In the movie “Joker,” Joaquin Phoenix’s character frequently bursts into unnerving laughter at socially inappropriate moments. His actions were partially based on a real neurological condition called Pseudobulbar affect. I know this because I suffer from it too. The movie doesn’t show an exact cause, but for me and many others, it starts with a brain injury.

In 2018, I was with a man who beat me over the course of 10 weeks, strangling me, punching me in the head, and dragging me off the bed so that my head slammed into the ground. He went to prison, and my life was changed forever. In addition to the uncontrollable laughter, I often found myself emotionally overwhelmed, bursting into tears and physically collapsing in public. I’d always had a very active brain, with thoughts constantly flying around, but now I’d wake up in the morning and feel like I had no thoughts at all.

More than a year passed before I learned this all stemmed from a brain injury. If I’d known this sooner, I would have had a far easier time navigating the criminal justice system. I’ve come to realize that my experience isn’t rare — among victims or perpetrators of crime. Studies show that incarcerated people are far more likely to have brain injuries than the general population.

After my abuser was sentenced, I met other victims, and I started showing up at the Colorado legislature to advocate for our interests. I learned that lawmakers were considering a measure to provide brain injury screenings to people in prison. At first, I was angry. Why should they get these screenings, I thought, when victims of violence also need this help?

But I also knew the line between those categories isn’t always clean. Before my brain injury, I had been coping with my partner’s emotional abuse by drinking, and one night I drove under the influence. Around the time that the abuse became physical and he injured my brain, I was sentenced to probation. Every day I had to call to see if I needed to do a random drug test. A brain injury can mess with your short-term memory. I would set alarms to remind me to make the call, but then I’d forget if I’d made it, and I’d panic.

If I did have to go in, the probation office was stressful for a surprising reason: the doorbell. At one point, I found myself having a meltdown, screaming at everyone, “How can you stand this doorbell!?” As a result, I had a breathalyzer machine in my car and would have to blow into it while driving.

All this pressure overwhelmed me, and on several occasions I attempted suicide.

Read the full article about navigating the criminal justice system with a brain injury by Melissa Bickford as told to Maurice Chammah at The Marshall Project