There has been a lot of healing that has taken place in the last couple of years, as well as learning the tools, tips and tricks of living with Post-Concussion Syndrome. Learning how to pace myself throughout the day was a game-changer. I have special earplugs to deal with noise sensitivity and tinted glasses to deal with light sensitivity. I know if I have a social function scheduled I need the next day off to rest and recover. I know my limits and try not to push them if I don't have to.

I have lost my son. My heart is eternally broken and if by doing so I can make just one parent realise that we need to take concussions seriously then that’s one person we can save. I am not suggesting we shouldn’t play sports, I am saying please be educated about concussions, their effects, treatment, the seriousness of it and the long-term effects.

The many trophies and medals I won when I competed in boxing can now be found in a tote bin, stored under my basement staircase. I never pull them out to look at them. However, my memories of the time I spent competing in the sport never go away. Especially the memories of the many severe blows to the head I received while training and competing.

The surreal story, set throughout 7 hospitals in 3 countries for more than 26 months; filled with caregivers, hundreds of hands and hearts who believed something that I did not. They are the reason I can share this story of serendipity.

The McMaster Students for the Concussion Legacy Foundation spoke with Dr. Angela Carol, a physician with the Hamilton Urban Core Community Health Centre in Hamilton, Ontario. She shared with us her insights regarding the evolution of concussion management, as well as the challenges associated with treating concussions in people experiencing homelessness.

The day I became a mother, something shifted inside me. I became more in tune with others’ feelings and more aware of dangerous situations before they happened. Not just for my daughter, but for everyone around me. The Mamma bear reference is a real thing, you don't truly experience until that magical day arrives.

Over the years, I’ve developed ways to cope/control and even overcome them. Just as concussion and PCS symptoms can vary person to person, so too can their treatment methods. What’s worked for me isn’t a cure-all for others that have endured a similar history of head injuries, but the key is to find the path that works for you. That’s why I think it’s invaluable for all of us to share our stories and struggles, as well as certain methods of coping and overcoming them.

I have decided to start a Team Up Chapter here at the University of Guelph. With CLFC, I hope to use my knowledge and personal experience with TBI to enhance the quality and accessibility of resources available to young athletes regarding concussion prevention and post-concussion syndrome.

The inspiration that helped me push through recovery was knowing that I would eventually feel better. I look up to athletes like my friend Valerie Grenier who went through very painful injuries and came back even stronger.

If you or someone you know is suffering from post-concussion syndrome, I hope you are brave, persistent, and persevere through your battles. I hope that you believe in yourself – even when you feel no one else does. I truly believe God/the Universe believes in you. Be your own coach – believe in yourself and find others that believe in you too!

In the case of so many people like me, mental illness is a chronic problem that will be managed for years if not the rest of their lives. The key to managing these issues is speaking openly, candidly and honestly about mental illness. Things are no different with head injuries. Concussions and post-concussion syndrome can stay with us for extended periods of time, if not the rest of our lives. Talking about it without judgment or stigma is the best way to receive the help we deserve. This is what I hope to promote and support.

The invisibility of our injuries doesn’t make it easy for others to understand and support us. No matter what stage you are in, ups and downs are part of the process. Recovery isn’t linear. If you start to believe 100% in your ability to heal, you will get better.

I am 34+ years since the injury I received. I am no less involved with my rehab as I was the day I was first wheeled into the PT department at Humana Hospital in 1986. And, like those first days in rehab, every day begins with the decision to work on what I can, try to apply what I learn, practice insight and maintain my self-awareness.

In my world, this is what it means to be a TBI survivor.

As I write this, I am feeling tired, beaten, worn out and fatigued – mentally, physically, and emotionally. My life’s journey has been a long and troubling battle with head injuries, depression, anxiety, exhaustion, substance abuse, self-loathing and mistreatment by my profession. 90% of the time, I can hardly function in my day-to-day life, as I deal with extreme migraine headaches, profound body pain, incapacitating fatigue, severe depression, sensitivity to noise and light, you name it – I can check all the boxes. I have problems with memory, impulse control, mood imbalance, cognition and executive functioning. I have been seen by every type of physician and medical professional there is; from neurologists, endocrinologists, psychiatrists, physiatrists, somnologists (i.e. sleep doctors), etc. Every answer has been the same: my brain has been irreparably injured by way of repeated blows to the head. I do not have cancer, a stroke, ALS, etc. I have a brain injury. A serious and likely progressive medical condition.

Intense experiences can be great teachers. I have been thinking for some time about what thoughts I can offer in this personal story that might be helpful to those who are struggling now either with post concussion syndrome, depression, anxiety or other mental health challenges. While I don’t claim to have any specific solutions to anyone’s problems, I can share an idea that I hope will lead in a positive direction. The objective is to ease the pressure on people in crisis through everyone recognizing their common humanity.

The ability to find both hope in healing, and heart in transformation. The Orange Butterfly seeks positivity in darkness and difficult changes, to emerge from setbacks with grace and beauty in our eyes. A reminder to embrace new life, pathways and challenges with faith.

When you first share your story, you will receive messages of encouragement and some advice, but still feel stuck. People’s attitudes around you will slowly change. It takes work, but it happens. You will discover the brave and vulnerable world of ‘people like me’. This world will open a gateway of possibility, learning, understanding, and hope. You will learn more about the world of disability and how this world really is only made for ‘able-bodied’ people. You will start to advocate. You will return to work; in a society built on the belief that bodies that are not ‘productive’ do not have worth, you fought back. You fought for accommodations (a phased return, remote set-up, pacing breaks, dictation...the list goes on). You did that all, with a brain injury.

We both always knew that we wanted to pursue a career in health given our personal concussion experiences. Our concussions led us to the field of public health. We always talked about working together to make a difference within the concussion community, and over the past year we have started to present our ideas. Over the last seven years, there has been so much progress in terms of building awareness of what a concussion is and how to identify the signs and symptoms. However, we still feel that there are a lot of barriers to accessing the support individuals need in a timely manner.

Looking back on my journey, my healing process was based on three integral components; mind, body and soul. The first (mind) was linked to the emotional side of recovery. The second component (body) was the physical aspect of recovery. Nutrition, good sleep hygiene, water intake as well as moving my body was the first pillar of a healthy brain. The third component (soul) is linked to my spirituality. For me, my strong faith is what contributed to a significant part of my progress, especially towards the end of my healing process.

After leaving my hometown and everything I’ve ever known (my family, my friends and my permanent teaching position), this is the second thing that took the most courage to do. My name is Stéphanie Ranger and I’m sharing my story in hopes to raise awareness and shed some light on TBIs (traumatic brain injuries). I am a firm believer in using your voice to share your experiences in order to help others… so here goes nothing!