Marina R.

Photography by Ally Szabo

If you are reading this, let me introduce you to the voices in my head.

Hey Villanova (and whoever is reading I guess)! I was genuinely shocked when I received an email saying that I was nominated to write an “If You’re Reading This” letter. The voice in my head said, in disbelief “What?! You?! What could you possibly share that resonates with others?” Well, that is a part of my problem I guess – that silly voice in my head constantly undermining the insights that lie within. After weeks of letting that voice divert me away, here I go…

Every day is a battle. Not just the typical daily struggles like rising from the warmth of your bed on a snowy morning or trying to throw together a packed lunch when you are running behind. No, I am talking about the battles in my head. The battles between two voices playing tug of war with my emotions. 

For background, in my junior year of high school, I was my school’s event photographer, leading to an infamous moment where, as I took photos of the Friday night football game next to my teachers and community members on the sidelines, I found myself in the unlucky spot where two straying football players flew off the field in a tackle. They inadvertently tackled me, and I was knocked unconscious. I suffered a traumatic brain injury, missed over 30 days of school, embarked on countless trips to Boston Children’s Concussion Clinic and other appointments… and now endure these prominent battling voices in my head. Yes, I know what you are thinking – is this girl seriously writing her “If You’re Reading This” with parallels to the movie Inside Out? Well yes, yes, I am and if you knew me then or if you know me now, it is no surprise that I’m making a joke of the situation.

The night of my injury, my voice told me so many things as I struggled to regain consciousness, a sense of my surroundings, or recall basic facts about myself or short-term memory. Despite that, I spiraled into fear that my prized possession – my brain (as I lack prowess in athleticism or music) – would be injured forever.

Over time, the feeling of fear only intensified. For a girl who thrives off the light-hearted, crazy, and unpredictability of life, healing a brain injury became my number one enemy. Suddenly, it was days of darkness, both literal and metaphorical. Alone with nothing but my thoughts (and my coloring book) for days on end wondering when I would turn the corner. It gave the voice in my head the platform to grow...and grow strong it did.

Now the funny thing about voices is that nobody can see them and nobody can hear them. It is for you and you only. So, for me – embarrassed and isolated – this lonely voice was an echo throughout my body, reverberating off each limb right back to my brain. Terrified of my own mind, I did everything in my might to hide it from others. It was a weight pushing me deeper into the depths of despair. Endless negativity and hopelessness soon lead to a complete emotional shutdown. I was numb to everything.

As days passed, then weeks, then years, my voice got stronger and meaner. It told me I was worthless. It told me I would never return to the joy of my past life. It told me that I would forever shiver in cold solitude, unable to reach the warmth of love and healing, and that such a thing was an unattainable dream.

The voice told me I had no life worth living, and the worst part was, I was so secluded from the world that I didn’t hear anything else. I was so bound to this voice and so stuck in its declarations that I believed it.

I’ll never forget the night it was the loudest. It was 8:16 pm and my voice was wailing. Telling me to drive off the ledge of the highway near my house that lowers into a quarry. I wanted to so badly that my hands were like magnets on the steering wheel being attracted towards turning right. The screaming got louder and louder until I realized it was no longer the voice in my head, but my own.

I pulled over that night with my face puffy and wet from the endless tears. I sat and thanked God for allowing me the strength to keep driving. When ready, I went home and, finally, shared what had been going on with that inner voice with my mom, who became the light in my darkest hours.

This story, though intense, is not meant to scare. It is the greatest thing to have ever happened to me because I learned that I am in control. I am in control of my body, the voices in my head, and most importantly – my own true voice. Though writing this letter might have started with a nomination, it formed into an opportunity for expression – an expression of my most authentic self to hopefully inspire others to do the same.

During my physical and emotional journey since my brain injury, I have learned the value of mindset and grace, taking on each day with composure and optimism. I am not a victim of the injury to my brain, but a victor. The darkness no longer haunts me but serves as a reminder that I do not need light to feel the love that surrounds me.

To those who helped quiet those voices, I owe you my life. To those who have guided me toward voices of joy, I owe you my happiness. To my brain, I owe you my growth.

If you have experienced the aftermath of a traumatic brain injury and its effects or have found yourself lost in feelings of despair my line is always open and I am here with you ♡.

Marina R., Villanova University

Since publishing her letter, Mariana has since been interviewed by The Uncomfortable Silence podcast, which discusses real-life mental health experiences. Listen to her episode, now available on Spotify and Apple Podcasts.

Connect With Us

To follow IfYoureReadingThis at Villanova on Instagram, get in touch with our chapter, and learn about more resources available to Villanova students, visit our chapter’s homepage.

AUTHOR CONTACT

This author has opted to allow readers who resonate with their story to contact them. If you would like to speak to the author of this letter about their experience, please use the form below.