Invisible Injury - My Messy Beautiful

http://momastery.com/carry-on-warrior

I am a horse trainer, riding instructor, small business owner, wife, Christian, and the survivor of brain damage.  My life is beautiful and messy.  I was asked by Glennon Melton of Momastery.com and author of Carry On, Warrior to write a short essay describing my “sacred scared,” telling my story. 

Jumping cross country with Cecil years after the injury

I’d like to tell you about my invisible injury.  

In April of 2008, six years ago this week, I experienced a traumatic brain injury.  I was riding a well behaved and well trained adult horse for a client, and the mare was cantering nicely in the arena when she took a bad step, slipped and fell.  I went down with her and we hit the ground.  She got up and I didn't.  I was wearing my helmet that day as I always do, which is the reason I am alive to tell the tale.  The owner of the horse was there and able to get an ambulance for me immediately, a perfect example of why I never ride alone.

Because of the ensuing brain injury, I spent time in the hospital, in a rehabilitation hospital, in a wheelchair, and then months with a walker because my balance was so poor.  I was unable to talk to people for months, and though I kept a journal and wrote prolific amounts, my short term memory was damaged and the entries read like a repetitive log of events.  The part of my brain that was damaged affected my vestibular vision, so I would lose my balance if I saw anything moving.  I also dealt with dramatic problems with overstimulation, causing me to lose my balance, lose my ability to speak, and have great difficulty even staying upright when there was any amount of commotion, including noise, smells, busy wallpaper or carpet, powerful wind, foods that smell or taste strong, or even touching textured surfaces would send me into a fearful and nearly comatose state. 

The tricky thing is that the brain injury is invisible.  In some ways it would have been simpler to have had a limb amputated, then it would be obvious to other people that I needed to make accommodations for an injury.  When looking at photos most people cannot tell I’ve had brain damage. In the beginning people could see there was something wrong with me, and many wrongly assumed I was drunk.  Most people today who meet me have no idea that I have brain damage and cannot tell that I still struggle with my balance, with speaking, and with paralyzing anxiety in over-stimulating environments.  I also deal with a very large fatigue factor, requiring me to sleep at least 12-14 hours per night to be able to function (including walking and talking) during the day.  There is some judgment from other people when I say I can’t do certain things, because to look at me they think I’m fine and don’t understand my limitations.  

I debate with myself regularly about whether to share this information regarding my health with people.  I don’t want to be known as “the woman with the brain injury”, as I refuse to let it define me.  However, I do need to exercise caution and ask for help when I’m in situations that will compromise my safety, especially since my career consists of working with large unpredictable animals.  If people don’t understand why I make certain changes in my behavior or environment I'm afraid they will assume that I’m timid or unskilled, and don’t recognize that I’m doing amazingly well considering that particular piece of my history. 

For example, just a couple years after the brain injury I was asked to teach a horseback riding jumping clinic in Denver, Colorado.  Because of the limited space for parking large horse trailers, exiting the grounds at the end of the day was somewhat tricky and needed to be carefully orchestrated.  Because I am unable to drive at night and I had a two hour trip home I needed to leave the grounds before the appointed departure time.  The people in the barn office were skeptical, even quite rude, and didn’t believe that I’d had brain damage nor that I needed special accommodations including early checkout.  My good friend who was there helping me for the weekend nearly went bonkers when the office staff said with air quotes that SURE I “had a brain injury” and had to leave early.  Since that incident I carry a statement from my doctor on the office letterhead explaining my situation.

On the other hand, the animals I work with seem to understand much more clearly what is going on with me on a moment-to-moment basis.  I had a horse named Cecil who was never afraid of my walker, despite being an excitable youngster at the time of the accident.  He was my first ride, quiet and careful in a hippotherapy setting, months after the accident.  I have a border collie named Miles (incidentally who now has three legs) who helps me in crowded situations, wearing a harness and applying pressure to my leg to give me stability.  The animals seem to know before I do when I’ve reached my fatigue limit, and will assist me with all kinds of things from balance to calming techniques.

Some time after the brain injury I walked a 5K with my dog Miles, before he became three-legged

At the risk of sounding cliche by using several often repeated anonymous quotes, "When you look at a person, any person, remember that everyone has a story.  Everyone has gone through something that has changed them."  I’ve decided to share my sacred scared, this messy beautiful part of my life, in an attempt to inspire people.  "I want someone to look at me and say, 'because of you, I didn’t give up'.”  Whether your challenge is brain damage or being three legged, your story matters.