Three days after my 11th birthday, I was told I had a concussion. I didn’t realize that one word ‘concussion’ would follow me for years, shaping my teenage life more than I ever expected. Not only once, but three times.
Each concussion taught me something different and tested me in ways I can’t explain to someone who hasn’t lived it. If I had to name the hardest part, it wasn’t the pain, the dizziness, or the brain fog, but rather the way people looked at me like I was exaggerating. Just because I could smile, walk down a hallway, or show up to class, I must be fine.
Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.
Post-concussion syndrome doesn’t play by the rules. It lingers. It messes with your memory, your energy, your emotions, and your sense of self. When you try to explain that to people they either don’t get it, or worse, they don’t believe you.
I’ve been told that I was faking it, that I just wanted to get out of going to the gym, and that I didn’t “seem” like I had a brain injury. I’ve had teachers roll their eyes, adults question me, and peers talk about me like I was using my injury as a crutch. When everyone around you acts like your pain is imaginary, it messes with your head. I started doubting myself and stopped speaking up. I isolated myself. I sank into a depressive cycle where I didn’t know what was real anymore.
But somewhere in that mess, I decided I wasn’t going to stay quiet.
I started researching everything I could about brain injury recovery. I realized there was science behind the symptoms I was experiencing, real and biological reasons for why I couldn’t just “snap out of it.” I built daily habits around healing which included nutrition, sleep, eye exercises, stress management, and gradual activity. I found tools that helped, tracked patterns, and figured out what made me feel worse and what worked.
Recovery wasn’t a straight line. It still isn’t but I’ve learned to keep going, even when I’m dismissed. Even when it’s invisible.
Now I’m a coxswain, student pilot, and advocate. I run an Instagram page called @hopepostinjury where I share tools and truths about living with brain injury because I know how it feels to be 11 years old and lost in a fog no one else can see. I know how it feels to be told you’re okay when you’re not.
So, this is me saying: if you’re in it, you’re not alone.
Healing isn’t about pretending everything’s fine. It’s about learning to live fully, even when you’re still healing. I promise you, it is so possible.
You don’t need anyone’s permission to take your recovery seriously.
You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to speak up. You’re allowed to believe in a future that looks completely different than what you expected, but still beautiful.
