I hope only the good times are to come

I feel broken like this branch. I hope the bad things have passed and only the good times are to come.






New identity

New Identity. New passion of gardening. First baby step was planting in containers so as to not fall into dirt because of imbalance. My garden has progressed as my new life has. Now I not only can plant in the ground, I dig up grass and now have three perennial gardens.





Cue up The Hollies’ “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother”

“The road is long, with many a winding turn, that leads us to who knows where, who knows where…?”

Who among us could deny that recovery from TBI is a lengthy, possibly eternal process that may well return each of us to some version of our previous selves, yet at the same time, and at the very least, has profoundly changed us all in unique and individual ways.

“But I'm strong, strong enough to carry him.  He ain't heavy, he's my brother.”

It’s taken great strength and determination to come as far as we have come, not to have thrown in the towel years ago during one of those countless moments when it would have been so much easier.  In this sense, he (or she) who we are carrying is not a brother or a sister, but ourselves in our new manifestations.

“So on we go.  His welfare is my concern.  No burden is he to bear, we'll get there.  For I know, he would not encumber me.  He ain't heavy, he's my brother.”

We continue on, sometimes having to watch out for Number 1.  [We can’t help others without helping ourselves first, and we can’t help others without helping ourselves  as a result.]  Living with TBI is not so much a burden as it is a reality: we are different from what we once were, constantly moving through an evolving post-trauma process of self-actualization.

“If I'm laden at all, I'm laden with sadness, that everyone's heart, isn't filled with the gladness, of love for one another.”

We may well be burdened with the frustration of being different, as victims of an injury quite correctly termed the “silent epidemic.”  Not to bemoan life with TBI, but one doesn’t know it until one has suffered it.  It can be maddeningly difficult to find acceptance and understanding from those who have no direct knowledge or experience with TBI.

“It's a long, long road, from which there is no return.  While we're on our way to there, why not share?  And the load, doesn't weigh me down at all.  He ain't heavy, he's my brother.  He ain't heavy, he's my brother.”

There is no removal of TBI; it would be fruitless to feel there ever will be complete physical and neurological recovery.  As we each traverse our own paths toward the picture or image of the person we’d like to be, why not share our experiences with others?  We can attempt to help raise public awareness of TBI as an ever-recurring human condition. We can try to help direct newer victims or their families toward available resources.  In the process of sharing we may find reciprocal support for our own personal journeys.