I was in a car accident, which really was a case of “wrong place, wrong time”. As I slowed for queuing traffic ahead, a bird of prey called a Buzzard smashed into the windscreen of the truck behind me. The driver couldn’t see a thing and drove into the back of me, forcing my car to hit the crash barrier. The London Air Ambulance was called and rushed me to hospital, where I remained for 10 days.

I was 32 when my TBI happened, although I didn’t understand that was what it was until much later. At the time I was working for a small company that trained apprentice hairdressers. My role was helping these young people find a job, and also working closely with the employers. I enjoyed it as I felt I was making a difference for the students, as well as helping this young company develop. Thus I was keen to return to work…..

How a lack of facts can lead to the wrong assumptions.

Having done research on the internet, my partner James and I decided I must have post concussion syndrome. We hadn’t really been told anything, not even that when I first arrived at hospital they identified a small bleed on my brain. But we knew some of my symptoms, memory loss, wording finding trouble, difficulty reading and writing etc must represent something. So we blamed it on post conclusion syndrome, which all these articles down played and made it sound like should be over in 3 -6 months.

But the worst was yet to come….. 3 weeks after my car accident, my Mum died suddenly and unexpectedly. The shock was unbearable, but I tried my best to support my elderly Dad. But I couldn’t talk about her at all. I could listen, but I wasn’t able to add anything. I’d find I couldn’t talk and I wasn’t able to stop myself from crying. My entire body would tremble all day long, and I’d struggle to eat. But that’s just grief right?  Because of my loss, I felt this was an understandable response and that it was just a process I had to go through. What I didn’t realise, was that I had severe depression and anxiety which I should have been seeking help for.

I attempted to return to work, but I disappointed myself. I spent half a day trying to write an email which was only about 4 sentences. Although I knew the work system well, I couldn’t remember how to access the documents I needed. My colleague was very patient with me each time I had to ask her to show me, yet again. But the fact that I couldn’t remember how to do it from one minute to the next frightened me. Ultimately I resigned as I couldn’t offer any idea as to how long it would take for me to recover enough to be competent. The company needed to have someone in that role to do able to develop the relationships I had. My decision was for the business and my colleagues. I didn’t want to damage their jobs by dragging the company down with me in these uncharted waters.

My life was about to change direction in a way that I’d never anticipated.

That’s when I felt I’d lost my identity. I had been more academic than practical, however, it seemed that ship had sailed. Now I was nothing. So what was the point of me, why should anyone care that I exist when I have nothing special to offer apart from confusion? However, my Dad needed me. Determined to try to live on his own, without Mum he needed my moral support. Although we lived hours apart, I visited often and would stay for extended periods to help him out.

That’s when I noticed a change in my personality. I had always been calm, reflective, controlled. But now I would explode over silly things. I couldn’t hold it in even though I knew I was overreacting and would regret it later. Losing my temper with Dad made me feel like a terrible person. I respected him and was protective of him, yet here I was verbally attacking him. Later I learned this was emotional lability, and it’s a fairly common symptom of a brain injury. 

Eventually I accepted that I needed help with my mental health. I started counselling and antidepressants, and my anxiety slowly started to reduce. Alongside this I started cognitive training, and giving my brain a little workout. My skills were improving, and I was slowly beginning to recognise parts of myself again.