I realize I haven’t been on here in a minute. Life has been crazier than usual. The part of my brain that houses the writer in me has been closed for business lately.

But…

I read recently that you don’t really know a person until life tests them. And that really resonated with me.

It made me think: Do we really even know ourselves until life throws us that curveball we never saw coming?

It’s easy to say how we would react if something horrible were to happen to us or a loved one. But until we are confronted with that scenario, how do we truly know which version of ourselves will show up to deal with it?

***

What really attracted me to Mike when I first met him was his genuine honesty and good-natured demeanor. And loyalty just oozed out of his every pore.

He was a proud dad and had been a single father for many years, much more than my 10 years being a single mom. He built his success all on his own. He raised his boys along with having a hand in raising his two stepsons as well.

As I started to get to know Mike before the stroke, I found him to be a sweet, kind and generous man.

A bit crazy. But good crazy. He can build anything and fix anything. He was a doer, a go-getter, a fun-loving guy, and generous to his friends.

We’d go places and he’d see something random and say, “Oh, my friend loves this kind of stuff. I gotta get that for him.”

Needless to say, we matched so well.

What impressed me most of all was that he was always looking to improve himself, both on the inside and outside.

Mike and I often spoke about our relationships with God. I would encourage him to come to church with me but I never pushed. I knew he had the desire, but he needed to be the one to make that decision. God wants us to come to Him on our own.

(Now, Mike is the one encouraging me and others to go to church and pray. I just love it! He recently even expressed interest in going to bible study with me. He asked, “Is there a bible study for dummies?” LOL.)

***

When the stroke happened, I felt confident he would get through it and be okay. I just never doubted it. But it was scary and so much had been taken from him. I did secretly worry if the man I fell in love with would disappear and, if so, who was going to take his place?

In the hospital and rehab center, Mike was mostly sleeping and out of it. I knew it wasn’t until he got home that the harsh reality of his situation would hit him. And hit him hard.

I mean, after the therapists were gone and I was back to work, and his son, Mike, was no longer there to help each day, what would it be like for Mike?

Not being able to go into his shop and work for the day.

Not being able to easily navigate the house, make a meal for himself, go down to the basement and do laundry, do his workouts that he loved.

And sitting in a wheelchair with the knowledge that his left arm and leg have betrayed his body, feeling as though they aren’t even connected to him anymore.

What version of himself would appear then?

***

It feels like I’ve lived the lives of two different people lately. There is the Teri before Mike’s stroke and, now, there is the Teri after.

Throughout these last eight months, I’ve seen a part of myself emerge that I never knew existed. It’s been natural and automatic.

It’s been gut-wrenching and frightening at times, but there’s never been a thought or urge to look away. I haven’t flinched. Not once.

My morning workout routine is gone. My very organized way of life is history. I feel as though I am living out of my car at times. I am in mid-move (more on that later) and I have things spread out between two houses and a 16-foot pod in my driveway. The problem is I don’t know exactly where everything is. I feel displaced.

But…

I am surviving. I am adapting. I am strangely doing very well mentally and emotionally. I even signed up for virtual therapy to check in with someone just because it seems like a good thing to do, not really because I feel like I need it.

It’s not like I’ve never faced challenges in life before. When my first marriage started going bad and I saw my partner become less and less engaged over our 20 years together, I hung in there for as long as I could stomach it. I had two kids and was the main breadwinner. I did what I needed to do.

But at some point, I just wasn’t strong enough to paddle the proverbial canoe alone anymore against the raging river of misery.

Or, I guess, more honestly…

I wasn’t willing to do it anymore. I waved the white flag and surrendered. I’m not a quitter, so that was really hard for me. But I had to let go of worrying about what others thought.

When my oldest child Sam came out as transgender male after his high school graduation, I was completely blindsided by it all. I turned to God, first and foremost and I prayed. I knew God made Sam exactly the way he was meant to be, but I needed to know what my role in this should be as a mom.

God gave me the strength to plot a course for us both to go forward with therapy and navigate our way through it all. I sought out doctors who could help support what Sam needed. It was not easy, by any means, but this is my kid. I don’t care if he paints himself blue and calls himself a Smurf, I’m going to be by his side every step of the way.

Again, I never flinched.

Not once.

(As an aside, my ex-husband, to this day, will have nothing to do with Sam. That right there says everything about what version of him showed up when life got tough.)

Sam is brilliant, by the way. An amazing, creative and beautiful soul. And the bravest person I know.

***

Since the early days in the hospital when Mike was aware of what happened and could speak a bit about it, he’s been accepting of his situation and grateful to everyone who helps him, whether they are paid professionals or friends and family.

He is even kinder and more gentler than before. He craves independence and is working hard to regain as much of it as he can. I look at where he is now and I marvel in wonder.

The smaller transport chair that we used around the house sits in the bathroom now for him to do his grooming. It’s no longer needed for getting him around inside the house. He walks on his own everywhere.

He can get in and out of bed on his own, get to the bathroom and shower by himself. Dressing is still a challenge, but he’s able to do it (even if his pants are on backwards at times :-p )

He’s cooking and cleaning.

After all he’s been through and all the work that still lies ahead of him, he is grateful for all that he has and does not dwell on all that he’s lost.

He NEVER complains about any of it.

Ever.

***

I haven’t had time to announce on here that I sold my house (again). Probably because I don’t really feel like it’s sold. I won’t feel like celebrating until we go to closing, which is tentatively scheduled for the 19th of this month.

This second set of buyers are being problematic and it’s like they expect a brand-new house when it’s clearly not. I’ve done so much, gone above and beyond. It’s very frustrating. And honestly, it keeps me up at night.

I love my house. I don’t really want to sell it. But it’s the only thing that makes sense right now. I truly feel like I’m being attacked, it’s personal to me. And I just want people who will love and appreciate my house as much as I do to live in it.

But…

For the first time in my adult life, I don’t feel like I’m going through this alone. I have a partner who has my back in every way and that’s something I’ve never had before. And I’m just so darn happy and excited to marry this amazing man.

So whenever I get down about things with my house, or life in general, I realize none of that matters.

This Version of Us, that’s what matters.