TBI Support & Awareness

07/30/2025

Strong is the Only Choice!

07/28/2025

My trauma doesn’t just live in the past. It still follows me 33 years later. It shapes how I see myself, how I see others, and the world around me. It makes me second guess everything. I catch myself stuck in survival mode and fearing rejection. Even when opportunities for growth and happiness come my way, trauma from my brain injury whispers that I’m not capable. It’s kept me trapped in self doubt. I’m learning that my past and current struggles with traumatic brain injury doesn’t define my future.
—Dustin

07/27/2025

07/25/2025

07/24/2025

Next month will mark 33 years since my brain injury occurred. Living with a brain injury feels like chasing your own life and never catching up. Behind the smile, I’m overwhelmed, and exhausted. People think I’m fine because they see me functioning and doing life activies that most aren’t able to accomplish due to a brain injury. What they don’t see is the confusion, the forgotten tasks, and being completely tired from my body having to overcompensate to complete basic tasks that others take for granted. I wish more people understood what this really feels like and how isolating my life has been for these past 33 years. I’ve conquered hiding my struggles very well, which unfortunately led me to years of holding it in.

I’m doing the best I can, but some days that barely feels like enough. I keep going because I have loved ones who need me, and I won’t give up. With all of this being said, I finally made the call this week and will be starting counseling next week with a psychologist that specializes with brain trauma.
It’s time to rebuild myself.
—Dustin

07/06/2025

“The New Me (What You Don’t See)”

Brain Injury Awareness Month

What you don’t see is the pain in disguise,
The fog in my mind, the truth in my eyes.
You see me stand, you see me talk
But not the cost of every walk.

I trip on words, I lose my place
The thoughts all scramble in a race.
My limbs may shake, my head may spin
A daily battle fought within.

My body aches from tasks so small
The stairs, the lights, the down-the-hall.
I rest, then crash—no warning sign
I fake okay, and say I’m fine.

I miss the calls, the plans, the crowds
The social cues, the laughing loud.
Friends fade away without a trace
They couldn’t keep up with my pace.

Inside, I scream for what I’ve lost
The skills, the job, the hidden cost.
But still I rise, and still I try
Though part of me has said goodbye.

This isn’t weakness, it’s a war
And I’ve been knocked down to the floor.
But every day I choose to heal
To speak the truth, to learn, to feel.

So if you see me and I seem new
Know I’ve survived more than you knew.
A broken brain. A silent plea.
What you don’t see… is the new me.

- A TBI survivor