When John Robertson walks down the street, people see a tall, strong man—6 foot 1, 190 pounds, blonde hair, blue eyes. They don’t see the invisible disability. They don’t know that a severe head injury has rewired his brain, affecting his emotions, his judgment, his memory, and his ability to navigate a world that doesn’t understand what he’s going through.
The Invisible Disability
One of the most challenging aspects of John’s brain injury is that it’s invisible. “Just to look at me, you wouldn’t really know there was anything wrong with me,” he writes. This creates a unique form of suffering—he looks normal, so people expect him to behave normally. When he doesn’t, they assume he’s drunk, stupid, or simply rude.
The Frontal Lobe Damage
The neurologist who treated John explained that his brain damage was in the frontal lobe—the part of the brain that deals with emotions. This damage affects everything:
- Emotional regulation: John falls in love quickly and intensely when women show him attention
- Impulse control: He struggles with sudden anger and impulsive decisions
- Social judgment: He often misreads situations and reacts inappropriately
- Memory issues: His mind “jumps all over,” making it hard to organize thoughts
- Anxiety: He experiences high anxiety in crowds and unfamiliar situations
The Deer in Headlights Response
One of the most challenging symptoms John describes is his “deer in headlights” response. When confronted with difficult situations or accusations, his brain shuts down. He can’t explain himself, can’t defend himself, can only freeze. This has cost him relationships, jobs, and his sense of self-worth.
Verbal Diarrhea
“When I get mad, I get verbal diarrhea,” John admits. “I open my mouth, and it just comes out.” This is a classic symptom of frontal lobe damage—the inability to filter thoughts before speaking. It has cost him friendships, employment opportunities, and contributed to the breakdown of his marriage.
The Emotional Rollercoaster
John’s emotions are intense and unpredictable:
- Falling in love too fast: When women show interest, he becomes emotionally invested immediately
- Crying easily: He can’t watch sad movies or chick flicks without “leaking”
- Quick anger: His temper flares at perceived slights
- Deep depression: The weight of his struggles sometimes overwhelms him
The Struggle with Gait and Balance
The accident affected John’s physical abilities as well. His gait and balance were permanently altered. People who saw him walking assumed he was drunk. “When you read this story,” he writes, “you will see that when I get tired, I am like a doe in headlights.”
Survivor’s Guilt
John lives with what he calls “survivor guilt” or “survival remorse.” Every time someone younger than him dies, he spends days wondering why he’s still alive. “I feel so bad it hurts me emotionally and physically. I do get over it, but I still remember those who have passed on. Bless their souls.”
Learning to Manage Symptoms
Over the years, John has developed strategies to cope:
- Avoiding alcohol: He quit drinking because he didn’t want his children to see him drunk
- Sticking to routines: Regular work schedules provide structure
- CBD for pain: He found that CBD helped with chronic pain
- Hot tub therapy: Soaking in hot water relieves muscle tension
- Working hard: Staying busy keeps his mind from dwelling on negative thoughts
The Misunderstanding from Others
One of the hardest aspects of John’s injury is how others treat him. “Adults are cruel as well,” he writes. “There were so many times during my rehabilitation over five years that I was laughed at and ridiculed so many times I can’t remember.” People stare, make comments, and assume he’s impaired by alcohol rather than brain damage.
What John Wants You to Know
“I want to tell you, don’t give up. Keep trying. I know it is hard, and it will be hard. I am here to let you know it will be worth it.”
Conclusion
Living with a traumatic brain injury is like living in a world where everyone expects you to understand a language you’ve forgotten. The injury affects not just the person who suffered it, but everyone who loves them. John’s story is a reminder that disability doesn’t always look like what we expect. Sometimes it looks like a strong, capable person who’s fighting a battle you can’t see.
