The next scene

To gain access to help or assistance there is a certain amount of personal information giving needed to be able to receive that assitance. This does not come without grief for my autonomy, because I grew up in the 1980's. Autonomy was still possible in certain ways.

But finding any encouraging information regarding stroke recovery for a young woman was difficult. From victim blaming health information to information around communication - again victim blaming. I kept looking for information that was going to give me hope and not tell me that I was "inappropriate" in my ways of grieving and recovering, life was so hard, it took everything from me to face the next day.

I needed to make a phone call today to follow up an enquiry that I had. I approach these instances with a high amount of fear and panic that I won't be able to explain myself well enough and that the person on the other end of the phone will talk to quick for me, however my query was responded to with a very considered approach - I needed to disclose my personal disability to two different people - again a very high stress moment. However both people received my information with respect, UNBELIEVABLE!!!

From being told by an allied health professional last year that her boss had said to her that I " hadn't had a stroke" determined on how her boss had watched me exercise - no where to go, I fell straight back through gaps I had worked so hard to get out of. Hard work can be undone in an instance. I slunk away in shame.

Continuing to move into a new scene in the theatre of life - I return to a couple of movers and shakers that I channelled when all around me I saw exclusion and shame for myself in the very injured state I was in.

Shout out to Jane Fonda and Oprah, because from a distance they offered encouragement and inclusiveness in how I saw it in my time of need. in the early 1990s.

I wrote this poem in 2017.

THE NEXT THING

Sitting in the sunshine

I never knew could feel this good

Sunshine warming bones I didn't know were cold

Reaching places I didn't know if would

Anthing that gives me peace

Her smiles as she stretches and bends

Follow me she beckons while bouncing

Exercise and music my contant friend.

Sitting and talking together

I see the honesty about life

Sharing what hurts and whats happy

Gives me hope when I turn out the light.

Preparing and cooking a meal

It will be late when he comes home to eat

Does he still want to be here, does he still want me?

Work demands, I do not compete.

NINA