Meet Kathy. Kathy is a caregiver and has been involved with LoveYourBrain since 2016. She’s participated in a LoveYourBrain Yoga Teacher Training, and attended a LoveYourBrain Caregivers Retreat. She has come away from each experience with a lighter heart, a stronger sense of purpose and connection, and a renewed sense of hope for the ongoing journey.
What gives you hope during the journey of healing after a brain injury?
My husband Bob sustained a life-changing TBI in a traumatic accident while we were on summer vacation nearly 13 years ago. The rollercoaster years of endless medical troubleshooting and advocacy, surgeries, and the research of healing modalities, are mostly behind us now. Make no mistake, these were some of the most difficult years of our 20 year marriage. I understand now, what I could not fully know or appreciate then, that time is a powerful and undeniable healer.
On my most difficult days, I allowed two simple mantras to keep me moving forward:
Tomorrow is always a new day to start again.
Everything changes. Nothing stays the same.
Profoundly reassuring, these words allowed me to hold onto the hope I needed that Bob’s healing would continue to unfold even when the slow, almost imperceptible pace of progress tempted me to believe otherwise. Healing from a TBI is by no means linear, and “recovery” is most often an act of acceptance of what is, not what used to be. The accident happened to both of us, and so too did the oftentimes uncertain, frustrating and exhausting parts of Bob’s healing.
I’ve circled back to these same mantras when the challenges facing our communities here in the U.S., and around the globe, seem too difficult to take in. I am grounded in hope that amidst the relentless noise, the world will never be void of compassionate, kind-hearted people who give of themselves in small, quiet, grassroots ways. Whether these givers are working on behalf of people whose basic human needs are at stake, advocating for change, standing up for human rights or the health of our earth, or simply letting a kind word pass their lips, I trust that time, patience and a healthy supply of grit can keep us moving ahead with hope and faith.
What’s an action someone in your life has taken to give hope or create positive change?
I was delighted to attend LYB’s caregiver retreat two summers ago. The weekend retreat brought me in touch with caregivers from many parts of the country. Some were in the very early stages of being a caregiver to someone with a TBI, and others were further along. It was heartening to feel like I could be a thoughtful, discerning TBI ally having endured and withstood so much.
Yoga, meditation, mindfulness, healthy eating and setting boundaries for self-care have been an ongoing part of what has kept me healthy over many years of life’s inevitable speed bumps. Make no mistake, it has not been a seamless progression - more like fits and starts some days. But having these practices mirrored back to me during this retreat - along with a safe space to ponder, question, grieve and celebrate the varied paths of a caregiver - created a shared sense of gratitude and a lasting gift when it came time to say goodbye.
One of the highlights from this weekend was crossing paths with one caregiver in particular who later invited me to take part in a virtual writing group. Carol and I live on opposite coasts. In most other circumstances we may have met, said our hellos and goodbyes, and connected here and there over social media when we could. Instead, at Carol’s invitation I took a leap of faith and said yes to an opportunity to connect with a small group of women over Zoom once a week to explore, nurture and grow our writing voices.
Nearly six months later, Carol and I are becoming dear friends and I’ve remained part of an amazing group of writers who put pen to page each week, take deep breaths when it’s our time to share, and navigate this safe writing space with openness, bravery, compassion and plenty of belly laughs. No matter what is going on in my life, my weekly writing time has become one positive change I’m not willing to compromise. I love how paths cross and unexpected, positive blessings are born.
What’s something you value about LoveYourBrain?
There are so many reasons I value LoveYourBrain. At a very basic and personal level, LoveYourBrain makes me feel seen, and I know this is true for many others. Their commitment to building community and fostering resilience is evident in all they do. Folks living with TBI must recalibrate and restructure how they live their lives, and LYB’s programming provides hope and sustenance for the journey. Even if programs are not available locally to TBI survivors and caregivers (COVID has made this even more challenging), their online resources are meaningful and extensive. They communicate regularly about how their programs are evolving, and the ways in which people can choose to engage. I am grateful for the compassionate, healing energy they put out into the world each and every day.
How does vulnerability Show Up for you?
For me, vulnerability expands or contracts in equal proportion to my level of self-compassion and self-care. I’ve learned the hard way (too many times to count) that it’s not realistic or sustainable to keep difficult feelings to myself, over-function, or try to go it alone. My nervous system balks in protest and my body tells me to pause, say yes to what and who feeds me, or to things that nurture me in a given moment. Setting clear boundaries around actions that drain precious stores of energy has become, after many trials, one of life’s most beneficial habits.
I’ve learned how to say a stronger YES to offers of help, and NO THANK YOU VERY MUCH to undertakings beyond my emotional, mental or physical bandwidth. This is true personally, but also professionally. As a first grade teacher I’m pulled in many directions with myriad demands on my time and energy. It’s a delicate balancing act, but one that deserves my full attention. Remembering that everything changes, nothing stays the same is a faithful refrain, especially on the most challenging days.
More than anything, vulnerability has taught me how necessary it is to stop, rest, and surrender to difficult feelings rather than ignore them and march on. A daily “quiet time” practice of gratitude and prayer, even if it’s for five brief minutes has made all the difference. I believe in the power of sleep, journaling, gentle movement and nourishing one's body with healthy food and water. None of this is seamless. Some days I hit the mark. Other days I falter. Either way, I can always remember to get out in nature, sip a hot mug of tea, stay curious, find joy and silliness, and remember… tomorrow is always a new day.