If you’re reading this because you’re a stroke survivor—or someone you love is—please know this: you’re not alone.
I’m a stroke survivor. I had a stroke at 42. I was healthy-ish. I was active, I traveled, worked full-time as a mental health professional, and had zero risk factors. It came out of nowhere. One moment I was typing on my laptop and the next, my left hand stopped working. I chalked it up to stress and exhaustion, tried to shake it off, and went to bed.
This isn’t the version of adulthood I planned. But it’s the one I got.
The next morning, I woke up feeling deeply wrong in a way I couldn’t explain. My face was drooping. My speech was off. I couldn’t move my left hand. It wasn’t until I texted my mom—who happens to be a nurse practitioner—that I heard the words: Call 911. Tell them you’re having stroke symptoms. Go to a hospital with a certified stroke center.
I’d had a stroke. A real, actual, life-altering stroke.
Since then, recovery has been… strange. Some days, I feel like a warrior. Other days, I’ve gotten tangled in a hospital-issued gown with my dignity crumpling behind me, cried into my pillow, or peed myself in a parking lot.
This isn’t the version of adulthood I planned. But it’s the one I got.
And I’ve learned this much: stroke recovery is messy, nonlinear, and full of contradictions. You may look fine on the outside while feeling completely broken inside. You may feel pressure to be grateful you survived—even when you’re grieving everything you’ve lost. You may hear “you’re lucky” when what you really want is a minute to process.
Please let me tell you: whatever you’re feeling is valid. You don’t have to be inspirational. You don’t have to bounce back quickly. You don’t have to find silver linings. It’s okay to not be okay.
As a stroke survivor, you do deserve compassion, rest, and room to rebuild.
I won’t pretend to have it all figured out—but I know how isolating recovery can feel, and I want you to know this: you are not the only one struggling. You’re not the only one who’s scared. You’re not the only one who wonders who you are now, post-stroke. And you’re definitely not the only one crying in the shower or pretending you’re fine when you’re not.
You are not alone. And you are not broken.
You are healing.
And that’s enough.
With solidarity and slowly rebuilding hope,
Licensed Professional Counselor | Stroke Survivor | Founder of Mind Remake Project
💬 Want to Connect?
If you’ve experienced a stroke or are supporting someone who has, I’d love to hear from you. You can email me at cassiejewellLPC@gmail.com or explore free resources and articles on mental health, resilience, and recovery at www.mindremakeproject.org.