I am here

My last post "I forgive you ...Ria", Took more out of me than I expected. It was certainly a weight released from my heart, which was my intent. However, I also knew that I had to give myself the space to ground. But after overcoming some writers block, I'm back and I'm feeling great. I've been battling through depression the last couple months. I haven't felt motivated to do much especially exercise, which is so important to me. My doctors have been experimenting with medications. They put me on ritalin with the hopes that the stimulant would keep me awake enough to get out of bed and feel useful. They also increased my antidepressant which concerned me because I have never been on as much medications as I am now, but I also just want to feel like myself again. Or at least a variation of "myself". Did I really want to go back to that version of me? What parts of that old version of me did I really like? I wasn't happy! I wasn't living! I was just trying to make it through the day and into the next one just to do the same thing all over again. I was always with my kids but the days were so fleeting and I didn't feel like I had anything to show for. I was irritated, impatient, rushing to get from one place to the next. There was never enough time. Or was I just taking time for granted? It wasn't until I received a video call from my cousin that I realized it was the latter.

I don't enjoy video calls especially ones that involve me showing raw emotion. I hate crying in front of people. This conversation in particular had lots of tears but of course I was still trying to swallow the tears. One word that stuck out the most during this conversation was the word "presence". Even my loved ones could see that although I was physically present my mind was elsewhere. My lack of presence was beginning to be misconstrued as "stand offish". I was here but also in a hundred other places all at the same time. To make matters worse I was lugging around the pain that I buried deep in my heart. I was beyond burnt out; my soul was suffocating and I was miserable. I was tired and broken. This took a toll on my immune system. My entire being went into survival mode leading to the illness that brought me to the hospital. Being put in a medically induced coma was the preface to a new life, a different outlook ....a second chance. However, this time I'm not just the main character, I am the narrator.

A lot of my days have forced me into a constant state of reflection. The days preceding my hospitalization still remain a blur and almost dream like. It was my 41st birthday at that time and my memories of that day seem disconnected. I recall family and friends dropping off gifts. I remember looking through birthday greetings and posts on social media. However, it was as though I was living those moments but from a third person point of view. While working with my reiki healer as well as my intuitive energy healer I came to understand that I had completely dissociated from my physical body as a defence mechanism. God once again stepped in and knew exactly what I needed. I needed stillness and the space to begin healing. The only way to facilitate this was to press the pause button on my life and allow myself to be taken care of.

In hindsight, waking up from a coma was like being reborn. Like a newborn I was unable to speak because of my tracheostomy, I had a feeding tube providing me with nutrition, my entire body atrophied and I was unable to reposition myself without assistance. I had a urinary catheter and once that was removed I had to wear a diaper because I was unable to ambulate to the washroom and having the catheter for over a month lead to incontinence. In short I was completely dependent on the nurses, PSW's and my mom. The first time I got out of bed after waking up I was placed in a Hoyer lift hanging from the ceiling and was transported from my hospital bed into a chair. Just the action of sitting upright in a chair exhausted every part of my body and left my heart racing, my head spinning and completely breathless. I lost all of my muscle and was literally skin and bones but my skin was glowing. Though I did not go into the hospital with visible abs, sitting up in that chair for the first time gave me such appreciation for the core I once had. I barely made it to an hour before I begged to go back to bed then slept the remainder of the day. I would repeat this everyday pushing to sit up longer each day. After a week the physiotherapist would have me dangle on the side of the bed. I was so weak I couldn't sit up on my own. They would wait until my heart rate settled and the dizziness subsided. I graduated from the Hoyer lift to a 2 person assisted pivot transfer to the chair. This was a very humbling experience. I went from completing Daily 5am 90 minute workouts to having no strength to stand on my own two feet without my legs buckling because my 90 pound self was too much for my legs to handle. I was once motivated to exercise to lose weight and look fit and toned; now I was desperate to have the strength to stand on my own and walk. Day by day my strength improved and I celebrated each and every milestone. I didnt know how long it would be before I could walk, but when physio brought me a walker I was elated but also anxious. I was up on my feet; the walker bearing most of my weight, shaking while another therapist followed behind with a chair. I could barely get to the other side of my hospital room. Some days they would have me sit on the chair after the short walks. Some days the fatigue and the feeling of defeat was too much and I would request to return to bed. I took for granted simple movements like standing, sitting, feeding myself and walking. I now had to break apart each movement and think about what I had to do with each part of my body so that I could complete the task.

Thinking back now I can still hear the sound of the hospital bed squeaking as I adjusted the head of the bed in an upright position, the feeling of the bedsheets against my skin (it was definitely not a high thread count) as I struggled to sit up, my breath as I attempted to fill my lungs with oxygen so that my head would stop spinning. The feeling of socks on my feet, I noticed the bruising on my legs. I yearned for a glass of ice cold water but I wasn't cleared to have anything by mouth because I still had my tracheostomy tube. I had complete awareness of my surroundings. I was beginning to grasp the concept of being completely present and appreciating the mundane tasks.

"Mindfulness practice means that we commit fully in each moment to be present; inviting ourselves to interface with this moment in full awareness" - Jon Kabat-Zinn

Living in isolation in the hospital for a month made "mindfulness" my means of entertainment. I would listen to music with my eyes closed exploring every memory associated in every melody of all my favourite songs. Breathing in the nostalgia and overflowing with gratitude that after three strokes I still had those memories. I recall having my tracheostomy tube removed and finally hearing my voice, though not how I remembered. I was thrilled to finally be able to speak and be heard. Now realizing that it was a superpower I often chose not to use.

One morning in particular, the speech language pathologist paid a visit to complete a swallow assessment to ensure that it was safe for me to begin eating. For those who know me know that food is my love language. This was a milestone that I couldn't reach fast enough. I watched him walk into my room introduce himself holding a cup of water. I can hear the ice chips echoing through the styrofoam, my heart beating with excitement. In his hands he had a package of apple sauce, a fruit cup and some biscuits. To be honest I was very underwhelmed with what was on the menu. He opened the rectangular packet of apple sauce (I hate apple sauce) with a plastic spoon he scooped up some of the apple sauce and proceeded to feed me. The coldness, texture and tanginess still fresh in my mind. The apple sauce felt like the most expensive meal I've ever had. He then passed me the cup of ice water and I took my first sip of water after 2 months and I was on a high. I was known to lug around a 1 gallon jug which I consumed every day, so this first sip of water was special. Never would I have ever imagined being this excited for ice water. he moved on to the fruit cup my teeth had not chewed on anything for weeks the coldness from the peaches sent shocks through my teeth. The sound of biting into the biscuit was like music to my ears. Though I love food I can't recall ever being this content and this satisfied with apple sauce, a fruit cup, biscuits and some ice water. Mindful eating is an art and a privelage that I never considered to adopt.

On January 28, 2022 while Ontario was on a cold weather alert I was finally discharged home. While the personal support worker wheeled me down to my parents car she warned me of the frigid temperatures and asked if I wanted to put on my winter jacket. I insisted I was fine and told her that I was excited to feel the cold because it would confirm that this moment was in fact real and not just a dream. The moment I stepped outside and the sun graced me with its warmth and light and the frosty air kissed my cheeks sending chills all over my body. Opposing temperatures collaborating with one another as though they were directing my debut after a long hiatus announcing to the world that "I AM HERE".

**the photo above took place in my backyard in the middle of a snow storm. I started off making snow angels then I just laid there encapsulated by the storm. Fully present and grounded, overflowing with gratitude. Below is a small compilation of my hospital stay to my discharge home.