So yesterday marked one year. 12 months and a day today since my stroke. I was looking for some kind of witty story or pearls of wisdom to share but all that came out was a hearty bowl of wilted word salad. Nobody wants that.

The truth is, I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m happy to be alive and grateful to be returning to school to start the nursing program in September. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look at things at least a little differently now. Facing your own mortality does that to you. The sun shines a little brighter, the smell of rain and even the gift of time become larger than life.

It’s been a long road. Some of it wrecked and filled with cracks and potholes. But somehow 366 days have passed and amidst all the chaos and uncertainty in the world today, my cup remains as it always has been, half full. There were times it ran low. Really low. So many questions circled my injured brain and a mismatched therapist clogged my pipeline of motivation. Remember the potholes I mentioned?

Over the past several months, it filled to the halfway line once again. I’m taking my second to last math class, my first class since last spring. It’s been both challenging and exciting. Let’s not kid anyone- I loathe math nearly as much as I loathe spiders but the fact that I can keep up has been a moral boost the size of Texas. Fall term- the first term of nursing school- will no doubt, hit me like a ton of bricks but I’m gonna give it everything I have and forge ahead.

Brain injuries are strange. Delayed or impeded word recall is scary. Knowing your vocabulary is there but hearing it come out jumbled (“glitches” as my speech therapist has called them) or taking a bit longer than usual is an odd thing to be aware of. Closing my eyes, not being able to find my center and feeling as though I will fall is unnerving. But my physical therapist has worked with me to help get me where I am now. I think the most difficult part of having a stroke is knowing what you had before it happened and fighting to get it back. The self-awareness of it all is just bizarre.

366 days. It’s been an odd year but I’m here writing, making plans, and buying school supplies for fall term. I’m adding up the cost of my books I need to order and am (freaking out but) excited about it. I’m no longer dependent on Pat to drive me everywhere. Driving has been a release of immense proportions.

My brain is not 100%. It may never be but being alive and making plans feels so, so good.