Family gatherings are meant to be easy. They’re filled with laughter, chatter and familiar conversation rhythms that happen without effort.
But for me, they’ve become something else entirely. When I see relatives I haven’t seen in a while, there’s this unspoken pressure to keep up and be part of everything. There is a weight in trying to respond and engage at a pace that my body just doesn’t have anymore. What used to be effortless now takes meticulous planning, precious energy, and constant adjustment.
The hardest part is that everyone can see it. It shows in how I move and how quickly I tire. Even the most innocent questions like “how is that going?” can land as a painful reminder that it hasn’t always been like this.
So, instead of just being in the moment, I find myself managing it. I am constantly measuring my energy and deciding what is worth the effort, trying my best not to let the gaps between who I was and who I am now feel so visible.
It’s frustrating, and if I’m honest, there’s deep grief in it too.
I write in my book:
My stroke had changed everything. I was not the same person or friend in the relationship that family and friends had committed to. Now they were also my carers and were torn between that and who they’d always been to me over the last 24 years.
Reinventing Emma, Page 134
But here’s what I’m learning: showing up still counts, even when it looks different. Even when it’s slower, quieter, or shorter than I’d like, my presence in the space is a victory. Behind the scenes, there is a level of effort that no one else can see, a quiet persistence that carries me through the door and into the room.
To those around me, or anyone chatting with someone navigating disability, please know this: they are trying. They are interested, even if it doesn’t always look like it on the surface. Your patience, your inclusion and your willingness to meet them where they are matters more than you might realise.
You don’t need to fix anything or provide answers, just make space. The way you welcome someone in can be the very thing that makes it possible for them to stay.