Category Archives: recovery

family, frustration, memories, optimism, parenting, recovery

Memories

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  • The black iron railing on the concrete steps outside of our first home in Quebec
  • “Dog Patrol” a near-daily excursion as Dad would peddle me around on the back of his bike looking for doggies that I could pet
  • Washing dishes standing on a chair in the kitchen next to my Mom
  • My new baby brother coming home
  • Noticing that he was “broken” between his legs while I assisted Mom with a diaper change
  • My first amazing experience at school with my Junior Kindergarten Teacher (Mrs. Rheaume, I still think of you often)
  • Recording our voice and our home family movies
  • Learning to debate at school
  • Perfecting how to debate at the dinner table
  • Years of summertime joy and crushes and sunburns
  • First kiss
  • Never wanting to see that guy again… good thing he won’t know I mean him
  • Writing my first poem
  • Dancing in my bedroom
  • Transcribing lyrics from radio music
  • Losing my Nanny (maternal and only grandparent)
  • My first bra
  • My first heartbreak
  • Painting
  • First “first date”
  • First “last date”
  • First act of citizenship: I vote
  • Being elected at my high school
  • Graduation
  • An abusive relationship
  • University … a procrastinator’s heaven and hell
  • Pride + Kraft Dinner VS Logic + Asking for money
    (if you know me, you know which I picked… despite not having any milk)
  • Illness and close brushes with despair
  • Family love and how the extended family reinforces the troops regardless of the problem, the timing, or the need
  • The power of a loved one’s beautiful baby girl
  • Smugly taking a job in broadcasting which surely meant that I didn’t need the degree
  • A star named after me
  • Understanding how much that really meant
  • Meeting the son of my parents’ friends “just for coffee”
  • Long distance love in denial
  • Dropping to my knees in front of him and saying yes
  • Moving (for the thousandth time)
  • Marrying
  • Moving #1001 – but thankfully moving to the “M” section in people’s address books instead of the “V”
  • Making babies – the easy part AND the hard part
  • New life all around
  • The beauty of someone else’s wedding
  • Learning what to control and what you cannot control
  • Mom’s life ebbing away
  • Recovery from loss
  • Needing to be loved
  • Losing weeks of my life – a small price to pay because I had never had the chance to say “goodbye, how I love you”
  • Rebirth with my artificial umbilical cords
  • Learning to walk again and to read and write
  • Feeling fear often
  • My brother, husband and father never leaving my side
  • Reaching back to my husband
  • Deciding to act the way I felt people wanted me to be
  • Changing that decision!
  • Making true friends recovering with them in the hospital for more than two months
  • Learning many ways to measure distance (inches, kilometers, aeons)
  • Remarking which friends have stayed… regardless of my quiet
     *smiling at you with gratitude*
  • My sons sharing the experience of being with Mom on the floor (ferociously proud of them now and forever – unless they have behaved unethically or unlawfully you’d be best to complain to someone else)
  • My husband carrying his own weight and far too much of mine
  • Every one of my stroke steps…

And today?
Another year older!!! Ack!!!

Be well

Jen

creativity, hope, recovery

Azure dreams

* credits to Coldplay – song “Green Eyes” *

Honey, you are a rock
   Upon which I stand
      And I come here to talk
        I hope you understand

That green eyes, yeah the spotlight,
   shines upon you
       And how could anybody deny you?

I came here with a load
And it feels so much lighter, now I’ve met you

And honey you should know,
   that I could never go on without you
Green eyes

Honey you are the sea
   Upon which I float
      And I came here to talk
         I think you should know

That green eyes, you’re the one
  that I wanted to find
And anyone who, tried to deny you
  must be out of their mind

Cause I came here with a load
And it feels so much lighter, since I met you

Honey you should know,
  that I could never go on without you

Green eyes          ~          Green eyes

Ohoho… Ohoho… Ohoho… Ohoho…

The sea upon which I float
ђoney
уou
are
α
ℜocк
u℘on
which
ⓘ
stαn∂



brain injury, hope, inspiration, recover, recovery

Mindfulness

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Guess what! Despite my reduced abilities, my mind is still bright and shiny and beautiful and able! It really is. I spoke to my mind and my body (more accurately… I LISTENED to my mind and my body) this morning during an exceptional period of guided mindfulness in a rehabilitation session.

  • When was the last time you sat in silence?
  • Have you ever meditated?
  • Do you check in with the parts of your body?
  • Are you aware of every sense’s contribution to the most simple moments?

I would have said No to each of those before this morning but now I will do this as often as possible.

Mermaid me in another place and time

With the benefit of silence and calm and relaxation this morning I saw my brain swim and soar and twirl and circle playfully, pause reflectively and consider things as I always was able. Agile and adaptable and brilliant. Like a beautiful movie in the beautiful sea… 

And THEN it is time to talk about it or to verbalize it or even to define it and suddenly my beautiful movie stalls and stutters and skips frames. The image melts on the screen and my beautiful brain is ashamed and dismayed and looks away… A tear spills into that ocean. Perhaps that is how my ocean arrived… One tear at a time…

It hurts to struggle with the abilities I used to take for granted. It is a huge regret that I was not more thankful for it being so easy at the time.

But instead of living in that regret I have work to do to continue my regrowth. Everything happens for a reason. How can I grieve for a gift that I enjoyed while it was mine? It was not mine forever… only loaned to me. 

Perhaps on September 7, 2010 a new child was born and was gifted with that blessing – if I could find them, my silent gesture would be to tenderly touch their cheek and wish them joy and awareness of the depth of that gift.
Thank you for walking this far with me – even if we have never met I am grateful for your virtual presence – for this shared experience, and for feeling connected to the world beyond my Self. But please forgive me if me, myself, and I spend some quiet time to reconnect.

*smiles quietly*

Be well,

Jen

P.S.: A belated Happy Valentine’s Day with an affectionate tribute to my husband whose proposal was 12 years ago… And to my Brassavola Nodosa (a type of orchid) who brings me joy and beauty even in the middle of the night.

Brassavola Nodosa