The road to me...
When I look back over this past year, it is not without regret, not without loss and not without pain.
The sadness of 2019 can engulf me, causing me to lose my bearings in a way that I never knew possible.
It is not just my stroke that’s causing me to feel this way. It is the heaviness, the weight, that something much bigger than me, much bigger than humankind, forced its will on me. On my family. My friends. And it just sits there. Waiting.
When I woke up on 21 February, one day after my stroke, I made a subconscious choice. The hard choice. To fight. This stroke. And to find Stacie 2.0 amongst the rubble that was my life.
Since then, not a day goes by without work, running from ghosts that I didn’t even know existed or finding new ways to carve out the new me.
I have to rehabilitate myself and everything that came crashing down.
It leaves me with a feeling of “What would have happened if I didn’t suffer my stroke?” and “How is it possible that I didn't do the work before?”.
It is so clear to me now, what I want from this life.
So I begin on my journey of finding out who is this new me and what are her faults, where is she super duper strong and what are those little idiosyncrasies that make me stand apart from the rest.
I don’t profess to have it all figured out. Some would say that I have my work cut out for me. But lucky me, I also have a cunning plan!
The Road to Me. Goal 1
It occurred to me, only after my stroke, how incredibly rude I am when I’m speaking to myself. In stressful times, for instance, when I just can’t figure out the words and I am left gaping, stammering to salvage my dignity.
The incredible thing was, very annoyingly, it wasn’t only when I was in a stress. Of course my stress level exacerbated any (and all) conversations with myself, but it happened when I was making my bed, for instance, or meeting a friend for lunch.
As it turned out, I realised that my level of frustration, whether it was right or wrong, was at full throttle all of the time.
So how was I talking to my husband, for example? My three children? With the same disdain dripping off my every word?
I tell my children to ask themselves 3 questions each time they speak. Is it true? Is it kind? And is it necessary? If they answer yes to those 3 questions, they are doing themselves right. But do I?
I am a perfectionist. Anything less than perfect feels like failure to me.
The road to me is laced with time and space to break this nasty habit of degrading myself.
In 2020, I endeavor to talk to myself as if I were talking to a close friend.
No more calling myself ‘stupid’, for instance. Can you imagine if I called my husband stupid? You just don’t do that!
Instead, I am going to choose my words more wisely. I am going to give myself the leniency that I deserve.
I hear myself, telling my children that perfection only exists in their dreams. That nothing, no one is perfect. Including me.
My hope for myself and for my family is that when I look back over the year, I can say that 2020 was the year that I relaxed a little bit, that I gave myself room to breathe and the space to grow.
Off to NYC, Baby! Goal 2
When I was lying in my hospital bed, using a wheelchair to get me from point A to point B, I realised a few things.
One of those things was how much I took my body and its condition for granted. No one can tell me if I will fully recover from this life-altering event, not my neurologist, not my physical therapist, not even a witch doctor!
But I want to be clear. I’m determined to recover.
My determination set my next goal for me! To ensure that I hit milestones, have a therapy plan and a good, solid win following, I am going to try my hardest to run the New York City Marathon on 1 November 2020!
I’m all signed-up and ready to roll.
Finding my voice. Goal 3
When I moved to Tokyo, I began to write. Articles, blog posts and, more recently, for my speech and cognitive therapy. Since the second week following my stroke, I’ve been writing, word by word.
It wasn’t easy for me, and sometimes it felt very daunting, but it very seldom felt like work.
I needed to get the words out of my brain and on to paper. To focus. To centre me. And to make sense of it all.
When I felt ready to publish my first blog, it felt freeing in a way that it had not before. I was suddenly taking my stroke, something that did not - in any shape or form - make sense, and giving it room to breathe.
In that same vein, it is my plan to publish my first book this year. To let my stroke have its own voice and lead me along its journey.
The Green Dog Diaries. Goal 4
While in the hospital for those 6 weeks, I would have loved to hear a podcast, which was full of honest and uplifting information. Not intensively coaxing me onwards, but giving me the real and dirty scuttlebutt. No fluff. Just honesty.
I am a realist. I don’t want anybody to sugarcoat the situation.
There I sat, much like an infant, without my voice, my right half of my body paralysed and impaired cognitive function.
I would have loved to hear something from somebody who’d been there, where I was in this moment.
Those were some pretty hefty days, filled with a lot of work and a lot of fear.
So, I would like to invite you to listen to the The Green Dog Diaries…..coming soon to your ears!
I will use this as part of my therapy… increasing my ability to speak clearly and concisely, while focusing on the topic at hand.
However, the main reason is to help people who are in the same situation as I was and am. To give their feelings a voice. To let them know that I am fighting alongside of them. To put into words the helplessness, the uncontrollable heaviness and the longing that goes hand in hand with a stroke survivor.
I have so much to say. All locked up in a tangled mess of words.
I thought a lot about 2019 and a whole slew of emotions run thru my brain.
Somedays, I find the journey of two steps forward and one step back slightly tiresome.
But, then, I am a relentless fighter. I will find that Stacie 2.0 even if the road has a long and windy path.