There’s a particular kind of discouragement that hits when you’ve worked so hard to get somewhere good in your recovery — and then life hands you another mountain.
Maybe it’s a new symptom flare. A stressful season at work. A medical appointment that didn’t go the way you hoped. Or just the slow, creeping realization that you’re not as far along as you thought.
Whatever it is — you’re standing there, looking up at the next climb, and you’re tired.
Another mountain already?
I’ve been there. More than once. And if you’re reading this, I’m guessing you have too.
Concussion Recovery Was Never Going to Be a Straight Line
One of the most disorienting things about recovering from a concussion or brain injury is how non-linear it feels. You make real progress — you have a string of good days, you push through a hard phase, you reach something that feels like solid ground — and then something shifts.
This isn’t a sign that you’re failing. It’s actually how brain recovery works.
Research on neuroplasticity shows us that the brain heals through cycles, not in a smooth upward arc. The nervous system responds to stress, fatigue, hormonal changes, sleep disruption, and environmental input — which means your “baseline” will naturally fluctuate. What looks like a setback is often just your brain recalibrating as it heals.
That doesn’t make it feel less hard. But it does mean it’s not evidence that you’re going backwards. It means you’re still in the process.
If you’ve ever wondered how long this is actually supposed to take, I wrote about that too — the real timeline of concussion recovery is more complicated than most people are told.
The Moment I Stopped and Looked Around
I had reached a real peak in my own health story. I was standing there, feeling good, taking it in — when I noticed life was already pointing me toward the next mountain.
And it looked tall.
So instead of immediately starting to climb, I paused. I looked around. And I realized something I really needed to hear:
Climbing that last mountain had handed me tools that would give me an edge on the next one.
I wasn’t starting from scratch.
I had breathing techniques that actually worked for my nervous system. I knew my early warning signs — the specific signals that told me I was heading toward a crash before it happened. I had people I could lean on without apology. I’d given myself permission to rest without guilt.
None of that disappeared just because the terrain changed.
Do a Gear Check Before You Start Climbing
If you’re standing at the bottom of a mountain you didn’t ask for, I want to gently suggest something before you start climbing: do a gear check.
Not a comparison to where someone else is. Not a calculation of how far you have left to go. Just an honest inventory of what you’ve already gathered — because I promise you, you’ve gathered things.
What do I know about my nervous system now that I didn’t know before?
Maybe you’ve learned that mornings are harder than afternoons. That screens after 8pm wreck your sleep. That certain sounds are a trigger you can now anticipate. That’s not nothing — that’s hard-won self-knowledge.
What strategies have actually helped, even a little?
The breathing exercise that takes your nervous system from red to yellow. The walk that resets your mood. The way you’ve learned to pace yourself on high-demand days so you don’t crash the next morning. You figured those out. They still belong to you.
Who have you learned you can lean on?
One of the quiet gifts of a hard recovery is that it clarifies your people. You know who shows up. That’s a resource — and it travels with you.
What’s shifted in how you see yourself?
Even if you’d trade every hard lesson for your health back in a heartbeat, something has changed in you through this. There’s a resilience, a self-awareness, a capacity for compassion that wasn’t there before.
None of this disappears at the foot of the next mountain. You carry it with you.
You Were Never Meant to Climb Alone
Throughout my own recovery, again and again, the connection or resource I needed showed up when I needed it. I don’t believe that was coincidence.
Whether your faith looks like mine or nothing like it at all, most people who’ve been through a hard recovery will tell you: community matters. Being witnessed matters. Having someone in your corner who actually understands what this is like — not just medically, but in the lived, invisible-symptoms, daily-life kind of way — changes something.
That’s a big part of why I do this work. I know what it is to stand at the bottom of a mountain, exhausted, wondering if you have anything left. And I know what a difference it makes to have someone beside you who can say: I’ve been here. You’re more ready than you feel. Let’s check your pack.
When the Climb Feels Too Tall
If you’re in that place right now, try this before you take the first step:
- Pause. You don’t have to start climbing today.
- Look around. Take stock of where you actually are, not just where you wish you were.
- Check your pack. Write it down if you need to — what do you know, what has worked, who is with you.
- Take one step. Not the whole mountain. Just one step from where you are.
And if you want support for that climb — someone who knows the terrain and can help you build a strategy that actually fits your brain — that’s exactly what I do. You can start with a free 30-minute conversation here.
You’ve already made it further than you know. And you were never meant to do this alone.
– Kaylee Blair, The Brain Injury Coach
Struggling with the unpredictable nature of recovery? Read more about what’s actually normal in concussion recovery — or reach out any time at Kaylee@braininjurycoach.com.