#tbi recovery
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Why Don’t You Ever Call Me Honey? Pt. 2
God these chairs are uncomfortable..
Steve had been in the emergency room for two hours now, watching nurses and doctors alike rush past him. The whole place was giving him a killer headache. He wondered if Hargrove was going to survive. Even the paramedics seemed thrown-off, although Steve had to assume a stab-induced poisoning wasn’t all that common in Hawkins.
What? She just stabbed him in the neck with a needle? Did you call the police?!
Steve had just shook his head.
Well- no he was sort of- uhm, attacking me? But he’s fine, it was just a misunderstanding-
The paramedic who was asking the questions just stared at him in disbelief. He’d felt pretty stupid when all was said and done.
Spotting the nurse who had jogged along Billy’s gurney earlier, Steve shot up to wave her down. “Hey! I was wondering if you had any updates? On Billy Hargrove? I -uh, came in with him..?” Steve began to lose steam halfway through his questioning, watching as the nurse's eyebrows scrunched together. “Oh! Yes, ah- just follow me, he’s in room 24D, he’s extremely lucky to survive Mr…” she trailed off, “Harrington” Steve mumbled .
“-Harrington, a needle from that angle at that much force can kill anyone. Should kill anyone. Mr. Hargrove had some serious internal arterial bleeding, and a hopefully minor TBI as a result of the seizure. We won’t know until the scans come back, until then he’s being kept in a medically induced coma.” She sighed, glancing around her shoulder, “I know it sounds unprofessional, but I'm surprised he didn’t die, Mr. Harrington” She leveled him with a slightly judgemental expression.
Steve let out a breath, “A-alright, would I be able to see him? I-I feel real bad about this whole..” He waved a hand around in the air, “Thing…I-I didn’t even know she had the needle until it was already in his neck!…do you think he’s going to survive?” Steve asked, chewing on his lower lip.
The nurse sighed again, “Listen Mr. Harrington, I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve been a nurse here for 23 years, I’ve never seen anyone’s brain cut off from oxygen as long as he was, come away without a bad TBI, he’s not out of the woods yet, but for now all you can hope for is a smooth recovery for him, alright?” She shook her head, moving to guide him towards Billy’s door.
Billy sat motionless on the scratchy white sheets of the hospital bed, breathing in and out at a calm rate. If it weren't for the mass of tubes and wires attached to him, he would have looked peaceful, thought Steve, grimacing.
His right arm, the one that had smashed into the table leg was in a light yellow cast. The nurse, catching Steve's eye, explained, “It’s only a hairline fracture, nothing too serious”. Steve nodded, “When do you think you’re gonna wake him up?” Twisting his hands, Steve sat down on an equally uncomfortable chair. The nurse shrugged, “Hopefully in the next day or two, if you want to leave your contact information, I'll be sure to have the hospital contact you”.
Steve nodded, “I’ll be sure to, thank you..”. “Donna.” the nurse finished. “Donna, I really appreciate you telling me everything” Steve shook her hand before she left, lightly closing the door behind her.
Steve let out a shaky breath, sinking further into his chair. He looked up, reaching towards Billy’s left hand, holding it gently. “Hey…listen Hargrove I’m sorry, I-I've been thinking and this must have been really confusing for you, really confusing. I mean, I’m not happy that you beat the crap outta me.. But I get it? I dunno…I just mean that,” He sighs, “I understand. If I had a little sister I’d probably be pissed that she was hanging out with some random guy too… I mean we’ve all watched Fatal Vision right?” Steve shook his head.
“Stupid… you probably can’t hear me anyway” Steve muttered, pulling his hand back. A small whine snapped his head back up, shocked to see Hargrove’s eyes were slowly blinking open.
“Holy- Nurse! He’s waking up! Nurse!” Steve darted for the door, spinning around when he heard a soft sobbing. “Hargrove? Hey- it’s gonna be okay- I’m getting the nurse! It’s fine-”
“I want my Momma!”
#harringrove#steve harrington#billy hargrove#billy harringrove#billy x steve#tbi recovery#billy deserved better#abuse#probably medical inaccuracies#stranger things#steve stranger things#billy stranger things
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Traumatic brain injuries often lead to disruptions in the intricate network of neural connections within the brain. MeRT therapy has shown promise in facilitating the healing process by enhancing neuroregeneration and promoting the reorganization of neural circuits.
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I remember the day I came back
I realized I had no idea where I went
I actually asked myself
Out loud
Where have I been?
I remember the sun on my skin through the
window
The carpet was rough on my knees
I remember the day was so beautiful
Like the first light I'd seen
I remembered the terror
shame
disappointment
rage
I cried till i bruised
I realized all I had set on fire
and all that I would lose
But, you see
All the things I remembered were feelings
little to recall even to this day
I woke from a slumber so violent
Just to remember that I was afraid
Now that I'm here
I brush off my fears
Being alone
Is a game
I can play
#poetry#me#art#memories#violence#shame#rage#light#sun#tbi recovery#amnesia#fire#sleep#fear#silence#play#isolation#isolated#alone#lost and found#growth#love#hate
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The Connection between a Clean Environment and TBI Recovery
Discover how a clean and organized home can transform the lives of traumatic brain injury survivors and inspire those who support them. Experience the powerful connection between a nurturing environment and successful rehabilitation. Don't miss out on this enlightening journey – follow the link and unlock the secrets to a brighter, more fulfilling recovery for both clients and staff.
ABI Resources is a reputable organization that provides exceptional support to individuals and families in collaboration with various government agencies and community service providers, including the Connecticut Department of Social Services DSS, COU Community Options, the Connecticut Department of Mental Health and Addiction Services DMHAS, Connecticut Community Care CCC CCCI Southwestern Connecticut Area on Aging SWCAA, Western Connecticut Area on Aging WCAAA, Allied Community Resources ACR, Access Health, and United Services. ABI Resources collaborates care with renowned institutions such as UCONN, Yale, and Hartford. As a community care and supported living provider, ABI Resources is dedicated to offering high-quality and personalized care to enhance the lives of those it serves. Medicaid MFP Money Follows the person program / ABI Waiver Program / PCA waiver.
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https://www.linkedin.com/company/abi-resources-llc/
#The Connection between a Clean Environment and TBI Recovery#https://www.ctbraininjury.com/post/the-connection-between-a-clean-environment-and-tbi-recovery#Discover how a clean and organized home can transform the lives of traumatic brain injury survivors and inspire those who support them. Exp#more fulfilling recovery for both clients and staff.#ABI Resources is a reputable organization that provides exceptional support to individuals and families in collaboration with various gover#including the Connecticut Department of Social Services DSS#COU Community Options#the Connecticut Department of Mental Health and Addiction Services DMHAS#Connecticut Community Care CCC CCCI Southwestern Connecticut Area on Aging SWCAA#Western Connecticut Area on Aging WCAAA#Allied Community Resources ACR#Access Health#and United Services. ABI Resources collaborates care with renowned institutions such as UCONN#Yale#and Hartford. As a community care and supported living provider#ABI Resources is dedicated to offering high-quality and personalized care to enhance the lives of those it serves. Medicaid MFP Money Follo#traumatic brain injury#TBI recovery#clean home#organized home#reduced cognitive load#sense of control#reduced stress#enhanced safety#accessibility#home support staff#household chores#emotional support#rehabilitation#cognitive challenges
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Forged Divinity Unnamed Sequel: Chapter 4
CW: memory issues, past TBI, guilt
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~~~
“You smell like death,” Shannon had said eventually, once she was all cried out and she could breathe again, “Both of you do.”
Leannan had opened his mouth to tell her why, but he couldn’t find it.
Now they stood in the Longhouse bathroom, the walls lined with shower and toilet stalls. The lights above were bright, and stung Leannan’s eyes, so he kept his gaze on the concrete floor.
Shannon and Enjolras were talking. It didn’t feel important. Leannan was just tired. There was a bench in the center of the room, so he sat on it, but as soon as he did Shannon was lifting him back up again, ducking her head to put her face in Leannan’s line of sight.
“Do you need any help in the shower?”
Help? In the shower? Like Leannan was some kind of useless idiot who didn’t know how to bathe himself? Sure, maybe he’d needed some help right after he’d gotten hit in the head but that was back then, he was better now!
“No!” he snapped, “Don’t touch me!”
Shannon’s eyes widened and her hands retreated to clasp against her chest.
“Oh, okay. Well, there’s soap, and linens right here,” she patted a small pile of items on the bench, “Just call for me if you need anything, okay?”
Her body language and soft tone made Leannan cringe. He’d scared her. His vision blurred with tears, welling up just as fast as the anger had.
“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” His hand went to his left temple, and the raised scar there.
“It’s okay,” Shannon said softly, “I know. Just take a shower, okay?”
Leannan was alone in the bathroom. He didn’t remember Shannon leaving.
He was tired. He sat on the bench.
Maybe, once he was clean, Killia would brush his hair. Or Phineas. Yes, They’d sit in a big bed together and Phineas would brush his hair. Everything would be fine. They’d eat dried apples, and it wouldn’t be too hot. They’d walk along the – they’d go walking, somewhere nice. Phineas would kiss him and tell him how good he was -
“Leannan! Leannan!”
Leannan jumped, ripped out of his head. “Huh?”
Shannon was staring at him.
“Oh, Leannan, you scared me!” she sniffled, pressing her hands to her mouth.
What did he do to scare her this time? He didn’t remember.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Let’s just get you in the shower, okay?” Shannon took his hands, crouching in front of him, “Do you… do you want me to talk you through it?”
Leannan looked over at the little bar of soap, sitting on top of the washcloth and the bathtowel.
You’re fucking stupid now, you know that? You too stupid to know you’re stupid? Huh?
“Mhm,” he nodded.
“Okay,” Shannon’s voice wavered, “Okay, let’s stand up first.”
They stood up together, and Shannon picked up the soap and linens and put them in Leannan’s hands. Then she guided him over to a shower stall, ushering him in with a gentle hand on his back before closing the door between them.
Leannan looked around. There was a shower head against the back wall, and a little shelf beneath it. There was a hook on the door behind him.
Something in his head put together the pieces.
“I can do it myself,” he said, setting the soap and washcloth on the shelf before hanging the towel on the hook.
“Okay,” Shannon didn’t sound so sure, “But can you talk to me? While you do it?”
“Yeah,” Leannan nodded even though she couldn’t see him, “I can do that.”
He stepped up to the shower lever.
“I’m… turning the water on,” he said.
“Leannan, did you get undressed?”
Had he?
Leannan looked down at his ragged clothes, still on him. He was barefoot.
“Where are my boots?” he worried aloud.
“We’ll get you new shoes, don’t worry about it,” Shannon said, “You need to get undressed to shower, Leannan, can you do that?”
“Shower?” Leannan looked around. Since when did the shower room have stalls?
“Do,” the person outside the door took a breath, “Do you need me to come in and help you?”
“No,” Leannan said quickly, “No, I don’t want that.”
“That’s okay,” said the person, “But you need to get undressed if you’re going to take a shower, right?”
“Mm. Um. Yeah.” Leannan slowly pulled off his shirt, dropping it to the floor, then loosened the drawstring on his pants and let them drop, kicking then to join the shirt.
He hear the person outside breathe a sigh of relief.
Oh, right. Shannon.
~~~
After Shannon had spent several minutes assuring her that she could handle Leannan on her own, Enjolras trudged down the Longhouse hallway to the room she shared with Jeanette – a room she hadn’t slept in for weeks. She opened the door carefully, silently, but was surprised to find the light on and Jeanette sitting up with a book.
Jeanette had changed since she first arrived on Goat Island. With a steady diet of food she could actually digest properly, she’d gained weight; her cheeks were now plump and round, her midsection soft – a far cry from the near skeleton she’d been when she arrived.
She looked up at Enjolras, eyes bright and cool.
“You didn’t come see him,” Enjolras stated, passing no judgment.
“I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave him,” she delicately placed a bookmark in her book and set it aside, “And once I heard that he… that something was wrong,” she paused, “He has everyone here to look after him. But I knew that you’d need me. And that no one would be looking after you.”
Enjolras shook her head.
“I’m fine. He needs so much help, Jeanette…”
“Just come here.” Jeanette patted the bed next to her.
Enjolras kicked off her boots.
“None of this would have happened if I had found him sooner,” she muttered.
“Come here,” Jeanette echoed, holding out her arms.
Enjolras crawled into bed next to her.
“None of it – if I had…”
Suddenly Enjolras was sobbing, pressing her hands over her face, the weight of the last year – no, the last thirteen years – finally catching up with her.
“I should have found him sooner!”
Jeanette wrapped her arms around her, pulling Enjolras’ head to rest on her chest.
“You did everything you could. You’ve always been doing everything you could.”
“But I should have found him sooner!” Enjolras cried, “I should have found him sooner this time, and I should have found him sooner last time! And we should have – we should have raided Iowa City sooner, before he was ever sold in the first place!”
“There would have just been another one, before him,” Jeanette whispered, “You did everything. You saved so many people. And you did save Leannan, even if he’s hurt.”
“Jeanie, you don’t understand,” croaked Enjolras,
“I don’t think he’s going to get better.”
~~~
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Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik
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My personal signature in a piece, any piece, is a character that has to come to terms with the fact that things aren't automatically good after they leave their shitty circumstance. Things aren't perfect. They still struggle to fall asleep, still wake up crying. They still ache, deep down in their bones, and it will probably never go away, not really. They wake up on the morning after the war is over, and they look out over the battlefield, and their life is still destroyed.
But it is better. It's better than it was before. And it's not perfect. It's not even good most days. But it is better, and better is enough.
#pb.txt#this is part of the reason i fixate on wash sometimes--it also might be the TBI + PTSD rep#but i want wash to wake up in the morning and go to his shitty office job#and realize that it is never going to be the way it was before#and he is never going to get to go back to the time where it didn't hurt#but it doesn't hurt as much now#it's an ache in his bones instead of a knife in his throat#and it's better#and some days it hurts too much to bear#but some days he wakes up safe in his own house far away from project freelancer#and he gets out of bed and goes into the kitchen#and he is going to have a long day at work with people who have no idea what they're doing#but he is sitting at his kitchen table and he is eating breakfast#and he thinks about how much the man who was recovery one would have ached for this#because sometimes i wake up in the morning and know i have to go to my shitty office job#and i look out my window#and i see a river with ducks#and i think about the fact that i have a window#and i have a bed to roll out of#and it hurts so much#but i have this now. and the me that lived even 6 months ago would have killed someone for this.#i want realistic recovery and i want hope
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trying to figure out how many visitors would be allowed into the fictional trauma ward of my book led me down a rabbit hole.
turns out there is a study *specifically about* family caregivers and their role in visitation of people with moderate-to-severe TBI, which is exactly what im writing in these scenes.
god, i love this.
now we'll see if i can actually understand everything they wrote down - so far im muddling through alright, although when it comes to methodology i genuinely do not know all of the theories they're name-dropping, so i can't evaluate their appropriateness.
#head trauma cw#brain injury cw#((#ic for ooc?#sort of?#im writing it ooc so it can be written ic but im posting about the process ic#its recursive.))#((Also because I actually AM writing this - I know I have a few followers who have experience in the subject.#Anyone willing/interested in talking on that is welcome to - although I have interviewed someone in recovery from a more minor TBI#and am doing a LOT of research to make this more accurate if possible.#anyways this is a really fun project#even if the ways it blurs the lines between ic and ooc is somewhat uncomfortable sometimes#i love writing books and this one is a very new genre for me in many ways#which is extremely fun))
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New fic update
Technically come after "Stories", but can be read as a stand alone.
I love it so much. Writing it was hard and fun and
I actually like how it turned out. So yayy :)
Teaser:
8#
I hate head. Bad bad not like it. Ugly. Stick man laugh today.
9#
Stick man say call him master (name). I said not good enough for name. Got mad. Kickass
Worth it.
10#
Baby today. Not a baby. Toddler?
He's soft and nice. Don't care words are hard. Sit by me and just. Do.
Feel warm, body next. Familiar.
I think I knew him.
#batman#jason todd#red hood#lost days#Loa#league of assassins#talia al ghul#baby damian wayne#damian wayne#tbi (traumatic brain injury)#recovery#pt#physiotherapy#my writing
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YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT | Same you Fundraising 2023!
I am one of those who have followed the mission of the SAMEYOU charity from the very beginning and I am very proud of it! I "survived" a brain injury, after a "car-pedestrian" accident in 2012! I have permanent sequels, in part because I haven't received the help, resources and support to regain some of my abilities. A poor understanding of this condition, but especially the too many obstacles to get out of this hell, makes me particularly sensitive to this cause that is close to my heart. Even in a country considered “progressive”, victims of head trauma are neglected. If it hadn't been for my mother, I wouldn't be here to testify...
In 2022 I experienced the pangs of an AIT, then a second time, a month ago. My mother had two small strokes a few years ago and one of my aunts died of a ruptured aneurysm at the age of 42. I am therefore participating in this new challenge "You are what you eat", in the hope of contributing to change, of offering the chance to others to obtain the support that my loved ones and I haven't had and to make people aware of this reality that many people have or will have.
Cooking/baking is a brand new passion for me. Having major health problems, I had to find new hobbies (yep again! 😅) and cooking became a way for me to express my creativity. Without pretension and without pressure! I don't have any particular talent apart from curiosity (But that's all I need). With inflation and my limited budget, I have to renew myself, be imaginative and turn to new avenues! This is my personal challenge! 💪
I would have some inspirations to help me and I intend to discover others in my little adventure!
Don't hesitate to share and give as much as you can! 🧡✌
DONATE HERE: https://www.sameyou.org/you_are_what_you_eat_donation_page?recruiter_id=46899
#same you#sameyou#charity#emilia clarke#help#donate#donation#brain injury#traumatic brain injury#tbi#tcc#abi#acquired brain injury#recovery#important#personnal#fundraising#challenge#food#foodie#cooking#baking#hope#be part of the change#inspiration#support#2023#you are what you eat#share#reblog this
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The only actually good suggestion someone has given me to avoid getting more concussions is my sister’s boyfriend who said I should wear a cowboy hat. Cause I’d hit the hat first, which would decrease acceleration and give me time to stop.
Taking into consideration the fact that I would never wear cowboy hats, I first thought about wearing straw hats. Now I have just had the perfect idea: a witch’s hat! It’s the ultimate height, provides shade, and has the added benefit of keeping away people who don’t like witches, plus I can store things in it. This is a fantastic idea!
I just have to find/ make one…
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#concussion#concussion awareness#concussion recovery#tbi awareness month#mtbi#mtbis are not mild#traumatic brain injury#mild traumatic brain injury
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Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) is a casualty resulting from falls and accidents. Statistics have shown that TBI results in more hospitalization and mortality rates. Thankfully, science and medicine have discovered new TBI treatments. The complications of TBI can be reduced because of new treatments.
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#homeless#advocacy#ptds#recovery#tbi#strategies#writer#podcasting#help others#end trauma#one person at a time#teacher
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Forged Divinity Unnamed Sequel: Chapter 5
980 words
CW: past TBI, emotional whump, dissociation, derogatory language
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~~~
Don’t make a big deal.
Don’t ignore him, but don’t make a big deal.
Don’t overwhelm him.
Carefully warned, lightly briefed, the Iowans of Goat Island watched Leannan move through the dining room, his sister’s hand on his elbow. Some managed gentle smiles, or a soft ‘hello’ as he passed. Others looked away.
That could have been me.
Leannan looked shrunken, half-starved, dead-eyed and silent. Shannon led him through the buffet, quietly asking if he’d like some of each thing. He started off nodding and shaking his head, but around halfway through he… left. The decisions became too much, perhaps. He stopped responding, his eyes stopped following to where she pointed, and his shuffling steps came to a halt. Shannon stepped in front of him, trying to catch his gaze, a smile plastered over her obvious fear.
“Leannan? Leannan? Leannan?”
Enjolras took over, picking up Leannan’s tray. She had a firmer hand than Shannon, and steered Leannan over to a table and sat him down. Patted Shannon’s shoulder, told her to go take a breather. Shannon fled to her husband and child, burying her face in the bright-eyed three-year-old’s hair.
Enjolras sat down with Leannan, taking up his hand and rubbing it between her own.
“Leannan, can you come back? Come back, Leannan, it’s okay.”
Finally Leannan blinked at her, and at the food in front of him: soft little rolls of bread, an apple, a bowl of berries from the greenhouse.
“Is this for me?” he whispered in awe.
“Yeah,” Enjolras guided his hand to one of the rolls, “Eat slowly, okay?”
He picked it up, his eyes darting anxiously around the empty seats.
“You left Phineas behind,” he whispered, his voice soft but still accusatory.
“I know,” Enjolras quietly replied, “But we had to. They couldn’t come with.”
Leannan’s face soured.
“Go away,” he hissed.
“Leannan…”
“Go away!” he shouted, the words ripping out of his throat and bringing the dining room to a frightened silence. Leannan remained hunched in his chair, one hand fisted, white-knuckled, around the crushed breadroll.
“Okay,” whispered Enjolras, slowly standing, “Okay.”
She picked up her own meal tray and moved a couple tables away, sitting where she could still see Leannan. She watched as his hands began to shake and he dropped the mangled roll back onto his plate, lifting his hand to touch the scar on his temple.
Enjolras looked down at her own food, not really feeling hungry anymore.
~~~
Leannan needed to stop getting angry. No one liked it when he was angry. Getting angry got him in trouble.
Looking around furtively, Leannan ripped a piece off of the breadroll and stuck it in his mouth. No one was close enough to hit him.
The mouthful of bread ignited his hunger, and he started eating quickly, nervously, ever-watching for anyone coming to… to do something. But no one approached; they only stared, or watched, or glanced.
So many eyes. Leanna shifted in his seat, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
They don’t want you back. I bet they’re glad you left.
But he was back now, and Phineas wasn’t here to protect him.
They don’t want you there. They think you’re a whore.
Leannan heart pounded. There were so many people, and so many that he used to know. Used to know? He used to look after them. He was the oldest, after all. Teresa used to need help tying her shoes. Callum used to need someone to hold his hand during tornado watches -
Leannan’s eyes found Callum’s – cool brown eyes, watching, watching, watching. He didn’t look like he wanted anything to do with Leannan anymore.
Leannan lurched to his feet, drawing more stares. His clean clothes felt stiff and itchy on him; he fisted a hand in the fabric of his shirt. At least it was blue. Oh, that made him feel so much better.
You weren’t allowed any personal possessions in Iowa City, but you were allowed a favorite color.
He fumbled with his chair, pushing it back but still tripping over it, catching himself with a hand on the table.
I shouldn’t have – you’re fucking clumsy now, it’s embarrassing.
Shame. Sorrow. Fear. Leannan’s guts twisted, sick with unmanageable emotion.
“I don’t feel good,” Leannan said out loud, his vision blurring with tears, “I don’t want to be here.”
“I got you,” someone took his hand, “Let’s go outside.”
“Callum?” whimpered Leannan, “Callum, you don’t want…”
“It’s okay, let’s go.”
“Your voice is different,” Leannan sobbed, “Why did your voice change? Couldn’t you have stayed small?”
Callum put an arm around his shoulders. It felt backwards, to Leannan. Thirteen years made everything backwards. Everyone grew up without him.
He’d been left behind.
But they were walking, and leaving the weight of the oppressive stares, and that was all Leannan wanted right now.
Cool air. Morning sun. A wooden bench. The green hill that reached down to the observation point spread in front of them, crisscrossed with walking paths.
“I really missed you. All those years.” Callum was still holding his hand. Leannan looked at him. He had a scruff of a beard, and faint crow’s feet. He was – what, 28? Thirty? Married. A father.
“Do you remember when you used to sing at service?” Leannan asked, his voice still thick with tears, “Your voice was so perfect.”
Callum didn’t reply. His eyes stared out towards the waterfall, and the breeze ruffled his soft brown hair. Leannan used to brush his hair, and make sure his shirt collar was straight. He almost wanted to reach out and straighten it now, as if that would take them back.
“I was so proud of you,” Leannan said.
“I try not to think about back then,” Callum murmured.
“If you don’t think about it,” Leannan sniffled, “How did you miss me?”
Callum didn’t reply. Leannan looked away.
“I wish you would’ve stayed small.”
~~~
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Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik
#whump#whump fic#whump writing#recovery whump#forged divinity#cw TBI#emotional whump#cw dissociation#cw derogatory language
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Discover the inspiring world of ABI Resource Advocate Art, a unique and captivating collection created and presented by an individual thriving despite living with a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI).
This exceptional artistry not only serves as a testament to the resilience and determination of the human spirit, but also raises awareness for the challenges faced by those living with TBI. By transcending the boundaries of traditional art, the artist has harnessed their innate talents and channeled adversity into a powerful visual language that inspires, educates, and motivates us all. Embrace the captivating beauty of ABI Resource Advocate Art and join us in celebrating the indomitable spirit of the TBI community.
art therapy, advocacy, mental health, creative expression, healing, self-discovery, recovery, resilience, trauma, support, empowerment, self-care, therapeutic, arts-based interventions, emotional well-being, mindfulness, psychological, coping strategies, art materials, catharsis, creative process, personal growth, communication, group therapy, artistic, self-esteem, stress reduction, artistic journey, transformation, connection, holistic, self-awareness, non-verbal, individual therapy, art techniques, brain injury, painting, drawing, sculpture, self-expression, art education, social change, wellness, art advocacy, community, artistic voice, disability, rehabilitation, accessible art, inclusion, collaboration, creative arts therapies, music therapy, dance therapy, drama therapy, storytelling, visual arts, occupational therapy, cognitive, physical, emotional healing, human rights, therapeutic alliance, art therapist, expressive arts, personal narrative, cultural, social justice, art programs, advocacy organizations, art-based research, creative healing, awareness, brain health, survivor, artistic empowerment, resilience building, identity, artistic exploration, sensory integration, creative writing, restorative, interdisciplinary, art-based practice, mental health promotion, trauma-informed.
#Discover the inspiring world of ABI Resource Advocate Art#a unique and captivating collection created and presented by an individual thriving despite living with a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI).#https://www.ctbraininjury.com/blog-ABI-RESOURCES/categories/abi-art#This exceptional artistry not only serves as a testament to the resilience and determination of the human spirit#but also raises awareness for the challenges faced by those living with TBI. By transcending the boundaries of traditional art#the artist has harnessed their innate talents and channeled adversity into a powerful visual language that inspires#educates#and motivates us all. Embrace the captivating beauty of ABI Resource Advocate Art and join us in celebrating the indomitable spirit of the#art therapy#advocacy#mental health#creative expression#healing#self-discovery#recovery#resilience#trauma#support#empowerment#self-care#therapeutic#arts-based interventions#emotional well-being#mindfulness#psychological#coping strategies#art materials#catharsis#creative process#personal growth
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