Even though it's been over a year since I've logged into StrokeNet, the unconditional support, good cheer, and friendships I've experienced on this site are still very dear to me. I signed in again this evening because I know that, like sunshine, all of those beautiful attributes about this site are life-affirming and nurturing. And now that I'm writing my story and feeling the hauntingly familiar affects of depression creeping in around the edges of my normally active and cheery lifestyle, I could use a big dose of StrokeNet sunshine right about now.

My name is Veta and I survived a spontaneous carotid artery dissection while I was teaching in my first grade classroom on October 3, 2008. I was young (31), athletic, and healthy when my internal right carotid artery spontaneously dissected. I barely survived, but because my dissected artery blocked most of the blood flow to the right hemisphere of my brain for 10 days, many things did not survive. I literally became a different person over the span of hours as my entire right hemisphere was compromised by the lack of oxygenated blood. The movement and feeling on my entire left side, my ability to think and reason like an adult, my ability to read with comprehension, my ability to do math, my ability to socialize, my job, and my marriage all became fatalities of my stroke. I was utterly dependent on my parents, brothers, therapists, and wheelchair during those first couple years of post-stroke life. Then bouts of depression and anxiety took root and it got worse. Much worse. I actually prayed every day that God would bring me home, but he didn't.

Enter StrokeNet sunshine! When I became a member of this site in 2013, I knew that I needed radical change. The time with my psychotherapist, heavy-duty depression and anxiety meds, and strong faith weren't creating the necessary changes fast enough. But you, my beautiful StrokeNet community, accepted me and lifted me up. And life got better. Much better. Thank you.

I have regained all of my cognitive abilities, more mobility on my left side, and a stronger-more wholesome, more resilient-sense of who I am over the last couple of years. I live and travel independently. I still have residual paralysis below my left elbow and left knee, but I'm back to hiking, sea kayaking, and cross country skiing. I have chronic pain in my neck, back, and head, but I manage it without meds (by staying active, positive, and using meditation and other biofeedback techniques). I'm currently writing my story to share with my fellow survivors of stroke, trauma, and heartbreak. I have yet to decide if it will be a memoir or a collection of essays. And I'm struggling with perfectionism and fear as I write. But overall, I'm doing quite well. As a medically retired teacher, I have the time and resources to make stroke recovery my first priority. Writing is my second, volunteering as a reading tutor is my third, and planning for my reemergence into the professional field is always in the back of my mind. Life is good.

But now, in this moment, I'm checking in with you so this creeping depression doesn't take hold. Part of recovering successfully means that you get to know yourself, read the signs, and take action. Just typing this up and resurrecting my blog has been therapeutic. I changed the settings so it will be available publicly. I'm tired of this fear I have of sharing my story. So here I am, publicly sharing an update on this post-stroke life of mine…and hoping for a good dousing of the brilliant StrokeNet sunshine that I've grown to love.