“So... Why the Bull?”
- Evan Folan
- Aug 4
- 4 min read
Hey y’all!
How cool is this? For some reason, you ended up here. Maybe you’re on the couch, in the bathroom, or avoiding work and yet, here you are, reading my first blog post. And for that, I’m thankful.
A quick backstory: I died on July 23, 2019. A semi-truck lost a rear wheel. It broke off the axle, crossed the median, and came straight through my windshield. The impact fractured my skull, caused severe brain bleeding, broke my neck, and yeah — also broke my hand (but that part feels like a bonus injury at this point).
I was in a coma for two days. When I woke up, the real battle began. I’ve been through 19 different rehab programs: physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy.
I deal with short-term memory loss, nerve pain, seizures, tremors, and migraines — every single day. The migraines are brutal. Unrelenting.
The best way I can explain it?
It’s like having a radio constantly playing in the background of your brain. Some days, it’s blasting so loud I can’t think, talk, or even get out of bed. Other days, it’s just a hum — still there, but manageable if I stay busy or distract myself with something meaningful. As I write this, I’ve got an ice pack wrapped around my head.
That’s why I started Toro & Tides — to give you a real look into life with a brain injury, not just through my eyes, but through the stories of others who carry this invisible weight. This brand’s heartbeat is about building awareness for a hidden injury that’s often misunderstood.
It’s hard to explain the day-to-day challenges I face and honestly, it’s just as hard to understand what other TBI survivors are going through. The inability to relate, even within the community, can feel isolating, upsetting, and frustrating.
How do you explain a seizure to someone who has never had one?
How do you explain daily agonizing pains to someone?
Or how about explaining a forgetful memory. Like 'why did I just walk into this room?'.
So, I asked ChatGPT to help me explain it.
Here's what it came up with:
Living with a TBI is like driving with a fogged-up windshield — you're squinting, second-guessing every turn, and exhausted by the focus it takes to stay on the road. There is no clear path. You can only hope you're going the right way. (I wrote the last two sentences myself).
Ayooo! Take that, Chat. I can formulate my own thoughts (kinda).
Anyway, I think one of the most challenging parts of this journey aside from the medical ailments is finding a group of people who understand. A group of people that walk the same path as me. The ones trying to navigate the unknown. The ones driving with the fogged-up windshield, just like me.
I’ve made some good friends along the way. Being in all those rehab programs has connected me with people who truly get it. People who remind me I’m not alone in this.
The logo stands as symbol for all of us with a brain injury. Heck, it can even play into the life of those who don't have one but struggle with life's battles. That's something we can all relate to: life isn't easy. And it's even more challenging as you try to navigate it on your own.
None of us will be able to sit in the driver's seat of someone elses life, but by repping this brand we can show support to one another.
The goal is to create a safe place where people feel seen, connected, and supported.
The logo stands for both strength and surrender.
It's two things life constantly demands from us.
Strength is showing up every day and doing the best you can with what you’ve got.
Surrender isn’t quitting; it’s accepting what you can’t control and finding peace in the middle of the chaos.
With that being said, let's dive deeper into the meaning behind the logo.
.I’ve gotten questions like:
“Why a bull?”
“What are those weird lines under it?”
“Is your hair brown or red?” (Okay, I made that one up… but seriously, it’s brown.)
Let’s break it down.
The Toro
Toro means bull and from day one, I knew I wanted something that symbolized strength, perseverance, and stamina.
I’ve always been in awe of bulls. Their presence. Their power. Their quiet intensity. A bull doesn’t back down — it faces what’s in front of it. Just like I’ve had to, through every rehab, every setback, every painful day.
Perseverance? A bull has that. It doesn’t quit. Even when progress is slow or invisible — it keeps moving.
Stamina? That’s the daily grind. It’s not about speed or flash — it’s about the choice to keep showing up when everything in you says stop.
Trust me, there were days when quitting seemed easier. But I didn’t. And that, I think, is what stamina really looks like.
The Tides
Those two curved lines under the bull? They’re waves. They represent the tides — the highs and lows of life.
Why tides? Because just like the ocean, life moves in cycles.
Some days you’re riding a high.
Other days, you’re underwater.
At times, it feels like you’re finally moving forward.
There is a sense of calm in the water and then, out of nowhere, the tide pulls you right back under.
One of the hardest parts of those “low tide” moments — aside from the physical pain — is how hard it is to find a community that understands.
I’m hoping these blogs shine a little light on what it’s like, not just for me, but for others too.
Toro & Tides is about embracing both. We don’t run from the hard stuff, we ride it. We rest when we need to, and we rise when we’re ready.
So yeah… pretty neat, right? I hope this gives you a better sense of the heart behind the brand — and the meaning behind the logo.
Thanks again for being here. You don’t need a brain injury to wear the apparel. We all face challenges. We all ride the tide together.
— Evan
PS: my hair is brown
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