⭕️ The Circle of Struggle and Growth: A Journey of Hope
Cherish your circle. Laugh at your misery. Embrace the absurdity.
Life often spins in unexpected circles, leading us through profound struggles and equally transformative growth. Over the past few months, my mother's stroke recovery journey has illuminated this truth in ways I never imagined. As I write this, I am filled with gratitude, pride, and hope. For every tear, there has been a lesson. For every frustration, there has been a moment of clarity.
My mom was discharged from the hospital early because her roommates contracted COVID. I arrived in Vancouver 24 hours earlier, and it felt like stepping into a storm—disorienting, overwhelming, and impossible to control. The chaos of making her home accessible, packing her belongings from the COVID room, and managing her medications collided with my own emotions: guilt, fear, and exhaustion. Yet, amid this whirlwind, small victories emerged like rays of light piercing through dark clouds.
Relearning Life, Together
Teaching my mom simple routines, like safely getting in and out of the bathtub or setting up her bedtime schedule, became acts of love. Each task carried the weight of her new reality and the hope of progress. When I set up a big monitor and mouse to help her navigate her laptop with her impaired vision, it felt like giving her back a piece of the world she had lost. Now, she can see photos, read emails, and engage with life in ways we both feared she might never do again.
Every day, she improves—reading a brochure she couldn't decipher two weeks ago, pushing a shopping cart at T&T to steady herself, and rediscovering her independence.
Finding Power in Presence
Six weeks ago, I underestimated the power of being present for my mom. But since arriving in Vancouver, I've become my mom's advocate and anchor. By navigating complex medical systems and pushing for urgent care, I shortened her wait time for a neuro-ophthalmologist appointment from a year to a week. These small wins have shown me that persistence and love can move mountains.
Mom may not remember she stayed at the Vancouver General Hospital or the exact steps of her recovery. Still, she remembers me being there—ensuring she ate, rested, and received the care she deserved.
The Ice Bath of Trauma and Laughter
Amid the intensity of caregiving, I found unexpected healing in saunas and ice baths. My friend Andrew took me to a session at Othership, where the cold water forced me to confront my fears and release the trauma I'd been carrying—not just from the past six weeks but perhaps from generations.
"Just laugh at it," Andrew said. And so I did— buddha-like laughing and crying like a child, releasing emotions I didn't know I had bottled up. Those frigid two minutes taught me that it's OK to feel scared, frustrated, and vulnerable. It's OK to let go.
Giving Myself Grace
In this journey, I've learned to give myself grace. I need to acknowledge my limits, set boundaries, and prioritize self-care. I told my mom I couldn't look after her after 10 p.m., ensuring she was safe before I went to bed. I listened to my therapist, slept 7.5 hours for the first time in weeks, and returned to the gym, where I found strength in deadlifting 290 lbs and my spirit.
Remember, self-care is not selfish; it's necessary.
Cherishing the Circle
Life has come full circle. Yesterday, I returned to the room at the BC Cancer Hospital, which marked the beginning of my mom's stroke journey. Two months ago, she had a stroke just about to get her brain scan.
I expected to cry, but the calm, organized space and compassionate caregivers offered comfort—a sharp contrast to our turmoil.
While the room looked the same, everything felt different. It was here that her life changed in an instant, reshaping both of our realities. This unremarkable space now symbolizes transformation—a reminder of life's fragility and resilience.
Through this journey, my mom and I have grown stronger and are finding a new normal that reflects our newfound strength.
I often remind myself of what my boss told me: "You can never get back the time with your mom." This December, I'm taking time off work to be with her, to create memories, and to cherish every fleeting moment.
A Message of Hope
To anyone navigating their own struggles, know this: Growth often hides in the messiness of life. It comes in the moments when you least expect it—when you laugh through tears, fight for what matters, and show up, even when it's hard. There is always hope, even in the darkest of times.
Thank you to those who have reached out, cried with me, or travelled 10,000km to visit my mom. Your kindness reminds me that we're all part of this circle of struggle and growth.
The world is a circle. The pain, joy, chaos, and calm all lead back to the center of who we are.
Cherish your circle. Laugh at your misery. Embrace the absurdity. And always, always keep growing.