Amber Lohret, 40, a former psychiatric nurse, finds resilience, healing, and hope in the aftermath of a life-altering traumatic brain injury.
Five years ago, my life changed forever when I sustained a traumatic brain injury (TBI) in a bizarre incident. My daughters and I were outdoors at a local dairy bar when a powerful gust dislodged a nearby patio umbrella, whose pole struck the back of my head and knocked me unconscious. A medical team worked quickly to clean and staple the deep wound.
The emergency doctors suspected a concussion. My symptoms persisted and worsened, and a few months later, a neurologist diagnosed me with a TBI.
Living with a TBI often is described as bearing an invisible burden, and that couldn't be more accurate. Outwardly, I appeared fine, but inwardly, I grappled with debilitating symptoms—nausea, vertigo, intense headaches, cognitive difficulties, and emotional upheaval. Routine tasks became insurmountable. Conversations were exhausting, driving was perilous, and even standing upright was a challenge as vertigo often caused me to fall.
As a former psychiatric nurse, I've always been driven to care for others. But after my TBI, I had to face the harsh reality that I could no longer perform my duties safely. My career, such a significant part of my identity, was suddenly out of reach. Losing that was devastating, and the journey to acceptance was one of the hardest battles I ever fought.
In the midst of my struggle, I turned to journaling as a therapeutic outlet. Writing let me process the physical, emotional, and spiritual transformations I was going through. These private reflections eventually evolved into a book, Invisible: Finding Purpose and Spiritual Awakening After the Storm of Traumatic Brain Injury (Inner Peace Press). My book delves into the raw realities of my journey—including the pain, anger, and moments of despair—as well as the lessons I've learned about resilience, self-compassion, and the power of support from my husband and four amazing kids.
My journey hasn't been linear. There are days when the symptoms flare, the pain feels insurmountable, and I long for the person I used to be. But there also are days of clarity, gratitude, and renewed purpose. I've discovered new modalities of healing, including yoga and Reiki, which have been instrumental in my recovery.
In my small town of Cambridge, NY, few were aware of my struggles until recently. The invisibility of brain injuries often leads to isolation, and I was no exception. But sharing my story has been liberating. I hope I can help others feel less alone and encourage a broader understanding of the challenges those with TBIs face. Whether you're a survivor, a caregiver, or someone seeking inspiration, I'd like my story to offer a sense of hope and the knowledge that even in the aftermath of a tragedy, there is light to be found.
—As told to Paul Wynn
