watching dry paint

By lensbrush

hitting the wall

It's been 6 months since I crashed out with a stroke. It might seem somewhat dramatic to suggest that I've hit a wall, as I know that I've made great strides in recovery; surprising myself with what I can adapt to, and what I can live with. The deal seems to be 6 months in there is a plateauing of the initial exponential rewiring of the brain. I've readjusted my expectations of certain things that will take a lot longer to seem like 'normal' - if ever. I miss telling jokes and banter off the cuff, as they often demand pace and timing. But good friends and family are starting to get my verbal cues and see the comedy gold lurking under the stumbles.
Sometimes, like yesterday, I just stretch myself too far and crash into a wall. Thankfully, the fatigue doesn't happen as often as it used to, but it is a reminder to me to rethink how I deal with it. 
Pull that little bit of wreckage out from the wall, grab the handlebars, and wheel it squeaking and groaning around it.  

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