may ever fully realize. You cannot fix the brain injury, but you can provide the foundation of love and support that makes everything else possible.
The journey is not easy, and it's not quick, but it is absolutely worth it. Every person deserves to be loved and supported through their most difficult challenges. Every person deserves to have their struggles understood and their progress celebrated. Every person deserves to know that they are valued not despite their limitations, but as a whole person whose worth is not determined by their abilities or disabilities.
Brain injury changes lives, but it doesn't have to destroy them. With understanding, support, and love, it's possible to build something meaningful and beautiful from even the most difficult circumstances. The person you love is still there, still worthy of your care and commitment, still capable of growth and joy and connection. They just need you to meet them where they are now, rather than where they used to be.
This is my manifesto, my call to action, my plea for understanding: Please don't give up on the people you love who are living with brain injury. Learn about their condition, respect their limitations, celebrate their progress, and love them deeply and consistently. Your support can literally change the trajectory of their recovery and their life. In a world that often misunderstands and stigmatizes brain injury, your love and understanding can be the difference between despair and hope, between isolation and connection, between merely surviving and truly healing.
The truck that crashed through my wall took away the person I used to be, but the love and support I received afterward helped me discover who I could become. That's the power you hold when you choose to truly understand and support someone with a brain injury. That's the difference you can make in a life that has already been changed forever. Please use that power wisely, lovingly, and consistently. The person you love is counting on it, even if they can't always find the words to tell you so.
Living with brain injury, whether as the injured person or as someone who loves them, requires courage. It requires the courage to face an uncertain future, to adapt to changes you never expected, to learn new ways of being in relationship with each other, and to find meaning and joy in circumstances that may be very different from what you had planned.
But here's what I've learned through my own journey: when people choose love over fear, understanding over judgment, and patience over frustration, incredible things become possible. Recovery may not look like returning to exactly the way things were before, but it can mean discovering new strengths, deeper connections, and a more profound appreciation for the preciousness of each day.
My story began with a truck crashing through my bedroom wall, throwing me from my bed and changing my life forever. But the most important part of my story isn't the accident itself—it's what happened afterward. It's the love that refused to give up, the partner who chose to study and understand rather than walk away, the discovery of small things like the color blue that could provide comfort and calm, and the gradual building of a new life that honors both who I was before and who I am now.
If you love someone with a brain injury, you have the power to be part of their healing story. Your understanding, your patience, your willingness to learn and adapt, your consistent presence—these things matter more than you may ever fully realize. You cannot fix the brain injury, but you can provide the foundation of love and support that makes everything else possible.
The journey is not easy, and it's not quick, but it is absolutely worth it. Every person deserves to be loved and supported through their most difficult challenges. Every person deserves to have their struggles understood and their progress celebrated. Every person deserves to know that they are valued not despite their limitations, but as a whole person whose worth is not determined by their abilities or disabilities.
Brain injury changes lives, but it doesn't have to destroy them. With understanding, support, and love, it's possible to build something meaningful and beautiful from even the most difficult circumstances. The person you love is still there, still worthy of your care and commitment, still capable of growth and joy and connection. They just need you to meet them where they are now, rather than where they used to be.
This is my manifesto, my call to action, my plea for understanding: Please don't give up on the people you love who are living with brain injury. Learn about their condition, respect their limitations, celebrate their progress, and love them deeply and consistently. Your support can literally change the trajectory of their recovery and their life. In a world that often misunderstands and stigmatizes brain injury, your love and understanding can be the difference between despair and hope, between isolation and connection, between merely surviving and truly healing.
The truck that crashed through my wall took away the person I used to be, but the love and support I received afterward helped me discover who I could become. That's the power you hold when you choose to truly understand and support someone with a brain injury. That's the difference you can make in a life that has already been changed forever. Please use that power wisely, lovingly, and consistently. The person you love is counting on it, even if they can't always find the words to tell you so.
### **Year 1 – The Adjustment**
The first year was survival.
The first year was survival.
Learning how to inject myself every day without flinching. Learning how to live inside a body that no longer responded the way it should. Learning how to answer the inevitable, well-meaning, but exhausting **“You look fine though, right?”** questions.
There was hope then. Hope that maybe once the medication settled in, things would start feeling *normal* again. I kept waiting for the magic moment—the day I’d wake up and suddenly feel like myself again.
It never came.
Instead, there were small changes. Tiny victories, barely noticeable, but enough to keep going. A little more energy here, a little less pain there. But the weight stayed. The muscle refused to come back. The aching in my bones remained.
---
### **Year 2 – The Isolation**
The worst part wasn’t the pain. It wasn’t the exhaustion. It was the **loneliness**.
The worst part wasn’t the pain. It wasn’t the exhaustion. It was the **loneliness**.
People don’t understand a condition they can’t see. They assume I’m fine because I look fine. They assume I must be better because I’m *managing*. But what they don’t see is the weight of it—the physical heaviness of carrying **extra pounds my body won’t let go of**, the emotional weight of **feeling unseen**.
I stopped explaining. It was easier that way.
I started saying, *“I’m just tired,”* because explaining the depth of it—the soreness, the stiffness, the bone pain, the way movement felt more like resistance than fluidity—was exhausting in itself.
---
### **Year 3 – The Mirror and the Distance**
I had stopped looking at myself too closely.
I had stopped looking at myself too closely.
My **face was rounder**, swollen in ways that reshaped me into someone unfamiliar. I saw pictures from before the injury—before the diagnosis—and I barely recognized that person anymore.
I didn’t want people to notice the changes, so I **pulled away**. I canceled plans. I stayed home more. I wore clothes that hid my body, that kept people from looking too closely. I wasn’t ashamed—**just exhausted** from trying to find the person I used to be.
And then there was the distance—the way it bled into my relationship.
How do you explain to the person you love that you don’t feel **beautiful** anymore? That you avoid intimacy because your body **feels foreign**, unfamiliar, heavier than it should? That you pull away **not because you don’t love them, but because you don’t love yourself?**
I didn’t know how to say it, so I didn’t.
And that silence felt like a slow unraveling.
---
### **Year 4 – The Choice to Stay Present**
This condition wanted to swallow me whole.
This condition wanted to swallow me whole.
It wanted me to disappear, to shrink inward, to let the isolation **become permanent**. And I almost let it.
But love demands presence. And if I wanted to **hold onto love**, I had to show up for it.
I started talking. Explaining, even when it felt impossible.
Saying things like:
- *I don’t feel desirable, but I still want closeness.*
- *I know I pull away, but it’s not about you—it’s about me.*
- *I need patience, because I’m still learning how to exist in this body.*
- *I don’t feel desirable, but I still want closeness.*
- *I know I pull away, but it’s not about you—it’s about me.*
- *I need patience, because I’m still learning how to exist in this body.*
And in return, I found understanding. Not perfect understanding, but enough.
Enough to **hold onto love**, even when I didn’t know how to hold onto myself.
---
### **Year 5 – Finding Desire Again**
I wanted to feel **beautiful** again. Wanted to feel **sexy**, **desirable**, **wanted**—not just by someone else, but by **me**.
I wanted to feel **beautiful** again. Wanted to feel **sexy**, **desirable**, **wanted**—not just by someone else, but by **me**.
It didn’t happen overnight.
It happened in **small, quiet ways**:
- Choosing clothes that made me feel confident, even if my body wasn’t where I wanted it to be.
- Finding **intimacy beyond just physical closeness**—laughter, deep conversations, touches that weren’t rushed.
- Learning that **desire is more about connection than perfection**.
- Accepting that while my body has changed, **I have not disappeared**.
- Choosing clothes that made me feel confident, even if my body wasn’t where I wanted it to be.
- Finding **intimacy beyond just physical closeness**—laughter, deep conversations, touches that weren’t rushed.
- Learning that **desire is more about connection than perfection**.
- Accepting that while my body has changed, **I have not disappeared**.
There are still bad days. Still moments where the pain is too much, where the exhaustion grips me too tightly, where I see myself and struggle to recognize the person staring back.
But I refuse to let this erase me.
Five years in, I am still **here**.
Still fighting.
Still holding onto love.
Still learning how to **love myself again**