Riding the slow wave: My healing journey after a concussion
A story by Kirsty Prior, AWSA Board member
In May last year I posted this on social:
“The day after my last post I had one of the best surfs, and one of the worst, copping my board and fins to my head & giving me a concussion that I’m still in the throws of. There’s a moment when you realise that the pain is probably more than a bruise, and you reach up to feel for blood. That’s my hand shot. That moment of realisation.
I’ve had a lot of time to sit with my thoughts, think about what’s important and try to heal my beautiful brain. A lot of meditation. A lot of rest. A lot of sunsets and always time for adventure and the ones I love.
Everyday she gives me something new, and teaches me a new lesson about going slower, resting, being kind to myself, being grateful, watching and listening.
It’s funny how life works out…”
The journey
Brain injuries are different for everyone. My nervous system became dysregulated, meaning my body was constantly in fight-flight mode for at least the first six months. If I overdid it, my brain and body would think I was under attack and I would lose vision, the view 3m away would go completely blurry, my pupils dilated so I became light sensitive, I’d get dizzy, nauseous, my balance would go, and headaches would floor me. It was, and still is, scary.
Overdoing it one day might be having a shower, on another day showering might alleviate symptoms. Symptoms can be sudden or delayed. It’s so varied. It’s frustrating. It’s confusing. It’s full of disappointments. I felt completely vulnerable all the time. I felt out of control. I was so far from myself. Hardest of all, there’s no set time frame on recovery.
I had to stop surfing for the first two months. Gosh, I could barely walk 20 minutes without getting dizzy. If you know me, you’ll know I live for surfing; it’s my identity; my freedom; my release; my grounding; my reset; my everything. I stepped down from the AWSA board and I pulled out of the Taranaki AGM two days before I was meant to travel. It was my first lesson of this injury, being reliably unreliable.
When I think back to those first few months, I wonder how on earth I managed on my own on a remote island (I was living alone on Aotea). In those early months, washing a load of clothes was a 3-day process & vacuuming a room in the house would wipe me out. I managed to sleep and feed myself. I’m a bit of a foody, so making food is enjoyable and as it turns out, when recovering from brain injuries the best thing you can do is rest and find joy.
I’m also a massive extrovert, but talking to a person takes a lot of brain energy. It means my brain needs to look for body language, listen out for tones, watch facial expressions, register emotion, formulate sentences, sit up, move. Ten minutes and my brain would shut down. After two months, I could manage a 15 minute phone call, lying down with my eyes closed to reduce the load on my brain. Slowly, that increased over weeks and months…and months.
Physical activity got easier too. I could go for short hikes and I started paddling on flat water, initially on my own because I couldn’t manage talking to people. After a couple more months, I started paddling the Okiwi estuary with a close friend (and fellow frother) who was recovering from a gnarly birth. Our respective injuries brought us closer together. What a beautiful gift friendships are.
We both had our first surf back together, on foamies in 10cm slop. Our first surf back on our shorties was a 1 wave wonder followed by a big rest before tapping out to be driven the 1km home. We were like stoked little groms surfing our first waves again. I got so excited I surfed the next day then had a terrible ‘crash’ that flattened me for 3 days.
What’s a crash? For me, it’s my brain saying she’s pushed as hard as she can and now she’s shutting down. I can’t speak coherently, I can’t sleep even though I’m so tired, I’m so emotional I just start crying, my heartrate goes through the roof, I can’t make a simple decision like what to have for lunch…I’m basically an overtired toddler.
It took about 6 months for my physical injury to heal. After that it’s neuroplasticity. Building back the neural pathways to do all the things. It is slow and there are no short cuts. You can’t push yourself – that doesn’t work as I would learn over and over again. For someone who’s competitive, ambitious and driven, this is hard.
Where I’m at now
If 24 March 2024 was day zero – zero activity, zero socialising, zero surfing, zero work – then for the past year I’ve been growing from zero to today. I’m happy with where my surfing is at, compared to pre-injury. I surf under 4 foot and avoid crowds, low light and messy surf – those conditions work my brain so much that it’s more hard work than fun. My snaps are getting a bit more grunt back but I’m not trying airs or anything as ambitious as before.
I’ve gone from months off work to 15mins/day to where I am now; full time and taking each day slowly and cautiously. It’s a vigilance that is tiring in itself.
My exercise load is kind of back to pre-injury, though I can’t just push myself like I used to. I need to adapt day to day, respond to my body and not overload my brain. I’m still at risk of those crashes but at least now they might only last a night.
What have I learned? I thought I was self-aware, knew myself and was in tune with my body. Now I realise I just ignored it all. If I was tired, I’d reach for a coffee; I’d work out even if my body was tired. Now, I take a ‘brain break’, check in on my body – notice my heart rate, notice any tension, am kind to myself when thoughts race, and I respond with what I actually need. I rest instead of caffeinating; I have a walk around the block instead of a 5km run. I don’t surf in all conditions just for practise but put more focus into reading conditions and getting it right for me. Sometimes I don’t even get in the water.
I’m trying to be less self-critical. Instead of thinking “I should go to that event”, “I should go to the gym”, I notice the self-judgement, check in with what I need and give myself some grace.
I’m still ambitious at work but, rather than striving and prioritising promotion, I strive to do a good job as a second to prioritising my health. I set boundaries, I say no, I turn my computer off, I turn off notifications on my phone and I put myself first.
As of last week, I’m finally back full time at work though I’m not 100% back to tasks. When meetings break for 10 minutes & everyone goes for a cuppa, I find a private place to sit, put on my noise cancelling headphones, close my eyes and rest my brain. Last week, I rested in an office closet!
I listen to meditation throughout the day, do body scans, a lot of breathing exercises & I have a sleep routine to ensure I get as good a rest as possible.
By the time this newsletter goes to print, it will have been a year since my brain injury and ten months since that post. You’d think it was all a distant memory, yet I’m still vigilant every day so I don’t crash. Most weeks I succeed. Huh, injuries and big life events give you a different definition of success, don’t they.
Writing this brings up tears because when we grow, we lose parts of ourselves - even ones we need to say goodbye to - and there’s a grieving process that comes with that loss. I think this too, is a sign of success.
Photos: Kirsty Prior
