Intro:
Sometimes I catch myself thinking: “Am I really making a difference? I can barely walk without looking like a penguin, my balance is questionable, and my legs occasionally stage a rebellion.”
And yet… people reach out. And it’s humbling, hilarious, and completely unexpected.
The Radio Moment
When I spoke to Neil Prenderville on Red FM radio, he asked, “What’s your goal in all this, Marie?” I said simply: to help just one person.
Then reality happened: people actually reached out. Someone read the blog and said it helped them, another said they were inspired to talk to a coach because of what I shared. And I’m sitting there thinking, I can barely waddle across the kitchen, yet somehow this is helping someone?
Penguin Legs, Heart Full
Yes, I’m moving around like a penguin. Yes, my recovery is slow and wobbly. But somehow, words I write, reflections I share, or even just my messy, chaotic journey have resonated with others.
One friend who’s had two miscarriages reached out, saying she’s now going to speak to a coach. Another one of my besties, who lives with a very serious syndrome but rarely talks about it, opened up to me. It made me think: we never really know what anyone else is going through. People might look at someone and think they’ve got it all—maybe even feel a bit jealous—when really, all that person wants is what someone else has. Perspective check, right there.
Mini reflection: Life is messy, invisible battles are everywhere, and small gestures—sharing a story, a laugh, or even a wobbly penguin moment—can mean more than we realize.
Outro: Messy, Wobbly, but Worth It
I’m still in the middle of my recovery, still wobbling, still figuring it all out. And yet, hearing that something I shared has helped someone—just a tiny bit—is incredible.
Recovery—and life—is messy, funny, exhausting, and humbling. Helping someone, even when you can barely walk, is a surprise gift you never expect. And if I can throw in a little humor along the way? Well, waddling penguin legs and all, that’s just the cherry on top.
