The Anniversary Concussion: A Love Story (Sort Of)
Disclaimer: As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
February 2025-Our fifth wedding anniversary. A month that should have been full of champagne, candlelight, and smug marital bliss. Instead, it became the month I earned my first official concussion—thanks to an overzealous dog and a poorly timed head-butt.
Technically, I suspect I’ve had one before, but since it wasn’t documented by a doctor, it doesn’t “count.” Lesson number one: if you hit your head and feel off, go see your doctor. Self-managing doesn’t get you a medical record, and trust me—your brain deserves to have its story written down.
How It Happened
The day started perfectly. Our daughter was with the grandparents, my husband and I were off to my dog agility class with our furry child, Hudson. He ran like a champ, tired himself out, and for once, actually moved toward the car instead of panicking like usual.
A quick neuroscience side note: Hudson has canine PTSD, which—just like in humans—scrambles the brain’s ability to process certain memories without triggering the “danger! danger!” alarm system. So while training helps, sometimes his brain just… rebels.
Since I was feeling physically amazing and the best I’d been in years, I thought, “Hey, I’ll help him into the car.” Big mistake. As I lifted his front end under his armpits, Hudson decided to leap—our heads collided in a smack…
I froze, grimaced at my husband, but didn’t want to spook Hudson into a spiral of anxiety. So I soldiered on, loaded him up scooping his butt in next, and then… melted down. By the time I got to the passenger door, I was rattling the door handle with frustration that it wasn’t yet unlocked! My poor husband was just trying to unlock the doors fast enough to keep up. Strapping myself in with the seatbelt, I began hyperventilating, sobbing, and shaking like a rabid cartoon wolf.
When the Brain Flips Its Own Panic Switch
That intensity wasn’t just me being dramatic or irrational. The emotional storm was my limbic system—the part of the brain that controls emotional responses—flipping into overdrive. I’ve had this happen before: my body reacting emotionally to seemingly random triggers. Postpartum, my athletic therapist once pressed on my ribcage and I burst into tears. (No pain—just my body saying, “Hey, remember when a baby kicked this spot 3,000 times? Yeah, that’s still in here.”)
Our bodies remember. Trauma, pregnancy, stress—it all gets “filed” in ways we don’t fully understand. Sometimes a touch, sound, or movement pulls the file back out before we’re ready.
So when Hudson and I collided, it wasn’t just the impact. It was the cocktail of past injuries, fears of neck misalignment (thank you, hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos), and my brain screaming, “NOT AGAIN.” At least that’s what I had thought at first… I know understand that the emotional outburst was actually a concussion. See not everyone gets “knocked out”, sees stars, or walks unsteadily. Emotional outbursts are real; don’t under-estimate them.
The Red Flags Start Waving
I iced my forehead, we continued with our anniversary plans (hot tubs, city walks, great food). But slowly, little red flags appeared: dizziness, trouble falling asleep, headaches, light and noise sensitivity. Even a back massage lying down with my face in the pillow begun to cause an unusual loud and irritating headache.
By the next workday, it was undeniable: I had a concussion. The walk-in clinic confirmed it, and I was benched from work. I thought it would be a week. It turned into 8 months and counting of post-concussion syndrome.
Life With a Concussion
For me, recovery looked like:
Earplugs always on standby.
Transition-lens glasses (goodbye fashion, hello vampire chic).
No night driving—I’d delegate the wheel whenever possible.
Childcare support (thank goodness for daycare).
2 L of water a day + electrolyte boosts (brains are thirsty).
Smoothies full of brain-healing foods and supplements.
Technology limits (sorry, blog dreams—my laptop felt like a medieval torture device some days).
Therapy, therapy, therapy. Weekly athletic therapy, NUCCA chiropractor for my neck, PEMF treatments for cellular energy, and neurofeedback for emotional regulation.
Oh, and let’s not forget the emotional fallout. Concussions can turn your patience into a short fuse, and when you’re parenting a toddler entering her “big feelings” era… let’s just say we had a house full of emotional fireworks.
The Science Bit (Because I’m a Nerd)
Concussions = brain energy crisis. The brain gets rattled, neurons misfire, and the cells need extra ATP (cellular energy) to heal. That’s why rest, nutrition, and treatments like PEMF can help.
Almost every concussion comes with some degree of whiplash. The head doesn’t move without the neck moving too. Addressing the neck (alignment, stability, muscle rehab) is crucial.
The limbic system loves drama. When triggered, it overrides logic. That’s why emotions can surge after injury—it’s not weakness, it’s neurobiology.
Recovery is nonlinear. The graph is more “drunk toddler on a trampoline” than “steady upward slope.” And that’s normal.
From Setback to Empowerment
Was it hard? Absolutely. Four months felt like four years. I had to pause my work, friendships, hobbies, and sense of self. But here’s what I’ve learned:
You can rebuild. Slowly, patiently, and with help.
You need a team. GPs, therapists, chiropractors, psychologists—they all play a role.
You must honour your brain. Push gently, pace fiercely, rest unapologetically.
You are not weak. If you cry, rage, or collapse into bed at 7 p.m.—that’s your brain protecting itself, not you failing.
Now, months later, I’m still recovering. But I’m back at work on a gradual plan, I’m blogging again, and I’ve learned to trust my body differently. I’ve already lived with chronic pain, but this taught me a new skill: pacing cognitive load. And while it’s trial and error, the trend is upward.
The Takeaway
Your brain is not replaceable. Treat it with care. If you get hit—by a hockey puck, a fall, or your dog’s enormous skull—don’t brush it off. Seek medical care, rest, and surround yourself with a team who believes in your recovery.
And most importantly? Laugh when you can. Humour, science, and stubborn self-compassion are the best medicine for concussion recovery.
