It's my birthday tomorrow. I'll be 39. And I feel like I'm so close to being able to start a new line-drive. As of tomorrow, I'll be at the 10-yard line, and it's 1st down. Soon--very, very soon, I can start a new decade and not have to try to remember what yard line I'm at and where in my 30s I exist.
See, my 30s haven't been what I thought they'd be. I'm not sure anyone's 30s are what they thought they'd be for that matter. I know that I'd leave behind all the hopes and dreams of a perfect-pictured-life to just be able to remember my 30s.
I had just turned 31 when I became pregnant with my daughter, and I was still 31 when my then-husband didn't come out of our home-bathroom after his post-work-shower. For years, until this year actually, when I was asked my age, I'd respond with "31". I was frozen in 2008 for years. Everything, and I mean everything got put on a back-burner, except for imminent threats to the lives of Wayne, Morgan, or myself (in that order). Time didn't matter. In fact, time hurt. It was the enemy. If I knew how much time had passed, I'd know the window was closing on recovering my husband's speech and cognition.
Every moment was therapy, just like as a mom every moment was a moment for growth or for learning (e.g., creating depth to vocabulary, learning colors and animals, symbol recognition...).
Sitting on the couch nursing Morgan (5 months old) with Wayne about 4 feet from me, I'd test him. I'd ask for the "Remote. Re-mote." He'd respond with a puzzled look. I'd avoid directing him with my eye-movements or with any body language. "Remote." He'd grab the stapler that was sitting in front of him on the coffee table and hold it towards me with body language that said, "Is this what you're after?". "No," I said with a shake of my head, "Remote." He'd look around him on the couch, on the coffee table, and seemingly having an 'Ah-ha' moment with how he suddenly moves with purpose and even makes a noise that suggests, "Oh my gosh--it's right in front of me!" And, he reaches for ... the Kleenex box. As he begins to hand it to me, his look of "Task Complete? Check!!" turns to a look of extreme dismay and even fury at himself when he sees my shaking head and no smile--he didn't hear it right. Then I would use a hand motion and the word "Remote" while I pretended to hold a remote and use my thumb to press the buttons with an extended arm pointing directly at the TV. He'd grab the remote, hand it to me, and I'd praise him and smile and then repeat the word again, "Yeah! Remote," nod of my head with a big smile, "Remote."
Now, on the eve of my 39th birthday, I am present and am able to "see" myself in the mirror consistently, day-in-and-day-out, for the first time in 7 years. My five senses have returned and are not just teetering between functioning and shut-down. My brain was in such overload, that it seemed as though the 5 Senses created too much 'input' for it, so the brain just turned those off for the time being (2008-2013), until there was enough 'space' to compute the input coming from my 5 Senses.
At the beginning of their return, in 2013, experiencing a touch-sensation along with a smell-sensation was too much. Overload. Similar to a baby who has been overstimulated, the instinct was to arch my back, which naturally pulls your head away from the stimuli and lessens the effect. For instance, a shower was too much stimulation--so many sensations on your skin, on your face, then your hands and arms are doing all this physical work, and your scalp and hands have a LOT of sensory input happening.... and then, on top of that, there's a schedule and an order in which these 'tasks' must be completed. Too much. The smells. The pressure on the skin. The sounds. The memories (the shower is where the stroke happened). The exhaustion that would ensue after I showered was incredible--you wouldn't believe it. I don't. It would take me 3 hours to get everything done in the shower that I needed to do... and that was because I had to go at such a slow pace in order to not overload my brain and body. Baby steps. "Get your hair washed, and then take a break."
At the beginning of their return, in 2013, experiencing a touch-sensation along with a smell-sensation was too much. Overload. Similar to a baby who has been overstimulated, the instinct was to arch my back, which naturally pulls your head away from the stimuli and lessens the effect. For instance, a shower was too much stimulation--so many sensations on your skin, on your face, then your hands and arms are doing all this physical work, and your scalp and hands have a LOT of sensory input happening.... and then, on top of that, there's a schedule and an order in which these 'tasks' must be completed. Too much. The smells. The pressure on the skin. The sounds. The memories (the shower is where the stroke happened). The exhaustion that would ensue after I showered was incredible--you wouldn't believe it. I don't. It would take me 3 hours to get everything done in the shower that I needed to do... and that was because I had to go at such a slow pace in order to not overload my brain and body. Baby steps. "Get your hair washed, and then take a break."
Now a bath! on the other hand! Oh my.... a bath. Ahhh! : ) Hahahaha.... I didn't realize it until this past December (2014), but a bath takes away the sensations... completely submerging yourself in water removes stimuli: auditory & visual stimuli (because I'm laying down, eyes closed, water above my ears, just my nose and mouth are above the water to breath); pressure or tactile sensations (because it's constant and pushing on you from all sides); smell--nothin' but water is what I smell because this bath isn't to cleanse or shave... it's to deprive my body of input and any stimuli.
Birthdays are so important in my eyes.
It's the day on which that person was born, their path set into motion to later intersect with yours. If it wasn't for choices the parents made to have that baby, and the birthday person along their way in their life, our paths would not have intersected... and thus, your birthday is the day on which I celebrate you and how you've affected me and my path because you've intersected with my path. I felt this strongly about my birthday as well (....and my half-birthday.... yes, I still celebrate my half-birthday).
... but my birthday has sort of had to sit on the sidelines ... I can't expect a daughter under the age of 7 to plan a party or go out and buy me a gift. .... although, she did plan (i.e., plan=had the idea of) a surprise party for me last year. She is such a gracious, empathetic, old-soul of a person. She amazes me with her insight and how we can relate when there is 31 years between us.
And since I'm "present" this year, and not running-around reacting to chaos and trauma and "new points of injury", I can now "see" my birthday in front of me. And, I'm left ... a little bit .... sad. I'm not 100% sure why (hence, journaling on here at 11:30pm), but I think it has to do with wanting to feel important, to feel wanted, to feel 'seen', and recognized. Growing up I never thought I'd get married, but I did... and the 6 years of marriage pre-stroke (and the 5-years post-stroke) taught me that I really like having a partner and a companion and a friend and a lover. Turns out, I really like being married. Missing companionship tonight I guess.
I've never been one to wish a day away, and for sure not a full year!!!... but I'm looking forward to Forty. A new decade, a new sense about me, and a fresh field of 100-yards to tackle.
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