I’m finally back from my 16 days in SoCal — it feels to me like I was gone for far longer because of the energetic toll that hit me in body, mind, spirit. It also feels like I’ve slept about 20 hours a day since I’ve been back.

The re-entry process back into regular life when I no longer feel like a “regular me” has always been a tricky one. As a policy, I never book flights immediately before or after out-of-state live events like most do; I know my body well enough to know that I require some serious aftercare to come back down to Earth.

It’s not because I’m a diva or because I’m rolling in mega-riches — it’s because I’ve developed a relationship to my body of respect and love. What that means is when I haven’t taken care to make sure I’ve got the space I need after going really hard, I would end up paying for it.

Can’t even tell you the number of times I’ve absentmindedly lost something valuable (a passport, a purse, about four different iPods) or got physically lost because my brain was offline and I didn’t realize it. And this isn’t just a post-stroke symptom; it’s just become about 1500% amplified since the injury.

To deny that this shit happens only guarantees that it will happen in fuller force. It’s a part of me, and I’m getting better with it all the time, but denying it definitely wasn’t helping.

Can you love the body you’ve got as it already is, now?

Like, not just “warts and all,” but for serious — warts, rolls, freckles, moles, grey hairs, wrinkles, whatever — plus all its other “defects”? How about all its ways it tries to get your attention?

A lot of those “defects” can feel like wasted time in the moment to try and prevent, but can I just point out how much time, money, energy is spent trying to recover from losing track of important stuff/things/people etc. after the fact?

Although beauty is important, this goes way beyond aesthetics. This touches everything about you and your experience. So you’ve had a stroke; maybe one side of your body, like mine, feels a little “behind.”

Can you let that be okay? Can you, despite any impatience around how slow progress may feel, still hug yourself and send love to yourself, let your body know that you see it’s been hurt somewhere very profound — because it has been! — and that it’s okay as it is, right now?

I remember the first time I ever sent loving energy to my left arm. I released tears I didn’t even know I’d been holding onto for a decade. The experience changed my life.

Try it for five minutes today.

And five minutes tomorrow.

The relationship to your body takes time and nurturing to build — and if you can do it (I know you can), it will change your life for the better.

This will be hard if you have never given yourself permission to give yourself what you need, and all you know is to fight that you have any needs at all.

How has that been working for you?

You know what to do. Incorporate, comment, share. Because I care about you, and you do too.

Warmly,

Pamela

I’ve had quite the journey with my AFO (ankle-foot orthotic), which was custom made for me when I was 19. I had cast it aside out of pride and stubbornness (and vanity) when I was maybe 21, also because I didn’t want to encourage atrophy in those muscles. But I’m in the clumsiest phase of my cycle right now, and when we strapped that AFO back on yesterday I basically felt the hallelujah chorus radiate through my body.

There’s more to this I want to dig into and write about for this blog, but for now I am just so thrilled to what is possible for me in the arena of outdoor play these days. I’ll also share a bit later on about my experience on an adult tricycle last summer at Mackinac Island!

After yesterday’s activities, today’s big restorative practice is to reset the heart of the home (the kitchen), which took a huge hit during our hurricane of prep for the park.

I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT HAVING MY SITE BACK!!!

We always love an excuse to renovate, right?

And, you know, these things take time. Thank you for bearing with me as I attempt to piece back all things old and new here. Wade through my chaotic backend & clean up/recreate those systems. (Pardon the dust, so to speak. There’s quite the learning curve, and scheduling around here can be complex. #techmovesfastandimoveslow)

Yay!

Love,

Pamela

Sometimes the post-stroke journey has sucked. I literally fell to my knees in the middle of the grocery store yesterday because I was walking too fast for my current energy level and stumbled over my own feet. (This doesn’t happen often at all — it never really has — but since the stroke, it’s something that does happen occasionally, so it keeps me humble!)

I used to treat wiping out in public as something SUPER embarrassing and I would’ve worn the embarrassment on my shoulders like it was a backpack filled with rocks. I’d use it as evidence of a false belief that there was something fundamentally wrong with me, and other things would happen and I’d add more rocks into my backpack until practically everything was a fricking drain on my life.

Yesterday, though, I simply got back up and carried on. Not because I wanted to bypass any uncomfortable feelings, but because there genuinely weren’t any(!).You know what this means? It means I’ve taken the backpack off.

This is HUGE.

It’s the result of being intentional about where I put my regular focus in my life (as trite as that sounds). I’ve focused more often on giving myself grace, not adding meaningless things into that backpack, making a practice of letting go of guilt and shame. Prayer. Connection to something greater than myself. Developing a healthier and healthier relationship with my body and what it needs.

It’s a beautiful thing to see the fruits of my labor become manifest in my actual experience, and that is what I’m celebrating today. (I’m also celebrating that I wrote a post today. ;))

Before I go out for my strokiversary dinner with the fiancé(!! Yes, we got engaged a couple months ago!), I’ll leave you with these “MercRetro Strokiversary” questions:

Do you celebrate your Strokiversary?

What little wins (which add up to big ones) can you celebrate right now?

Drop your commentary below.

Love you. Thanks for coming along with me on this journey.

Today has been a huge exercise in surrendering to what is, for me. The word “surrender” can be super-scary for some people because there can be connotations of weakness and loss of control — but contrary to those stigmas, I’m here to tell you today that surrender is a sign of enormous strength.

In order to be able to relax into whatever is (whether that’s being in the hospital or losing track of your phone), you must be rooted in something much stronger than any physical problem. This is called faith — not always of the religious/spiritual variety, but it’s a deep inner knowing that no matter what happens, you’ve got this.

Today, before I could write you, my computer had a little graphic freakout, and I had to check it in overnight at the Apple store.

Soooo much of my life and my work lives on that computer! Not to mention it’s primarily where I write. Knowing in my core that I’ve got this, I chose to instead write you this from my phone. (Thank goodness for all the technology that supports me!!)

It’s not how I preferred to post today, but at the end of the day, I’d rather deliver you a message rather than just give up hope. I know where my heart is and why I created this blog, so I release any guilt or any frustration I had over the mishap. I release my attachment to how I wanted writing today’s post to look and I’m doing what I can that’s aligned with my heart’s desire.

Your resourcefulness will win any war you have with your circumstances. Know that any problem you’ve got, it’s only the fight against what is that creates stress and fear in your experience.

Instead, try dropping the fight. Believe me, as a recovering rebel-without-a-cause, it can feel counterproductive, but you are so much greater than any of your problems. I believe in you.

Remember, you’ve been through a stroke and SURVIVED. Everyday issues ain’t got nothing on you. Now, I really have to go and eat!

Have a wonderful weekend.

All love,Pamela

PS. Two requests — if this speaks to you, please share it with someone you love who could use it/let me know in the comments. And lastly, please send some supporting healing vibes and prayers to our family. It may be a little spotty for a while given the fact that someone in my family is having some serious medical issues right now and I’m going to be exercising active surrender while that’s going on. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Let’s talk about transitions.

I was once at a hot yoga class, where I changed postures and suddenly I experienced some sharp pain in my knee! I’d never had that before and I was concerned I’d done something incorrectly. I’d done it very quickly, aiming to keep myself at pace with everyone else.

At the end of the class, I approached the teacher and shared what had happened. What she said next has remained with me for years:

“We must be at our most mindful during transitions.”

I don’t know about you, but I often get myself in the most amount of trouble when I do things quickly out of trying to keep pace with the rest of the world (or what I perceive as the rest of the world). It’s the easiest time for me to self-abandon, and the best safeguard I have found in 15 years against this is to deeply ground into my body and slow everything the heck down.

Transitions are any pockets of time between one activity and the next — for me, they’re non-negotiable. I don’t do anything back-to-back. The more activity I outwardly do, the more of a rest period I build in in between that and the next thing. This could be a game changer for most people post-stroke.

The tricky part is even if I’m doing something that energizes me, I still need at least a brief interlude between activities to get back into my body and get present once more. The trappings of engaging in high-energy-taking-as-well-as-giving activities for me is I can fool myself into believing I can just go, go, go endlessly.

Energy management is a skill developed mindfully and with great devotion to presence to your body and what it needs from you. It is an unlearning of wider societal habits and a re-learning of getting in touch with how your body communicates with you.

The cool thing about presence is that it’s got this funky ability to bend time, and the more present I am — the more paradoxical my experience becomes.

The more present I am, the slower I can move, yet the more efficient I become.

The more present I am, the more deliberate my movements, yet the more free of tension I am.

The more present I am, the more I occupy my entire body, yet the more connected to Spirit I am.

The more present I am, the more loving I become towards myself, yet the more I love others.

I’ve found that the more I integrate deeper and deeper presence to my transitions, ironically — the less I need all that time to transition! I make such a regular practice of becoming present with myself (through meditation, dance, journaling, among other things) that dropping in and fully inhabiting everything I am takes just a moment. Not even five minutes. Sometimes, just a deep breath will do it.

That kind of deep love for yourself will always be there for you — but first you must be there for it.

I invite you to start a practice of getting present. Of stopping all the doing and just being for a change, of dropping all the judgments and the stories of what “should” be and being kind enough to yourself to create much-needed spaciousness in your life.

Begin with just five minutes at a time. A timer can be one of your best friends!

Welcome whatever comes through for you, whether that’s emotion or even numbness. There’s no way to do it wrong besides not doing it at all.

I promise, the more presence you bring into your life, the less frantic you’ll feel, the less inclined to succumbing to outside pressure. There’s nothing better than true groundedness in who you are and honoring exactly what it is you need to do you, boo.

Leave a comment and share your experience with getting present — and share this with someone who’d benefit from this!

Enjoy your weekends, all.

Love you.

Pamela

Sudden, unexpected bodily needs. Family stuff. I had to take things waaaay slower than “high achiever” me would’ve liked, but it was an amazing call. I’ll fill you in on the quantum leap I made by doing so (hopefully later today).My only regret is I didn’t say anything here. I’d had every intention to post as usual (and I had a great one on deck for you all!), but the call to tend to family and personal matters was stronger than my will. For that, I apologize.

That said, I never apologize for taking care of myself and heeding the call of my body. Guess what? This is an excellent time to refer back to my February mantra: I’m doing the best I can, and that is enough. Because sometimes you gotta let Life have you. You were never in control in the first place.

I used to hate my last name because almost no one could read it properly, and the various misspellings were creative at best and horrendous at worst.

(For the record, it’s more or less pronounced “shay” — like shea butter.)

But in recent years I’ve really come to love it, because what is it they say? That it’s impossible to be angry and grateful at the same time? Turns out, it’s the perfect gift to have such a constant reminder.

We live in a scarcity culture, where nothing is ever enough.

I literally practice reminding myself, via writing, every single night of everything I’ve gotten to do that day (whether it’s getting dressed, having taken a walk around the neighborhood, or created something kickass) and what that achieved so that I don’t fall into a rabbit hole of scarcity. I also list out random things I appreciate about myself and as a practice, share appreciations with Anthony verbally before bed. Some days it feels like swimming upstream and most other days I feel freeeeeee.

The other day, someone close to me was feeling down on himself, like “the day was a wash.”

Though I totally understood where they were coming from (I’ve been there many times), that’s an insidious habit that’ll send you plummeting into the world of never enough. Something I ended up saying in response to them moved me to tears as I spoke.

I told them that every single day they got to open their eyes, take a breath, and start the day was a gift. That there were countless other people who tomorrow couldn’t do the same. And then I pointed out that every single day they get to move their body all day long in ways I still dream of, in ways I haven’t moved mine in 15 years. That that was a miracle, and that I wished they could see it.

I didn’t share this at all to disparage them, but to gently point out that this is something we all do sometimes. Being a human is hard.

Carrying on after a stroke is hard. Damn hard. And there’s no manual.

But if you are well enough to be reading these words right now, then you are blessed with so much more than you are seeing when you’re having one of those moments. Swap scaricity out for gratitude, and really let it into your heart.

Watch your life transform.

Did this resonate? Drop a comment and tell me why — or share with a friend who needs to hear it.

Love,

Pamela

Impatience.

We all slip into it once in a while — some more than others.

There’s this thing with our energy, when it’s charged up in a flurry to meet some sort of outcome, that the last thing it wants is to be still.

I had a flashback during my meditation today, where I suddenly remembered that when I was in preschool, my class had a mandatory nap break in the middle of the day.

I usually never wanted the nap, because I wanted to do stuff! I wanted to connect with people, play games, anything but nap. So they spoke to my parents. Told them I wasn’t allowed to bring my pillow to school anymore because all I did during nap time was play with it and it was disruptive to the other kids who were actually trying to rest.

Though I did eventually end up hiding behind my writing especially in my teen years, and then the stroke hit at 19 and turned my entire life upside-down, this energetic and active, magical child that I once was is still alive and well.

Regardless, for a long time post-stroke, because suddenly doing anything took way longer than I felt it should, I reeeeally had to develop a capacity for generosity towards myself and the time I needed.

A few years ago, I traveled out of state with a small group of women on my business team at the time. There was supposed to be a shuttle to pick us up from the airport to take us to our hotel, and for some reason, the shuttle was running behind. We were to wait another 45 minutes to catch the next one.

I remember just how upset the entire group became at this news. Instantly, like awakening a sleeping dragon, the complaining began, and I stood beside them. I, however, was silent, and had to excuse myself to the bathrooms to find peace and quiet again.

Because for me, on any given day, 45 minutes can be how long it takes me to meditate and feel decent enough to get out of the house. I could take an entire 45 minutes to eat a meal — probably more.

The stroke taught me a lot of things, but above all, it forced me to sloooooow down.

Of course, I fought the slowness at first, but now, I sometimes will take myself to a coffee shop just to order a tea and enjoy my own company.

Not everything must be done so quickly, at all times. Of course, there are times I feel impatient too, but most of the time — and I’d venture to say even, every time — impatience is just a complete waste of energy.

It’s not kind; it’s not generous. It’s not all that effective, and it takes away the gift of the moment.

So when you feel tempted to rage at someone or something that’s taking longer than you’d prefer, take a breather. Do your best to take in what’s all around you. It’s here for you, supporting you, all around.

All is well. I promise.

You guys, I loved going live yesterday. I was a #hotdangmess — furreal, my surroundings looked like they’d exploded and the only presentable place I could find to record myself was in front of my white curtains, and then I was over 10 minutes late to the redo after I had to delete the abruptly ended broadcast I originally did — and since I had to do it twice, I got to watch a whole lot of me rambling to see what worked and what didn’t.

This was me leaning into my own yes: Inspiration had hit on my way home in the snowstorm to doing a livestream instead of writing a post, and though going live is always intimidating, I knew that challenging myself to do so would change things up in an interesting way and build up a muscle that I’d like to develop.

I’m extraverted by nature and loooved performing as a child and young adult. But because I began to hide from the world post-stroke, mainly because for a long time having had the stroke was a source of shame for me, I really stopped doing a lot of things I actually loved. It wasn’t necessarily conscious, of course, but I stopped dancing, theatre, sports. Stopped wearing things I wanted to wear so that I could feel safer walking around or safer being seen.

So doing a live broadcast is actually exciting for me. There’s no one making me do it, but it’s aligned with the way I enjoy expressing myself. That’s where my yes lay.

Hiding out is no fun. It feels . . . flat, uneventful. Like I’ve purchased a front-row seat to someone else’s show, someone else’s life. I don’t get to participate, be an active creator in what’s going on.

To be sure, hiding is a useful tool at times. Hiding out from the Inquisition in 1500s Spain when you’re secretly a Jew? Probably an actual lifesaver. But hiding who I really am from the world when there are people who need to hear some truth told to them in the way I deliver it? Who’s that in service to? My inner scaredy cat, and no one else.

Part of this yes naturally comes with a sense of danger, of thrill. There was no real voice of resistance, other than, “I don’t want to have to do this every single week. I know how you are.”

Ha. By the way, did I forget to mention that the voice of resistance (i.e., the ego) is very tricky, and VERY clever? Of course she is. She’s you, designed to protect you by holding you back — and if she weren’t a tricky trickster, you’d get the best of her every time.

Give thanks to her. Acknowledge her for trying to protect you, and then work with her to find a win/win.

So I’ll address the elephant in the room: Am I going to do FB Lives on the regular now that I’ve had this win? Now that I’ve done two in one day(!)?

I don’t know yet. I still need to have a chat with my Resistance, but I can’t say for sure. I’ll keep you posted.