Being nominated as a top 30 blogger at VancouverMom.ca has been very exciting. Not only is it amazing to have my blog recognized, but to be chosen among 29 other women who are creating and sharing content they are passionate about is humbling. Help Codi Heal has grown with me through my injury and I wanted to give a quick snapshot of how it came to be.
This photo is a good representation of where Help Codi Heal began. I forget sometimes that the blog only exists because of my accident. It seems strange that something so fulfilling in my life stems from something that was so devastating. Although maybe I wouldn’t have needed fulfilled had the devastation never occurred.
Regardless, this was me. I was 3 days post-injury and overwhelmed with messages and phone calls and feeling incapable of responding to everyone in a meaningful way. Many would say I didn’t have to reply but I wanted people to know the truth and I wanted to reassure them that I was okay (or possibly, reassure myself). I started writing short posts on Facebook and Instagram to help keep people in the loop. The posts were honest because I didn’t see the point in being anything else. My posts got longer and the response got larger and eventually I realized that documenting this journey was beneficial for more than just myself.
That’s the short version of how Help Codi Heal came to be. I write here for many reasons from awareness to coping. But, at its core, it is about reassuring everyone (including myself) that life is good. It feels pretty great to be at a point where my blog is being recognized. Thank-you for following and thanks for voting!
You can vote daily now through June 8 for your favourite blogger at Vancouvermom.ca
You and me, we are different. In so many ways, we are different. That in itself is not unique to our situation. From Starbucks orders to philosophies on life and everything in-between, finding a fellow female who checks off all the same boxes that you do would be an impossible task. Even so, there is something about our contrasting physical abilities that seems to set apart my mom life from yours. Early on in my injury that rift between your motherhood and mine felt as wide as an ocean. But as time progressed, I realized that rift – and our differences – is actually minor and insignificant. I think that as human beings, and as mothers, we are more alike than you may realize. Continue reading “My Letter to an Able-Bodied Mother”
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I was never destined to be a world class athlete. I wanted to run at a reasonable pace around my neighborhood, keep up in a backyard soccer game, hike a few local trails with friends and buy an inexpensive bike from Wal-Mart to join in on those family rides around the block. Maybe I’d attempt some home workouts now and then. Maybe we would have all tried skiing together eventually. The point is, I liked being active and outdoors as long as it was relaxed and simple. I never did much that required a lot of equipment; I was happy with a pair of good runners and a yoga mat. But then there was that fall – and this spinal cord injury – and getting reasonably active got unreasonably complicated. Continue reading “In Search of a Runner’s High”
Lying in bed the other night, after a day that wasn’t unlike any other, I found myself suddenly apologizing. “I’m sorry I’m paralyzed”. My husband looked at me in that way he looks at me when I’ve said something completely unreasonable (I’m unreasonable fairly often so I know the look well). He jokingly told me to shut-up and we moved on. But as he drifted off to sleep I started to think about the kind of attention I bring to my injury. In many cases it is a joke or a comment to employ a sort of pre-emptive form of damage control. As though if I mention what I feel is the elephant in the room, I then take control over any obstacles that may arise because of said elephant. But I often also find myself apologizing for things that probably don’t require an apology. These are things that stem from the fact that I’m paralyzed. And paralysis, to be clear, is beyond my control (I triple-checked). So instead of falling asleep that night, I contemplated my approach. Why do I bring attention to my differences and apologize for my limitations? And should I stop? Continue reading “Did You Notice I’m Paralyzed?”
What is strength? In the midst of this women’s empowerment wave we are riding, how do we define what it means to be a strong woman? We strive to be them, we strive to raise them and we strive to surround ourselves with them. But what is it that makes them? The definitions are evasive and become skewed by perception and tainted by experience. Strength is a very personal battle. It is having the persistence to go after the things in life that you deem important. It is about knowing yourself and your boundaries. It is about prioritizing your life so that it feels authentic to you. And because everyone has their own idea of what life is all about and what comes easily to one person may require a lot of effort from another, we end up with personal beliefs on what it means to have strength. Continue reading “Defining Strength”
Sometimes you expect certain moments in life to trigger grief or anxiety. I like to think each individual knows themselves and their journeys well enough to foresee how some situations might bring up difficult feelings. But sometimes it is unexpected and it doesn’t matter how well you know yourself or your journey. Sometimes, you are simply blindsided. Continue reading “Deconstructing a Panic Attack”
“Clowns to the left of me.
Jokers to the right.
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.”
This lyric right here is my theme for Valentine’s Day this year. When you are married with children, life resides on a scale of “they are so sweet when they’re sleeping” to “OK, how many kids did we leave the house with? Because now there is only one”. With three children, it is rare that someone isn’t in need of something and when you are being pulled in numerous directions it is grounding and comforting to have a person in the trenches with you. Someone who partakes in life beside you, however it comes. Love changes as we get older and, to me, it is our actions within the day-to-day that truly express love. And so, when Valentine’s Day comes around, I find that the recognition of one another in our relationship is usually short and laced with sarcasm because taking one day to ensure your partner knows they’re loved seems insufficient and forced. It’s probably the one day out of the year my husband and I don’t have expectations on being seen, important and cared for. Because married love isn’t about this one seemingly romantic day. It’s about the other 364 days of the year. Continue reading “This Is Valentine’s Day”
A lot of people seem think that three kids constitutes a big family. I suppose by 2018 standards it does (especially when mom and dad are just breaking into their thirties). I always wanted a large family and it isn’t a secret that I’m still trying to cope with the idea that I won’t have any more children. While some people end up with large families somewhat accidentally, others find their way there with purpose and intent. One of my main purposes in having multiple children was to give them the shared experiences of childhood. The large age gap between my older siblings and me meant that I grew up, essentially, as an only child. My mom and I were very close and my childhood was wonderful but I always wondered what it would have been like to venture through those early stages of life alongside a sibling. I didn’t want my children to have to carry their childhood memories alone but instead share them with someone. I never thought that some of those memories could be ones from which they need to heal. Continue reading “Their Childhood. My Purpose”
The following post is one that I wrote six months before my accident. As I read it back tonight it took on a very different meaning than what was originally intended. When I first wrote it I believed I was talking to myself 20 years or so in the future. Little did I know that, 6 months later, t -hese would be the moments and the memories that would drive my recovery and my fight to get home. A good “throwback Thursday” reminder to look for the special moments in the everyday. You never know when you might just long for ordinary. Continue reading “Give Me Ordinary”
It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything – my longest stretch of silence since I started this blog. I could say it was because the holidays were busy (because they were) or that my time and attention had been stretched thin (which they have) but both answers would just be excuses. The truth is, I haven’t written anything lately because I have become a bit lost inside of myself and the thought of putting a magnifying glass up to the inner-workings of my brain over the last few weeks sounded more like torture than comfort. Looking ahead to January brought me a lot of anxiety and my initial introductions to 2018 have been strained. It feels as though I’m meeting a friend-of-a-friend. It’s someone I should trust but I am unsure of their intentions. I had trust in 2017; it allowed me growth and left me and my family safe. 2018 is unknown and I am skeptical. Continue reading “New Year. New Challenges. New Goals. Same Old Disability”