The Struggle

Brain injuries are an isolating injury. There’s so much you can’t handle anymore. You want to be involved and around people yet it’s so taxing on you physically that you pay dearly for it. People don’t understand the fight each day brings. No one understood my struggle and how much my life changed. My massage therapist and my one friend were the ones I could talk to.

I heard from so many people how much they missed the old me and how much the wanted the old me back. I felt like I wasn’t good enough anymore and that they didn’t want this version of me if I couldn’t be the person I was before injury. About a year after injury a dear friend told me that she loved me for me. It didn’t matter if I was the old me or the new me. She just loved me. I cried when she told me that because it was the first time I felt that love – that even if I don’t get better someone loved me. She told me that she would have said that to me sooner if she would have known how much I needed to hear it. It was what I needed to hear.

People didn’t ask what the day to day was like. No one sat and talked to find out how I really was to get past the I’m ok. The struggle to get through each day teaching was like climbing a mountain. I got up 2-3 hours before I needed to leave for school so I could lay back down after I took a shower. I cried every time I had to wash my hair or brush it. The spot I hit was so painful to touch. Even now 7 1/2 years later when my massage therapist hits it tears form. Many times a day it felt like someone took a knife and was cutting through the top of my head. I would pause and take a quick intake of breath because it hurt so much.

I would come home from school and crawl into bed with some ice packs. The pain was overwhelming by that point. I often would skip dinner because I didn’t have the strength to go back downstairs. Sometimes I would make a sandwich and take it up with me to eat later. My sweet furbaby would than whine at me until I ate it. She got me to eat a lot of nights. I would often go down the stairs in a seated position because I was so dizzy. Some nights the nausea would be so bad that I slept on the bathroom floor with my dog. My sweet Gracie never left my side. She tried to make everything better. When the tears would flow because the pain was so great she would try to get closer to take the pain away. She would often lick my tears as they fell. The pain was overwhelming to the point that I could only think two words – Lord Help! I would say them over and over begging God to help with the pain. Each time I felt His arms surrounding me and lifting me up. I came across a quote by Joni Eareckson Tada that I clung to. “She said God has chosen not to heal me but to hold me, the more intense the pain the closer His embrace.” I latched on to that knowing that in those moments of intense pain God was holding me close. He was near me. He was the one bringing comfort. No one saw these moments except for God. “My God seeth me” became so special to me. I didn’t feel seen by others. I didn’t feel heard but God saw me. God heard me.

I wish I could go back to those years and tell myself that it was ok and that it wasn’t my fault. I blamed myself so much and still struggle with guilt over the injury. I wish I could go back and give myself a hug because that version of me needed self-compassion…..needed grace. But I didn’t know how to do that. Instead I beat myself up thinking I needed to try harder. That I was failing and that I messed everything up. I couldn’t even protect myself. I should have ducked…I should have realized how close my head was to the opening. I failed at protecting myself. These thoughts settled in and they began to take root. Comments I got from others just seemed to confirm this thinking. I felt so alone – I had God and I knew it. He helped me but sometimes we need humans too.