“Sometimes the most important thing we can do isn’t provide an answer. It’s ask a better question.”

There are moments in our lives that seem ordinary at the time.

A conversation.

A meeting.

A question.

A few words spoken in passing.

We rarely recognize them as turning points until years later.

For me, that moment happened at the opening of a Family Justice Center in Wisconsin.

Someone introduced me to Dr. Bill Smock.

At the time, I had been living in survival mode for years.

After surviving a near-fatal strangulation and repeated blows to the head, my life slowly became unrecognizable. My memory was failing. My emotions felt unpredictable. My body seemed to be falling apart.

I collected diagnosis after diagnosis.

Anxiety.

Depression.

Migraines.

POTS.

Chronic fatigue.

Possible Multiple Sclerosis.

Medication after medication.

Doctor after doctor.

Everyone treated the symptoms, but no one seemed to ask the question that mattered most.

What happened to you?

I wasn’t looking for another diagnosis that day in Wisconsin.

I certainly wasn’t expecting a conversation that would change my life.

But that’s exactly what happened.

He Didn’t Give Me Answers

One of the things I remember most isn’t what Dr. Smock said.

It’s how he listened.

He didn’t rush.

He didn’t dismiss me.

He didn’t assume.

He asked thoughtful questions.

He listened with curiosity instead of judgment.

He believed me.

That alone gave me something I hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

Hope.

Before we left, he even took the time to call my primary care provider because he believed there was something worth exploring.

Then he said something I’ll never forget.

“I think you may have a brain injury from the strangulation.”

He wasn’t making a diagnosis.

He was planting a possibility.

A possibility that no one else had ever offered me.

One Seed Can Change Everything

That conversation didn’t fix my life overnight.

It didn’t suddenly erase years of symptoms.

It didn’t provide immediate answers.

What it did was plant a seed.

For the first time in years, I began wondering if maybe…

just maybe…

there was another explanation.

I started researching traumatic brain injury.

I learned about strangulation.

I discovered emerging research connecting domestic violence, head injury, and long-term neurological symptoms.

I advocated for additional testing.

I kept searching.

Years later, that seed grew into answers that changed everything.

Today I know I was living with the effects of an undiagnosed brain injury.

How Many Survivors Are Still Waiting?

That’s the question that keeps me awake at night.

Research consistently shows that 80–90% of survivors seeking domestic violence services report a history of head injury, strangulation, or both.

Yet brain injury screening is still not routine in many healthcare settings, advocacy organizations, or criminal justice systems.

Think about that.

Thousands of survivors may be living with invisible neurological injuries.

Some are told they’re anxious.

Some are told they’re depressed.

Some are labeled difficult.

Some are considered noncompliant because they miss appointments or struggle to remember information.

Others begin believing they are simply broken.

What if they’re not?

What if their brain has been injured?

What if we’re treating symptoms without recognizing the injury underneath them?

This Is Why I Do What I Do

People often ask me why I speak about the intersection of abuse, trauma, and brain injury.

This is why.

Not because I believe every survivor has a brain injury.

Not because brain injury explains everything.

But because no survivor should spend decades searching for answers simply because no one thought to ask a different question.

Brain injury doesn’t replace trauma.

Trauma doesn’t replace brain injury.

Many survivors are living with both.

Understanding that intersection changes everything.

It changes how we interpret behavior.

It changes how we provide support.

It changes how we investigate.

It changes how we advocate.

It changes how we care.

Most importantly…

It changes lives.

The Power of One

When I think back to that day in Wisconsin, I don’t remember an expert giving me a lecture.

I remember a human being who chose curiosity over assumptions.

Someone who listened.

Someone who believed me.

Someone willing to say,

“There may be another explanation.”

One conversation.

One question.

One seed.

Today, every time I stand in front of a room of healthcare professionals, law enforcement officers, advocates, attorneys, judges, or survivors, I hope to plant that same seed.

Because I know firsthand what can happen when someone takes the time to ask a better question.

You may never know the impact your words have on another person.

You may never see where that seed grows.

But don’t underestimate the power of one conversation.

Mine changed my life.

Maybe yours will change someone else’s.

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Reflection

As you go about your week, I want to leave you with one question:

Whose life might change because you chose to listen a little longer, ask one more question, or offer one small moment of hope?

You may never know.

But that doesn’t make your impact any less real.

Dedicated to Dr. Bill Smock, whose willingness to listen, ask questions, and plant one small seed of possibility changed the trajectory of my life. Thank you for reminding me that sometimes the greatest gift we can give another person isn’t certainty—it’s hope.