Gees! What a ride!

Asking for Help

As I explained in a previous post, asking for help has been one of the hardest parts of this journey.

I felt weak, unimportant, and like a huge burden. Overnight, I went from being independent and supporting myself and my family to being unable to do either.

Paying for medical assistance, advice, people asking “why I am paying? This should be covered by acc?” No it’s not, I have to wait to be assessed by a neurologist…. And I need to know what’s happening, I need my life back….

The shame of walking into an office to ask for financial assistance was overwhelming. Having to explain my situation over and over again, feeling like I had to justify why I needed help, was emotionally exhausting.

Each time I was asked the same questions: “Why isn’t ACC helping?” or “You’ll need to go back to ACC.” It felt like I was stuck in a loop, being sent from one place to another, while still not receiving the support I desperately needed.

Even after completing a mental injury assessment, with a psychologist confirming the impact of what I had experienced, I have still been unable to access support. The difference appears to come down to the wording. Rather than my condition being recognised as chronic stress or PTSD, it has been classified as somatic symptom disorder. Those words have had significant consequences for the help I can receive.

I now have a long-awaited appointment with a neurologist. I am hopeful that it will provide some much-needed answers and, more importantly, a pathway forward.

In the meantime, allowing myself to be vulnerable and openly explaining my deficits has been both painful and surprisingly beneficial. I’ve learned that asking for help is not a sign of weakness—it is an act of courage.

I continue to remind myself that I still have value, even if others don’t fully understand my struggles or choose to step away.

Thankfully, I am not walking this path alone. I have incredible support within my community: an amazing psychologist, a wonderful Romi/Mirimiri practitioner, and the Brain Injury Support Group. Their compassion, understanding, and belief in me have helped carry me through some of my darkest days.

Recovery is rarely a straight line, but with the right people beside you, hope becomes much easier to hold onto.