Weekends..

Weekends like this one have always been a favorite of mine. They're filled with the vibrant energy of football games, the excitement of homecoming, the creativity of spirit week, the thrill of volleyball tournaments, and the simple joy of board games. Watching my kids immerse themselves in what they love is a true delight. Seeing them enjoy their youth, attending dances, playing sports, and sharing smiles with their girlfriends or boyfriends—it's a reminder of the beauty of being young and carefree.

I cherish watching them interact with their teammates and friends, forming bonds that will last a lifetime. It's heartwarming to see my dad, uncle, father-in-law, brothers, and sister-in-law at these events, supporting and cheering on the kids. These moments are precious, and I try to soak in every bit of them.

However, living with a traumatic brain injury (TBI) can sometimes cast a shadow over these joyful times. The busyness of the weekend is something I embrace, but there's always a hope that my symptoms won't heighten. TBI can be an unwelcome guest, trying to interfere with the joy and excitement. It's a constant balancing act, managing the symptoms while trying to be present and enjoy these special moments.

Despite the obstacles I face, I discover strength in my vulnerabilities and love. I give myself permission to experience my anxieties or apprehensions about venturing outside. I allow myself the freedom to sit with all my emotions and fears regarding being in crowded places where stimulation might overwhelm me. I need to create whatever space is needed for my sense of safety. No longer do I brush aside my symptoms as if TBI isn’t a reality; instead, I fully accept who I am because that is something worth embracing. While some days present greater difficulties than others, weekends like this bring me immense joy as I watch my children flourish. By sharing my story in "Invisible: Finding Purpose and Spiritual Awakening After the Storm of Traumatic Brain Injury," I aspire to aid others on their journeys—whether they are survivors of TBI, caregivers, or navigating different yet similar experiences within this life we live together where challenges arise. By supporting one another and remaining true to our authentic selves through vulnerability, healing can be a beautiful journey rather than an isolated one.

If you haven't had the chance to read my book, I encourage you to do so. It's available at innerpeacepress.com/products/invisible or at Battenkill Books, where you can both support my work and a wonderful local bookstore!

Weekends like this one have always been a favorite of mine. They're filled with the vibrant energy of football games, the excitement of homecoming, the creativity of spirit week, the thrill of volleyball tournaments, and the simple joy of board games. Watching my kids immerse themselves in what they love is a true delight. Seeing them enjoy their youth, attending dances, playing sports, and sharing smiles with their girlfriends or boyfriends—it's a reminder of the beauty of being young and carefree.

I cherish watching them interact with their teammates and friends, forming bonds that will last a lifetime. It's heartwarming to see my dad, uncle, father-in-law, brothers, and sister-in-law at these events, supporting and cheering on the kids. These moments are precious, and I try to soak in every bit of them.

However, living with a traumatic brain injury (TBI) can sometimes cast a shadow over these joyful times. The busyness of the weekend is something I embrace, but there's always a hope that my symptoms won't heighten. TBI can be an unwelcome guest, trying to interfere with the joy and excitement. It's a constant balancing act, managing the symptoms while trying to be present and enjoy these special moments.

Despite the obstacles I face, I discover strength in my vulnerabilities and love. I give myself permission to experience my anxieties or apprehensions about venturing outside. I allow myself the freedom to sit with all my emotions and fears regarding being in crowded places where stimulation might overwhelm me. I need to create whatever space is needed for my sense of safety. No longer do I brush aside my symptoms as if TBI isn’t a reality; instead, I fully accept who I am because that is something worth embracing. While some days present greater difficulties than others, weekends like this bring me immense joy as I watch my children flourish. By sharing my story in "Invisible: Finding Purpose and Spiritual Awakening After the Storm of Traumatic Brain Injury," I aspire to aid others on their journeys—whether they are survivors of TBI, caregivers, or navigating different yet similar experiences within this life we live together where challenges arise. By supporting one another and remaining true to our authentic selves through vulnerability, healing can be a beautiful journey rather than an isolated one.

If you haven't had the chance to read my book, I encourage you to do so. It's available at innerpeacepress.com/products/invisible or at Battenkill Books, where you can both support my work and a wonderful local bookstore!