The Power of Visualizing: January 2022
As promised, here are my thoughts on a technique I recently learned. This technique really helped me get through my stroke, brain surgery and recovery in the hospital. I still use it today, in many aspects of my life. Facing brain surgery was one of the scariest moments of my life. It was offered as a choice but really it wasn’t. If I wanted to improve my health and lower my risk of another, potentially worse hemorrhagic stroke, I had to have it.
To help make this monumental decision my husband, Ken, and I talked with one of my sisters. We had already talked at length with the neurosurgeon, getting all the necessary information. My sister was a nurse practitioner and had worked specifically in neurology and stroke. After sharing the information, she let us in on a technique that helped us immensely.
VISUALIZATION
Visualization is a method of looking ahead into your future and visualizing your desired outcome. It helps to create your dream and then pursue it with confidence. It is a technique that has been used successfully by athletes, entrepreneurs, and me, someone wanting to survive and recover from stroke and brain surgery.
My sister first explained, in more detail, the medical side of the operation. Then she went on to impart her wise words; “don’t focus on the operation or being in ICU. Focus on what your life will be like in 3 months. Think about life with the malformation gone. Think about living with reduced risk of another stroke. Focus on the good things and the good things will come.”
I started thinking about life after the surgery. I started thinking about how I wanted it to look and what I wanted to do. It gave me the strength to face the surgery head on. I knew it would be difficult but by looking ahead to when it would be better, it was better. It was a powerful tool to manage those first few days when every minute hurt.
Soon after my surgery it was discovered that I wasn’t able to walk. By visualizing my future in three months, I knew I’d be okay. I wouldn’t even contemplate the thought of not being able to walk again. Instead, I saw myself walking and started breaking down my future dream into small, manageable goals. And I knew I didn’t have to do it alone. With my husband, the doctors, and therapists I slowly moved ahead, literally one step at a time.
Together we celebrated each small success, from learning how to maneuver my own wheelchair to being able to stand again. Visualization let me see my dreams for recovery, laced with hope and hard work. The dream gave me the tools to set achievable goals. With visualizing where I wanted to be I never once lamented over where I was or what I couldn’t do. It was only a matter of time, persistence and “Never Give Up” attitude.
Visualization activated my subconscious, making it easier to set goals and recognize what I needed, step by step. By visualizing my dream, I attracted the people and resources required to achieve my goals. Lastly, it built and sustained my motivation. I was going to walk again, no question!
And I am, my dream achieved. I still use a walker or hiking poles, but I’m walking. Dreams sometimes need to be adjusted. Ultimately, I would like to walk independently but I’m thrilled with where I’m at. Recently I took our dog, Arthur, for a walk by myself. Just me, my walker and Arthur. I’m a survivor!
My future is filled with hope for better things to come. By visualizing what I want, my recovery will never stop. Most importantly, I can continue to give back and try to help others. Visualization is so valuable in helping our dreams come true, whether in everyday life or facing life altering events. What does your future look like?
To help make this monumental decision my husband, Ken, and I talked with one of my sisters. We had already talked at length with the neurosurgeon, getting all the necessary information. My sister was a nurse practitioner and had worked specifically in neurology and stroke. After sharing the information, she let us in on a technique that helped us immensely.
VISUALIZATION
Visualization is a method of looking ahead into your future and visualizing your desired outcome. It helps to create your dream and then pursue it with confidence. It is a technique that has been used successfully by athletes, entrepreneurs, and me, someone wanting to survive and recover from stroke and brain surgery.
My sister first explained, in more detail, the medical side of the operation. Then she went on to impart her wise words; “don’t focus on the operation or being in ICU. Focus on what your life will be like in 3 months. Think about life with the malformation gone. Think about living with reduced risk of another stroke. Focus on the good things and the good things will come.”
I started thinking about life after the surgery. I started thinking about how I wanted it to look and what I wanted to do. It gave me the strength to face the surgery head on. I knew it would be difficult but by looking ahead to when it would be better, it was better. It was a powerful tool to manage those first few days when every minute hurt.
Soon after my surgery it was discovered that I wasn’t able to walk. By visualizing my future in three months, I knew I’d be okay. I wouldn’t even contemplate the thought of not being able to walk again. Instead, I saw myself walking and started breaking down my future dream into small, manageable goals. And I knew I didn’t have to do it alone. With my husband, the doctors, and therapists I slowly moved ahead, literally one step at a time.
Together we celebrated each small success, from learning how to maneuver my own wheelchair to being able to stand again. Visualization let me see my dreams for recovery, laced with hope and hard work. The dream gave me the tools to set achievable goals. With visualizing where I wanted to be I never once lamented over where I was or what I couldn’t do. It was only a matter of time, persistence and “Never Give Up” attitude.
Visualization activated my subconscious, making it easier to set goals and recognize what I needed, step by step. By visualizing my dream, I attracted the people and resources required to achieve my goals. Lastly, it built and sustained my motivation. I was going to walk again, no question!
And I am, my dream achieved. I still use a walker or hiking poles, but I’m walking. Dreams sometimes need to be adjusted. Ultimately, I would like to walk independently but I’m thrilled with where I’m at. Recently I took our dog, Arthur, for a walk by myself. Just me, my walker and Arthur. I’m a survivor!
My future is filled with hope for better things to come. By visualizing what I want, my recovery will never stop. Most importantly, I can continue to give back and try to help others. Visualization is so valuable in helping our dreams come true, whether in everyday life or facing life altering events. What does your future look like?
Let's Skip the Traditions: December 2021
Christmas; a time for traditions and family gatherings. There’s a comfort in the same old songs, decorations, even food, with recipes handed down from generations. But life is change. We can’t remain static. Sometimes, with substantial change, those time-honoured traditions are just too difficult.
That’s how I am feeling about this Christmas. I was creating a lot of stress for myself, trying to make a traditional Christmas work for everyone I care about. I am still recovering from another stroke and brain surgery, mixed in with worry for others. My self-made stress was exacerbating my symptoms and impeding my healing. Then, when I felt like I was just about to fall off the edge, I had an epiphany, (with wise words from both my sisters).
Christmas is just a date. It’s the feelings, the love, how you treat others – how you treat yourself, that truly matters. If things need to be different, that’s okay. No one is judging me. The people who care about me know my challenges and want to help. I need to let go of my own expectations of how I think it should be.
I was caught in a trap of my own design, but one I am all too familiar with; my deep-seated practice of taking on too much. You’d think by now I would have learned. But old habits die hard, and they keep whispering in my ear, “You’re the only one who can do it all.” I have improved, a lot in fact, but Mephistopheles still sits on my shoulder, tempting me to feel responsible for everyone and everything.
Through experience, surviving 3 strokes and brain surgery, I am altering my behaviour. Christmas is looking different this year. The actual date, celebrating the birth of Christ, is up for debate. If historians and scholars cannot say with alacrity what day Jesus was born, why do I have to adhere to a certain date? The answer is, I don’t.
To manage my own health and recovery, my family’s needs, and an ongoing pandemic, we’re doing things different. I’m embracing the change. It’s almost like a breath of fresh air, letting go of all the expected practices. I haven’t forgotten them, and may do them once again, we’ll see. So much in my life has changed, holding onto past expectations is too hard. Love, kindness, and an abundance of gratitude, that’s what counts. It’s not what type of food, the same decorations or even the songs, it’s our behaviour; how we treat each other, and ourselves.
I’m not lacking Christmas spirit. The opposite is true. I want that Christmas spirit all year long, not just one or two days, without the need for keeping up traditions. I’ve been granted yet another chance of life. Maybe that’s spilling over, turning the usual into something new. Or maybe all that other stuff is just noise and I want to focus on what really matters.
I’m learning that it’s alright to let go of the past as I get used to my newest normal. Every day is important, tomorrow is not promised. I’m not letting the pressure of keeping up traditions take away from spending time with the people I love. It’s like the Who’s in Whoville. The Grinch took away all their usual Christmas celebrations, but it didn’t change the Who’s feelings for the season. To quote the book, “Christmas will always be just as long as we have, we.”
I’m so thankful for everyone who make me a “we”. This is just one more lesson I have learned, and wanted to share, while riding the roller coaster of life. Christmas doesn’t come in a box, nor is it about the traditions. Every day we can “Welcome Christmas - While we stand heart to heart and hand in hand.”
That’s how I am feeling about this Christmas. I was creating a lot of stress for myself, trying to make a traditional Christmas work for everyone I care about. I am still recovering from another stroke and brain surgery, mixed in with worry for others. My self-made stress was exacerbating my symptoms and impeding my healing. Then, when I felt like I was just about to fall off the edge, I had an epiphany, (with wise words from both my sisters).
Christmas is just a date. It’s the feelings, the love, how you treat others – how you treat yourself, that truly matters. If things need to be different, that’s okay. No one is judging me. The people who care about me know my challenges and want to help. I need to let go of my own expectations of how I think it should be.
I was caught in a trap of my own design, but one I am all too familiar with; my deep-seated practice of taking on too much. You’d think by now I would have learned. But old habits die hard, and they keep whispering in my ear, “You’re the only one who can do it all.” I have improved, a lot in fact, but Mephistopheles still sits on my shoulder, tempting me to feel responsible for everyone and everything.
Through experience, surviving 3 strokes and brain surgery, I am altering my behaviour. Christmas is looking different this year. The actual date, celebrating the birth of Christ, is up for debate. If historians and scholars cannot say with alacrity what day Jesus was born, why do I have to adhere to a certain date? The answer is, I don’t.
To manage my own health and recovery, my family’s needs, and an ongoing pandemic, we’re doing things different. I’m embracing the change. It’s almost like a breath of fresh air, letting go of all the expected practices. I haven’t forgotten them, and may do them once again, we’ll see. So much in my life has changed, holding onto past expectations is too hard. Love, kindness, and an abundance of gratitude, that’s what counts. It’s not what type of food, the same decorations or even the songs, it’s our behaviour; how we treat each other, and ourselves.
I’m not lacking Christmas spirit. The opposite is true. I want that Christmas spirit all year long, not just one or two days, without the need for keeping up traditions. I’ve been granted yet another chance of life. Maybe that’s spilling over, turning the usual into something new. Or maybe all that other stuff is just noise and I want to focus on what really matters.
I’m learning that it’s alright to let go of the past as I get used to my newest normal. Every day is important, tomorrow is not promised. I’m not letting the pressure of keeping up traditions take away from spending time with the people I love. It’s like the Who’s in Whoville. The Grinch took away all their usual Christmas celebrations, but it didn’t change the Who’s feelings for the season. To quote the book, “Christmas will always be just as long as we have, we.”
I’m so thankful for everyone who make me a “we”. This is just one more lesson I have learned, and wanted to share, while riding the roller coaster of life. Christmas doesn’t come in a box, nor is it about the traditions. Every day we can “Welcome Christmas - While we stand heart to heart and hand in hand.”
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I promised to talk about some of the sage advice I received before my brain surgery but this seemed more timely and on my mind to muse upon! Next time for sure, I will share some of the wisdom I learned and used that helped me get through. |
Its been awhile: October 2021
Greetings 7 Jars Friends! I’ve missed you all, I haven’t written a newsletter since May. I have so much to share, my rollercoaster life having a few loops de loop of late. I was just getting ready to write June’s newsletter when stroke struck again!
Yes, I had another bleed, causing another stroke. There was no clear reason why, it just did. Another adage I’ve often used, sometimes bad things happen to good people. The bleed was significant but as in the past, it was in an area considered inoperable. I had returned to the starting line of recovery instead of the comfortable middle of the marathon where I had been just the previous week.
Neither Ken, my husband, nor I really comprehended the seriousness of this newest stroke. Unfortunately, it was familiar territory. It was bad, to be sure, but manageable – been there, done that. But then we spoke with my neurosurgeon. This bleed was bigger than the one that had caused my first stroke. Luckily it had bled mostly into my fourth ventricle, a cerebral spinal filled cavity within the brain. If the blood had gone elsewhere…the doctor let those words hang.
We were dumbfounded. But wait! There was a gift within this calamity. The bigger bleed had pushed the cavernous malformation out a little. The doctor now felt it could be reached and removed successfully through surgery. The opportunity in the challenge, as I am so fond of saying. The threat was now turned on its head with leaving it being riskier than the surgery.
Having surgery was disguised as a choice, but it really wasn’t. It’s like a woman in labour suddenly deciding she’s not ready to give birth. We think we are in control but as with so many things in life, we are not; we’re only in control of our response. With the love and support of those close to me, I responded the only way I could, with hope for a better future. I could not live with the risk anymore. I had to take down the sword hanging over my head, now by only a wispy strand of thread. Surgery it was – in FIVE days!
The preparation for surgery was overwhelming but thankfully I had the support of my family, friends and doctors. Together we navigated through physical exams, blood work, consent forms, and numerous phone calls. I could not imagine managing this on my own. The support that everyone freely gave wrapped me in cloak of comfort and care, a treasure beyond measure.
As you may have guessed the surgery was a success. There are still many miles on the road of recovery, but I am grateful to be continuing my journey, managing each detour while ensuring I have plenty of rest stops. My family and friends continue to surround me with kindness, their support endless even after so long. I owe it to each one of them to continue giving it my best during my healing in hopes that one day I can be part of someone else’s cloak in their time of need.
Yes, I had another bleed, causing another stroke. There was no clear reason why, it just did. Another adage I’ve often used, sometimes bad things happen to good people. The bleed was significant but as in the past, it was in an area considered inoperable. I had returned to the starting line of recovery instead of the comfortable middle of the marathon where I had been just the previous week.
Neither Ken, my husband, nor I really comprehended the seriousness of this newest stroke. Unfortunately, it was familiar territory. It was bad, to be sure, but manageable – been there, done that. But then we spoke with my neurosurgeon. This bleed was bigger than the one that had caused my first stroke. Luckily it had bled mostly into my fourth ventricle, a cerebral spinal filled cavity within the brain. If the blood had gone elsewhere…the doctor let those words hang.
We were dumbfounded. But wait! There was a gift within this calamity. The bigger bleed had pushed the cavernous malformation out a little. The doctor now felt it could be reached and removed successfully through surgery. The opportunity in the challenge, as I am so fond of saying. The threat was now turned on its head with leaving it being riskier than the surgery.
Having surgery was disguised as a choice, but it really wasn’t. It’s like a woman in labour suddenly deciding she’s not ready to give birth. We think we are in control but as with so many things in life, we are not; we’re only in control of our response. With the love and support of those close to me, I responded the only way I could, with hope for a better future. I could not live with the risk anymore. I had to take down the sword hanging over my head, now by only a wispy strand of thread. Surgery it was – in FIVE days!
The preparation for surgery was overwhelming but thankfully I had the support of my family, friends and doctors. Together we navigated through physical exams, blood work, consent forms, and numerous phone calls. I could not imagine managing this on my own. The support that everyone freely gave wrapped me in cloak of comfort and care, a treasure beyond measure.
As you may have guessed the surgery was a success. There are still many miles on the road of recovery, but I am grateful to be continuing my journey, managing each detour while ensuring I have plenty of rest stops. My family and friends continue to surround me with kindness, their support endless even after so long. I owe it to each one of them to continue giving it my best during my healing in hopes that one day I can be part of someone else’s cloak in their time of need.
