Here We Go Again

and other post-TBI thoughts

a photo of three planners and two planner cases sitting on a multi-colored carpet. Gwen, the black and white Cardigan Welsh Corgi, is lying off to the right side.

The day I hit my head back in September of 2023, I never thought that I wouldn’t be able to write for over a year. I never expected to spend hours sitting at my local coffee shop with my computer in front of me as I stared into the void. Every time I tried to write, my brain crackled and popped as I grasped at my thoughts.

I was at Costco, leaning down to read the front of a bag of rice, when someone spoke behind me, and I jerked my head up into the metal shelf above me. My eyes smarted, my entire body throbbed as I felt intense pressure at the back of my head. I blinked, trying to clear my thoughts. I don’t remember much after that except wanting to go home immediately, but I told myself to toughen up. After all, this wasn’t my first traumatic brain injury (TBI).

When I got home, I knew my head would be bad. I expected the nausea and vomiting. Screens seemed to melt before my eyes as I fought dizziness day after day. But I didn’t expect it to last as long as it has. After six months of struggling to read the simplest text messages, I assumed I’d start getting better. Sure, I made some progress, but my eyeballs still thrummed in their sockets. I found myself spending hours on the most basic freelance assignments.

Right before I hit my head that September, I had just taken a class to jumpstart my work on my memoir about recovering from a brain injury I’d received in 2018. At the time, I’d experienced a horrendous migraine that had left me rattled. I struggled to remember certain words and what order I was supposed to arrange them in. My memories slipped away, and I forgot entire conversations that I’d had with people. And what’s worse, I couldn’t write. But over the course of a few years, I’d clawed my way back to recovery.

My idea was that my memoir would follow that process as I recovered my memories and learned how to write again. Each essay would focus on a person or place that was a key part of my life. In the summer of 2023, I’d outlined the memoir and started drafting pages. It was such a relief to finally have this project underway, to be writing creatively again.

But after that day at Costco, here I was almost completely back at square one.

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It’s been 16 months since I hit my head. In 2024, I could barely write anything. But in 2025, I want to change that. I’m feeling better, and it’s time to get back into the game. Winchester Ave has always been my creative space, my tiny corner of the internet where I could unravel my thoughts out onto the page and try to make sense of them.

Earlier this week, my spouse and I were driving back from visiting my parents for the holidays when the topic of my writing plans for 2025 came up. He said, (my paraphrase) why don’t I bring folks along on my experience of trying to write with a brain injury? Why don’t I share the ins and outs of trying to create with a befuddled brain, even when my writing is going to suck?

So let’s do it. At first, we’re going to be looking at gathered snippets, tiny moments from local coffee shops and my tiny library. But, hopefully, I’ll also be explaining my process of pulling together memories for my memoir project and giving an inside look at what recovery from a TBI looks like as we go along.

I also want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has supported my content over the last year, even when I wasn’t creating much. Your kindness and encouragement has meant the world to me, more than you will know. And a shout out to my friends, family, and writing group pals who have talked through all of this with me as I’ve tried to work through my muddled ideas.

Here’s to 2025.

a photo of Dylan, a red and white Pembroke Welsh Corgi, lying in front of a Christmas tree. He has a lot of white peppered around his face. He looks very distinguished.