When I first opened up about my challenges recovering from brain surgery, it took everything in me to share the vulnerable truth. But now, as I start to see progress and success in certain areas, I find myself hesitating to talk about it, worried that it will discredit my initial admission. It’s important for me to remember that recovery is not a linear process, and there will always be ups and downs.

This is my journey of being scarred but unbroken, and why sharing my success is even harder than admitting my struggles.

Since October 19, 2022, which was the day I got the MRI results, this experience has, at times, broken me. I have good days and bad days like anyone, but I only exist in extremes.  I’m either all the way on and superwoman or I’m off, and I’m really off and don’t recognize my own house.

I have really started to hit my stride at work. I am enjoying it and feel like I have the motivation and ability that I need to accomplish my goals.  Here’s where things get tricky: after sharing my struggles, the idea of sharing my successes seems daunting. Would people think that because things were going well for me now, it meant that my struggles weren’t real? That they never happened? That somehow, by sharing moments of triumph, I was discrediting everything else?

Would people think that because things were going well for me now, it meant that my struggles weren’t real?

At the end of May, I was scheduled for my 6-month follow-up MRI.  I knew it would be stressful and possibly a little emotional, but I was not prepared for just how stressful and emotional it would be.  Sean made sure he had the time off so he could come with me. About 30 minutes before we needed to leave, I started shaking and sobbing uncontrollably.  I had the window down on the highway and was doing grounding exercises the whole way there.  When we arrived, Sean had to give them my name and birthdate because I couldn’t get it out.  He told the person behind the desk that it was my first MRI since my craniotomy, and everyone immediately snapped into high gear and really took care of me, and I am so grateful. 

I still wonder about the guy in the waiting room with a knee brace on who was probably very confused about the crazy crying lady! I can now check off a full-blown panic attack on my bucket list of things I never wanted to experience.

Confirmation that at least some of the cognitive deficits would be permanent was a huge blow.

The MRI results showed no regrowth but did show that there was tissue damage and scar tissue.  That felt like a punch in the gut.  I had been doing much better than in previous months, but the confirmation that at least some of the cognitive deficits would be permanent was a huge blow.  Ouch.  I couldn’t help but feel a mix of disappointment and frustration as I processed the news. It was disheartening to realize that, despite my progress, there were still lingering effects that I would have to live with for the rest of my life. The reality of facing long-term consequences hit me hard, leaving me grappling with a wave of emotions.

What I told people about the results is that some of the issues I’m experiencing are from actual scar tissue and brain damage and the rest is anxiety which I (in theory) can fix.  There was no way to know what was caused by what, only time would tell.  Getting those results, while very upsetting to start with, really helped me.  Anyone who knows me knows how much I love spreadsheets and planning.  After I finished feeling sorry for myself, I snapped back into what I do best and that is identify a problem and create a plan to fix it. 

As I read that back to myself, I realize how simple and easy it sounds but believe me, that was not the case.  I knew I needed to focus on a few key strategies.  First, I needed to proceed as if any remaining difficulties would be permanent.  I hoped that wasn’t the case, but I couldn’t be sure and I would rather be over prepared than underprepared.  Second, I needed to learn my limits.  As I mentioned before, when I run out of brain capacity it is not a small problem, once I hit a limit its like running off a cliff.  At that time I wasn’t sure what my limits were yet as this was all new to me. Third, reduce my stress and anxiety as much as possible, which would not happen overnight.

So what do you do when you are trying to learn to manage life with less brain power and energy? If you are me, you go into problem-solving mode.  I knew I needed to prioritize and streamline my tasks and focus on the most important and urgent tasks first. I started using different tools for reminders and project management, but what really made the difference was a completely serendipitous Facebook post about ADHD symptoms and how a life coach can help.  I reached out and set an appointment for a free consultation, and that was one of the best decisions I could have made.

Since then, working with my life coach, Patsy, at Shine Well(ness) has been truly transformative, allowing me to gain a clearer understanding of my goals and where I am really at.  It is easy to focus on setbacks and give them more weight than progress, but with Patsy’s support, I have been able to take a step back, look at the big picture, and maintain a positive mindset. The accountability and encouragement she provides have been instrumental in my growth and progress, and I am grateful for the positive impact she has had on my life.

I am no longer looking at the current version of myself as less than, and that is a place I never thought I would be.

My description of a life coach is therapy with an action plan. Patsy used to ask me each session, If pre-tumor Colleen was 100, where are you today? In our first session in June, I said that I was at 65/100, but in March, when I was at my lowest, I was at 10 out of 100.  When I said 98 about a month and a half ago, that was incredible.  Yesterday, I said that I think I am better than pre-tumor Colleen.  In those moments, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride and accomplishment. It’s important to note, though, that these are just moments—glimpses of feeling 98 or better—not my reality 100% of the time. I still face a lot of cognitive difficulties, but having these moments of higher function is a significant win. I worked tirelessly to get to this point. I am not done; I will always continue working on myself to be better than I was yesterday, but I am no longer looking at the current version of myself as less than, and that is a place I never thought I would be.

Let me set the record straight: admitting your struggles does not negate your successes. It doesn’t make them any less valid or important. In fact, it takes just as much courage to share your victories as it does to share your vulnerabilities.

So yes, after going through hell and back, both physically and emotionally, there have been moments of success. Moments where I felt like shouting from the rooftops, “I did it!” But then there’s also been moments where all I could do was lay in bed and cry because the weight of everything felt too heavy.

And you know what? Both are okay. Both are part of this messy thing we call life. Both deserve to be acknowledged and celebrated.

They may not be visible to the world, but they are etched in my spirit, shaping me into the woman I am today. A woman that I am damn proud of.

My scars are invisible to the untrained eye; they lie beneath the surface, hidden under my hair and even under my skull. Some may question their existence, not understanding the depths of pain and challenges they represent. Yet, these scars hold my story, my journey, and the strength that lies within me. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a warrior staring back at me, someone who has faced battles that most cannot see.  Despite their invisibility, my scars shape my identity and drive me forward with a sense of purpose. They may not be visible to the world, but they are etched in my spirit, shaping me into the woman I am today. A woman that I am damn proud of.

So, if you too are struggling, know that it’s okay. You are not alone, and your struggles do not define you. And when success comes knocking on your door, embrace it with open arms and know that it does not discredit anything else.

As for me, I may still hesitate when sharing my successes because of the fear of being misunderstood or judged. But in the end, if even one person feels inspired by my journey and finds hope in their own struggles, then it was all worth it. Here’s to embracing all parts of our stories—the struggles and successes alike. Here’s to being scarred but unbroken.