Topic of the Day • Friday, August 14

What part of yourself have you refused to let life take away?

For me, the answer would be my voice.

Life has taken a swing at a lot of things, but I refuse to let it take away my ability to speak my mind, question things, laugh at ridiculous situations, or tell my story the way I actually experienced it.

Being disabled changed my life. It changed what I can do, how much energy I have, and how I move through the world. But it didn’t give disability ownership of my personality.

I still have opinions.

I still have a sense of humor.

I still get pissed off when something isn’t right.

I still ask questions.

I still have things I want to say.

And I’m still capable of looking at an ordinary day and finding something worth writing about.

That’s probably why journaling has started to feel important again.

Writing is another way of keeping my voice.

Every time I put something on the page, I’m reminding myself that my story belongs to me.

Life can change the circumstances.

It can change the body.

It can change the plans.

It can change the direction of the road.

But it doesn’t get to take the steering wheel completely out of my hands.

I’ve spent enough time adapting to things I never asked for. I’ve learned that adapting doesn’t mean surrendering. It means figuring out how to keep moving while carrying whatever life has handed you.

And sometimes moving forward isn’t some grand accomplishment.

Sometimes it’s writing another journal entry.

Sometimes it’s speaking up.

Sometimes it’s taking the Mini for a drive.

Sometimes it’s working out when the body says it’s ready.

Sometimes it’s sitting with Missy and appreciating the fact that she’s right there.

Sometimes it’s simply waking up and deciding that today still belongs to me.

I can’t change everything that happened.

I can’t go back and become the person I was before the brain injury and stroke.

But I can decide what parts of that person I carry forward.

The humor.

The stubbornness.

The curiosity.

The opinions.

The stories.

The willingness to say, “Wait a minute. That’s not right.”

And most importantly, the voice.

Because my voice isn’t something life gets to disable.

It belongs to me.

The Finishing Thought

Life changed me.

It didn’t erase me.

I’m still here.

I’m still thinking.

I’m still noticing.

I’m still writing.

And as long as I have something to say, I’m going to say it.

The circumstances may have changed my story, but they don’t get to write the ending.