And, a 'nother
I've been feeling so good lately that it's shown me clearly how bad I'd been feeling the bulk of the Winter. I'm 2.5 years post stroke and the first year was spent in blissful optimism, determination and unrealistic expectations. The second year was leaving behind the right hemisphere euphoria, struggling to figure out all the emotions and perceptions that were unfamiliar ground and realizing I couldn't entirely trust my own feelings to be accurate accounts of a situation. I had to learn to talk myself down from the emotional ledges I'd find myself on.Lots of other things in the realm of acceptance have occurred as well. Although,I have to define what I've accepted. I never once had a problem accepting the stroke...but I had a terrible time accepting that I needed help. That feeling of being vulnerable set off more alarms than I can go into. My life has a theme of not wanting to need help and taking great pride in doing things the hard way on my own. And while it really fueled my recovery in the first year;it's no longer beneficial in my life to the degree I took it.
I'm less fierce now, less offended by my vulnerability and dependence. I don't snap at my husband if he proffers an arm, opens a door or helps me on with my jacket. All the normal gentleman things that he did prestroke...but were off limits after the stroke with my much mimicked "I can do it" rebuff. Such a fine line our friends and family must walk in the aftermath of this stroke. They're damned if they help too much and damned if they don't mind-read or jump to the things we do want.I'm getting better about being disabled to the ever changing degree that I am and not needing to prove so much now. whew.
I got geographically lost this Winter. I met a friend at a planetarium show. Upon leaving the show, it was dark, it started snowing and my always bad sense of direction amplified by stroke, got me lost. After 30 minutes of increasingly unfamiliar landmarks; I pulled over. Prestroke, I would have pulled out the city map or stopped at a gas station and got myself sorted out. I was always accomplished at being lost. Post stroke; my reading glasses were no longer adequate to decipher the map and the ice between me and the door to the gas station might as well have been a 6 foot fence. That whole pride before a fall adage has new meaning for me now. So, I texted my husband and told him the landmarks and he came and led my car home, and there wasn't any teasing from him and I didn't get treated less competent or any of the other previously imagined consequences I'd been carrying around. I did what was safest under the circumstances and lost nothing but the chip on my shoulder. One emotional issue down; 6,743 left to go.
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