The Light at the End of the Tunnel

“Just focus on the light at the end of the tunnel.”

What light? I was in a cave. A dark, lonely, huge cave. I don’t see light anywhere. I am not even sure I can see the light behind me anymore. Literally overnight, I had been thrust into this brain injury world, and I had no clue what to do or where to go.

I was mad. Angry. Depressed. Frustrated. I didn’t want to be in a tunnel or a cave. I wanted to be on the other side of whatever this was NOW. I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t sign up for anything, and I certainly wouldn’t recommend it to a friend.

So, how exactly do I get from this dark cave to the other side of the tunnel? To where there is light again.

I learned it all starts with trust.

I had to trust that there was even a tunnel to navigate through.

I read stories of people who recovered from their brain injuries, and I saw other patients in the clinic who were doing things far more advanced than I could. Surely there was a tunnel for them. And if there was one for them, then maybe there was a tunnel for me, too. Right?

“Just trust me, then. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel for you.”

During a particularly rough therapy day, my physical therapist asked if I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I scoffed.

What light? I am in a cave. A very dark, very lonely, very huge cave. I don’t see light anywhere. I don’t even know which direction I am moving in anymore.

I was exhausted. Frustrated. Overwhelmed. And ready to quit. I’d been trying to find my way out of the tunnel for two years. And I was certain I was no closer than when I began. But in spite of that, my therapist believed I was making progress.

Was I getting closer to the end of the tunnel? Had I become so lost inside my cave that I couldn’t even tell if I was moving forward or backward? I had been to physical therapy. Occupational therapy. Speech therapy. Vision therapy. Mental health therapy. I wasn’t working. I wasn’t driving. I wasn’t who I used to be. But even in all of that, my therapist believed I was making progress. I didn’t see it. Couldn’t feel it.

But…maybe she could.

“I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

It didn’t happen all at once and there was no magical “ah ha” moment like in the movies. But slowly, and quietly, things started to shift when I wasn’t paying attention. Or maybe they were shifting all along and I wasn’t able to see it yet.

First occupational therapy. Successful discharge. Then, physical and speech therapy. Successful discharge. Vision therapy? Not clinically needed. Mental health therapy? Well…that one stayed. It’s more of a long-term support now.

But the acute part of this journey had subsided. The brain fog was lifting. The dizziness was subsiding. The energy was returning. I was starting to feel like a version of me that I recognized again.

“Just focus on the light at the end of the tunnel.”

This metaphor has stuck with me throughout the entirety of my brain injury recovery journey. It wasn’t a journey I asked for. And if I’m being honest, it wasn’t one I always navigated well.

I got lost many, many times in that “cave” looking for the quick way out to the tunnel. I wanted to give up and just stay lost in the darkness. I stopped trusting myself and believing that I could do it.

But after 3.5 years of being lost in what I thought was a cave, I can now confidently say it was a tunnel all along. If you feel lost in a cave, not sure where this tunnel is that everyone keeps mentioning, I get it. I was there too. Trust the journey. Trust yourself. Trust that there is a tunnel and a light at the end. Because it was in that darkness, I found myself. I found an inner strength and resilience I didn’t know I had. I found a new way to live. My focus may have shifted over the years, but I did find the light at the end of the tunnel. And you will too.