Stroke Changed the Life I Expected. Recovery Helped Me Find a New Purpose
Sara Kutzle, a survivor of stroke and national volunteer for the American Stroke Association, shares what recovery taught her about progress, connection and finding purpose.
It’s June 18, 2021, in San Francisco, California. We were all in the transitional period between the height of the pandemic and the beginning of reopening and recovery. I was working as a flagship retail manager and pro makeup artist. I had just gotten home from work with my boyfriend at the time. We were headed to dinner with friends, so I was getting ready in the bathroom when I sensed that I was melting to the floor. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and couldn’t tell if I literally was or not.
I began to panic with anxiety. Did I get drugged? Am I dreaming? Am I losing my mind?!
I made my way to the couch and took three deep breaths before crying out to my boyfriend for help. The next sequence of events was a blur, but I recall him calling my best friend since second grade, Chantel, who spoke to me on speakerphone and began asking me questions. All I could do was cry. I couldn’t speak, and the right side of my body had lost all strength and function.
As I began to pass out, I remember her telling my boyfriend through tears, “Call 911 right now!”
Chantel’s mother had survived a stroke just three months prior. She knew all too well what was happening.
My best friend and boyfriend at the time saved my life.
I was rushed to the emergency room with a dangerously high blood pressure reading. I was having a hemorrhagic stroke, which happens when a blood vessel inside the brain bursts and bleeds into or around the brain tissue. Doctors made the decision to take me into surgery and insert a tube into my brain to stop the bleeding.
All I could do was cry in the ICU. I couldn’t find the words to speak — but I knew my life would never be the same again.
Learning to Measure Progress Differently
Months after I was released from the hospital, I felt a powerful need to reclaim some independence. I ended my relationship, persuaded my parents that I could spend time on my own and began quietly documenting what recovery looked like for me. I did not yet understand that learning to stand on my own and accepting support could both be part of healing.
I’ve been journaling almost every day since I left the hospital. I intuitively knew I needed to document my experience, process what I had been through, and continue healing from depression and anxiety while learning how to write again. Journaling became an important part of my overall recovery and complemented the support I received throughout the process.
Day 1 Journal Entry
I feel aware. I feel loved.
Stay hopeful, be patient, find peace, stay connected.
Heal, love, create, become.
Let go of the past.
I somehow knew to do daily audits of my mental health and future goals. Was I willing to give up who I thought I’d become? To surrender for the potential of who I could become?
Trust your journey.
This was the beginning of my discipline and transformation. It eventually led me to sobriety in January 2023.
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For me, healing meant using what I’ve lived through in service of something beyond myself: to contribute, to create, and to help others feel less alone. I never imagined that the experiences that once brought me so much grief and frustration would someday help shape conversations about how stroke survivors get better. Yet today, I have the opportunity to share my perspective as a patient representative helping inform new guidance on stroke rehabilitation and recovery.
When everyone else seemed to be moving forward
Please don’t let that positive journal entry fool you. There were tears, breakdowns, and “Why me?” victim pleas.
I had my stroke at 38 years old. I couldn’t work, I was on disability, newly single and felt completely lost. My friends were thriving in their careers and in loving relationships. I wanted that.
But no, I had a stroke.
Recovery was measured in things I once did without thinking: holding a fork, finding the right word, knowing right from left. Progress did not always arrive in dramatic breakthroughs. It showed up quietly, in the small moments when I realized I was finding my way back to myself… or possibly the version of myself I was always meant to be.
Progress wasn’t linear. What I found unexpectedly difficult was maintaining my energy levels. I created a sleep schedule with a midday nap to recharge. I became conscious of the people, places, and things that affected my mood. I said no to what no longer served me, and each day I adjusted until I got it right. For so long, bright lights, loud noise, and crowded environments felt overwhelming. For someone you would always find on the dance floor, I was suddenly learning how to navigate a world that could feel overstimulating. My first live music event after the stroke gave me such an emotional release and a renewed sense of connection to others.
I believed in myself and knew I could heal and come back stronger than ever. If I could be 1% better each day, it was achievable, I told myself.
Then I began to unravel my experience through art.
Learning to Accept That You’re Different Than You Were
One of the biggest challenges after my stroke was the fear of knowing my life would never be the same again and accepting that reality while relearning how to move forward.
Before my stroke, slowing down did not come naturally to me. Recovery forced me to pay attention to my body, my mental health and the situations that supported or depleted me. Learning to listen to myself became part of learning how to move forward.
The Power of Connection
I’m so grateful to my family, friends, therapist and the community of my stroke support group. They listened, and they held me with such tenderness, love and encouragement.
They believed in me, which inspired me to continue believing in myself. They accepted all of my tears, my anger, my grief, my depression, my anxiety, my raw, vulnerable truths, all of me, just as I was.
Finding purpose in what came next
Recovery has meant learning to trust the person I am still becoming.
Continuing my education, advocating for mental health and sharing my experience with other survivors have helped me find purpose in places I never expected. Even contributing my perspective as a patient representative, helping inform new guidance on stroke rehabilitation and recovery, is something I could never have imagined in those early days when simply writing a sentence felt impossible.
None of that erases the grief or the invisible parts of recovery. It reminds me that they do not have to be carried alone.
If you are rebuilding after a stroke, your progress may not look like anyone else’s. It may be slow, uneven or difficult for others to see. It is still progress. Trust your journey, accept support, and keep going.
Sara Kutzle had a stroke at 38 and now uses her experience to advocate for and support others affected by stroke. She is a national volunteer for the American Stroke Association and served as a patient representative on the 2026 Guideline for Adult Stroke Rehabilitation and Recovery: A Guideline From the American Heart Association and American Stroke Association.
