Heads Together for Brain Injury

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Heads Together for Brain Injury We connect and support young people and families impacted by acquired brain injury. As a community, we learn from each other and break down the barriers.

Heads Together was created in 2002 to connect and support families who
have a child with an acquired brain injury. The Heads Together community is united by a shared passion to improve quality of life for people with an acquired brain injury and their families. We are not about ‘helping’ people; instead, we create environments where people feel safe to share and build positive lives. We run face-to-face and online events for families, kids, teens, young people and parents impacted by acquired brain injury. Contact us to find out more, we would love to hear from you.

This year’s theme, “Together We Thrive,” speaks directly to our philosophy here at Heads Together. It reflects what our ...
09/10/2026

This year’s theme, “Together We Thrive,” speaks directly to our philosophy here at Heads Together. It reflects what our community embodies every day through connection, and the belief that we are stronger when we lift each other up.

Mental health is a challenge that so many of our community face every day and the continued stigma around acknowledging, understanding and supporting mental health makes their lives harder and more isolated.

So, get out there and talk about mental health, the more wean relate the better we can connect.






I used to think independence meant doing everything on my own. Somewhere along the way, I twisted that into believing th...
08/10/2026

I used to think independence meant doing everything on my own. Somewhere along the way, I twisted that into believing that asking for help was a kind of weakness. Then adult life hit me in the face with a side serving of fatigue, and I realized that if I wanted to function in the capacity I wanted, I needed a village around me. Otherwise, I would burn out way too often to be sustainable or have to scale my expectations way back, and I have never been someone who scales back on anything.

After months of avoiding it and exhausting every other option, I finally got honest with myself. I asked what supports existed and started building my village so I was not burning out by 9 a.m. and so I could actually show up where it mattered.

When my husband and I decided to expand our family, we had to have some real conversations about what we were capable of and how to strengthen our support systems, something others manage without extensive planning or without needing to ask for help. But during my pregnancy, and even now, it is this village that allows me to show up for our kids and for myself in the best way I can. It is not about doing less. It is about knowing where to conserve my energy so I can keep doing what matters most. That is not weakness; that is wisdom. Also, in the process, I have gotten far better at letting people in; life is far better and less lonely with a village.

There’s something strange about growing into yourself when you’ve had a brain injury. You expect growth to feel exciting...
02/10/2026

There’s something strange about growing into yourself when you’ve had a brain injury. You expect growth to feel exciting. You imagine reaching milestones and finally feeling that rush of I’ve made it! You picture yourself becoming the person you’ve always wanted to be, and you assume that when you get there, everything will somehow fall into place.
But what I’m learning is that growth doesn’t always feel the way you think it will, sometimes it feels like two steps forward and one step back.

Sometimes you reach a milestone you’ve worked incredibly hard for, only to find yourself wondering why you don’t feel as happy, confident or fulfilled as you thought you would. And that can be confusing. I’ve had to learn that a milestone doesn’t erase everything that came before it. Reaching something exciting doesn’t suddenly mean the challenges disappear. My brain injury is still part of my story, and there are still days when things feel harder than they “should”… But perhaps that’s the point.

I’m beginning to understand that becoming 'me' isn’t about returning to who I was before my brain injury, or becoming some perfect version of myself. It’s about discovering who I am now. There are parts of me I’ve had to rebuild. There are parts I’ve had to rediscover. And there are parts of me that I never knew existed until I was forced to slow down, adapt and see life differently.

The growing pains are real.

There are days when two steps forward feel enormous, and days when that one step backwards feels like I’ve lost all my progress. But I’m learning that going backwards for a moment doesn’t mean I’m back at the beginning. Progress isn’t always a straight line.
Sometimes progress is recognising how far you’ve come. Sometimes it’s giving yourself permission to have a difficult day. Sometimes it’s celebrating a tiny achievement that nobody else understands the significance of. And sometimes it’s simply getting back up and taking another step. I’m reaching milestones I once hoped for, but they don’t always feel the way I imagined they would. Maybe that’s because I’m not the same person who imagined reaching them.

I’m becoming someone new.

Someone shaped by experiences I never asked for, challenges I never expected and lessons I probably wouldn’t have learned any other way.

A brain injury changed my life, but it doesn’t get to decide who I become.

I get to keep growing.

I get to keep discovering.

I get to keep becoming uniquely me.

And maybe the person I’ve always wanted to be isn’t someone I eventually arrive at. Maybe they’re someone I’m becoming, one step at a time.

Hey Guys,James here again. You've probably heard of post-traumatic stress disorder, but have you heard of post-traumatic...
30/09/2026

Hey Guys,
James here again. You've probably heard of post-traumatic stress disorder, but have you heard of post-traumatic growth?

Neither had I until recently! Following my stroke, I just kind of assumed that I must have some sort of PTSD that was hiding itself from the world, as I had not really had any signs of anything like that, so I thought it would be a good idea to get to the bottom of that and begin fortnightly psychology!

BTW, I think it is extremely important for everyone to see a psychologist anyway! We all have something we have to talk about at times.
After a few months of talking and digging around my mind, though, my psychologist told me something that really put how I felt into words! She told me about this thing called post-traumatic growth. It was like a lightbulb moment! Straight away, a smile beamed across my face—the words I did not know I needed.
I am fortunate enough to have experienced growth instead of trauma; I appreciate everything in life so much more, I am motivated, and I have learned not to let an opportunity go by and to grab life with both hands. I have always got a smile on my face, and I seem to spread it to others! 🤠

Hopefully, I can do that in these posts anyway :)

Keep following friends





Had a super fun Saturday with the Ability gang diving into the power of HOBBIES Hobbies can bring us joy, connect us to ...
21/09/2026

Had a super fun Saturday with the Ability gang diving into the power of HOBBIES

Hobbies can bring us joy, connect us to people who get us, give us safe spaces to build skills and discover strengths, a fun way to do rehab exercises, and a chance to rebuild ourselves and find identity after the tornado of brain injury has tipped life every which way.

Great to welcome a new volunteer coach, Charlotte, and catch up with OG Ability fave, Hailey back for the first since baby Millie joined the world.

For more info about this fantastic program, email info@headstogether or call Kate on 0493 067 038.






Feeling out of touch with other people is something I had to learn to live with after my brain injury. People my age wor...
15/09/2026

Feeling out of touch with other people is something I had to learn to live with after my brain injury. People my age worried about things that felt far from my reality, while I was navigating spaces few had ever been. That sense of being out of step settled in over time, familiar, almost predictable yet it never felt comfortable. It taught me a quiet truth: promoting inclusion is not the same as living it.

Motherhood has brought me to this space again, unsure of how inclusive it will feel. At my first Mother's group, I sat on the baby mat pretending to search in my nappy bag with my left hand the only one that follows instructions after my stroke. Around me, other mothers effortlessly scooped up wriggling babies. My chest tightened with a familiar issue, do I announce my disability now, breaking the ice before the silence lands? Or wait, letting them figure it out on their own, bracing for the inevitable heavy glances when they notice I’m only using one side?

I felt that persistent sense of being an outsider again, carrying a kind of mum‑guilt born from places most parents never have to look. Inclusion often gets tiptoed around, wrapped in comfort, softened by the fear of saying the wrong thing. But the conversations people avoid are the ones that build trust, understanding, and respect and honestly where I have formed friendships. It’s in those honest, uncomfortable moments that true inclusion begins. Not in leaving things unsaid or unasked. Not in letting one person carry all the weight alone. sometimes for comfortability sake, questions need to be asked.

Without these conversations, people like me are left to navigate in silence deciding when to disclose, how much to explain, and whether a space is truly safe. It can be deeply isolating. And it’s a double‑edged sword: people either dance around the issue, too afraid to ask or even communicate with me, or they ask too much, too soon, becoming more uncomfortable than they were before they knew. Both extremes make me want to disappear.

But through respectful communication. hard questions asked with care and respect, we create safe spaces, move past awkward silences, leave everyone feeling considered.

This week Heads Together Founder, Kate Heine met with Karen Dimmock, from ACD to talk with the Linkages project team at ...
11/09/2026

This week Heads Together Founder, Kate Heine met with Karen Dimmock, from ACD to talk with the Linkages project team at University of Melbourne about strategies to engage students in sharing their experiences of transitioning from primary school to high school. Student voices are so critical to understanding inclusion and participation, and developing resources to understand and support young people in this secondary school transition which can so often be a huge source of stress for students and their families.

We are looking forward to connecting with our amazing community to gather their perspectives. If anyone is interested in finding out more about this project, please get in touch at [email protected]




Last week Heads Together Founder, Kate Heine, attended a project update with the whole BRIDGES research team. The Lived ...
08/09/2026

Last week Heads Together Founder, Kate Heine, attended a project update with the whole BRIDGES research team. The Lived Experience perspective came through loud and clear, with themes about hope in physical activity, the challenges of adjusting to life after traumatic brain injury and the weight of responsibility that parents and caregivers feel. We are so proud of Miles Thompson, for the key role he has played as part of the Lived Experience Advisory Panel, representing the voice of young people with brain injuries.

We are looking forward to the National implementation of these physical activity guidelines and will continue to share updates from Miles as he and his fellow lived experience advisors guide this important project.



Fear arrived before I had language for what had happened.After a medical diagnosis resulted in brain injury, the world I...
04/09/2026

Fear arrived before I had language for what had happened.

After a medical diagnosis resulted in brain injury, the world I knew was still there, but my ability to move through it had changed. Familiar places became demanding. Ordinary conversations required concentration. Noise, light and fatigue could overwhelm me without warning. I no longer trusted my brain to respond in predictable ways, and that uncertainty made even small moments feel dangerous.

The injury did not come from an accident or an illness unfolding on its own. It happened through medical care - care I needed and had entered knowing it would cause damage but it would save me too. That distinction complicates everything. I was grieving what I had lost while also trying to understand how the people and systems meant to protect me had caused permanent harm too. Medical appointments became necessary and frightening at the same time.

Fear took many forms. There was fear of further treatment, fear that symptoms would worsen and fear that I would not be believed. There was also the quieter fear of no longer knowing myself. When memory, processing, language or emotional regulation changes, identity can feel unstable. I kept asking whether a reaction was mine, the injuries or a response to trauma. Often, there was no clear answer.

What helped was permission to be honest: I was frightened because something frightening had happened. Recognising that did not mean surrendering to fear. It meant I could stop treating fear as another personal failure.
Recovery has required me to redefine courage. I have learned to prepare for medical encounters differently. I write down questions because I cannot rely on memory under stress. I bring records, take notes and ask clinicians to explain risks in plain language. When possible, I bring a trusted person who can listen when my brain becomes overloaded. These practices do not erase fear, but they give me something solid to hold.

The injury changed me, but fear is not the whole of who I have become. Alongside it, I have developed discernment, patience and a clearer understanding of my limits. I know now that vulnerability is not the opposite of strength. Naming fear is not bitterness. Needing support is not dependence.

I still want a future larger than what happened to me. I am building it slowly - not by pretending I am unafraid, but by carrying fear without allowing it to make every decision. For now, that is what courage looks like.





Heads Together now provides formal advocacy services, including:-Codesign research support and facilitation of lived exp...
19/08/2026

Heads Together now provides formal advocacy services, including:
-Codesign research support and facilitation of lived experience input
-Individual advocacy development for young people and families
-Specialist youth brain injury consultation and advocacy support

For more information about these services, contact Kate Heine at [email protected] or call 0493 067 038

Address

Level 2, 90 Maribyrnong Street
Melbourne, VIC
3011

Opening Hours

Tuesday 9am - 5pm
Wednesday 9am - 5pm
Thursday 9am - 5pm
Friday 9am - 5pm

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