Impact Safety with Shane Clark

Possibly slightly divisive and controversial, but let's talk PIP ♿️⚠️

Trying to get Personal Independence Payment (PIP) after a brain injury can be incredibly difficult. Even 2 months after a 5 month hospital stay and having a quarter of your skull replaced among many other physical and invisible injuries, being rejected for any support from DWP.

Brain injuries are often invisible. Many of the challenges people face—memory problems, cognitive fatigue, difficulties with concentration, executive dysfunction, sensory overload, anxiety, and reduced processing speed—aren't immediately obvious to anyone.

The PIP process can feel particularly challenging because it often requires people to explain and repeatedly justify difficulties that they live with every day. Many of us have spent months or years trying to adapt, develop coping strategies, and appear "fine" on the outside. Then we're asked to prove just how much our condition affects us.

A brain injury doesn't only impact someone physically. It can affect planning, decision-making, communication, managing medication, preparing food, travelling independently, handling finances, and many other aspects of daily life.

Too often, people with brain injuries feel that they aren't believed because they don't "look disabled." The reality is that invisible disabilities are still disabilities, and the barriers they create are very real.

I was eventually awarded PIP initially after several months of giving medical evidence and supporting letters from various professionals. Then, a month short of the 3 year anniversary of my accident, I suffered my first seizure which lasted over 20 minutes, and I was subsequently diagnosed with post traumatic epilepsy, I direct consequence of my TBI - And the DWP then decided to take away my PIP and I have been fighting a never ending battle since. Currently awaiting my appeal.

The PIP system should recognise the complex and life-changing effects of brain injury, not make people fight to prove their struggles over and over again.

Mental health after a traumatic brain injury isn't something we talk about enough. And it is one of the longer term and devastating effects of going through a life changing injury or illness.

When people think about recovery, they often focus on the physical side. But what many don't see are the emotional challenges—the grief of losing parts of yourself, the frustration of cognitive changes, the life altering career challenges, the anxiety, depression, and isolation that can come with trying to navigate a world that suddenly feels different.

One of the hardest parts of my journey was the long hospital stay. Days blurred into weeks, and weeks into months. While people around me carried on with their lives, I felt stuck in the same room, watching the world move forward without me. The loneliness was overwhelming at times. Even when surrounded by doctors, nurses and visitors, I often felt completely alone in what I was experiencing. My world had changed, in every single way.

There were moments when I questioned whether anyone truly understood the fear, uncertainty and sadness that came with rebuilding my life after a brain injury. I looked the same on the outside, but inside I was fighting battles no one could see or understand.

What I've learned is that healing isn't always about returning to who you were before. Sometimes it's about discovering who you can become after everything you've been through.

Be patient with yourself. Celebrate the small victories. Ask for help when you need it. And remember that strength isn't pretending you're okay—it's getting through the days when you feel isolated, scared or exhausted and choosing to keep going anyway.

Recovery is not linear, and healing takes time. But even in the darkest moments, there is hope.

After my TBI, I didn't just struggle with headaches, fatigue, memory problems, or sensory overload. I struggled with feeling like a different person.

I became more irritable. More emotional. Less patient. Sometimes I would react in ways that didn't feel like "me." Small things could overwhelm me. Conversations became exhausting. My ability to regulate my emotions wasn't the same, and neither was my confidence.

What many people don't understand is that brain injuries can change personality, behavior, emotional control, and social interactions. Survivors often carry immense guilt and grief for these changes, even when they are beyond their control.

There is a unique kind of heartbreak that comes with remembering who you used to be, while trying to accept who you are now.

Some days, I mourn the version of myself that existed before my injury. Other days, I'm learning to show compassion to the person I've become.

Both can be true at the same time.

There was a time when I never imagined I would be sharing my story of living with a traumatic brain injury (TBI). The journey has been filled with challenges, setbacks, uncertainty, and moments that tested me in ways I never thought possible.

But through the struggles, I discovered strength I didn't know I had.

A brain injury can change your life in an instant. It can affect not only the person who is injured, but also the family, friends, and loved ones who walk beside them through recovery. While I wouldn't have chosen this path, it has given me a deeper appreciation for every victory, every act of kindness, and every opportunity to make a difference.

Today, I share my story not because of what happened to me, but because of what I hope it can do for others. If my experience encourages someone to take safety seriously, wear a helmet, make a safer choice, or support a loved one facing their own challenges, then something positive can come from my journey.

To anyone struggling after a brain injury or facing obstacles that seem impossible: don't give up. Progress may be slow, and some days may be harder than others, but your strength is greater than you know. Keep moving forward, one step at a time.

Our stories have power. By sharing them, we create awareness, inspire hope, and help protect others. If my story can help even one person stay safe or feel less alone, then every word is worth sharing.

💚

One of the hardest parts of living with a traumatic brain injury is the fatigue.

Before my injury, I thought being tired meant needing an early night or a lazy day. Now I know it's something completely different.

Brain injury fatigue can hit without warning. Some days, getting through a simple conversation, going to an appointment, or spending time with family can leave me completely exhausted. Tasks that used to be automatic now require concentration, effort, and energy that many people don't see.

What makes it difficult is that I often look "fine" on the outside. People see me smiling, talking, and getting on with things, but they don't see the recovery time afterwards. They don't see the mental effort it takes to process information, cope with noise, manage symptoms, or simply make it through the day.

I've had to learn that rest is not a luxury—it's a necessity. I've had to accept that my energy is limited and that pacing myself isn't giving up; it's how I survive and continue moving forward.

Living with a brain injury has taught me that fatigue is not weakness, laziness, or a lack of motivation. It's a real consequence of an injured brain working harder than most people can imagine.

If you know someone living with a traumatic brain injury, please be patient and understanding. Sometimes the biggest battles are the ones you can't see.

💚 To anyone living with brain injury fatigue: I see you, and I understand how hard you're fighting every single day.

As we approach the 7 year anniversary of the day that changed everything... maybe it's a good time to share the reality that we live now....

People often ask how I'm doing. They see me smile, laugh, hold a conversation, join in activities or manage a good day and assume life is back to normal.

But brain injury doesn't just affect one person. It changes an entire family.

We've lost spontaneity. Every outing, appointment, holiday, and social event takes planning and consideration. Potential rest and recovery days in between.

We've lost certainty. We never know what tomorrow will bring, what symptoms might appear, or how much energy will be available.

We've lost parts of relationships. Friends drift away when they don't understand. Invitations become less frequent. Conversations change. Marriage shifts. Becomes harder and more one sided.

We've lost independence. Things that once seemed simple can now require support, reminders, adjustments, or recovery time.

We've lost opportunities. Careers, plans, dreams, and expectations have had to be rewritten.

We've lost the version of life we thought we were going to have.

As a family, we've also lost pieces of ourselves. The carefree version. The version that didn't have to think about fatigue, overstimulation, appointments, medications, or invisible disabilities.

And perhaps one of the hardest losses is that people often don't see any of this. They see a person who "looks fine" and assume everything is normal, as it once was.

Brain injury is not just a medical event. It's a lifelong adjustment that affects every member of a family in ways that are often invisible to the outside world.

This isn't a post about giving up hope. It's about acknowledging reality. Because understanding the losses is the first step toward understanding the strength it takes to keep moving forwards. Together, all the broken and shattered pieces.

Awesome day Prestwold Hall sharing our story for Your Local Air Ambulance WNDLR of how their life saving charity gave me the best possible chance of survival.

Done a bit of joinery last week, hard work but got there in the end.

Following from our first talk at the East Midlands Major trauma conference in November 2023, we were invited to share our story for the hs2 development in early 2024. Then in July, we were asked to share my story at the hs2 supervisors forum - a meeting of the managers and supervisors from each sublot along the development. A big part of us sharing our story, is sharing how it impacted us as a family. Not just my personal story of survival, but the ripples and impact it had for us all. From our children, at different life stages and their personal growth, to our relationships and family dynamics as we progressed, and to our family unit as a whole.

Sometimes it's easier to see and accept how well I've recovered rather than to think about the continued struggles that we face. Even now, more than 5 years later, we still face struggles as a family that we wouldn't wish on anyone. We share these difficulties, as raw as the day it happened, during our talks.

Our mission... if we can prevent one family going through what we have had to, then my story is worth sharing.

I have many mentions and will share more of my story and my goals looking forward in due course, but I have to give a special mention to our amazing Your Local Air Ambulance WNDLR who we did some fundraising for with our primary school, back in June for my 5 year surviversary 💛 With a visit from their mascot, Blade, and one of the crit care cars too.

These guys played a huge role in my recovery, with their rapid response car attending me on site at the time of my accident. They are solely funded by donations and with each mission costing around £2,300, every little helps! They are equipped to do more at the scene of a mission than land paramedics (who I am also incredibly thankful for) - I was sedated on scene to prevent further injuries to my brain, as I put up quite a fight!

https://theairambulanceservice.org.uk/stories/shanes-story/