Pieces of me…

04 Mar


I have pondered that I am finding out who I am from two completely unrelated, yet related, events.  I continue to be amazed when it dawns on me that “this” or “that” used to be part of what made me, me, and “this or “that” is why I am, the way I am.  I have tried to explain it in other posts but never could to my satisfaction, expect a rambling post that may or may not make a lot of sense…

After my stroke, I could clearly identify what I had lost, it was obvious, I couldn’t speak, or write, and would have to work on that – that was my only focus and still a focus.  I also thought that was the extent of what I had lost.  Then I started worrying as I read more about what some experienced – they didn’t know what they had lost, so they didn’t know it was missing.  That freaked me out so I begged one of my best friends to promise to be truthful with me if I didn’t see I had lost something, but here’s the thing I didn’t understand, unless you are in my mind, no one can see the subtle things lost, that combined, add up to a lot.  Over time I realized I had lost more of who I was, things like my memory and ability to instantly see the bigger picture, part I have regained, some I haven’t yet, some I obviously still don’t know is lost.

It is very similar with what I have experienced getting to know my family.  Finding things I didn’t expect, feeling things I had never dreamed of feeling, and things I didn’t realize were missing, pieces of what I would have been.  I also didn’t realize so many of the more subtle nuances of what was lost, things you can’t put your finger on and describe, just parts of what makes you, you.

Yesterday, I discovered a piece of me that was lost from the stroke, from an area that I never thought to consider until recently, what makes me, me, is composed of more than just what I was good at doing.  My likes, dislikes, my personality, are all parts where pieces were lost, and it’s still, ever so slowly, coming back.  Pieces missing from what I used to be.  I wonder if I will discover all the pieces of me and at least have them in the moment until they disappear again.  What is even more amazing in this journey, is that I found who I was born to be during this time, who I am most like, what my story was, and I keep finding more pieces of that – while finding who I was, and am, at the same time.  Life really is an ever-changing journey.  I think right now I am in the phase of finding out why I keep circling back to wanting to find the middle ground in discussions, finding the starting point to build consensus, and that means I don’t fit neatly into any defined group, and maybe figuring that out is also finding another piece of me.

Oh, and that little thing I found out yesterday – I don’t like coats, have never liked coats, I had coats but they were only if you had no other choice and were carried, or left in the car, not worn.  I like sweaters…how could I have not known this? how can you lose something like this? what do I do with the coats I have acquired and worn since my stroke?…why didn’t anyone say something?


Posted by on March 4, 2014 in Adoption, adoptive parents, biological child


Tags: , , ,

4 responses to “Pieces of me…

  1. Beth

    March 5, 2014 at 7:53 pm

    Why didn’t you like coats?
    What made you remember?

    How the memory works will puzzle me forever.
    I lost and regained most of what I had lost after a brain injury many years ago. I think. I know there is some that was lost completely, but I couldn’t tell you what it was! Every now and then something happens to trigger a memory, sometimes it’s awesome – sometimes very upsetting, aggravating, even scary.


    • TAO

      March 5, 2014 at 8:16 pm

      Coats are too confining – sweaters are comfortable. I was drawn to a big oversized sweater and bought it, put it away, pulled it out the other day and left the house while it was pouring rain…it kept me dry, I was comfortable, warm, free, not bulky or feeling confined – did I mention free…it triggered that realization and then the cascades of all the times I had a coat with me but not on me and why.

      I’m just trying to capture all this because sometimes this scenario plays out then it didn’t stick and I have it again and sometimes it seems like the movie ground-hogs day…it’s also kind of fun to see how far (or little) I have come…


  2. Valentine Logar

    March 7, 2014 at 4:49 pm

    You and I, both stroke victims and both rediscovering what makes us us. Isn’t it strange? Mine is far in the past, but memories still emerge and I still take them out as if they are bright gifts. Sometimes it is a smell, other times it is a texture. Now and then one of my sons will say, ‘do you remember?’ Usually the answer is no, but then they will show me a picture or they will tell me the story and the memory will come back in fractured bits and pieces.

    Still, they are gifts.


    • TAO

      March 7, 2014 at 4:51 pm

      They certainly are gifts, priceless gifts.



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