Different isn’t Worse

Everyone loves an accent, especially a British or South African one. Longer vowels, truncated consonants. Mysterious in nature. Different cadence. Soothing, some might say.

I, however, do not hold this affinity. Unfortunately, I slip entirely too easily, unbeknownst to me, into this accent. Foreign Accent Syndrome. It is one of several inexplicable symptoms that I still sometimes experience…one year later.

It’s infuriating.

It’s humiliating.

It’s exhausting.

The accent, the delayed speech, the difficulty walking, the inability to translate what’s inside my head out to the rest of my body, the hyper sensitivity, the pain.

I ABSOLUTELY HATE IT!

And yet, in spite of it all, I am incredibly grateful. To be here. One year later. “Recovered.”

8/21/19 is my well date. I woke up that morning without any of the afore mentioned symptoms. Peculiar. Unimaginable. Remarkable. My husband couldn’t believe it. My neurologist couldn’t explain it. My friends couldn’t comprehend it.

I’d struggled eleven months. Endured speech therapy. In home therapy. Physical therapy. And then, literally overnight, I was well.

Against all odds, my “mysterious” illness left me. I was given back my life…well, sort of. Most days. It’s decidedly different now. But different isn’t worse.

I’m honestly not sure how to describe it, other than a gift. Though I knew with absolute certainty God would guide me through unwell, and back to health, I wasn’t sure what that looked like. How it would feel.

Employing sheer audacious tenacity, and copious prayer, I navigated my new normal. Return to normal? Different normal? Would this last longer than a glow stick? Or would I relapse, defaulting back to a reduced capacity? Didn’t matter. I was more “normal” than I had felt or sounded in what felt like forever.

“The Lord is my strength and my shield. My heart trusted him, so I received help. My heart is triumphant; I give thanks to Him with my song.”

Psalm 28:7 GW

And, oh how I sang! I distinctly remember joyous tears cascading down as I caught myself singing one of my favorite worship songs. Something I was utterly incapable of doing for those eleven months.

Save a small handful, you will never fully comprehend the roller coaster this has been; however, it may give you a glimpse into the unseen complexity of another’s life. We are all gloriously different. Life would be entirely mundane if we weren’t.

So today, one year later, I’ve decided to accept my difference. My new normal. It certainly beats continuing to futilely fight it. And because I’ve finally come to the conclusion, different isn’t worse. Different is simply different. By His divine design. Who am I to argue?