Good grief this is hard. Last night, my mum asked me why I didn’t choose the part time option for my return to uni. This would have meant I graduated a year or so later than my current uni group. However, this September just gone (when I returned to my studies) all my other student colleagues from before my accident were graduating. I’m done with all that. This is all my choice. No one is making me do what I’m doing. I also refuse to submit to working as a part timer at a job I really love without giving full time work my best shot. Even if it nearly kills me (I didn’t realise how literal “killing” me was here). There’s no two ways about it: just when I think I’ve gone through my hardest and most challenging times, the jolly old sense of humour that belongs to my life reminds me that that is definitely not the case. C’est la vie old boy. At the moment I’m finding that I am fighting and struggling to reach the end of my days at work. I constantly feel sick and unwell, each moment is a fight to stave off the dreaded fatigue. When I do finally make it to the end of the day I walk through my front door at home like an exhausted beggar, where I am patently no use to anyone at all. I’m exhausted and not doing enough at home, as a husband in a supportive role or really as a dad. I’m useless at home. I am so exhausted I can barely lift my head up by 6pm, and I have a two year old daughter to bathe and get to bed. Not to mention supporting Dani through this horrendous time.All this is affecting Dani big time. This really must be why brain injureds don’t work or have kids…! Of course, Dani needs even more support than i feel I am able to give her at the moment, so it’s times like this that questions like the one my mum asked me do jolly well beg to be answered. My ability to look after Dani and have a home life are hugley limited now. That’s a fact, I may as well just accept and get on with it. All this is happening because I’m attempting to be a nurse. It’s a bit of a sod, BUT It would be a lot harder dealing with all this from a wheelchair I’m not one to moan. I’m being as honest as i am for other survivors in a similar position to relate to me. It’s shit but it is what it is, there’s no point feeling sorry for one’s self or getting all Sentimental about it. It’s my choice at the end of the day. I wonder if Reese will ever read this when she’s older. Hello Reese. If you are reading this then I’m telling you to put my wallet back where you found it Please. Maybe I’m not as supportive and patient as I used to be. Maybe I am as blunt as the day is long. Maybe I am forgetful, short tempered and constantly knackered. But I’ll keep trying to get better at things And I think that’s the morale Of this; after a brain injury you have to relearn all over again and things only ever get better for you when you accept it. After you have gone through hell and survived; you sometimes need to go through it again if you want any form of a chance of a happy life for you And your family. So by working my way through this little rant of a blog, I’ve found the answer to my mum’s question. I am attempting it because I believe. I mentioned this In my last blog too. I wasn’t just saying it to come across all heroic – I just believe. What the heckles else is there to do?