Today marks the 10 year anniversary of a brain injury that disrupted my life.
To this day, I still don’t know exactly what happened. I woke up in the middle of the night with terrible leg cramps. The heat in my bedroom was overbearing. I got out of bed to turn it off, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor, laying slightly under a tall dresser. I somehow managed to get back into bed, which is when I discovered I was bleeding from the back of my head.
The best guess is that I fainted, fell to the ground, and hit my head.
About 12 hours later, after much inner dialogue and inner debate about whether I could actually make it to the gym for a light workout (yes, for real), I walked into an Urgent Care. The doctors there promptly sent me to the Emergency Room.
The battery of tests in the ER all had normal results. They discharged me with orders to rest and keep my activity light.
From the outside, I looked fine.
But I wasn’t fine.
What It’s Like to Have an Invisible Illness
A few days later, when the follow-up nurse called to check on me, I reported to her how I was getting fatigued from the most basic activities. I would feel the urge to nap suddenly after an hour of doing work in front of my screen. I was having “white-outs” — episodes where I would suddenly lose my vision.
Although I had been able to get to the gym and slowly walk on the treadmill, walking anywhere near crowds felt disorienting, like I was in a 3-D video game with objects hurling towards me. Conversations were fatiguing. I was not myself.
After a visit to NYU’s concussion center, where more tests failed to reveal any major issues, I was diagnosed with a concussion and sent home with orders to rest and limit screen time. Ironically, the concussion center sent a series of emails to guide me through my recovery.
Like most people, I had been dismissive of the impact of a “concussion.” Then I learned that a concussion is a traumatic brain injury.
For the better part of a year, people would ask me how I was doing, and whether I had “recovered.” I said what I was supposed to say:
I’m doing better. I’m fine. I’m ok.
I was not ok. I was not fine.
Sure, on the outside I looked ok. I had no visible scars, no paralysis. But on the inside I wasn’t fine.
I was still having white-outs. I was still struggling in crowds.
Thanks to ADHD, my brain already had poor filters to hone focus. After the brain injury, it was as if whatever filters had existed disappeared.
Being at a dinner table, or any environment with multiple simultaneous conversations, was excruciating. My brain was trying to hear and follow everything at once, leading to extreme fatigue.
Almost overnight, I went from being an extraverted, social butterfly to a recluse, afraid to be in crowds.
I discovered the loneliness of having an invisible illness. People forget about what they can’t see. I looked fine, so people assumed I was fine.
Inside, I was suffering.
It took more than 4 years for the white-out episodes to stop. Today, a decade later, I don’t have any obvious lingering physical effects of the brain injury.
7 Ways My Traumatic Brain Injury Changed My Life Trajectory
Before the brain injury, I was riding high on my best year yet in my real estate business. I had also just started a new consulting practice targeted to real estate agents, helping them set up systems — something that involved a lot of screen time.
In an instant, my world changed. My life changed. It was a significant lesson in the reality that life’s events are not in our control — no matter how well we plan.
Although I’m now physically recovered, the impact of that moment continues to linger.
Here are 7 ways my brain injury changed the trajectory of my life over the past decade.
(1) An Advocate for Rest and Living in Rhythm With The Seasons
One of the most profound lessons I learned at that time was what rest is, and isn’t. I didn’t really know how to rest. In the wake of my brain injury, my grandpa gave me the advice that would be life-changing: he admonished me to take my cues from nature.
This led me to study the energy patterns of the seasons and become an advocate for living in rhythm with the patterns of nature.
(2) Nervous System and Brain Health
The aftermath of the TBI led me to learn more about the brain and the nervous system, and to place a priority on my own nervous system health. This included learning more about the links between ADHD and nervous system health — seeing ADHD as a condition that extends beyond the “brain.”
My understanding of how the nervous system impacts our thoughts, behaviors, and how we move — including our range of motion — informs every part of my work.
(3) How I Build a Business
Before the TBI, I was thinking about building a real estate team. In the aftermath, I realized that when your business relies on your activity to generate business, and you are suddenly out of commission, that’s the end of your business.
Instead, I resolved to create multiple sources of income so that I would have a safety net if something happened to me.
(4) Double Down on Health
Health and wellness has always been one of my top values, and the TBI caused me to double down on health in all forms. At the time, the doctors told me that being in shape probably helped avoid a bigger negative outcome and led to quicker recovery.
But I realized I must place as much importance on my nervous system and brain health as my physical health. Without our health, we have nothing.
(5) Attunement to the Invisible
The TBI made me more attuned to invisible illnesses and conditions that people have that may impact how they move on their mat, in the gym, and through life.
We can’t always see the burdens that others carry. Just because someone “looks fine” doesn’t mean they are fine. I’ve become a master at reading the invisible and subtle cues that people give to indicate that they are not ok.
(6) Trauma-Informed Coaching
In the aftermath of my TBI I pivoted my business to do more coaching, which did not require me to run around NYC. I decided to seek training as a trauma-informed coach, so I could better help clients who are suffering from the effects of trauma that they might not even realize.
It also eventually led me on the path back to yoga, leading me to become a yoga teacher. I also studied energy healing modalities because I realized that Western medicine doesn’t have all the answers.
(7) Nurturing 1:1 Relationships and Local Relationships
I shifted my priorities to nurturing one-on-one relationships and in-person relationships over online communities. When you’re home alone in the middle of the night and need someone to come over to help you, you need local friends, not people who are a half a continent away.
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