The angle we approach things matters.

I normally write blogs with my fellow brain injury survivors in mind. But right now we’re all survivors. Survivors of a global pandemic. Survivors of nationwide hate and division. We appear to be drowning in utter chaos. We cling to hope to stay afloat. But are we hoping for the right thing?

I didn’t know how important balance was until I lost it. I took for granted that my eyes and brain work in sync, allowing me to walk across a room without conscious effort.

Cloaks are often protectors. For example, in the Harry Potter series Harry inherits the Cloak of Invisibility. This magical cloak offered him protection and helped him gain valuable information when he needed it.

We need water. We can’t live without it. But the rising waters and devastation across Nebraska and Iowa are reminders that too much of anything is destructive.

My friend, exhausted by medical appointments and crisis management for both her parents and children, who for three grueling years has had precious little time to herself, doesn’t feel very alive.

It is very healing to begin each day, each moment like a novice. The strategy of letting go of preconceptions, allowing room for Wonder and the unknown is a road map to freedom for the brain injured.

The holidays are simultaneously wonderful and awful for most people. Even the sappiest among us must admit that the holidays elevate our stress levels (and usually our glucose levels, too).

I have written about the importance of remaining hopeful when recovering from a brain injury before. Hope is everything.

The word liberation conjures up all kinds of images and emotions. Usually these are positive, but not always.

It’s rather obvious that a brain injury of any magnitude involves some level of pain. However, it was my experience that the physical pain and symptoms of my concussion were the least of my concerns.

We all carry a brokenness as part of our stories. People with brain injuries have a physical brokenness at the very least.

The word simplicity can have multiple meanings. One way to view simplicity is to equate it with ease. Making a task easier, less challenging, is one way to simplify

I write in my book about my acute awareness that my concussion was not only affecting my life but my family’s as well – especially my husband’s.

According to Webster, HOPE is a feeling of expectation, a feeling of trust, a sense that something we desire will happen. We don’t really have to hope that the sun will rise each morning, we know this will happen.

It is so easy to feel grateful today, the first day of May. The trees and flowers are busting with blooms.

In the earliest phase of recovering from my concussion, at the height of my symptoms, I felt a complete disconnection. This is not at all uncommon for people who suffer from traumatic brain injuries.

Our brains, when healthy, can accommodate and tolerate a plethora of abuses.

At the height of my concussion symptoms, when light and sound were too much for me to bear, I initially felt like I had been imprisoned.

Fortunately, I am at a place in my healing journey where I can think about and experience contentment. But early in my recovery process, at the height of my symptoms, I could only focus on surviving.