I live in the mountains of Colorado. It's still wilderness here-dirt roads, few services, isolation-and only a handful of us stick it out through the winter. Sometimes winter comes in September and leaves in June, the winds blow a steady 30-50 mph and the snow piles up to six feet or more.

You have to have a resilient personality to make it through January, February and March when the weather is brutal. Those are the dark times when snow or clouds crowd out the sun and wind shrieks through the pines at 80 miles an hour. Your house shivers from blasts of snow and wind day and night. These are literally DARK days. Electric lights don't dispel this kind of darkness and it seems as if winter will NEVER end. People get depressed and grouchy and downright mean.

Brain Injury Can Bring "Dark Times" to the Family

In 1982 my husband, Dale, suffered a stroke while surgeons attempted to repair a brain aneurysm. He survived, but returned home a changed person. I often refer to the most difficult times my family had dealing with Dale's brain injury as the "dark times" or "dark days." You'll often see those phrases sprinkled throughout this site as a kind of short cut for that state of mind where you feel trapped, depressed and ineffectual.

I spent years in that state of mind—which is why you'll also see references to the "dark years" in my writing. Frankly, not everyone knows what it means to live in a state of mind like the "dark years" or the "dark times." It's not pretty. But if you're dealing with brain injury in your family, you're probably experiencing those dark times yourself.

In the years since Dale's brain injury people have become more aware of the problems that we brain injury families face-depression, hopelessness, family role changes, for example-and I'm grateful for that growing awareness. But we still have a ways to go, don't you think? My hope is that we can build a supportive community here on this site to ease the struggle for families whose lives are affected by the tragedy of brain injury.

Dispelling the Darkness by Sharing Our Brain Injury Family Experiences

I start my day—before I even get out of bed—reminding myself of all the things in my life that I am grateful for. The challenging time during the dark years is one of those. Because of Dale's brain injury I have met so many wonderful people—other family members, therapists, doctors, neighbors—and they all blessed my life with their kindness and empathy.

I want to return the favor, to be one of those kind and empathetic people you can count on during your own dark times. And every single one of you can be that for someone else here, too, simply by sharing your story.

We can all learn from one another. We can all help each other. Together, we can even dispel the darkness of brain injury in the family and bring brighter days again!

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Dark Times
written by Jennie Watson , October 13, 2009

Thank you for your post, there truly are "dark times" during the recovery of a family member with a brain injury. My daughter sustained a severe brain injury in a car accident in February. After a 34 day coma and 3 months of intensive inpatient rehabilitation, she came home in June. She has relearned breathing, swallowing, talking, eating, walking , reading and writing, each relearned task is a blessing in itself. At 15, she is currently attending high school (with a few accomodations, like rest periods and help carrying her backpack), and is now on her way to learning to live a full life with a brain injury.

Those first few days after the accident were truly black. Doctors couldn't tell us if she'd survive, much less come out of the coma. Her other injuries were secondary to the medical staff and us-if her brain didn't recover, what difference would a broken arm make? Luckily, we had a close friend who is a medical professional to help us make informed decisions regarding our childs care. Without the support of a large network of friends and family, we never would have been able to stay calm (relatively) or be supportive of our daughter. I look back now at those first couple of weeks and find that the memories have faded a bit-similar to childbirth...and the memories that come first are those of the baby steps my daughter had to take to get where she is now; eyes opening, a movement of a finger, wiggling her feet, turning her head to our voices. The dark became lighter, like the light of an early dawn as each step brought her closer to coming back.

Even today, 4 months post rehab, there are still dark times occaisionally, but with each moment of darkness, the brightness is never far behind...we have our daughter with us, and for that I am blessed

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