For those of you following along, you are probably familiar with my love affair with The People's Food Co-op of Kalamazoo, this place has been essential and instrumental in my renewal process, not only has this place been a safe haven for me as I have gone through the process of becoming a new and better person, it is a place where I can be me in all my flawed glory and no one seems to mind.
the PFC has also been my therapy, challenging me to rebuild my cognitive and physical abilities; This week I have crossed another milestone with the help of this priceless place: I completed a five day, 40 hour work week, yes, I worked Mom-Friday, all eight hour shifts in a row, no breaks. Now, this may seem like it's not that big of a deal to most people, but let me put this in perspective for you, when I started back at the co-op post-stroke in 2012, I was working one two hour shift a week and that almost floored me, the effort it took to interact with people and stand for that amount of time was massive, but, as my brain started to come back online, my super-boss Simon and I started slowly but surely increasing my hours, which took it's toll, rebuilding stamina is like building up any muscle, anytime I overdo it with my energy levels my body shuts itself down to the point where it's impossible for me to do anything but lay in a useless lump of misery, so jumping from 20 to 30 hours a week was a stretch, and, last week I was on the couch for four days straight after a 30 hour week and in preparation for this week.
When this week began, I was terrified that I would be miserable and sick by the end of the week, but, I realized that worrying about days ahead wasn't helping me enjoy the days that were happening and that I only needed to worry about that if it happened, so I started paying attention to how I felt at that moment, got enough rest at night and enjoyed myself at work all week long. Then today rolled around, the day I though I would for sure be a mess for, but I woke up bright eyed and excited to see what the day would bring, determined to kill it and to traverse this gauntlet Simon had thrown down for me. I felt great all day long, even when some sleepiness would sneak in, I would push it aside in favor of enjoying the company of my co-workers and the lovely environment I work in. Now that I've built up that muscle I can do it again and again and not doubt my ability to do so.
So, you see, my friends, in the end it's all about how you look at things, if you look at them in the right way there is nothing that you can't accomplish.
I made this week my bitch! Victory!
Friday, July 31, 2015
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
The Unexpected Therapist
As soon as a brain injury occurs, be it a closed head injury, concussion, stroke, etc..., the survivor is immediately inundated with therapists, physical, occupational, recreational and speech, these therapists are there to help the survivor learn how to live their live post injury.
For the month I was at the rehabilitation unit at Borgess hospital, I got very accustomed to what these therapists did, they helped me re-learn to speak, eat, dress myself and bathe.
When I was told I was being released from rehab, I was ecstatic, I thought that returning home would make everything seem normal again, after all, home is where routine lives, home is comfortable and normal, but what I discovered upon returning home was that life was anything but normal, returning home was when my real rehab began, it was when I had to start learning how to live in my new body, with my new mind in earnest. The only thing on my mind at the time was getting back to work at the Co-op, I started working again in May of 2012, I was working two hours a week, greeting customers, answering phones and occasionally ringing customers up, a job that been created to suit my needs and abilities at the time. After being elbow deep in practically every aspect of the co-op right before the stroke, doing this job was a hit to my pride, I was embarrassed to be standing there by the door, greeting customers, doing minimal work, now I understand, it was what I was capable of, but at the time, I felt like my life was crumbling apart in front of me, I was determined to find a place for myself at the co-op again.
Then the planets and universe shifted again. The Front End Manager(FEM) who had taken over for me when I had to step down decided to move out of state, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted to reapply for the job when the posting went up , but I knew better, and I had my sights set on s different job that I was not ready for, I was nervous, wondering who would get the job, knowing whoever got the job would be instrumental in helping me get back into the swing of things, the universe always knows what it's doing and it swung in my favor this time because the new FEM was the former's Lead Cashier, Simon. I lept with joy when I found out, Simon was one of the last cashiers I hired before the stoke, he showed great leadership and knowledge in his role as Lead Cashier, I knew my future at the co-op would be secure in his hands. Simon and I began sitting down and talking about my goals almost immediately after her took over as FEM, my goal, as always, I wanted to work more and become more comfortable cashiering. Soon, my hours started increasing and I started working more cashier shifts, mainly on the weekends, so I had to start relearning out Point of Sale System, soon Simon was working with me, re-training me on the POS, teaching me how to count down my drawers at the end of my shifts, a task that was not easy for me and my addled mind to accomplish calmly. As this process progressed, I was embarrassed every time he had to sit down with me and explain how to count down my drawer, after all, I had trained him to do the same thing he was teaching me to do in the not so distant past, it was an awkward position for us to be in, but Simon treated me with kindness, understanding and patience and he never made me feel stupid, which was how I felt, or like a special needs staff member, he treated me the way he would treat any new hire, with respect.
Now I work multiple times a week, this week I'm working a 20 hour week, Simon's loyalty, patience and faith in my abilities has pushed me in positive ways, just like any good therapist, he doesn't ask me to do anything he doesn't think I can do, I have re- found my niche at the co-op and I am pleased as punch to be a cashier there, any day you see me behind the register at the co-op is the best day of my life, because I am doing it, with the help of my most important therapist.
For the month I was at the rehabilitation unit at Borgess hospital, I got very accustomed to what these therapists did, they helped me re-learn to speak, eat, dress myself and bathe.
When I was told I was being released from rehab, I was ecstatic, I thought that returning home would make everything seem normal again, after all, home is where routine lives, home is comfortable and normal, but what I discovered upon returning home was that life was anything but normal, returning home was when my real rehab began, it was when I had to start learning how to live in my new body, with my new mind in earnest. The only thing on my mind at the time was getting back to work at the Co-op, I started working again in May of 2012, I was working two hours a week, greeting customers, answering phones and occasionally ringing customers up, a job that been created to suit my needs and abilities at the time. After being elbow deep in practically every aspect of the co-op right before the stroke, doing this job was a hit to my pride, I was embarrassed to be standing there by the door, greeting customers, doing minimal work, now I understand, it was what I was capable of, but at the time, I felt like my life was crumbling apart in front of me, I was determined to find a place for myself at the co-op again.
Then the planets and universe shifted again. The Front End Manager(FEM) who had taken over for me when I had to step down decided to move out of state, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted to reapply for the job when the posting went up , but I knew better, and I had my sights set on s different job that I was not ready for, I was nervous, wondering who would get the job, knowing whoever got the job would be instrumental in helping me get back into the swing of things, the universe always knows what it's doing and it swung in my favor this time because the new FEM was the former's Lead Cashier, Simon. I lept with joy when I found out, Simon was one of the last cashiers I hired before the stoke, he showed great leadership and knowledge in his role as Lead Cashier, I knew my future at the co-op would be secure in his hands. Simon and I began sitting down and talking about my goals almost immediately after her took over as FEM, my goal, as always, I wanted to work more and become more comfortable cashiering. Soon, my hours started increasing and I started working more cashier shifts, mainly on the weekends, so I had to start relearning out Point of Sale System, soon Simon was working with me, re-training me on the POS, teaching me how to count down my drawers at the end of my shifts, a task that was not easy for me and my addled mind to accomplish calmly. As this process progressed, I was embarrassed every time he had to sit down with me and explain how to count down my drawer, after all, I had trained him to do the same thing he was teaching me to do in the not so distant past, it was an awkward position for us to be in, but Simon treated me with kindness, understanding and patience and he never made me feel stupid, which was how I felt, or like a special needs staff member, he treated me the way he would treat any new hire, with respect.
Now I work multiple times a week, this week I'm working a 20 hour week, Simon's loyalty, patience and faith in my abilities has pushed me in positive ways, just like any good therapist, he doesn't ask me to do anything he doesn't think I can do, I have re- found my niche at the co-op and I am pleased as punch to be a cashier there, any day you see me behind the register at the co-op is the best day of my life, because I am doing it, with the help of my most important therapist.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Round and Round
There is a carousel at Silver beach in St. Joseph, MI.
We took Charlotte there last summer when she was still two, at the time, she wasn't sure whether this contraption was fun or not, BUT, since the middle of winter she' been talking about the carousel.
We found ourselves in St. Joe on Memorial day, I lightly mentioned Charlotte's obsession with the carousel to her great aunt and uncle, who we were visiting, and wouldn't you know it?
They had extra tokens for the carousel! So we made a quick trip to the cemetery to plant flowers for family members that are no longer with us, the weather was perfect, Charlotte took over the planting proceedings and got herself delightfully dirty and wet, once we finished planting, we determined that we had just enough time to sneak in a ride on the carousel.
When we entered the room where the carousel lives, Charlotte's little body tensed up with excitement, her face was solemn as she contemplated this contraption, deciding which creature to ride, she headed straight for the entrance, leaving us adults to decide who would go on with her.
Now, most stroke survivors struggle with vertigo, I am not an exception to this, so the last time she rode the carousel, I sat it out, a decision that I'v never been at ease with, as I want to be an active participant in her life.
This time, I decided to give it a try, I figured if I just stayed focused on Charlotte's face, the dreaded nausea and dizziness would be held at bay. We climbed onto the carousel, with her Grandpa, who was there as extra support for me, just in case Charlotte lost her grip on her horse. She selected a fancy horse named Magic, her excitement was palpable as we waited for the ride to start, I just looked into he giddy little face and told her to hold onto the brass bar tightly, like I was doing.
The the bell rang and the carousel began to move, Charlotte's face lit up with glee "whee!" She proclaimed!
My eyes welled up with tears of delight and thankfulness, because I was doing something I didn't think I could do and something I could have missed.
Even when my affected leg tensed up due to nerves, I ignored it and looked in my daughter's elated face and thanked the universe and a long list of gods for the chance to experience that moment
It's the little things, people.
We took Charlotte there last summer when she was still two, at the time, she wasn't sure whether this contraption was fun or not, BUT, since the middle of winter she' been talking about the carousel.
We found ourselves in St. Joe on Memorial day, I lightly mentioned Charlotte's obsession with the carousel to her great aunt and uncle, who we were visiting, and wouldn't you know it?
They had extra tokens for the carousel! So we made a quick trip to the cemetery to plant flowers for family members that are no longer with us, the weather was perfect, Charlotte took over the planting proceedings and got herself delightfully dirty and wet, once we finished planting, we determined that we had just enough time to sneak in a ride on the carousel.
When we entered the room where the carousel lives, Charlotte's little body tensed up with excitement, her face was solemn as she contemplated this contraption, deciding which creature to ride, she headed straight for the entrance, leaving us adults to decide who would go on with her.
Now, most stroke survivors struggle with vertigo, I am not an exception to this, so the last time she rode the carousel, I sat it out, a decision that I'v never been at ease with, as I want to be an active participant in her life.
This time, I decided to give it a try, I figured if I just stayed focused on Charlotte's face, the dreaded nausea and dizziness would be held at bay. We climbed onto the carousel, with her Grandpa, who was there as extra support for me, just in case Charlotte lost her grip on her horse. She selected a fancy horse named Magic, her excitement was palpable as we waited for the ride to start, I just looked into he giddy little face and told her to hold onto the brass bar tightly, like I was doing.
The the bell rang and the carousel began to move, Charlotte's face lit up with glee "whee!" She proclaimed!
My eyes welled up with tears of delight and thankfulness, because I was doing something I didn't think I could do and something I could have missed.
Even when my affected leg tensed up due to nerves, I ignored it and looked in my daughter's elated face and thanked the universe and a long list of gods for the chance to experience that moment
It's the little things, people.
Friday, April 24, 2015
all About The Angle
" I just want to be normal again."
Is a lament you would have heard fall out of my mouth if you visited me in rehab at least once.
Most of the time my visitor's response to this statement was, "what is normal?" Or I was told I would find a new normal, a concept I ignored because it seemed so impossible at the time, I felt so outside of myself, I wasn't the person I had been when I walked into the hospital that day, I couldn't function the way I had, couldn't go to the bathroom, shower, or get food for myself if I desired to do so.
Once I was released into the world, I was uncomfortable in public, I was sure everybody was staring at me everywhere I went, why wouldn't they? I walked and spoke funny, obviously I was a freak, so why wouldn't they stare? I did get stares, but why? Was it because of my funny walk or my slurred speech? No, Probably not. I I got stared at because my discomfort with myself was so obvious to the outside world.
Then three years flew by.
Somehow, without noticing it happening, my new way of life started feeling "normal". Now today, I no longer get stared at in public and why would I? My walk is still not average, my slurred speech is unnoticeable, I think. But my comfort level with all of these things has increased.
Quick story, as I was ringing a customer up at work the other day, the question of what happened to my arm came up, as it often does, I answered honestly, as I always do, this customer started telling me about a new kind of therapy that stroke survivors use to reverse the effects of stroke, making the survivor "normal" again.
As I was listening to this information I would have been desperate for three years ago, all I could think about was the fact that I am "normal" and that this sounded like something I didn't need.
I don't get stared at anymore and it's because I see myself as "normal" whatever that is, so, in the end it's all about perception, isn't it?
Is a lament you would have heard fall out of my mouth if you visited me in rehab at least once.
Most of the time my visitor's response to this statement was, "what is normal?" Or I was told I would find a new normal, a concept I ignored because it seemed so impossible at the time, I felt so outside of myself, I wasn't the person I had been when I walked into the hospital that day, I couldn't function the way I had, couldn't go to the bathroom, shower, or get food for myself if I desired to do so.
Once I was released into the world, I was uncomfortable in public, I was sure everybody was staring at me everywhere I went, why wouldn't they? I walked and spoke funny, obviously I was a freak, so why wouldn't they stare? I did get stares, but why? Was it because of my funny walk or my slurred speech? No, Probably not. I I got stared at because my discomfort with myself was so obvious to the outside world.
Then three years flew by.
Somehow, without noticing it happening, my new way of life started feeling "normal". Now today, I no longer get stared at in public and why would I? My walk is still not average, my slurred speech is unnoticeable, I think. But my comfort level with all of these things has increased.
Quick story, as I was ringing a customer up at work the other day, the question of what happened to my arm came up, as it often does, I answered honestly, as I always do, this customer started telling me about a new kind of therapy that stroke survivors use to reverse the effects of stroke, making the survivor "normal" again.
As I was listening to this information I would have been desperate for three years ago, all I could think about was the fact that I am "normal" and that this sounded like something I didn't need.
I don't get stared at anymore and it's because I see myself as "normal" whatever that is, so, in the end it's all about perception, isn't it?
Friday, April 10, 2015
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.
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.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
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.
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.
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