It ain't me, babe

Lately I feel I've been getting an awful lot of credit for what I've accomplished thus far on my post-stroke journey, this makes me feel uncomfortable, so I want to clear some things up for the sake of my conscience.

First of all, pre-stroke Liz would have luxuriated in all of this praise and validation she gets on a regular basis, but this new, post-stroke Liz is verrry uncomfortable with all of that.

Why?

Well, let me tell you, I don't think I've done anything at all. All I've done is get out of bed in the morning, put one foot in front of the other and tried to be a better version of myself than I was the day before. The reason that I don't feel I've done anything to deserve any of this validation is because, in my opinion,it is all of the people who are around me all of the time that deserve the praise. Without Matt constantly pushing me to be better at, well, everything. I wouldn't even think to try to be good at everything. Without Charlotte's brilliant smile, kind heart and warm hugs, I wouldn't care about setting a good example for how a strong woman should behave when life deals you a shitty hand and, of course, without my co-op standing by ,me, believing in me and allowing me to find a place within the ranks of the workers all the while allowing me a safe place where I could find myself again, I would still be sitting on the couch playing the smallest violin in the world for myself.

So, what I'm saying, it's true what they say, it really takes a village, because without mine, I'd be sucking at life and, according to a lot of people, I'm not.

Even though hearing that makes me uncomfortable. So, thank you all, of you.

Reel Me In

Something happened today that left me reeling for the entire day; Our day started off as normal, Charlotte crawled into bed with us at 7am and promptly passed out on Matt, my alarm went off, I got dressed and Charlotte and I had breakfast, Charlotte got dressed and watched cartoons til it was time to leave to take me to work at the co-op. When we got to the co-op, Matt and Charlotte ran into the store ahead of me, as usual, I went straight to the back, attempted to find an empty locker to shove my giant coat and purse into, got my name tag and, clocked in and counted my cash drawer and began walking to the front of the store, as I was heading up front, Matt walked past me and said,
"your old therapist is here, I think she's looking for you." I immediately began going through my mental Rolodex of every therapist this could be and immediately settled on one option: Erica! Erica was my primary OT in rehab, the therapist I worked with most frequently. Erica was in charge of attempting to breathe life back back into my damn left arm, of teaching me how to live in a post stroke world and body. Erica spent many hours listening to me bemoan my existence and worry over whether Charlotte was going to like me or not. It was Erica who first told me I was not capable of returning to my position as Front End Manager at the co-op, a bitter pill to swallow.


It's been four years since I've seen her.

And seeing her after all that time really drove home how far I've come.

When I was working with her in rehab, I could hardly focus on a single simple task for longer than one minute. But, today I worked a cash register during a very busy lunch rush at work, I stayed focused on my tasks and even multi-tasked throughout the day, an impossible feat during my days in rehab; The last time I saw Erica, I felt that my life was crumbling apart in front of my eyes and that there was no way I could live my life this way. But today as the clear winter sunshine streamed through all of the co-op's windows I felt so happy to be alive and working, lucky to be having such a great day, one- armed or not.

So, I guess the point of all of this is, if anyone out there is reading this while in rehab or at the beginning of your post-stroke journey, I am here to assure you that, although it seems impossible right now, there is life after stroke and It does get better. Do not give up on life, or it will give up on you.

the big 4-0....Plus 2

Let me start simply, earlier this week I picked up a shift for a co-worker, no big deal, right?
Well, in doing this, I tuned my four day qwork week into a five day, but not a five day week like my last one, it was broken up into groups of days I had to work in a row, so I didn't think about it much.

as I was talllying up my hours for the week tonight at the end of my shift today, the number kept mounting. Until I finished.

I looked at the sheet after I had written my total hours for the week.
"holy shit." I whispered to myself.

42 hours.

I worked 42 hours and didn't even realize it.

I have been tired this week, but I attributed that to staying up too lat and having an almost four year old child who's really excited about getting up too early in the morning, you know, the same reason regular people get tired.

The more I thought about my work week all I could think about was this self-pitying and whiny post from three years ago and hoe different things are now.

Then it sunk in; I have officially taken my life back, the stroke hasn't taken anything from me .

And, in the words of my incomparable co-worker, Brett, I made this week my bitch.

boo-ya, stroke, take that!

Mrs. Happy Face

Charlotte and I recently returned from our yearly week-long vacation on her Grandma's farm in Ontario. The week we spend there is always fun filled and relaxing, but this time was different, it was different because I was determined to get all of the juice out of my days, to pour myself into every delightful moment spent with my rapidly growing child.

We had a wonderful time, we did farm chores, watering horses, cows and feeding the barn cat, Sophie, we went on wildflower hunts, discovered wild garlic, rode around the expansive farm on Grandma's Gator played everyday with Charlotte's new bestie, her cousin Alexa, everyday.

Then the best  and most anticipated event of the trip happened:

Charlotte's first sleepover! When we were planning the trip I mentioned to Charlotte's grandma, Marcia that she would really love to have a sleepover with Alexa, so we started plotting, then the day finally came, Charlotte and I woke up ecstatic that morning, me, because I was excited to experience this with Charlotte, Charlotte because, well, it was exciting, the girls swam in the pool with me and Aunt Amanda, watched Chicken Run and the two three- yearolds even ate some of their dinner. After dinner, Charlotte's Grandpa Robin went outside and got a campfire going, I may have suggested that Charlotte would love that too, and we went outside to sit around the fire, roasting marshmallows and making smores, Charlotte managed to get smore all over herself, right after her bath, mind you, I may have eaten more smores than a grown woman should, the night was perfect, it was warm, the farm was peaceful, the sun setting, I was with my favorite people, eating smores, then Amanda snapped this photo of me, and posted it on Facebook, afterwards theere was an outcry of jot from all of my digi friends, it was so good to see me happy! These comments made me step back for a moment, I took stock of the last three years and, yes thus is probably the first picture of me since the stroke where I am experiencing blissful joy, before and after, before the stroke, I wa on the samr quest everyone else seems to be on, the search for ultimate happiness;

Now, let me be clear, I am not a spiritual or happiness guru, but here's what I think about happiness: the search for this slippery emotiuon is really hard, because we think we will find happiness in possessions, people and how attractive we are, I think happiness lies in living and loving your life, regardless of the circumstances. Sure, I ealk kind sloww and trip over my words sometimes, and, yes I have an arm that has decided to go on a permanent vacation, but I'm here and as long as there is breath in my body I am going to live the shit out of this life, so when I'm at the end of it, I die with a smile on my face.

Stop chasing happiness, people, it's right in front of you.

Becoming

There is an issue I feel needs to be addressed, so here I go:

People use a lot of flattering adjectives to describe me such as, admirable, inspiring, adaptable, strong and inspiring.

Let me be clear here, it is none of my business what people think of me, so if you think these things about me, that's great, but I just want to be honest and up front.

Now, the old, ego maniacal version of me would have basked in the glory of all these compliments, it would have been my fuel.

But.

This new, quieter version is embarrassed by all of this positive feedback, because I know the truth. And here it is:

Deep in the very pit of my lies a scared shitless, confused child, if I am any of those nice things people call me is only because I have metamorphosed into them through a lot of hard fucking work, trial and error and increased self-awareness. I work really hard every day to be honest with myself and to fight my selfish, self involved desires. I am constantly trying to be the best version of myself and to treat the people around me with the respect they are due (something I did not ever think about before).

So if you have said any of those nice things to me, thank you, it means a lot and if I seem uncomfortable with the compliment, it's because I haven't always been any of those things, it is only through a lot of hard work,  extreme determination  and a refusal to give up that I have become all of those things.

Hurry up and Wait

I am not a patient person. I never have been, then, I became a patient in a neuro rehabilitation facility. As it began to dawn on me what kind of situation I was in ,I was anything but patient, I wanted my hand back YESTERDAY I wanted to go back to work NOW.

Over the course of my life instant gratification has always been my bread and butter, I want what I want now and I would force my way towards whatever end goal I was after, but, the more I think about it, I 've realized that forcing things before it was time for them to happen has never worked out well for me or anyone else involved in my scheming. When I went back to work at the co-op, I was desperate to be back in a position that seemed "important", so, I tried applying for an HR job that I was in no way ready to perform, when I didn't get the job, I was crushed, as the job I applied for was one I held before the stroke.

But, I was determined to stay at the co-op, I knew there was a place for me there, and I decided I would dig my heels in and wait to see what that place would be. And I have, I am now working more frequently than before and have, once again become quite an adept cashier.

Self identity was the one thing I was desperate to find in my post-stroke world, hence the many different names I gave myself: Liz 2.0, New Liz, etc....but, I hung in there and I am happy to say that I have a better sense of self than I ever have and I am really awesome, new weird nickname needed, now, I'm just Liz, that's all.

So, what's my point, you may be asking yourself; here it is: That obnoxious saying, good things come to those who wait is, in fact true, because I have become a professional waiter, and, I've found that instead of forcing things to happen before it is time, that letting them happen naturally has a much more satisfying result.

My Social Network

My dad has worked in the computer industry my whole life, so, as I grew up, in the 80s and 90s, there were always these weird computer thingys in the house, my play house in the basement, which could fit two 10 year-olds in it comfortably was a wooden  box a hard drive had been delivered in.

In high school, my house was the cool place to be because we had that wacky new fangled invention: the internet! My friends and I would roam the chat rooms in total awe over the fact that we were "talking" to people half a country away.

Nowadays the novelty has worn off, there's a lot of complaining going around about how social networking and the internet isolates us from each other. I have something to say about that:

Word spread quickly after I suffered a stroke in childbirth, my friends and family members sent notes out on Facebook asking for prayers and positive vibes for me, as a result of this coming together of my digital community, I received countless numbers of cards and gifts that lifted my spirits and strengthened my resolve, I started this blog initially to keep my friends, family and numerous supporters apprised of my physical and mental state, but it has become an invaluable resource, allowing me to process all of the feelings I've had over the past three years in a healthy and positive way, my internet community are the people who read these posts.

Over the years I have received so much support via Facebook and through this blog, that without these tools, I truly believe I would have been lost. So, I do not believe the internet isolates us, that's up to the user, but it creates this amazing global community who can come together in minutes to support one of their own when they are in need, so, for those of you who've followed along via Facebook and this blog, thank you for the support, the pats on the back and the constant stream of positive energy.


Goddess bless Mark Zuckerberg.

Love and light.