Everyone has a story.
This is mine.

Comfortable in my life, working hard in the retail corporate world, taking great vacations, it all had the air of success. Then, on October 16, 2015, everything shifted. On my way to work, in the dark of early day, I was rear-ended. My Honda CRV had taken taps on the back bumper before, but this one was different. I have heard how people feel a moment like this moves in slow motion. It is true. At a stop in a construction zone, I saw the head lights in my rear view mirror closing in, fast, 55 mph fast! Realizing I could pop my clutch and escape impact, there was a picture of the person in front of me getting hit. What if they have a child in there? Or their Grandma? Or?!

The lights closing in, the inevitable collision, the unknown. This was no adventure. This was uncertainty. The kind that expands to infinity in a millisecond, then snaps back to reality. I turned my wheels to the right to avoid the car ahead. Releasing my hold on the steering column, I leaned against the headrest and relaxed. With a familiar bang, I was launched forward. Careening off the concrete divider, I flopped down staring through my windshield into the passenger window of the car previously ahead of me. The tire marks on the side wall were higher than the hood of my vehicle.

In the expanse after the crash, I heard the voice of my departed Grandmother, sitting next to me in the passenger seat. “You’ve got to move your car out of the traffic now, baby,” she said with her very distinct Texas charm. The comfort of that moment would not register until later in my recovery. Her words moved me from harms way. As I inched out of the traffic lane, my world felt different

In the hours to follow, I went through an emergency room battery of x-rays and scans and questions and something I did not expect; pain meds. For a recovering alcoholic this is red flag of epic proportion.
“It’s okay,” said the ER doc, “You were just in a car accident. This is prescribed by your doctor.” That prescription became Valium and Percocet, three times a day for several weeks. Fortunately, my story does not tangent into a relapse of non-sobriety here. It does, however, extend for years in recovery from a severe concussion. Post-Concussion Syndrome, or PCS, it has been labeled, barely even begins to describe this condition.

Being the proactive sort, I searched for a lawyer right away. On the following Monday we met with him. Thankfully, he provided a questionnaire for possible symptoms related to injuries sustained in the many cases he had studied. Of the twenty four, or so, on the sheet, I was certainly experiencing most of them. How about 19 of 24 ? Mood swings, confusion, migraines, all sorts of changes in my personality. After a visit to my family doctor, it was confirmed. A traumatic brain injury (TBI) has a couple of roads. One leads back to general reality within a week or so. The other is a long haul. And so began a new page, a fresh chapter, a seemingly unplanned adventure into the unknown experience of concussion recovery. This was not the one week variety.

In the days that immediately followed, I was grateful to have someone home and with me at all times. One minute I was the goofy guy, the next a serious bloke, then a puddle of emotion spreading in all directions. No one knew who I would be from moment to moment, including me. I distinctly remember loosing my mind one morning because I had forgotten to take my pills the night before. As I swayed and sobbed on the couch, a friend making a frantic call to the doctor to appease my frantic mind, and hers, that it was going to be okay. Just take the meds. Oh, and calm down. Right. Calm down. How do I even do that?

Shortly after this incident, it hit me… I was out of control emotionally. This was new ground for me. Sure, I had bouts of high emotions in my past, overwhelming times when I went into ‘shut down’ mode. But, this was different. This was well past anything I had in my understanding. jI began to realize that those around me were deeply worried. They tried to be positive, to be smiling and supportive, but it was a living nightmare in many ways. Looking back, it is hard for me to grasp how strong my family was during that period. Each of them was part of my recovery while each of them dealt with their own set of worries and concerns for me and each other

Everyday was a challenge in ways I had never experienced. I knew and remembered what I was capable of but could not reach or achieve the same level of competence. Any bright light was excruciating. Wherever I was resting the windows were covered with a blanket. Even the slightest crack of sunshine had the chance of sinking into my eyes, enhancing my discomfort. Sounds made me jump. I was paranoid. I cried, then I raged, then I sat confused. My memory was almost non-existent. I would forget what we might be watching on TV during the commercial. During the few shows I could even watch, I would ask questions about what had happened, just to stay caught up. Picking out slippers at Walmart took two trips of about 45 minutes each. The simplest things that I had assumed were always such, were not. Getting out of bed, tying my shoes, cooking a meal, driving. These things were not what they used to be. Would they ever be?
I began to see that this was how many people lived their lives everyday. Maybe my situation was enhanced, but the struggle was real and the days were long and hard. Compassion made its way into my perspective with a higher level of awareness. The many questions I asked were those I recognized in others that they wrestled with everyday of their lives. To some degree, I figured everyone had some level of what I was experiencing, maybe even all and more of it. Finding answers became my focus.

Western medicine was on my side, doing everything to ease the pain and the suffering of the first months of my situation. Trial and error was part of the process. Eventually, we found some prescriptions that worked and seemed to get me headed in the right direction. The biggest jump in my recovery came when my neurologist gave me Botox injections for the headache. I call it singular, headache, because it was one long, persistent migraine from October 16th to December 31st. (Botox was originally created to help with migraines. The youthful appearance it added to my already boyish face was a nice benefit.) The few minutes after the injections were surreal. Wow! This stuff works! I can now say that I have hugged a neurologist.
While there was some relief and movement forward, many of my symptoms were not alleviated. I was still having mood swings, questioning myself and my future, and watching my family struggle. Was I ever going to be able to function ‘normally’ again? Was I going to be an emotional wreck for the duration of my life? Was I a burden to my family and how long was that going to last? I was scared. I was worried. I was in regret and anger. I knew there was more, something more I could do. My search continued.

Acupuncture treatments were suggested by my neurologist and physical therapist and quickly became part of my regime. I was fortunate to find Mountaintop Acupuncture, where I received expert care. Carol was very kind and understanding of my situation. With each visit my condition improved, building on the previous sessions with fantastic results. I also had Cranio-Sacral work by Tom who is a master of the technique and exquisite with his acupuncture choices and methods. I continued to see Carol for several months. Each visit we addressed the long term goals and worked on what needed attention for that week. By providing herbal remedies, suggesting exercises I could do on my own and supporting me with more information as necessary, Carol helped me make tremendous leaps towards recovery.
My time with Carol also led me to Reiki healing with one of her colleagues, Krista. Clearing out energies from my field did have amazing affects in the moment. The hours and days that followed a Reiki session were more calm and focused. As I returned to my habits, the energies would become disrupted again and morph back into the questions and confusion I had become accustomed to. Please understand that I own this aspect of my healing and I realize it was my energy that brought that disarray back to my reality. Reiki has, and continues to be, a modality and tool I experience and use often for a multitude of reasons. The situation for me was that I required deeper clearing and healing and Reiki was part of that puzzle, not the full answer. My search continued.

The Akashic Records had been in my awareness for several years, but not I had not studied what they are or how that could be applied to help myself. What I did know about the Records is that its an energetic database of the history of the Universe and everything in it. That is a lot of information! Curiosity led me to type the phrase into a search engine and up popped lots of options to explore. What caught my attention was a link to Soul Realignment, created by Andrrea Hess. The introduction to her modality came with three videos explaining the Akashic Records and her process of accessing and delivering the information found there. I signed up for her course and went to work.
What I discovered, while working in the Akashic Records, was that I no longer had the symptoms that had plagued me for months. Sitting in the energy released me from my headaches, confusion, questions and fears. There was a deep sense of healing and wisdom and Love. I felt it every time I entered the Records, whether for myself or for others. This was it! This was what I had been looking for! Not only was I healing myself, but I could help others do the same thing with the information from their own Soul journey. Hook, line and sinker, I was dedicated, and still am, to studying and sharing the Akashic Records.