Kathy arrived to stay with me unexpectedly on one of the best, hottest days of the summer. I was at a friend’s cottage lounging in the sunshine when we met. She caught me off guard and I didn’t realize we’d be spending so much time together. It was a difficult visit, to say the least.

You see, when Kathy was here, I couldn’t really leave the house. Well, I couldn’t leave her and she couldn’t leave the house. At first I stayed with her most of the day. After a couple weeks of focused time with her, I oscillated between giving her space to be still, and urging her outside, maybe just onto the back step for a few minutes. Entire days passed, stuck indoors.

I learned not to push her out of her comfort zone. Once I encouraged Kathy out of the house too soon and all she did was complain. I thought we were doing well but then “IT’S TOO BRIGHT” she yelled without warning. Then, immediately shifting into something useless, soft and weak, she whimpered – "it’s too loud, can we go? Please?"

As high maintenance and fragile as she was, you could say I eventually got used to having Kathy around — I mean, it felt like I had to. When I spent too much time focusing on wanting her to leave, it felt as if time slowed to a crawl.

On September 2, 2017, I was enjoying the last hot day of summer with friends. It was the perfect day. We were hiking along a river, chasing the sun from wading pool to wading pool, relaxing and lounging. A number of times that day I had the thought that this was one my favourite days ever. Always a sucker for physical comedy, I did a dramatic splash into the water for laughs. I swear I looked first, but as it turned out there was a rock underwater and I broke my fall on it with the back of my head. Life’s pause button was hit and I was suspended in the realization that heads at velocity don’t often mix well with rocks. When I came back up I told my friends what happened and smiles faded into expressions of concern. Was I serious? Am I ok? The back of my head swelled immediately to a goose egg I could cup in my palm. I felt dumb about it — I guess that’s why we call them accidents — and tried not to make it a big deal. I drove home the next day and can only describe it as feeling “off”. I was hoping it wasn’t serious and tried to stay optimistic. I didn’t pass out or bleed, nor did I feel nauseous, so I hoped I was ok. The headache lasted for days.

The toughest part for me was recognizing and admitting the gravity of my injury. If it’s in my head that means it’s make-believe, right? Just a by-product of my imagination? It was incredibly challenging to admit both to myself and to others that I was not mentally healthy. How much do we take our mental health for granted? I know I sure did. Was I ok? Not at all.

I liken it to being installed with a Trojan computer virus, as executing even a simple task could instead incapacitate me with fear and anxiety. I would feel under attack by my own surroundings — even light and sound were too much to process at times. It didn’t make my head physically ache, it was as if processing the contrast of light and dark was too much and would throw me into overload. I withdrew into a life that was a careful navigation of the minefield that was my brain. Kathy was in me — Kathy was my concussion.

The name came out one day in a conversation with a friend who offered to drop off groceries for me and asked how I was doing. “Oh, just at home hanging out with my concussion” I joked. She asked what my concussion’s name was. It felt silly but I said the first name that came to mind.

After I personified my concussion, she became easier to relate to. Rather than being scared of my own reactions, I was able to distance myself from them. I learned how to get and then got quite comfortable with my actual self. I focused only on my healing when Kathy wasn’t visiting. I pledged to become a stronger me so that this other thing — this thing that wasn’t me, that I refused to take on — could fade. I could laugh at Kathy when she was gone. Instead of asking how my head was feeling, friends would ask about Kathy and if I’d seen her lately. I marked my progress based on how long I was able to go between “ visits”. Maybe I’d have a funny story to share about Kathy’s nonsensical anecdotes earlier that day.

I’ve read many stories of athletes who are able to move through the sensations of a physical injury and push themselves to complete an expedition or race. I feel that these sorts of stories show us just how powerful our mind is, and how we can change our perception of reality. Mind over matter.

If we can use mind over matter to move through physical injuries, is the strategy transferable to enforce mind over mind?

I found that the harder I pushed, the tougher things got. Mental health required a different strategy — one of listening and resting.

I look back and the whole experience feels like a movie I semi-slept through many years ago. As part of my rehab, I had to write and track every symptom every day. Everything was recorded so I could trace my steps back and learn to avoid triggers if they caused a reaction. Suffice to say, I wrote a lot.

I’ve been incorporating what I’ve learned from recovery into my day-to-day life. I feel much stronger after my “visit with Kathy” and, although I’m back to work full-time and am doing almost all my sports to the same level again, I’m sensitive to symptoms if they arise. At the first sign of something similar to one of the symptoms experienced during recovery, I make efforts to change the setting immediately so I can safeguard my mental health. It may mean saying no, or leaving early, but life has taken on a simple simple sweetness and I’m content with less.

Olde school postscriptum:
I’ve been writing a lot since my head injury and am looking forward to sharing more stories about specific methods and healing approaches I used and have now adopted into my life. Thanks for reading! It’s good to be back.