It's been a lot harder than I thought. I mean, I have a desk job, how hard could it be?
It turns out that the answer to that question "Absolutely one of the hardest and worst things ever."
Ugh. I didn't know how much stamina it took to simply stay upright. But, it's getting better. My workboots still feel like they weigh about a million pounds each, but on the silver lining front, if I wear them, I don't have to wear ankle weights.
Life is physical therapy.
I suppose the thing I most want to talk about tonight is how much I hate people making excuses for me because I had a stroke. "Cut yourself slack!" they say. "You had a stroke!" And I really get that everyone is making allowances to help me out. I understand that it comes from a well intentioned place.
There was a time--an exact day--when everything could have been different. When, instead of taking those first difficult, stumbling steps, I could have given up, just let it all go and decided to settle for less than what I knew I was capable of. But I didn't. I took that first step, and then another and then every single one since then--and every time I pick up a foot, there's an army of voices in my head that remind me that if I didn't take that step, nobody would blame me. I wouldn't even blame me. That if I didn't go back to work until mid-October, everyone would understand. If I took a semester off from my Master's, good God, everyone would understand. I had a STROKE, for gosh-golly's sake! Look how far I've come!
And then there's one lone voice amid that squall that says "Take the fucking step. Take the next. Don't stop. Don't quit." That voice laughed when the neurologist said I'd maybe get back 95% by 1 year post. It's the voice that told me that I'm not a 95% person. It reminded me that 95% isn't enough. It will never be enough. That defiant voice that won't let me settle, that insists on perfection--that's me. I can't sit around and wait for 95%, I can't stop and see how far I've come because I've got farther to go.
This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. This is who I've always been. I don't do things in part or half way--I'm all in, or I'm all out. So, I had a stroke. It's a thing. I'm doing what I have to do to make sure it doesn't stay a thing forever, or become a thing again. But I am still the same person I was before. No, not the same but different, I'm the same. It's not like I was graceful and slinky before--I was a total clutz-ball. Essentially, nothing that matters is different.
I just don't want to be treated differently. Nobody wants to be different in a way that feels infantilizing. I don't want slack cut for me or concessions made. I'm trying to get back to what you all recognize. Just standby, I'll get there. But in the meantime, talk to me like you always have. I'm still here, just with shorter hair and less coordination.
Oh. Wanna see the haircut?
Oof. That's a bad picture. I look like I'm strung out on caffeine. But my hair is cute!
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