This piece originally appeared in The Beacon, MCLA’s student newspaper.
By Jake Vitali
Two years ago, today, my life unexpectedly changed forever as I suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car crash about two miles from campus.
The collision thrust my body forward, causing my head to bounce off the windshield. I landed in my seat and for a solid minute wasn’t sure what to do, I was conscious and aware of my surroundings, but I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move, I was in complete shock.
However, I seemed fine in the aftermath. I cracked jokes with first responders, refused medical treatment, and found a ride back to campus since my car was totaled. That night I did a last-minute show on WJJW where I made light of the situation.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I woke up with what felt like the worst hangover of my life. I couldn’t see straight, my head was pounding, and the nausea was overwhelming. I struggled to keep up with basic conversations. My neck and back ached. I kept retelling the same things over and over again, unaware that I had already told it before to the same people.
Two days later, as symptoms worsened, I went to the emergency room. I
learned I had a cerebral contusion and a concussion. But a diagnosis when it
comes to head injuries doesn’t change much, as there are no immediate cures. It
is a frustrating process of resting and attempting things you enjoy in small
doses. Even binge-watch your favorite shows or listening to your favorite
records as you recuperate can seem like a daunting task.
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 1.5 million
Americans sustain a traumatic brain injury every year. Every year Americans
will die from traumatic brain injuries and an estimated 80 to 90,000 Americans
will experience the onset of a long-term disability.
So often it feels that when head trauma is discussed in the media, it is in the context of professional athletes. However, head trauma can happen to anyone and little attention is paid to the general public and how it affects their ability to live normal lives.
I lied to myself and everyone around me and came back after only 10 days resting at home because I thought that pushing through the pain would allow me to forget about how awful I truly felt and maybe, just maybe, allow me to return to a normal life faster.
I put myself under enormous pressure to catch up and keep up with assignments and tests. The emotional anxiety was like someone stepping on my chest and only occasionally letting me gasp for air. The invisible symptoms of migraines, memory loss, and nausea all made it seem to others that I was now fine. But I wasn’t.
I had to reduce my involvement in any extracurriculars. I resigned from the Student Government Association Executive Board and withdrew from my weekly radio show, the thing which for so long had been a sense of comfort for me in difficult days. Even basic audio editing brought on migraines and I remember breaking down in tears looking out of the WJJW production room window as I saw people playing games on Taconic lawn.
When you’re dealing with pain nobody can see it is easy for people to not recognize the pain that you’re in. Add in the fact that you’re withdrawn from life’s simpler pleasures and it is easy to become bitter and lash out at the world around you. I experienced the worst depression of my life.
People I had considered close friends abandoned me because they thought that I was a burden, while others were bewildered that I wasn’t my usual jubilant, lighthearted, and often-optimistic self that they’d grown accustomed to. The friends who stayed with me weren’t always the ones I expected to be there, and to this day I cherish my relationship with them.
Even two years later, I can recognize that I am not the same person that I was before the accident. However, instead of being angry I have learned to accept that and to embrace it. Chasing after a part of you that’s already gone is only going to inhibit your own growth and weigh you down.
Those worst days of my life after the accident taught me the importance of priorities. Rather than getting caught in up daily minutia, I have learned to see and strive for bigger picture objectives. If it means my homework doesn’t get finished and I have a chance to see my favorite band play a gig, or if I show up late somewhere because I spent that time helping somebody become a better radio personality, I’m okay with that.
It also taught me about the importance of your own mental health and that it is okay to seek help when you may think you need it—something that is especially important as we head into midterms and the last half of the semester.
I had spent so much of my life trying to hide from feelings of depression and anxiety, bottling them up inside, because I never thought that I had the right to feel that way. I come from a loving family, was raised in the middle class, have been blessed with good health, and have had experiences few others may get in a lifetime. Yet, hiding from these feelings just exacerbated my feelings of loneliness.
People like to tell you that you’re not alone, but it takes courage to access the resources that you need. Sometimes it takes somebody offering a hand to take that first step. Talking about what you are experiencing can be terrifying, but it can also be freeing.
Depression and anxiety are more common than one may recognize. In a study conducted by Christopher Murray and Alan Lopez titled “Global Burden of Disease: A Comprehensive Assessment of Mortality and Disability from Diseases, Injuries, and Risk Factors in 1990 and Projected to 2020,” it was projected that unipolar major depression would most likely become the second most common disease across the globe in 2020.
1 in 6 adults will experience depression at some point in their life, as reported by the CDC. 41.6% of college students will experience anxiety and 36.4% will experience depression, according to the American Psychological Association. Depression and anxiety can come on at any time and for any reason, it does not have to be because of a major traumatic event, and at times I have found myself experiencing these symptoms in normal, everyday life.
During any given week, I still experience on average one migraine, but they’ve become more manageable with medication and recognizing the symptoms when they start so that they don’t completely interrupt my ability to accomplish daily tasks. I still struggle with short-term memory.
Above all else, I am grateful for the appreciation of life that the accident afforded me. While it is easy to wish that this had never happened, I appreciate the newfound ability to live in the present and appreciate what is happening before my eyes I’m grateful to have been able to bounce back as well as I have and do things in spite of all of the hurdles that were placed in front of me.
And, two years later, I’m grateful to have finally found to strength to talk about the worst days of my life.