When someone asks me why my arm is in a sling and I tell the truth.
I think most people assume I was in a car accident or something of the like, so when I tell them, I watch them search for words
"I'm so sorry." Is usually what slips from their lips.
"Don't be, I'm fine." Is my response.
And then sometimes something happens between us and we start talking about how this experience has changed my perpective so dramatically that I'm glad this happened.
Then, it's not awkward anymore and we end the conversation with both of us smiling.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Monday, May 12, 2014
Sober
Warning!
This is not a blog entry about stroke recovery, but it is an entry about recovery, so I hope the themes I touch on in telling this part of my life's story will be harmonious with the themes that echo throughout this blog. This is a long story, so let's dive in, shall we?
My name is Liz, and I'm an alcoholic. Those words are still extremely hard for me to say/write.
But, Liz, how did this happen?
I've thought long and hard about that, so this may be part of an answer:
In 2004, I underwent a serious health scare that at the tender age of 24, I was ill equipped to handle rationally nor could my 25 year old live-in boyfriend, due to this health complication, our relationship went downhill, fast. And I mean straight down, vertical, things did not go the way I thought they should have gone. He did not act the way I thought he should have acted under the circumstances. Because I liked getting my way and was completely incapable of seeing things from other people's perspectives, I believed he was mistreating me, and began acting out and treating him, and myself, like shit which, obviously, made our home less than peaceful, serene and harmonious. So, in stead of heading straight home after work, I would go across the street to "one" drink at the bar across the street, well, ans any person with a substance abuse problem knows, one drink would turn into two, three , then it would be 10:00PM, I got out of work at 5:00PM, an, yes, I would drive myself home. Drinking became a way for me to avoid the uncomfortable conversations I did not want to have with my partner, we wouldn't discuss anything important if one of us was drunk. So getting drunk after work simply became a habit and a way of avoiding reality and the hard stuff that life throws at us. I loved the way I felt when I was drunk, I felt invincible, as unsure of myself I felt when I was home, I KNEW I was hot shit when I was drunk.....
Then, I moved to New York City, THE WORST place a blossoming alcoholic could possibly move; You don't have to drive anywhere if you can't, so you don't have to worry about that, the bars stay open almost all night and you can pretty much always find a bodega that is selling alcohol at any time of day. After I moved I dug myself into a trench of righteous anger at my, then ex-boyfriend,
I lined this trench with bottles of Jameson Whiskey, I drank everynight and every night, I felt horrible, miserable and angry, at myself, st my ex, ant anyone who I felt hads wronged me, I took my anger out on anyone who was unlucky enough to cross my inebriated path.
Then, Matt moved to New York to be with me, asfter six months of talking on the phone and talking about getting married, we decided to take the leap, so he moved to the last place he ever thought he would live and he found a version of me, he didn't recognize; an, angry, self-involved, self-righteous drunk, parading around as the woman he loved, I'm surprised he stuck with me long enough to make me stop:
On Cinco de Mayo of 2007, we had a party at our apartment and, as usual, I was wasted. When the tequila bottle got passed around one more time, there was onlu one shot left for Matt and I, he took the last shot, I demanded it, he told me I didn't get it because, unlike me, he knew his limits. I got mad at this truthful comment and fumed my way into the bath room, Matt followed me in, locked the door and proceeded to inform me that I was acting like an asshole, that I was an alcoholic and had to stop, because if I did't, he would leave. I can honestly say now, that, at that point, if I had three more months of drinking like that, I probably would have said, fine. Go. Being drunk felt safe, comfortable and easy. Did I stop that night? No.
Afew things happened in the following week that made me realize that I did, indeed have a problem with alcohol. The first occured at a party, after all of the guests had left at 2 or three in the morning, I spent the rest of the evening finishing off the half drunk beverages that had been left behind, disgusting, I know. I passed out oin the couch and did not call Matt to tell him where I was, it was the one year anniversary of when we decided that he should move, so, basically, our one year re-anniversary. He sat in our bedroom window all night, waiting for me to pop out of a taxi, which I didn't do until that morning. A few days later, Matt myself and our roommate interviewed a girl to be our fourth roommate, it was May 12, 2007. It was a beatiful spring day, we sat outside on our patio and talked, so, I cracked open a beer and Matt, sticking to his guns, as usual. Informed me that we would be sharing that beer, I did not get it all to myself.
As the afternoon wore on, I found myself getting increasingly angry at the fact that I was not allowed to have a whole beer to myself and at one point. I stopped and thought about what was happening,
" I shouldn't be this mad about this, a normal person without an alcohol dependency wouldn't be mad about this. "
That scared me.
May 12, 2007 was my last drink, it's been 7 years today.
Being sober is hard, when I first quit, my emotions were raw and extremely sensitive because I had lost my coping mechanism. So, any negative emotions that emerged were not easy to handle or process.
I would be lying if I said that I have not yearned for the safe, warm embrace of alcohol during my stroke recovery process.
It is through the grace of many Gods, Matt and Charlotte that I am here, clearheaded and sober for seven years, and it feels great!
Damn straight.
This is not a blog entry about stroke recovery, but it is an entry about recovery, so I hope the themes I touch on in telling this part of my life's story will be harmonious with the themes that echo throughout this blog. This is a long story, so let's dive in, shall we?
My name is Liz, and I'm an alcoholic. Those words are still extremely hard for me to say/write.
But, Liz, how did this happen?
I've thought long and hard about that, so this may be part of an answer:
In 2004, I underwent a serious health scare that at the tender age of 24, I was ill equipped to handle rationally nor could my 25 year old live-in boyfriend, due to this health complication, our relationship went downhill, fast. And I mean straight down, vertical, things did not go the way I thought they should have gone. He did not act the way I thought he should have acted under the circumstances. Because I liked getting my way and was completely incapable of seeing things from other people's perspectives, I believed he was mistreating me, and began acting out and treating him, and myself, like shit which, obviously, made our home less than peaceful, serene and harmonious. So, in stead of heading straight home after work, I would go across the street to "one" drink at the bar across the street, well, ans any person with a substance abuse problem knows, one drink would turn into two, three , then it would be 10:00PM, I got out of work at 5:00PM, an, yes, I would drive myself home. Drinking became a way for me to avoid the uncomfortable conversations I did not want to have with my partner, we wouldn't discuss anything important if one of us was drunk. So getting drunk after work simply became a habit and a way of avoiding reality and the hard stuff that life throws at us. I loved the way I felt when I was drunk, I felt invincible, as unsure of myself I felt when I was home, I KNEW I was hot shit when I was drunk.....
Then, I moved to New York City, THE WORST place a blossoming alcoholic could possibly move; You don't have to drive anywhere if you can't, so you don't have to worry about that, the bars stay open almost all night and you can pretty much always find a bodega that is selling alcohol at any time of day. After I moved I dug myself into a trench of righteous anger at my, then ex-boyfriend,
Then, Matt moved to New York to be with me, asfter six months of talking on the phone and talking about getting married, we decided to take the leap, so he moved to the last place he ever thought he would live and he found a version of me, he didn't recognize; an, angry, self-involved, self-righteous drunk, parading around as the woman he loved, I'm surprised he stuck with me long enough to make me stop:
On Cinco de Mayo of 2007, we had a party at our apartment and, as usual, I was wasted. When the tequila bottle got passed around one more time, there was onlu one shot left for Matt and I, he took the last shot, I demanded it, he told me I didn't get it because, unlike me, he knew his limits. I got mad at this truthful comment and fumed my way into the bath room, Matt followed me in, locked the door and proceeded to inform me that I was acting like an asshole, that I was an alcoholic and had to stop, because if I did't, he would leave. I can honestly say now, that, at that point, if I had three more months of drinking like that, I probably would have said, fine. Go. Being drunk felt safe, comfortable and easy. Did I stop that night? No.
Afew things happened in the following week that made me realize that I did, indeed have a problem with alcohol. The first occured at a party, after all of the guests had left at 2 or three in the morning, I spent the rest of the evening finishing off the half drunk beverages that had been left behind, disgusting, I know. I passed out oin the couch and did not call Matt to tell him where I was, it was the one year anniversary of when we decided that he should move, so, basically, our one year re-anniversary. He sat in our bedroom window all night, waiting for me to pop out of a taxi, which I didn't do until that morning. A few days later, Matt myself and our roommate interviewed a girl to be our fourth roommate, it was May 12, 2007. It was a beatiful spring day, we sat outside on our patio and talked, so, I cracked open a beer and Matt, sticking to his guns, as usual. Informed me that we would be sharing that beer, I did not get it all to myself.
As the afternoon wore on, I found myself getting increasingly angry at the fact that I was not allowed to have a whole beer to myself and at one point. I stopped and thought about what was happening,
" I shouldn't be this mad about this, a normal person without an alcohol dependency wouldn't be mad about this. "
That scared me.
May 12, 2007 was my last drink, it's been 7 years today.
Being sober is hard, when I first quit, my emotions were raw and extremely sensitive because I had lost my coping mechanism. So, any negative emotions that emerged were not easy to handle or process.
I would be lying if I said that I have not yearned for the safe, warm embrace of alcohol during my stroke recovery process.
It is through the grace of many Gods, Matt and Charlotte that I am here, clearheaded and sober for seven years, and it feels great!
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.Damn straight.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
The Comeback Kid
When I was first wheeled into Western Michigan University's OT clinic in the spring of 2012, I was completely unaware of what was going on around me, I was a shell of my former self, scared to death of this new life thast had been flung at me and completely lacking confidence in my ability to do anything.
Today, I walked out of my session with a spring in my step, head up and proud, happy, tired and confident.
Thanks to the efforts of five young student OTs, I have gradually regained my life back, these past few months have brought about tremendous changes in me, physically, mentally and spiritually. I find, these days, I have more self-confidence than I had pre-stroke, even though I pretended otherwise, as we all do.
Today, my Ot, Stef(who is Amaze-balls as a good friend of mine would put it) and I did some challenging things, successfully.
W (I) play Wok and Roll. a kids game, that involves small colored beads, colored bowls an ::gasp!:: tweezers!
Th idea is to pick up the colored beads with the tweezers and put the beads into the corresponding colored bowl. Well, Stef has me hold the tweezers in my LEFT hand, yes, you heard it right, we are challenging Larry to grasp and pinch. I finished this task today in about half the time it took me the first time I attempted it, what I have found about activities such as this lately is that they do not frustrate or terrify my as much as they would have a few months ago, my focus has become so laser-like when I am doing something hard, I can now get through it without too much difficulty or frustration. I also decided a few months ago, to never allow Charlotte to witness me give up on anything or to get frustrated, and this informs my behavior lately when I'm faced with something fearsome or hard, because, really, I'm noticing I can do anything as long as I try it and stay calm.
One of my goals for OT this semester has been to recreate this picture:
so,
Stef and I have been working on gutting that arm out and up to do this, we play ,Zoom Ball, which really challenges my shoulder, but, today, as Stef and I were zipping that ball back and forth and I was exerting almost no effort in getting my shoulder to participate. I almost burst out in tears.
All I could think abnout was that poor, broken down, hopeless woman who rolled into that therapy room all of those months ago, she wouldn' have believed for a second that any of this was possible, or that she could be at peace with her life and herself as much as I am now.
Watch out, world, Lizz and Larry are making a comeback!
Today, I walked out of my session with a spring in my step, head up and proud, happy, tired and confident.
Thanks to the efforts of five young student OTs, I have gradually regained my life back, these past few months have brought about tremendous changes in me, physically, mentally and spiritually. I find, these days, I have more self-confidence than I had pre-stroke, even though I pretended otherwise, as we all do.
Today, my Ot, Stef(who is Amaze-balls as a good friend of mine would put it) and I did some challenging things, successfully.
W (I) play Wok and Roll. a kids game, that involves small colored beads, colored bowls an ::gasp!:: tweezers!
Th idea is to pick up the colored beads with the tweezers and put the beads into the corresponding colored bowl. Well, Stef has me hold the tweezers in my LEFT hand, yes, you heard it right, we are challenging Larry to grasp and pinch. I finished this task today in about half the time it took me the first time I attempted it, what I have found about activities such as this lately is that they do not frustrate or terrify my as much as they would have a few months ago, my focus has become so laser-like when I am doing something hard, I can now get through it without too much difficulty or frustration. I also decided a few months ago, to never allow Charlotte to witness me give up on anything or to get frustrated, and this informs my behavior lately when I'm faced with something fearsome or hard, because, really, I'm noticing I can do anything as long as I try it and stay calm.
One of my goals for OT this semester has been to recreate this picture:
so, All I could think abnout was that poor, broken down, hopeless woman who rolled into that therapy room all of those months ago, she wouldn' have believed for a second that any of this was possible, or that she could be at peace with her life and herself as much as I am now.
Watch out, world, Lizz and Larry are making a comeback!
Monday, March 17, 2014
In My Skin
It's been a tough winter here in Michigan, with freezing temperatures, way too much snow and not nearly enough sunlight.
While we were in the thick of it I couldn't help but think that something deeper was going on this winter, it was hard for everybody, not just weather speaking, but personally and spiritually. I started to get the feeling that we were all doing a lot of hard work this winter, when I say we I mean us humans and the earth. I believe that we all were doing a lot of hard work, healing ourselves both physically and spiritually and that we were all going to come out of this winter better than we went into it. Now that some grass is starting to peek through the layers of snow and ice something has happened to me. I feel the lightness of spring in my heart and soul. During this harsh winter hibernation, I have become accustomed to who I am in the face of all of this and I am finding I now have more self-acceptance and self-love than I did pre-stroke.
The person I've discovered on the other side of this neverending winter wasteland is a survivor who hopes for the best, she is strong and perseveres, nor does she give up. She is a determined person, who works everyday to be the best person she can be, in other words I believe I am now the person I was supposed to be without all of the bull shit tascked on that I thought I wanted to be.
I find myself becoming more comfortable with who I am daily and I become more snug in my skin than I've ever been before. I know who I am now: Liz, Stroke Survivor, Mother to Charlotte Marie, wife to Matthew,outspoken advocate for brain injury survivors, silver lining seer, hope giver, faithful follower of the path the universe lays out for me, and many more things, I don't want to bore you with. I am who I am and if you don;t like it, that's fine, 'cuz I do.
On my journey, I have been honored to help other people through their personal struggles, as an outspoken survivor of health trauma, many people have reached out to me for inspiration and motivation, I am truly touched that these individual look at me as someone who can help in some way, so, here I am helping my new friend, Heather, her story touched me and her perseverance moves me. Please take a look at her website, she will move you to your core:
While we were in the thick of it I couldn't help but think that something deeper was going on this winter, it was hard for everybody, not just weather speaking, but personally and spiritually. I started to get the feeling that we were all doing a lot of hard work this winter, when I say we I mean us humans and the earth. I believe that we all were doing a lot of hard work, healing ourselves both physically and spiritually and that we were all going to come out of this winter better than we went into it. Now that some grass is starting to peek through the layers of snow and ice something has happened to me. I feel the lightness of spring in my heart and soul. During this harsh winter hibernation, I have become accustomed to who I am in the face of all of this and I am finding I now have more self-acceptance and self-love than I did pre-stroke.
The person I've discovered on the other side of this neverending winter wasteland is a survivor who hopes for the best, she is strong and perseveres, nor does she give up. She is a determined person, who works everyday to be the best person she can be, in other words I believe I am now the person I was supposed to be without all of the bull shit tascked on that I thought I wanted to be.
I find myself becoming more comfortable with who I am daily and I become more snug in my skin than I've ever been before. I know who I am now: Liz, Stroke Survivor, Mother to Charlotte Marie, wife to Matthew,outspoken advocate for brain injury survivors, silver lining seer, hope giver, faithful follower of the path the universe lays out for me, and many more things, I don't want to bore you with. I am who I am and if you don;t like it, that's fine, 'cuz I do.
On my journey, I have been honored to help other people through their personal struggles, as an outspoken survivor of health trauma, many people have reached out to me for inspiration and motivation, I am truly touched that these individual look at me as someone who can help in some way, so, here I am helping my new friend, Heather, her story touched me and her perseverance moves me. Please take a look at her website, she will move you to your core:
Monday, January 6, 2014
Healing? What?
If you had asked me what healing meant at the beginning of all of this, I would have responded like this: "To be normal again."
Normal? What's that? Well, two years later and I'm still walking, thinking and talking a little slower than normal. But that's normal now, and that's ok. Does my left arm function the way it used to? No. Does my left hand work? No., and that's ok. I'm finding I don't need it, a second hand is a luxury at this point.
So. Here comes the big question: Am I healed? Yes, I am. My body has healed wonderfully in the two years since my stroke, as has my mind, heart and soul. Does it matter that I'm not the way I was before? No. I'm better. So, what is healing?
Healing is seeing the spaces that need to be filled in your life and heart and filling them until you feel like you may burst. Healing is owning up to your weaknesses and fixing them so you can be the best version of yourself you can be, healing is never missing a beautiful moment of life due to self-pity, healing is faith that The Universe knows what it's doing and that everything works out for the best.
Am I healed? Yes.
Normal? What's that? Well, two years later and I'm still walking, thinking and talking a little slower than normal. But that's normal now, and that's ok. Does my left arm function the way it used to? No. Does my left hand work? No., and that's ok. I'm finding I don't need it, a second hand is a luxury at this point.
So. Here comes the big question: Am I healed? Yes, I am. My body has healed wonderfully in the two years since my stroke, as has my mind, heart and soul. Does it matter that I'm not the way I was before? No. I'm better. So, what is healing?
Healing is seeing the spaces that need to be filled in your life and heart and filling them until you feel like you may burst. Healing is owning up to your weaknesses and fixing them so you can be the best version of yourself you can be, healing is never missing a beautiful moment of life due to self-pity, healing is faith that The Universe knows what it's doing and that everything works out for the best.
Am I healed? Yes.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Motherhood...resumed
When all of this began, I was shocked. When I walked into the hospital that cold, rainy November morning, I thought I was going to be happily holding and breastfeeding my new baby girl that night. Well...the universe had other plans for us that day. Do any of us end up being the parents we thought we were going to be, really?
As I would sit in my rehab room, I would stare at the whiteboard with my therapy schedule, just fuming about what had occurred, trying to make sense out of this incredibly confusing situation. "All I wanted was to be a Mom."I would whine to Matt, sitting on his lap. In those early days, I was convinced I would never be able to truly be a mother to my beautiful baby girl. I felt totally incapable of caring for her, both physically and cognitively.
But...As every new parent does, I learned. As each day passed, my head became clearer, my body became stronger and my confidence increased, I began to understand and know what this little stranger needed from me moment to moment.
And now..everyday I spend with her, I feel our bond deepen, this person who I feared would be embarrassed of my disability, I am now convinced will always defend me to the teeth, because of what I willingly sacrificed for her( I think an arm is a fair trade off for a healthy baby, don't you?) And what I have overcome on my journey to motherhood.
My only hope is that I can be a stong influence for her, an example that giving up is never an option, that there is always hope as long as you have love in your heart. And now, suddenly, this stroke survivor who feared her chance at motherhood had been whisked away has found herself to be capable, present and excellent mom.
As I would sit in my rehab room, I would stare at the whiteboard with my therapy schedule, just fuming about what had occurred, trying to make sense out of this incredibly confusing situation. "All I wanted was to be a Mom."I would whine to Matt, sitting on his lap. In those early days, I was convinced I would never be able to truly be a mother to my beautiful baby girl. I felt totally incapable of caring for her, both physically and cognitively.
But...As every new parent does, I learned. As each day passed, my head became clearer, my body became stronger and my confidence increased, I began to understand and know what this little stranger needed from me moment to moment.
And now..everyday I spend with her, I feel our bond deepen, this person who I feared would be embarrassed of my disability, I am now convinced will always defend me to the teeth, because of what I willingly sacrificed for her( I think an arm is a fair trade off for a healthy baby, don't you?) And what I have overcome on my journey to motherhood.
My only hope is that I can be a stong influence for her, an example that giving up is never an option, that there is always hope as long as you have love in your heart. And now, suddenly, this stroke survivor who feared her chance at motherhood had been whisked away has found herself to be capable, present and excellent mom.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Changlings
Us New Age-y types talk a lot about reincarnation, or, the idea that a person's soul has lived many lives since it was created and how that affects our current incarnation.
But, if you think of it, every person experiences many incarnations in their life; Every significant life event changes us and our outlook. For me, ,y senior year in High school was very significant, scoring the lead in the musical was a huge ego boost and introduced me to a more self-assured, confident, outspoken and opinionated version than I had known before, this is the incarnation that would continue to develop through mycollege and my post-college years.
The stroke and the recovery has introduced me to a different version of myself, one that had been covered up by that, loud, boisterous and outspoken lady
Liz 2.0, as I call her, is not as self-assured, in fact, she, quite, often has to convince herself that she can do something and she has to talk herself out of the pity parties she seems to like to throw for herself, for whatever reason....But, through all of this, because this version of myself requires so much reassurance from myself, she is turning into a stronger version of the me I was, better able to face things I am unsure about, able to talk myself out of despair, I've become a cheerleader for myself, and that, my friends, is a valuable talent. I am now more capable of picking myself up after a hard day full of mistakes, brushing myself off, holding my head hig and giving it the ole college try tomorrow.
Because, I have learned, what really counts when recovering from stroke is finding a new way to live life and to be happy with it, which means finding new, innovative ways to do things, luckily for us there are many oways to fall inlove with yourself again after a traumatic brain injury, one way I would suggest is to find an organization like this.
So, dare I say, Liz 2.0 holds her head a little higher that Old Liz did.
I like Li 2.0....finally.
But, if you think of it, every person experiences many incarnations in their life; Every significant life event changes us and our outlook. For me, ,y senior year in High school was very significant, scoring the lead in the musical was a huge ego boost and introduced me to a more self-assured, confident, outspoken and opinionated version than I had known before, this is the incarnation that would continue to develop through mycollege and my post-college years.
The stroke and the recovery has introduced me to a different version of myself, one that had been covered up by that, loud, boisterous and outspoken lady
Liz 2.0, as I call her, is not as self-assured, in fact, she, quite, often has to convince herself that she can do something and she has to talk herself out of the pity parties she seems to like to throw for herself, for whatever reason....But, through all of this, because this version of myself requires so much reassurance from myself, she is turning into a stronger version of the me I was, better able to face things I am unsure about, able to talk myself out of despair, I've become a cheerleader for myself, and that, my friends, is a valuable talent. I am now more capable of picking myself up after a hard day full of mistakes, brushing myself off, holding my head hig and giving it the ole college try tomorrow.
Because, I have learned, what really counts when recovering from stroke is finding a new way to live life and to be happy with it, which means finding new, innovative ways to do things, luckily for us there are many oways to fall inlove with yourself again after a traumatic brain injury, one way I would suggest is to find an organization like this.
So, dare I say, Liz 2.0 holds her head a little higher that Old Liz did.
I like Li 2.0....finally.
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