“Brain fog affected my confidence more than my memory.”
When people hear the words “brain fog,” they often think it simply means being forgetful.
For me, it was much more than that.
One of the biggest surprises after surviving a brain tumour was discovering how much I relied on my brain doing things automatically.
Before surgery, I never really thought about remembering appointments, finding the right words or following conversations.
My brain simply did those things.
After brain surgery, it sometimes felt like somebody had changed the operating system without giving me the instruction manual.
I would walk into a room and completely forget why I was there.
Lose my train of thought halfway through a conversation.
Forget words I used every day.
“My brain simply didn’t work the way it used to.”
Sometimes I would be telling a story and suddenly my brain would decide to take an unscheduled holiday.
The frustrating part wasn’t always the memory problems themselves.
It was the effect they had on my confidence.
- I started second-guessing myself.
- I worried about saying the wrong thing.
- I worried about forgetting important details.
- I worried that other people would notice.
Most of the time, they probably didn’t.
But I noticed.
And that’s what mattered.
Brain fog affected things I never expected.
Simple decisions suddenly felt more complicated.
Busy environments became overwhelming.
Concentrating for long periods became exhausting.
There were moments where I questioned whether I would ever feel fully like myself again.
Looking back now, I realise I was putting far too much pressure on myself.
My brain had been through major surgery.
Recovery wasn’t supposed to be immediate.
Healing wasn’t supposed to be perfect.
Over time, I learnt new ways to adapt.
I wrote things down.
I created reminders.
I learnt to laugh when my brain occasionally decided to do its own thing.
Most importantly, I stopped treating brain fog as a personal failure.
Because it wasn’t.
It was part of recovery.
Eighteen years later, I still have moments where my brain surprises me.
Usually at the least convenient time possible.
But those moments no longer define me.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt is that recovery isn’t about returning to exactly who you were before.
Sometimes it’s about learning how to thrive with the version of yourself you become afterwards.
Tomorrow I’ll be sharing another lesson from the last 18 years of surviving, recovering and rebuilding life after a brain tumour.
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A Brain Tumour’s Travel Tale: Cards on the Table, I Pooed Myself
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