Let me explain…

No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

-Inigo Montoya

I’m sitting on my porch in the shade of a sunny Spring day writing this. I can’t remember the last time I sat on my porch and wrote. I know it happened. It happened a lot. But I can’t remember that last time. That’s partly because it was around two years ago and partly because I have brain damage that affects my memory.

We’re still not exactly sure what happened, but I’ve basically been in bed for the past two years. I’m not exaggerating. My record is ten hours out of bed two days in a row and it led to weeks in bed with pain and vertigo.

Some days I can think. Some days it feels like a fog has settled in my head. Some days I can move. Some days the air is made of peanut butter and pushing through it to get from the bed to the bathroom requires a nap. Some days there are migraines. Some days I simply can’t concentrate.

I’m seeing all the doctors and taking all the meds and doing all the therapies. You’ll notice that at no point have I asked for any medical advice.

Adam has kept our family running - working full time, taking care of the kids, the house, and me. He makes me laugh even on the worst days, he drives me, he remembers all the things I can’t, and he has my back always. The jury’s still out, but I’ll probably keep him…

There is damage to my brain and body, yes. But there is also damage to my family, there is damage to my friendships, and there is damage to my relationship with myself.

I’m very much not the same person that I was before all of this happened. I’m not the same mom, the same wife, the same friend, sister, or daughter. And although I am fighting like hell to heal and to make the most out of my life, I realize that I’m not trying to come back. There is no back. I can’t reach my old self. She’s on the other side of a chasm that I cannot cross.

Today, I turn 44.

I garden, now. And I knit. I rarely cook and I miss it. I don’t travel or go to restaurants or drive up into my mountains anymore. I can’t teach or coach right now and I don’t know if I ever will again. Myriad pieces of me have been lost, damaged, and chipped away.

But my words are coming back. Most days I can write - text messages and emails and letters. Today, I can even write this post.

This site is my gift to myself. It’s a space where I can write about all of the things that have happened and everything that I’ve learned and am learning about myself, my own humanity, and my motherhood journey. I closed The Mom Center, but I have created a membership space here on the site. That’s where most of my energy will go. I’ve missed y’all.

I’ll do emails and Instagram as I can. And of course, there will be more posts here.

The old Graeme is lost. It’s time to find out who I am, now. Happy re-Birthday to me.