Day 6: “The Day I Forgot Words, But Found Color.”

Losing language after my stroke was terrifying. But painting gave me something to say.

Remembering

I still remember the day I opened my mouth to speak—and the words just… weren’t there.

The simplest phrases dissolved before I could catch them. I was a communicator, a therapist, someone who lived in language. And suddenly, I couldn’t even form a full sentence. That silence was deafening.

I had to relearn speech through therapy. It was hard, but I did what I needed to do in order to get back to some kind of normal that I remembered. I was bed-ridden in the beginning—unable to walk, to use the bathroom on my own, to move through life as I once had. It was humbling in the most painful, human way.

Eventually, I left inpatient rehab in a wheelchair. I came home to a life I no longer recognized… but I wasn’t alone.

My mom flew in and stayed with us for a full month. She helped hold things together while I tried to piece myself back together. My sister C came and spent a week with me—just being present, offering laughter, love, and calm when I needed it most. And my dear friend PS? She cooked hot, healing meals for my family—flavors that made me cry happy tears.

This core group—my people—showed up in a way that still makes my heart ache with gratitude. They were the steady hands I clung to in a time when I had none of my own. And I absolutely love and cherish them.

But even with all that love, there was still the silence.

Until I picked up a brush.

I couldn’t say what I felt… but I could show it.

Colors became my vocabulary. Movement became my sentence structure. A sweep of blue could hold grief. A burst of yellow, a memory of joy. Art didn’t need grammar. It just needed honesty.

I painted circles at first. Loops. Lines. Nothing that looked like “art.” But it was mine. It was an expression. It was communication. Painting gave me something to say.

And I haven’t stopped since.

If you’ve ever felt voiceless, I see you.

And I want you to know—there are other ways to speak. Art was mine. Maybe it can be yours, too.

Creative Assignment: “A Scribble Says a Lot”

Find a quiet moment and grab a blank piece of paper. Without any plan, just begin moving your pencil, pen, or brush across the page. Scribble, swirl, dot—whatever your hand wants to do. Don’t try to make it beautiful. Don’t try to make it “mean” anything.

Just let the movement happen. Breathe with it. Let this be your voice for today.

Afterward, sit with it and ask:
What feeling did this express that I didn’t have words for?
If something comes to you, write it down beside your drawing. If nothing comes, that’s okay too. Your body still spoke—and that matters.

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A Gentle Quote for You Today

“When my words went quiet, color spoke for me—and I listened.”
—Michelle Joy Brown

With color and care,

Michelle Joy Brown

© 2025 Michelle Joy Brown. All rights reserved.

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