So often when people find out I've had a brain injury, they look to relate to me by offering up the age-old "Oh yeah, I've had a concussion." Sometimes they even follow it up with "I felt awful for two weeks! It sucked!" I understand, that in reality, these people are attempting to empathize with me. That they are trying to extend a helping hand and listening ear and tell me that "hey, you're not alone."

From the bottom of my heart, I truly appreciate the sentiment behind their attempts to relate to me. I really do. It means so much that they don't want me to feel like a freak. But let me ask you a few questions to see if you truly understand what it means to have a traumatic brain injury (TBI) versus a concussion.

Do you ever remember you need something from another room and in the five seconds it takes you to walk there, you totally forget why you came there in the first place?

Do you ever forget what you're talking about in the middle of a simple sentence and have to either trail off like an idiot or attempt to salvage it by taking it in another direction?

Do you lay in bed every night feeling like you're on a sinking ship as the world spins and you're overwhelmed with nausea?

Do you forget the names of simple, every day objects--or, worse still, call them the wrong name without even realizing you're wrong?

Has a doctor ever told you that you will never recover your vision or hearing on one side of your body?

Have you ever seen nothing but neon colors and black spots because you pushed yourself too hard mentally and your brain is overloaded and tired and just needs a break?

Does looking at a list of numbers make you go cross eyed and become so nauseous you can't read for hours?

Is taking a test on a computer screen almost impossible for you because your eyes and brain can't work together to process the information you're reading on a screen?

Do you stutter over words and stumble through sentences in an attempt to concentrate?

Have you ever had a thirty minute gap in your memory, or completely forgotten the events of the day before?

Do you know what it's like when a doctor reads "TBI patient" on your chart and instantly begins to treat you like some kind of invalid?

Do you find yourself crippled by panic every time you bump into something because you know one bump the wrong way could reset your entire vestibular system?

Have you ever had a bout of rage that you couldn't control, or entirely lost the ability to control your impulses?

Do you lie in bed, crippled for days by debilitating migraines because it hurts your head to do something as simple as breathe? Sometimes I actually find myself hoping to pass out so I can get a break from the pain.

Do you wake up in a cold sweat and panic every few hours because night terrors torment you?

Do you require medication to do things like concentrate or sleep the way a regular person can?

You probably don't. If you do, I will pray for you because I know what it's like. The symptoms above aren't even all of the symptoms I've battled since my brain injury five years ago. There are no words for the anguish and pain you experience when the very center of who you are, your brain, stops working properly.

Your personality changes and you find yourself filled with rage, regret, and self-hatred. For me it's the constant "why didn't I wear a helmet?" for others it may be, "why didn't I look both ways before I crossed the street?" "How did I not see that car coming?" or "Why did I try to dive into the shallow end of the pool?"

There aren't words for what I feel about my brain injury, and there isn't much anyone can do about it. I've been lucky enough to have recovered for the most part. I still battle symptoms, but five years post-injury I can compensate for most of my deficits. Others are not so lucky.

So next time someone says they have a brain injury, don't treat them any differently, just listen, say you can't imagine, and tell us you'll pray for us, or keep us in your thoughts (if you or they aren't religious). But whatever you do, please don't equate a two week concussion to my five year struggle.