Sharing in a new way.

I survived a massive ischemic stroke eight years ago today on July 6th, 2017. I feel ready to write and share my experiences here in hopes of supporting all kinds of recovery and the unique transformations we undergo as we endure and meet life’s harshest challenges.

I want to create a community where we can express freely and offer a kind supporrtive and authentic space.

Subscribers will receive a few posts from each month, usually a reflection or a share story, mindfulness meditation tips, and sometimes reflection “prompts” for you to consider for yourself. If you choose to upgrade to a paid subscription, I will offer meditation videos/audios, expanded written posts, and occasional live events. You will also be able to post comments.

Today, I took a deep breath and told myself to simply, begin!

I will share two pieces. First is a reflection I offered on Social Media to mark the 8th anniversary of my stroke event and recovery. Second, I will a guest column I recently published for the American Stroke Association.

Thank you for subscribing…. Onward we go.

Dear Friends,

Today marks my eight-year “stroke anniversary”. I am grateful to acknowledge the day, along with the opportunity to reflect on the past year (and the last several) as I have traveled this path.

I often say, “Recovery from stroke is no joke.” A recovery of any kind requires a careful balance of grit - both backbone and gentleness. Over the past year, I have continued to focus primarily on driving, traditional typing, short-term memory, and establishing a balanced sense of symmetry in my body. I am grateful to share that I made gains in longer road trips on secondary roads and feel an uptick in processing time.

This year I will focus on healing and strengthening my body, alleviating chronic pain that increased this year, and continuing to encourage sensation on my right side.

I also made a new commitment to writing reflectively and creatively this year. I will share here, but more frequently through Substack. If you are interested in more of my writing and growing community, I will soon launch Substack. I will share the link in the comments.

I will never quit, I will never give up on my brain and its ability to heal, to rewire, to overcome the injury. And this is what I most want others on a similar path to know: the brain never quits in its efforts to heal, to overcome, to serve. Its capacity, ironically, surpasses our understanding.

And at the end of my reflections today, I came back to a familiar conclusion, which is to ultimately acknowledge that my stroke and its aftermath both serve as brutal, beautiful teachers. A mighty curriculum.

The stroke will be a steady teacher for the rest of my life. I remain a humbled student.

Furthermore, I understand love a little better, what it truly is, what it looks like, what it means to heal, and the power of rest. I know a little better the value of surrender, and when it’s time to fight. I know a little more about when to lean inward and when to reach out for help.

Love is the secret ingredient to all healing.

Sending wishes and prayers for each of you to more fully see the strength and beauty of your journey.

Thank you for your continued company on mine. ~ Lori

By Lori Gray, PhD, LP

A stroke survivor and advocate since 2017, Lori continues her stroke recovery journey; she is committed to serving other survivors as a companion and guide.

Lori is an associate professor and program director in Holistic Health and Contemplative Well-Being at Western Michigan University. She is certified to teach Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction meditation courses through the Center for Mindfulness, University of Massachusetts Medical School. She is also a licensed doctoral psychologist in Michigan.

After her stroke, Lori was frustrated by the limited resources to support her emotional recovery from stroke and the mainstream limitations imposed on survivors. In response, she founded the Mindful Stroke Recovery Project, leading programs and training in mindfulness skills.

I return to the concentration of writing this essay over and over, taking short breaks as needed. I write the first draft with many words spelled phonetically, not worrying beyond that point until I can go back and update for spelling and grammar. So it goes, how my words and intentions gradually come together to be shared with others. I move slowly, deliberately and patiently, as if I have nowhere else to go and all the time in the world.

I share this reflection as an immediate and straightforward example of the way I approach life and each cognitive and fine motor task since my ischemic stroke in the summer of 2017. At that time, I was a daily runner, an avid fan of the Mediterranean diet and a longtime meditation practitioner and teacher. I did not appear to be at risk for stroke. With low blood pressure and ideal cholesterol levels that made my doctor ask enthusiastically about my diet, I did not have this worry on my internal radar. And yet, an internal carotid artery on the left side of my neck spontaneously dissected (tear or separation in the tissue) and, in an instant, my life changed. I became a stroke survivor.

Initially, I was paralyzed everywhere except my upper left quadrant. I couldn’t speak or process thoughts. Gratefully, my job accommodated a gradual return, and I was able to make time for both inpatient and outpatient rehabilitation. I had a small but mighty social support circle and benefited from mindfulness skills acquired over many years as a teacher-practitioner.

Over time, I made gains that my rehabilitation team told me would be impossible. Let me say that again — I was told that further gains would not be possible. Dare me with the impossible! I made those gains anyway. Approaching the eighth year of a new life and inner identity, I continue to engage in rehabilitation. I have right-sided weakness, loss of sensation, finger agnosia (difficulty naming and differentiating among the fingers of either hand and the hands of others), aphasia and acalculia (difficulty performing simple mathematical tasks, such as adding, subtracting, multiplying or stating which of two numbers is larger). I experience frustration, discovery and so many possibilities — often all in the same moment. You see, even when the “me” I knew was thrown into a storm of crisis and confusion, there was still part of me — a presence — that remained accessible and steady. I call this my mindfulness muscle.

During my stay in a rehabilitation hospital, I was still practicing and teaching mindfulness skills. A few nurses came into my room for invited mindfulness breaks. Among the paperwork I found later in my medical files, I was amazed to discover that I attempted to spell teaching acronyms for mindfulness exercises. Some letters were reversed, and the handwriting appeared to be that of a 6-year-old child. But I was still a mindfulness teacher!

My experience so far informs what I call the long view of stroke recovery — the big picture that is a long and winding road. Every step and every moment are unique to the journey of a new identity and life unfolding. Over time, I began calling this path of healing “presence-based medicine,” infused with mindfulness awareness and a special quality of attention.

A mindfulness practice helps us to be aware of our experience, moment to moment. Mindfulness skills have supported me in three significant pathways as a stroke survivor.

1. I have gained awareness of the losses I experienced due to stroke and the ability to hold that grief over time. I move forward, and still, I grieve those losses —from physical skills and memory to speech fluency and the ability to calculate numbers. Most painful of all is the loss of relationship with the person I call “me.”

2. Mindfulness practice has been shown to support brain health. Research suggests that those who meditate regularly may be able to encourage neuroplasticity (the brain’s ability to rewire and make new connections after injury). We don’t know the brain’s limits to overcoming injury. Plateaus can slow an already nonlinear path to recovery, but it doesn’t mean the path comes to a dead end!

3. Mindful awareness has also supported me in being gentle and kind to myself when the stress and frustration of stroke rehabilitation tempt me to give up — especially in the acute stages of recovery. When we can be loving (or at least friendly) with ourselves and our circumstances in the present moment (however frustrating), something miraculous happens. Rather than resignation, the acceptance of our life, just as it is, helps us engage in and commit to the long view of stroke recovery. Acceptance frees and renews our vision for who we want to become.

Odds are that you or someone you care about has had a stroke. Remind yourself (and each other) to never give up on making gains back from the capacities you lost. Remember to befriend the person you are at this moment, while continuing to make gentle efforts to shape who you will become.

This long, winding, nonlinear road to healing after stroke requires us to love both who we are now and who we will be. Practicing mindfulness supports us in nurturing this moment and it’s a good friend for the long view of living into the future awaiting us.

Dr. Gray’s column includes references to content in an article she published in 2020 titled “Living the Full Catastrophe: A Mindfulness-Based Program to Support Recovery from Stroke.”

Learn more about the Mindful Stroke Recovery Project by visiting www.drlorigray.com or consider signing up for her Substack at lorigray947487.substack.com.