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| Barb Polan Barb's Recovery |
I have the perfect personality to be a stroke survivor.
To paraphrase what Peter Levine says (in Stronger After Stroke), someone who didn’t bother to keep in shape before a stroke is unlikely to do so after a stroke. Corollary: An athlete who has a stroke can be expected to work hard physically to regain fitness; a couch potato will still love watching TV eating Doritos (Admit it!!).
Pre-stroke I was an introverted navel-gazer who loved soul-searching, and I have retained those tendencies. The perfect personality to be a stroke survivor. Yes, I was active – physically and mentally – but sitting alone in a room with a new book and Word open on my laptop was the way I recharged my batteries back then; dealing with people, especially acquaintances, in a social setting, sucked the energy out of me.
So, despite the physical limitations I have now, I have been transported to introvert heaven. Even when I go out into the community, I can choose to not interact with people; or I can look up from watching my feet and shock a passerby with a dazzling smile and, “Good morning.” I can keep conversations with strangers short, without any justification. My choice.
And, although I have friends who check in to invite me out, I can usually limit my exposure to acquaintances or new people.
I work to not isolate myself: I reach out with social invitations I never would have previously (sometimes Tom insists), say yes to new experiences even if they look scary, and have shed some of my former reserve.
Isolation is a particular bane to stroke survivors – yup, when you’re fatigued most of the time or if walking is difficult or painful, it’s easier to not go out, to stay sedentary. If you’re not eager to socialize, you can get out of it; if you’re self-conscious that you are so visible, you just don’t go out. You protect yourself; isolation is good for that.
But, obviously, isolation has a downside: it can lead to loneliness, to a lack of encouragement, to living inside your head, which may not be a fun place. That’s fine if you’re an introvert, but not if you’re someone who’s energized by being with other people; someone who finds soul-searching a bore; someone who loves a party. And some survivors were like that pre-stroke. Certainly not I, but some.
And depression is a threat – a common result of having a stroke, so common that every time I see my physiatrist, he tests my tendency to tear up. Depression leads to isolation, and isolation can feed depression.
Give me a day – or even a few hours - alone now and it’s bliss: I get to chant, pray, meditate or sing (badly), all things I will not do with others around. Alone, I can have a good cry and then pull myself out of the abyss of self-pity, which often involves talking out loud. I can even run (figure of speech, I actually drive) errands so that I feel useful rather than self-indulgent. In fact, when I’m driving alone, I can give a good talking to anyone I believe needs one. Of course, I’m not heard, but it can help clarify what’s upsetting me.
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Isolation
in Barb's Recovery
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