I recognise some stroke survivors see their stroke as an almost re-birth and “new me” event; I’m pleased for them and that they have that peace.

I couldn’t be further from that opinion , mine feels like a kidnap or murder. The real me was disposed of, an imposter stole my body pushing the real me into a dark corner of my head to watch the world play out, but I’m still here; observing. The imposter has stolen my body.he’s let my hard work; my career, my hobbies and physicality dissolve into nothingness, he’s reduced my humour, kindness and joy. He’s stripped away my confidence. Occasionally I get a bit of headway and can get in control long enough to display that some of those qualities do still exist from where I’m sat in my husk of an unfamiliar body, looking out miles away from the eyes, looking out longingly at a life lost but the imposter always wins. I feel like when Spider-Man has venom trying to control his body.

The constant wants and desires I have are closed down by the imposter; I’ve learnt to live with a lot of his control but the lack of freedom and independence is crushing on a daily basis.

Late March 2025 (20 months post stroke) we spent the weekend with some good friends, eating and drinking too much. Late in the evening I was having a bit of a heart to heart with one of the friends who had seen me at rock bottom in November 24; he commented that during the day we’d had, I had been animated, vocal and my infamous cheeky grin had broken through a few times. It was the phrasing of the old me breaking through that sat in my head to write this, thanks RSG x

I tried carrying the weight of the world
But I only have two hands
Hope I get the chance to travel the world
But I don’t have any plans
Wish that I could stay forever this young
Not afraid to close my eyes
Life’s a game made for everyone
And love is a prize

So wake me up when it’s all over
When I’m wiser and I’m older
All this time I was finding myself, and I
Didn’t know I was lost

-🎵wake me up, avicii, 2013