Because the progress isn’t always constant*, progress is never, ever easy and like a murderer in a horror film the darker thoughts are always just a step behind me, silently waiting to get me.

* a1 the physio tells me progress is not linear, its peaks and troughs but we just aim for an upward trend

Despite an incredible week that was very work orientated;a boost for me mentally and physically, a really strong, interesting and progressive physio session alongside continuous independence building so come the end of the week; a little bit of quiet time with my headphones and music with beer absolutely rumbled me.

I can’t even say one thing in particular knocked me, I think it was the realisation that yes I had done a hell of a lot of ‘normal’ pre-stroke things and ticking off some bigger goals but life still feels a long way from what it should be.

Even silly things like in a supermarket not being able to dash off and grab something we’d forgotten , because I can’t dash and can’t carry things it’s just a continuous mild annoyance and reminder that I’m not really a full human. Or that if I could I’d have done nice things like grabbed my mum a few of her favourite imported beers from a shop I only pass during work commutes, but can’t do, yet, just these nice gestures I now have no option to do.

Not being able to pour my own beers at home, not being able to buy my workmates coffee because I can’t get them back to our office, or even make a set of drinks in our kitchen.

Really fancying a bit of time in the pub with my husband over the weekend but knowing we can’t just walk it, due to my speed, so it’s either one of us driving or taxis which is a faff and needs additional planning. In an ideal world we’d walk and take the dog, she loves the pub but I’m just not fast enough to make this happen and keep up with a hyperactive border collie.

Even if we get to the pub I can’t carry two drinks to a table, which is absolutely ridiculous and embarrassing.

Waking up on a Saturday to nice weather thinking pre stroke id have gone to the gym. Done a nice arm and chest work out, put on a tight tee, might have grabbed a fast food lunch while out, had an afternoon with my family then probably suggested going out in the evening.

But gym visits like I used to do still feels like a pipe dream, lunch is just too difficult withthe one good arm. It’s not like i can even grab things from a drive through window or carry a tray with food on, or if I went to our local shop for fresh bread I can’t carry a basket around the shop, certainly can’t pack my shopping. Neither could I cut or butter bread, all frustrating and leads to me just waiting for Rich to offer to get me some food like a toddler.

But I did get up. Showered which remains a continued faff with one arm, especially drying. I dressed myself and today put on a very specific pair of socks. Geeky ones that are merchandise of my favourite rollercoaster which closed for a rebuild almost 2 years ago (honesty moment: im a big theme park geek) and today was the re-opening day, my best friend was there. I’d have loved to have been there too , got first day rides, merchandise and seen some friends but while my affected arm remains pretty useless I can’t even consider that as I don’t meet the rides safety criteria

We utilised the rare dry weather and tiny sliver of sun to get out for a little walk and cake outside but it wasn’t that warm. In an ideal world I’d have just run upstairs, grabbed a hoodie, then put a gilet on but there’s no running upstairs, long sleeves are a two person job and it would have realistically been 20 minutes to get ready which takes the spontaneity and nice intention out of me saying “shall we go grab tea and cake in that covered courtyard”. Puh.

Friday night all these , and some other-thoughts were bobbing in my head together which come like a fog then cover the weeks achievements I’ve had, I know I’m over thinking, I shouldn’t and should focus on the good but sometimes it’s very hard to do that I am able to reach out to some friends though and say I’m in a dark spot and they rally with love and support even if it’s not physical or an invite to talk it out over a coffee or pint or hour on my sofa.

The thoughts are sometimes, alarmingly dark. I always like to think I’ve been pretty stoic and solid to get through the past ten months but then I get these odd ‘sometimes thoughts’, I don’t have a better phrase for them but I’m able to box them away knowing I couldn’t physically act on them even if I wanted to. I had them pretty regularly while as an inpatient at hospital three but if I got through that I can get through a couple of low days.

If only I don’t bend and break, I’ll meet you in the morning when I wake.

Keane, bend &break, 2018