Tomorrow is what I am coming to think of as my re-birthday. I feel like that is a better name than the anniversary of my brain bleed. It was two years ago that as I was making supper, chilli to be more exact, that the fistula in my brain ruptured and changed things forever. If you don't know my story you can read it here. The first year was all about letting go of attachments and this year has been more about accepting how I am feeling at face value and processing it clearly.
I am not where or who I thought I would be at this point in my recovery. I am not really sure what I expected, but in the hospital they kept telling me it was only vision. That the rest would get better. It is definitely not just vision. In fact vision is the least of my problems.
I seriously underestimated the level of fatigue I would have. I still nap about 60% of the days. I no longer sleep 11 hours at night, I sleep much more like a human being, when I am sleeping well. There are times when insomnia takes hold and I will have a really bad week. Waking up usually around 1:30 and staying awake until about 5 am before falling back asleep. Those weeks suck. Thanks brain. But those nights are getting fewer and fewer as time goes on. I sleep through most nights now, and a year ago that was not the case.
I have had to give up running. I was never a fast runner, but it was something I never thought I would do. I have run two half marathons since turning 40. That is something I am very proud of. I miss running and I see the people running on the path behind my house and I am envious. I want to join them. The amount of brain power it takes to understand the visual input with the bouncing is way too much for my brain to handle. I am hoping maybe some day, but not now. But I rode my bike for the first time and it didn't seem too bad. I am looking forward to going to a spin class at the rec centre in September. Those are good things.
Stress, especially emotional stress is absolutely exhausting for me now. This has been where my yoga philosophy has had to kick in and to sit with the things that show up for me. To be with the sad, to grieve when I need to, and to ask for what I need. A huge learning curve for someone who used to smooth things over for people, and keep everyone happy. My husband has had to take over so much of what I used to do, and he does it without complaining but there is is this sense of loss as he has to do what I once capable of doing. I can see though that is is an opportunity for growth for both him and my children as they learn to navigate a new relationship as adults on their own. And that is a beautiful thing.
I am no longer the independent person I prided myself in being. I can't grocery shop alone, browsing in a store is extremely difficult. I will never travel alone again, and even when the buses here in my town start running into the city the idea of going alone is slightly terrifying. My sense of direction is not where it needs to be to be safe, and I can usually navigate a space safely OR shop, pay attention and remember where I came in and where I am going... I can't do both. When we got to a new restaurant, my husband goes to the bathroom first so he can give me directions to remember, we went to a motorcycle race and he had to take me to the bathroom because there was no way that I would every find my way there and back. There is a grief for me of losing this independence and I often feel like a burden. But every time someone thinks of my challenges and adapts their own behaviour to better accommodate me, I feel so loved.
So as much as last year was about letting go of expectations, this year has been about reframing the things I experience. To sit with the sad and grief and acknowledge it fully when it shows up, even Erin at her most broken knew she had to feel it to heal it (as shown by telling her occupational therapist in the hospital about the idea of saucha).
And the most wonderful thing of all is that I have another year ahead of me. And I can't wait to see what it has in store for me. I am so happy that I got this second chance 2 years ago. What a gift. A gift to fully experience the terrible sadness and loss, only to be met by feeling so loved and supported.
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