Sometimes it’s a beautiful disaster — spilled coffee on your shirt, missed appointments, awkward conversations, hospital visits, and emotions that don’t fit into a box.
And yet, somehow, that mess?
That’s where the magic is.
Perfection is a Performance — Not Reality
Before my stroke, I chased perfection.
I wanted to be sharp, articulate, capable — always in control.
But stroke stripped that away like a sudden storm.
It left me raw. Confused. Angry. Afraid.
Words that once came easily vanished. Movements betrayed me. I had to relearn the basics — how to walk, how to talk, how to be me again.
And in that chaos, something unexpected happened.
I found truth.
Not the kind that comes with perfect grammar or flawless movement.
But the kind that lives in imperfection — in effort, in vulnerability, in showing up messy and unfiltered, and saying:
“I’m still here.”
Scars Are Not Stains — They Are Stories
Our scars aren’t signs of weakness.
They’re proof that we fought. That we healed. That we endured.
My aphasia taught me how to listen more. My stroke taught me to slow down. My mess taught me to notice things others overlook — the kindness in someone’s eyes, the warmth of the sun, the courage in a trembling voice.
The more I tried to hide the mess, the more I lost me.
But when I started owning it — the pauses in my speech, the way my hand trembles, the time it takes me to finish a thought — I felt something powerful: freedom.
So I Wear My Mess Like a Cap
Not to hide from the world, but to say,
“Yes, I’ve been through things. And I’m still dreaming.”
Whether I’m in a dragon boat, holding a pen, or just having coffee, I no longer pretend to have it all together.
Because nobody does.
And those who look like they do?
Trust me — they’ve got their own mess behind the curtain.
To You, My Friends - Own Your Mess
Whether your life is loud or quiet, smooth or chaotic, healing or hurting — you are still worthy.
Let your story be messy.
Let your voice be cracked.
Let your steps be unsteady.
But whatever you do, don’t hide.
Don’t wait until things are perfect.
Don’t wait until you’re “fixed.”
Live now — right in the middle of the mess.
Because this messy life?
It’s real. It’s raw.
And it’s yours.
Wear it proudly.