S Leese - I'm Accepting and Adapting



The views an opinions expressed in these blogs are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views, values, or policies of Spoonie Village or other organisations. Assumptions and assertions in the posts are those of the authors solely.


We are critically-thinking beings, views and opinions are subject to change, revision, and rethinking at any time. Please do not hold the authors to them in perpetuity.



I’m Accepting and Adapting By S Leese


Sarah is a married mum of two and a cockapoo. When she isn't writing she can be found knitting and crocheting. She also enjoys camping and scouting (weather and energy levels permitting).


Recently, the mouth artist, Henry Fraser, posted a short video on Instagram of himself painting the words ‘Accept and Adapt’ on to a canvas. He used his adapted paintbrush to write out the words in the beautiful calligraphy that he uses on the covers of his books, ‘The Little Big Things’ and ‘The Power of You’. The video was accompanied by the words:


“I may not be able to use my hands to paint but sometimes we must accept and adapt to life’s challenges. Try not to waste energy just hoping things were better”

Henry Fraser, 16th October 2020


Towards the end of January 2019, I had a funny turn while walking the dog, and I haven’t been right since. I spent the first year of being ill going back and forth to the GP, attending an appointment with a neurologist, trying different medications (many of which I reacted badly to) and resting as much as I possibly could, all in the hope that things would get better. Sadly, they didn’t, and at the end of December 2019 I was medically retired from my role as a teaching assistant in a special needs school. Although it was the right, and only, thing to do by that point, I consider it the very best job I’ve ever had, and I was disappointed and heartbroken to leave behind my friends and the children I’d grown to love.


Thinking of Henry’s words, in hindsight it was a waste of my energy hoping things would get better. I spent that year, in between all the appointments, watching television and keeping my hands busy with knitting and crochet, expecting one day to suddenly be diagnosed, given the correct medication and be back at work. The only improvement I felt was when the weather changed for the better in the summer, which sadly lured me into a false sense of security – as I felt better I tried to do more, only to find doing more caused more pain in the long run.


The only diagnosis I’ve had so far is vestibular migraines, which