My Husband, My Helper

I've come to the conclusion that there really won't be any rhyme or reason to this blog. I know my last post was about the organizational strategies found on my frig, but I'm taking a detour today to write about the best thing that's happened to me since my brain injury: meeting and marrying my husband.

I'll admit that when I sustained my TBI at age 32, I pretty much lost faith that I would ever marry. Unemployed, overweight, brain-injured, broke women over 30 don't top the list of descriptions for your average guy's dream girl.

But, God smiled on me, and imported this amazing man into my life. He also answered my prayer that the right guy would be very clear in his pursuit. When Niels and I met, he Googled me, and learned about both my brain injury and the book I wrote. He read up on brain injury and ordered my book from Amazon. He jokes that I'm easy to understand because I came with an owner's manual.

There are a million reasons why life is better with Niels. The fact that he's my sugar daddy takes all the financial stress away, which is a huge help. But beyond that, his easy-going nature and knowledge of all things technical has made my life much better. He is my advocate: to my family, our friends and my medical team. And he studies me and knows how to make my life easier and stretch my limited mental gas tank.

One small thing that Niels does each night that makes a big difference to me in the morning, is tidy up the front living room (aka Daniel's Disaster Zone) and kitchen. My brain doesn't do disorder very well, so when I wake up to clean counters and an organized play room, it's the equivalent of walking out to a warm, running engine in the middle of a Minnesota winter versus standing out in the cold trying to flag someone down to give you a jump. It takes him maybe 15 minutes to put away the toys (Daniel is finally old enough to help!), clear the table and countertops, clean the sink and start the dishwasher, but it gives me about an hour of extra energy the next day.