Laura Luca

Brain surgery for epilepsy is a medical milestone, a moment of transformation and hope. It can offer people the possibility of living a life seizure-free or without the fear of ever-present seizures. However, rarely discussed is the emotional recovery after major surgery. As someone who has undergone this experience, I have come to understand that healing does not end in the operating room – that is where it begins.

I had undergone a temporal lobectomy, which removed parts of my left temporal lobe, hippocampus, and amygdala after I began experiencing weekly seizures after the medications, I had been taking for over 25 years stopped working. I first started epilepsy medication at the age of 12, however over time the scar tissue in my brain - which is the underlying cause of my epilepsy began to trigger more frequent seizures. I was incredibly grateful for the outcome, yet I found myself adjusting to subtle shifts that are not often talked about in enough detail. I noticed that my memory was affected in small ways through everyday tasks, even down to forgetting simple and familiar words. Writing in my journal, which I have been doing for 15 years, felt odd and unfamiliar.

What I discovered during this journey was that emotional recovery matters just as much as physical recovery. While my medical appointments focused on my medications and physical progress, I realised there was little space to feel emotionally supported, especially while being home on my own trying to recover. However, it allowed me to go on a journey, and to learn more about the brain. Unsure of how to “fix” myself, a friend from the epilepsy community recommended The Brain That Changes Itself, a book on neuroplasticity by Norman Doidge. This is the moment I began to take control and learn how to support my brain’s recovery.

I took on a challenge to actively engage in tasks that would encourage neuroplasticity; the brain’s ability to adapt and rewire itself. I treated these activities like small, daily exercises for my mind. I continued to write in my journal and read novels, do puzzles, and bake cakes. I began athletics training again and taught myself how to face paint for kids’ parties. Each task became a way to gently challenge, concentrate and stimulate my brain. In the beginning, writing felt unfamiliar as sentences took longer to write. But I knew I needed to remain patient, knowing that one day I would eventually reconnect with myself. These practices became not just tools for recovery, but also reminders that I am able to grow and adapt.

There were days of frustration, of course. Moments where I felt a little disconnected – not just from others, but mostly from myself. This motivated me to learn parts of myself again. While people around me were celebrating the success of the surgery, I was quietly learning how to navigate this new landscape, mentally and emotionally.

Narrative work also became a personal anchor as writing, even when difficult, helped me get back parts of my story. I didn’t realise how much our sense of identity can shift after brain surgery, but there is something profoundly healing in shaping our experiences into words, in owning who we are now and not just who we were.

Through this experience, I recognised a gap in the support offered to people after major surgery. While healthcare teams focus on physical recovery, there’s often no consistent emotional check-in or dedicated space to explore how a person is really coping. As someone who is now close to graduating as a qualified counsellor, this realisation has become a driving force for me. I want to be part of that solution and to help fill the emotional space that too often goes unspoken and unsupported. With the ability to listen, to gently explore shifts in identity and mental wellbeing, counsellors can provide reassurance that what someone is feeling is valid, understood, and most importantly normal.

With support and connection, people can move forward – not just surviving but growing into an updated version of themselves. I know counselling holds real power, in the quiet moments, in rebuilding confidence and in the reminder that healing is never just physical – it is beautifully human.

Biography

Laura is on the verge of completing her Diploma of Counselling, while assisting others. She draws on her lived experience of neurological recovery after major brain surgery for epilepsy and combines it with her training to support others with empathy, understanding, and strong ethical values.

She has a deep interest in the mind and body and wants to learn further on mental health in neurological conditions.