Alexander Michael Brennan tells how the worst two years of his life have made him into a better husband, father and man.
I’ve had a pretty rough trot these past few years, and while I know the future holds plenty of new challenges, I feel I’m in a pretty good place right now. I plan to do everything in my power to ensure things stay that way.
You see, I fell off a balcony in February 2012, which at nine metres height did some serious damage. I broke all the ribs on the right side of my body, one of them puncturing my lung and one my kidney, I also broke one of my left ribs. Plus both my scapula, the transverse processes on 4 of my vertebrae and, the worst injury, I bruised the frontal lobes of my brain.
Little did I know that a bruised brain is actually a brain injury, and a brain injury has some really marked and serious effects on your behaviour. So for the first six months after that accident, I thought I was just fine. It was after I got sacked three times in a few months that I started to realise something wasn’t right. My wife and friends had definitely noticed there was something different about me, but it was hard to define. One mate put it best when he said that all the good parts of my personality were still there, but all the bad parts were on overdrive.
So in August of 2012 we went back to the brain surgeon, (who told me I was right to go back to work five weeks after the accident) and were referred to a rehabilitation specialist. He did some tests and very quickly said my symptoms were very consistent with a frontal lobe brain injury.
I was told I had to quit drinking for twelve months (I had been drinking heavily for the six months prior to this) to give my brain a chance to speed up again. So I did. To quit drinking in Australia is no easy feat, so I had to find something else to occupy my time, and Obstacle Racing was that thing.
I also had to find work outside of the corporate world, as my lack of impulse control meant I wasn’t quite the salesman I used to be. So I became a Stonemason at the start of 2013.
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While shifting rocks all day, outside work I became heavily involved with Spartan Race, trained the house down, got really fit and set my sites on competing in The Death Race, one of the most difficult obstacle races in the world. In order to achieve this goal, I knew I would have to get some sponsors, as an apprentice Stonemason’s wage certainly wasn’t going to cut it.
So I went to the head office of BodyScience, one of Spartan Races major sponsors, and did 300 burpees in their lobby to prove my worth as an athlete. I approached a few other companies and managed to get a few more sponsors too, so my race entries were paid, my kit was sorted and my supplements came for free. I spent endless hours on Facebook building a following, courting sponsors, attending meetings with my sponsors’ marketing teams to learn about how to leverage social media, I trained about 10 hours a week and I worked full time too.
One of the side effects of a brain injury is that your sleep is very disturbed, and I was lucky to get 5 or 6 hours a night.
Around this same time we had our second son. On Australia Day in 2013 in fact. I was on top of the world.
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For the next three or four months things went along well, I was asked to participate in The Longest Day, an intense 25 hour endurance event run by Original Bootcamp. As it was to be featured in Search4Hurt, an Aussie TV program on ESPN, I thought it would be valuable, as it would help to build my media profile and achieve the goal of getting to the Death Race in Vermont.
Around this same time I started to really think about what to do with my career. The Stonemason I was working for wasn’t a great role model (he was an alcoholic and a pothead) as either a businessman or a mentor, so I quit that. I realised that, with two degrees and ten years corporate experience I could probably leverage that into something more suited to my personality than Stonemasonry.
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After The Longest Day, which was on the ANZAC Day long weekend in April, 2013, I went into a period of deep depression. I used to blame that event for my slip into depression, but I think it was coming long before that; maybe it was just a catalyst. I stopped training, spent too much time thinking, and wound up in a very dark place. I wasn’t sleeping, I was anxious; I was not doing well at all.
I went back to work at a recruitment company, and let me tell you, recruitment is NOT a great career option for someone with depression. Cold calling, client meetings, self-motivation and energy are all essential for success. I had NONE of these things. Luckily the women I worked with were such a fantastic crew that, when I eventually told them how I felt, they were nothing but supportive. I feel blessed to know them and to call them friends.
It got so bad by the time I told them that I often thought about suicide. I knew I was in trouble when it went from just a general feeling of “I wish I were dead, it’s gotta be better than feeling like this,” to actually noticing ropes hanging in trees, knives lying on the kitchen bench, and thinking about how I could use them to end it.
I asked my wife is she could cope with the two boys if I went into hospital, and when she said she could, I fell apart. I was wracked with guilt at leaving them, I was crying uncontrollably, and as the sobs wracked my body I kept apologising to my little boy for wanting to kill myself. “How could I leave this little angel without a Dad?” I was thinking. But I hadn’t, and I had made a good decision, and that was what I should have been focusing on, but when you are depressed your thinking is so messed up all I could do was feel terrible about it all.
So I checked into Northside Clinic, a respite clinic for people with mental illness, for two weeks in January and February this year (I had my 34th birthday while in there, that was pretty lousy). They got my medication right, and I’ve been on the up ever since.
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The psychiatrists reckon I am bipolar, but I don’t accept that. I think it is just a label, and I don’t want to go through the rest of my life feeling as though I have to fight a disorder every day. I don’t doubt that I have the disorder; my Dad has it too, and my family is rife with depression, but I don’t think of myself as bipolar. I think of myself as someone who needs to pay more attention to his mood more than others might, who needs to watch his lifestyle, not drink too much and ensure he gets enough sleep, meditate, stay fit and stay focused.
I’m just special is all.
And through all of this, I feel I have obtained a measure of wisdom that I would otherwise lack. It makes me wonder whether you need to go through major trauma to become wise, or if it is just an ability to see things for what they really are. Whatever the case, I feel privileged to be where I am right now.
To have my wife support me through all of this makes me realize just how lucky I am to have her; someone once told me that now I know I made the right choice when I married her. I wonder if she feels the same? One thing is for sure, I am a far more attentive husband, I am more sensitive and more caring than I was before, or perhaps it is more that I actually consider the likely outcomes of my actions before I commit to them.
To be a father to two amazing little boys who will one day become men of note (I am certain!) is another thing I feel so lucky to be. I don’t drink like I used to, and will set a far better example for them in that respect. I also focus on my health a lot more, which will certainly benefit their development also.
Simply to emerge from that dark place that I have been, and to take joy in the sunshine, the rain, the incredible world that surrounds us all – but is sometimes hard to notice – is a real honour. To emerge a better man, a stronger man, and one who will use what wisdom he has gained to help others deal with the challenges they face in life, however, is the greatest privilege of all.
Al Brennan is a founding member of MyInvisibleLife.net
Photo: Hartwig HKD/flickr
Photo: John Ramspott/flickr
Photo: hasitha tudugalle/flickr
Photo: Casey Muir Taylor/flickr
Photo: Matthias/flickr
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Beautifully written Alex. My husband and I used to follow you on Facebook during your obstacle racing. I have often wondered how you were doing this past year and I’m glad you are doing well now (although terribly sad to hear you’ve had such a tough journey to get here). Thanks for sharing your story, it is truly touching.
Inspiring stuff mate. Well written and thoughtfully explained. Proud of you.
A brilliant story Alex! Shoulders back brother, you’ve got a lot to be proud of and that starts with you buddy. DJ. x
Thanks DJ, I really appreciate the support.