Dixon is what’s called a “high functioning” brain injury survivor, meaning that the impacts of his brain injury are not immediately obvious. He has been left with an invisible disability and is the kind of person most others might say “seems fine.”

Welding a New Life and Creative Career After Brain Injury

Brian Dixon and His Wife Learn to Forge a New Beginning in the Aftermath of Brain Injury

Like many born craftsmen, the work Brian Dixon does with his hands is who he is. A man with the soul and natural talents of a true artist, today that means Dixon is by turns a sculptor, woodcarver, blacksmith and, most recently, a painter.

“He’s been an artist his whole life,” Dixon’s wife, Kalena, said.

Dixon’s paintings are all over the country, bringing joy to people from a panoply of experiences and walks of life. A bright pink unicorn cheered the heart of a Make-A-Wish Foundation patient. Another painting of a German shepherd raised funds for a police charity auction. A joyful golden retriever livens up the walls of a dog rescue.

Many of Dixon’s paintings are requested, such as the one for the dog shelter. Another time, a woman saw Dixon’s art work and reached out to request a painting of a panda for her small daughter, who loved pandas so much Panda was the young girl’s nickname.

“I’m pretty much like that Renaissance kind of guy,” Dixon said. “I didn’t think I was good enough for a few years. But everything’s been really well received so I’m just kind of going with it.”

Perhaps Dixon’s most poignant painting, however, is called The Window, an acrylic painting in which a dark silhouette of a man in a drab, lifeless room with nothing but a small table and broken chair, tentatively holds aside a curtain in front of a window that looks out upon a bright, cheerful and utterly perfect day.

In a Facebook post in which he shared the painting, Dixon said The Window was how he saw himself.

“Always looking back before traumatic brain injury remembering how great everything was,” Dixon said. “Meanwhile my present and future are dark and void of happiness. I know it’s not true, but that’s how it feels!”

It’s a struggle so many survivors of brain injury can relate to, and many responded to the painting with comments of support and commiseration.

“You’re looking back at all those things you enjoyed previously, and everything around you just feels grey and dark,” Dixon said. “It’s one I’ve been thinking about for a while, and I’m actually really pleased with how it came out.”

Because for all his creative calling, Dixon’s journey as an artist is still, at times, uncomfortable.

The Day Everything Changed

In 2017, Dixon was a welder. He’d studied and worked hard to hone his craft and took pride in providing a good living for his family.

“That’s who I was, a welder,” Dixon said.

Kalena was able to be a stay-at-home mom for their family. The couple and their three young children, Zander, 11, Ravyn, 9 and Axl, 2, had a happy life in their home about two hours outside of Chicago.

A year before, Dixon had begun to learn to blacksmith, an art form he’d been called to since he was a young boy.

As with so many brain injury survivors, their happy life was upended in a matter of seconds one day when a 100-pound rack fell on Dixon’s head while he was at work.

In addition to his long physical recovery, the inability to return to work as a welder took a deep toll on Dixon. Not being the sole provider for his family grated on him, and a cold and callous dismissal from his employer added literal insult to his mental and physical injuries.

The emotional and psychological impact on the rest of the family was equally disorienting.

“People don’t understand how much a brain injury changes who you are and everybody’s life around you,” Kalena said. “I had to learn how to be a different wife. Our kids had to learn how to be around their dad in a different way.”

Kalena returned to work, initially as a counselor for people being treated for addiction or mental health issues. Although Kalena initially aspired to be an addiction counselor, the mental and emotional requirements of that job, combined with being a caregiver for Dixon and her family, was simply too much weight to carry with everything the family had to juggle.

Eventually, however, Kalena found work as the K-9 manager at an animal shelter and loves her job. It was one of many times the family has had to “start over” in the aftermath of the accident.

Kalena’s work at the animal shelter has also given Dixon the opportunity to show off his own artistic skills. He’s painted murals and other art work for the rescue. And, the work has helped the couple in other, unexpected ways, too. At one point, the shelter brought the couple closer together when they spent eight weeks feeding a litter of 13 puppies each evening.

Dixon is what’s called a “high functioning” brain injury survivor, meaning that the impacts of his brain injury are not immediately obvious. He has been left with an invisible disability and is the kind of person most others might say “seems fine.”

But he’s not fine, as Dixon and Kalena can attest. Dixon wakes up most days with headaches, and nerve damage to his head gives him a tortuous sensation of bugs crawling under his scalp. He’s now extremely sensitive to light and sound and had to work hard to rebuild his balance.

This impacts the entire Dixon household and how the family interacts with one another.

“It’s hard because every day you wake up to something new,” Dixon said. “Either your back hurts, or your head hurts, or there’s triggers you have to be careful of every day.”

When the accident first happened, Dixon was acutely aware of the distance between him and his youngest son, Axl.

“We disconnected because I spent so much time in my bedroom lying down, trying to escape light and sound,” Dixon said. “I missed a lot, and that’s stuff you can never get back, so it’s hard.”

More recently, Dixon had to miss going to a monster truck show with his family because he knew he’d be unable to deal with sound and lights.

“Monster truck rallies, concerts, pretty much all the fun stuff is pretty much a no,” Dixon said. “That’s a lot of missing out on my kids. That’s a lot of missing time.”

That’s just one example of how brain injury quietly steals joy from one’s life in subtle ways no one else ever sees.

The extent of the family’s need to accommodate Dixon’s injury hit the couple particularly hard when one of their youngest children came home and shared that they had learned to yell. At first, the couple was confused. But then they realized that because Dixon needed quiet at home, their son had never really been able to yell in the house. The kid was simply excited about being able to raise his own voice.

“That was something that really opened our eyes to how much this changed our family,” Kalena said.

Other issues, unseen by most but that will be very familiar to the brain injury community, also chafe at the family’s life. Dixon has sleeping issues, including nightmares, and has had a number of emotional struggles.

He hasn’t yet found a job, something that pokes at one of his deepest psychological bruises from the accident.

“The hardest part for me to get over was what the company said to me,” Dixon said. “The plant manager looks me straight in the eyes and said, ‘Get over it. It was just your head. To be a good employee you don’t need a head, just your arms and legs.'”

The cruel, callous and utterly ignorant dismissal of his catastrophic injury shook Dixon to the core.

“That was a pretty hard one to get over,” he said.

Heeding a Call to Artistry

Needing to understand why his accident was even allowed to happen, Dixon eventually went back to school to study human resources management and OSHA regulations.

“I wanted to get into helping people that way and waking people up to the realities of what can happen on the job,” Dixon said.

Though still a bit at loose ends, Dixon leaned into the persistent call to art he felt after his accident and decided to lean fully into it. He’s always drawn and been creative, but began to feel called to painting, which was a new medium for him.

“I just kind of pick it up, feel it, and go from there,” Dixon said. “I’ve always been good with my hands, so that kind of stuff comes pretty easy to me.”

Art also offers him the flexibility he needs since he can take breaks as needed without worrying about getting reprimanded.

But more than that, Dixon is able to use his natural talents to bring people joy.

“It’s nice to be able to get something out there that people like, makes them happy,” Dixon said. “And if I can help make somebody happy for a minute, that’s a lot of the reason I’m doing it.”

He also hopes to continue to create art that advocates for the brain injury community as well.

Naturally, if he can begin to earn a living again from his art, that would help the family.

“Just getting back to that breadwinner status, or at least helping win some bread,” Dixon said.

In the meantime, Dixon will continue to work as an artist and craftsman, always creating, whether using a paintbrush or a forge, and bringing joy to others.

ABOUT BRAIN INJURY ASSOCIATION OF ARIZONA

The Brain Injury Association of Arizona (BIAAZ) is the only statewide nonprofit organization dedicated to improving the lives of adults and children with all types of brain injuries through prevention, advocacy, awareness and education. BIAAZ also houses the Arizona Brain Health Resource Center, a collection of educational information and neuro-specific resources for brain injury survivors, caregivers, family members and professionals.

What began in 1983 as a grassroots effort has grown into a strong statewide presence, providing valuable life-long resources and community support for individuals with all types of brain trauma at no charge.