💔 The Day That Changed Everything

I’ve rewritten this moment a thousand times in my mind.

Some days it comes in sharp flashes — the pain, the confusion, the strange calm. Other times, it feels like someone else’s story, as though I’m peeking through a window into a life that used to be mine.

But this is my truth. This is the day everything changed.

💔 A Normal Morning… Until It Wasn’t

I was a mom, an artist, and a woman chasing big dreams. That morning felt like any other — the kettle whistling, the sun painting golden lines across the kitchen floor, my to-do list growing by the minute.

Then came the dizziness.

Then the numbness.

Then the silence.

My body folded in on itself like a paper crane. My words stopped working. My vision blurred. And just like that, the life I knew — the one I’d worked so hard to build — cracked open.

I had a stroke.

🕯 Limbo — The Quiet Between Two Worlds

I don’t remember everything. Not in the way you might expect.

There were moments — flickers of voices, warmth on my skin, the sensation of being submerged in silence. I’ve since learned I was in a coma. Doctors didn’t know if I’d wake up. My family lived on hope and heartbreak.

While my body lay still, my spirit wandered.

I can’t explain the places I went or the strange sense of peace I felt. But I came back changed — softer, quieter, with a deep knowing that I had unfinished work in this world.

💪 Relearning, Rebuilding, Rebirthing

Waking up wasn’t the miracle moment movies make it out to be. It was terrifying. My body felt foreign. My mouth struggled with words. My memories were scattered.

But I was alive.

And that meant I had a second chance.

From that point on, every small thing became a victory: lifting a spoon, drawing a single line, saying “I love you” without slurring.

I leaned into my art — even when my hands trembled. I poured my fear and healing into digital canvases and poetry. I started telling the truth. All of it. Even the ugly, beautiful, messy parts.

🧡 Why I’m Sharing This Now

Stroke doesn’t just change the body. It changes your relationships, your dreams, your identity.

But it doesn’t mean the end.

I’m not who I was before — I’m something new. And in many ways, more whole than ever.

If you’re reading this as a survivor, a caregiver, a partner, or someone afraid of what comes next… I see you. I honor your pain and your strength.

This blog, this website, this new life — is for you.

Let’s heal, create, and rise — together.

—
With love,
Sunny Savannah 🌻

📝 Leave a comment below or share this with someone who might need a little light today.