We all get those moments in our lives where the trajectory we were heading suddenly change, through choice or through circumstance or destiny. Many changes can be undone, many can be overcome while others may only be endured. We will not always get to choose and so, when the choice is made for us we have two options, to stay down or to get back up and fight what is in front of you. I chose to get back up. This wasn’t enough. I needed to make changes, they may be small but they aim to make the next persons fight that little bit easier and turn a negative situation into a positive contribution. So I began to write.

Honestly, I aspired to be many things when I was growing up, an astronaut, a pilot and an architect. I became the latter but one thing I never aspired to be was an author. They say if it was meant for you, it won’t go by you. I didn’t let it pass me by because it was something I had to do that has become one of my proudest achievements.

When I began to write this book I had little capacity to write a sentence or articulate how I was feeling and why. I was clueless and had it all to figure out. The thought of my words evolving into a meaningful narrative was incomprehensible let alone a narrative that would be helpful, relatable and interesting, but here I am. Writing became a cathartic, healing process which enabled me to understand who I had become and, how to exist once again in a world that became so alien to me.

It became a combination of neuroscientific accessibility, psychological depth and, literary skill, intended to provide both a defined core readership and the kind of crossover appeal that sustains a title beyond its initial audience. I intentionally wrote with precision, grit, honesty and, a controlled intelligence derived from the lived experience that was evolving before me.

My subject matter; a traumatic brain injury, hidden disability, the invisible cost of neurological recovery, is both profoundly personal but of demonstrable public significance. My voice is entirely distinctive. My argument, quietly but intentionally made throughout, is that invisible hardship is no less real for being invisible and, that recovery demands not only relentless personal resilience but social and occupational understanding and inclusion.

I want survivors of traumatic brain injuries to be seen and not to lose hope. I want medical professionals to understand the recovery at a human scale, not a clinical one. I want relevant charities to use this as a reference tool to help others. I want designers, employers and organisations to provide inclusive environments and I want it to do all of the above and, for it to be an interesting and inspirational story.