My Concussion Recovery: A Journey Through Healing

A Life-Changing Moment: The Day Everything Shifted

February 17th, 2024, is a day that changed everything for me. I was driving just half a mile from my house, going no more than 20 mph. It was a normal day—until it wasn’t. Coming down the hill in the opposite direction was another driver who wasn’t looking up. I honked, swerved, did everything I could to avoid her, but she didn’t even glance my way. She turned right into me. My son was in the back seat.

At first, it seemed like a minor accident. My car was totaled, not because it was an unrecognizable wreck, but from a hard sidewall hit that may have damaged the axle. The chaos felt surreal. In those first moments, all I could think about was my little boy. I scrambled through the front passenger side, lunging for him, but the second I reached him, he started crying. My heart broke as I felt powerless to protect him from this experience. We were both shaken, in shock.

In our small-town community, there’s a kind of magic in the way people show up for each other. Almost immediately, a friend walking his dog rushed over to us. He pulled us into his arms, and in that moment, he just held us—giving me the strength to keep it together. Another friend who was driving by stopped to help. He and his son played with my boy on the side of the road, keeping him distracted for nearly an hour while we waited for everything to settle. Another girlfriend saw us and, without hesitation, took me in, caring for me for the rest of the day.
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But the shock didn’t end with that moment. Even now, the sound of metal crunching sends a jolt through me. My son still talks nervously during longer car rides, clearly still working through his own trauma from that day. It’s the lingering effects that continue to unfold, and that’s where this story truly begins.

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The Physical and Mental Impact: Healing a Concussion

After the accident, my health unraveled in ways I could have never expected. At first, the headaches came in waves, and I assumed it was just the stress of the situation. But as the weeks wore on, it became clear that something was very wrong. My vision deteriorated in my right eye, and my thoughts became cloudy—basic tasks felt insurmountable. Even nine months later, these symptoms persist, leaving me questioning what "normal" even means anymore.

A few months into recovery, I was hit with five-day-long migraines, often so severe that sleep was impossible. To this day, I still can’t sleep through the night. On top of that, I lost much of my range of motion in my neck and shoulder—what was initially thought to be a torn rotator cuff turned out to be muscle atrophy. Despite countless physical therapy sessions, my shoulder muscles weakened further. There’s a deep frustration in feeling like my body is betraying me when all I want is to get back to the activities I love.
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Then there’s the constant tinnitus—a ringing in my ears that never seems to stop. Some days, it feels like a reminder of the concussion's grip on me. Other days, it’s the invisible nature of the symptoms that makes it all the more isolating. People see me and think I’m back to normal. But what they don’t see is the cognitive fog, the executive functioning challenges, the deep emotional toll of living with uncertainty about whether full recovery is possible.

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Emotional Struggles: Navigating the Fog

The hardest part is often the loneliness. It's hard for others to understand what it’s like when your symptoms aren't visible. People will say things like, "Oh, I’ve been sleepless too—it’s the worst, right?" But it's not the same. While I know they’re trying to relate, I often feel exhausted by the need to explain. I'm met with kindness, but also with misunderstandings, leaving me to feel isolated in my own experience.
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Patience has been my constant companion, even as it runs thin. I want to heal, to move past this, but it’s a slow, painstaking process. Sometimes, I’m just tired—tired of the pain, tired of the patience required, tired of waiting to feel like myself again.

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Finding Support and Resilience

Despite the challenges, there’s a silver lining. My team at Monarch has been my rock throughout this journey. Their expertise and commitment to holistic healing have been crucial in helping me regain some semblance of balance. From advanced therapies to thoughtful, individualized care, they’ve created an environment where healing feels possible.
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I’ve leaned heavily on various treatments, from LED therapy to contrast therapies, PEMF, and more, all of which help my body repair itself from the inside out. These treatments have brought relief when nothing else could, and slowly but surely, they’re making a difference.

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The Aesthetic and Physical Toll

There’s a strange disconnect between how I feel mentally and how my body is responding. After the accident, I noticed rapid changes—muscle deterioration, skin laxity, and hormonal shifts that left me feeling like I’d aged overnight. My physical appearance became a reminder of the injury I was fighting to overcome. Seeing these changes in the mirror only added to the emotional weight I was carrying. It’s been hard not to feel defeated by it at times.

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A Journey That’s Not Over Yet

There’s no clear endpoint to this recovery, and that’s something I’ve had to make peace with. The physical, mental, and emotional scars are still there, but so is my resilience. I’ve learned to celebrate the small victories, like being able to go for a hike or complete a Pilates session. It’s a slow process, but one that’s teaching me the value of patience and self-compassion.
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I know I’m not alone in this. If you’re reading this and have faced your own health battles, know that it’s okay to feel the weight of it all. Healing is not linear, and it’s not always quick. But with the right support, a bit of patience, and a lot of resilience, it’s possible to move forward, even when the path ahead feels uncertain.