At the start of September, I got a concussion. I was sitting on the railing of a friendâs porch, and I lost my balance and fell backward. The next day my head hurt, but I assumed it was just the typical headache I get after a late night out with friends. But three days after the fall, when looking at my computer made my head feel like it was going to explode and trying to scroll on social media made me nauseous, I realized that my headaches werenât just the side effects of a night out.
My concussion was officially diagnosed halfway through the first week of classes this semester. I received the standard advice for treating a concussion: spending a few days in my room resting physically and cognitively, then slowly adding mental and physical activity back into my routine over the next week or two. In theory, having a medically-excused reason to just lie around in bed all day doesnât sound too bad. It sounded like a great opportunity to catch up on some sleep and do some decorating in my room that Iâd been putting off.Â
My expectations for concussion recovery could not have been more wrong. I am a Type-A person, meaning I am a pretty motivated, achievement-oriented, and (at times) impatient person. In other words, I am a do-er. I am an executive member of multiple clubs on campus and I also really love school. I am the type of person who packs her days to the brim and loves crawling into bed at night with a feeling of exhausted satisfaction when thinking of everything I did that day. I am not the type of person who enjoys doing nothing all day.Â
I slept a lot at the start of my recovery, but when I was awake, all I could really do was sit in my bed and look around my room. I did this not just because it was what the doctor had ordered, but because my brain felt like jello when I tried to go on any devices, do school work, or do anything for my clubs. It was incredibly frustrating not being able to be as active (cognitively and physically) in my daily life as I was used to.Â
On the verge of dying of boredom, I picked up my knitting supplies that were sitting on my bookshelf. Aside from colouring (which I got bored of very quickly), it seemed to be one of the only activities I could do without making my symptoms worse. With each row I knit, the stress of my concussion seemed to fade. 1 row of knit stitches. My worries about whether my brain would ever go back to normal faded. 1 row of purl stitches. My stress about the assignments I was missing started to ease. 1 row of knit stitches. My anxiety about missing out on orientation events for my clubs began to dissipate. With every row I knit, the pattern (both the knitting pattern and the pattern of my anxiety fading) continued. All I had to do was focus on the yarn and knitting needles in my hands.
Over the next few weeks, I started dubbing my knitting as my âbrain breaks.â After a fast-paced lecture or looking at my computer for too long, and any time my head hurt, I knew it was time for a brain break. I started expanding my brain breaks, and things like going for a walk or eating a meal became included in my daily brain break rituals. These breaks were (as much as realistically possible) phone-free time, and served as a time for me to listen to my body. Have I eaten enough today or drank enough water? Have I moved my body? Though most of my headaches were still from my concussion, these breaks prompted me to really start considering how I was taking care of myself each day.Â
I donât set a limit on my breaks, I let myself rest and reset until it feels right to get back to work. Even though I may have upcoming deadlines or projects looming over my head, I know that taking care of my brain and my body comes first. I learned that unless my brain and body are cared for, I wouldnât be able to do the things I wanted. You only have one brain and body, and sacrificing your well-being so you can complete your entire to-do list (and get started on tomorrowâs work) will slowly eat away at your capacity to live and enjoy life the way you want to.
Before my concussion, I was the type of person who never took breaks, and never slowed down. I wanted to get everything done as soon as I could so I could move on to the next thing. I was a big-picture person, always thinking about what came next before I was even finished with what I was doing. After my concussion, I realized that pushing myself in this way was detrimental to my brain. Constantly pushing yourself until you cannot go any further is a surefire way to burn yourself out.Â
I take things one day at a time now, just focusing on doing my best each day while also respecting that my brain and body have limits. I ignored those limits initially when recovering, and I tried to go back to school and work too soon. This prolonged my recovery and forced me to restart from square one. That was even more difficult than my original recovery because it was when I truly realized that the only thing that was going to make me 100% better was time. I had to give my brain time to rest, something that I had never really done before.Â
This shift in my lifestyle and mindsetâaway from modern hustle culture to a slower-paced lifestyleâhas helped me not just in my concussion recovery, but also in realizing that I can break free of the cycle of overworking myself until I have a breakdown, then going back to work. Now when I approach work and school, I feel refreshed, eager and excited to do these things. These feelings have only been able to arise because I let myself rest and reset as soon as I feel the need. While there are obviously circumstances that may challenge how you do this, I encourage you to find what gives your brain a break and to let yourself enjoy these breaks as often as you need.