Gees! What a ride!

Part 1 – psychology

Holy shit! Spinning out of control!

I had to let go of the constant “I’m okay” mask and allow myself to be honest and vulnerable.

The thoughts racing through my head were relentless.

What if they don’t believe me? What if they don’t help me? What if they don’t understand?

At the same time, my body was screaming at me. My heart was constantly racing, my TBI symptoms were going into overdrive, and my emotions were completely out of control. I couldn’t understand what was happening.

I had no other choice.

I had to reach out.

I was falling apart.

The fears were overwhelming.

Will they think I’m crazy? Will they be concerned about my daughter? Will they take me away? Or will they actually help me?

I went to my GP and somehow managed to explain everything through a flood of tears. I wasn’t coping anymore. I hated every second of it! Explaining the little I could manage…. I was embarrassed about my limitations. It sucked, I felt completely useless!

My GP was so kind and explained that years of chronic stress, combined with ongoing brain injury symptoms, had finally tipped the scales. Prescribed antidepressants that sat in my bench for a few days, I was so scared to take more pills….

Then came the waiting.

The wait for help was torture.

Appointments were months away, and in that time I continued to spiral. My body was working incredibly hard just to complete basic daily tasks, while my brain remained trapped in a constant fight-or-flight response. I eventually took the pills….

They made me sleep, for hours during the day, I woke up every time feeling more “useless”. Who sleeps half the day away???…. In my head I was useless, lazy and worth nothing… changing the time I took the pills helped (while my body adjusted to them)….

Finally, help arrived.

I was fortunate to see a wonderful psychologist who had experience working with people with traumatic brain injuries.

For the first time, someone validated what I was experiencing.

She helped me understand ways to calm my symptoms and explained some of the possible reasons why I was declining. It was heartbreaking to hear that my condition had worsened, but at the same time it brought enormous relief.

Something was finally making sense.

Simple techniques like deep breathing, body scanning, and even becoming aware that I constantly held my tongue against the roof of my mouth helped calm my nervous system, even if only temporarily. Any relief was a blessing.

Understanding why all of this was happening has been much harder.

I am still waiting for a neurological assessment, and I remain hopeful that it will finally provide some much-needed answers.

In the meantime, I have drained my savings paying privately to see specialists because waiting for answers had become unbearable.

ACC has declined further support, stating that I had “healed” because I had managed to cope for years.

Yet my medical records show that I had been taking medication for years and had repeatedly asked for specialist help during that time.

My Mental Injury Assessment was another turning point.

For the first time, I was able to connect many of the dots and better understand what was happening to me.

But once again, ACC declined my claim because of differences in wording.

It often feels like I’m constantly fighting technicalities and loopholes instead of focusing on getting well.

It’s exhausting.

After eight sessions with my psychologist, my funded support ended.

Once again, I was on my own.

Waiting more than a year for further help has been incredibly painful.

No answers.

No clear explanations.

No treatment.

No support.

Nothing.

I was left trying to survive on a benefit as a solo mum, with a body exhausted by doing almost nothing, and a brain that simply had nothing left to give.

So now I find myself asking…

What do I do now?

I fight! On days I have some strength (very far and few between), I fight for support while I wait for answers.

Being declined for support over and over was difficult, but with the help of chatGPT, I was able to fully explain my issues in moments vs hours, so that has become an invaluable tool.

The support I have now mirimiri, psychology and the brain injury support group is my connection to the community, a way I still feel “part of the world”.