“Sitting Still Isn’t Giving Up” What is to much and what is not enough?

 

TobiasComeback Blog Entry: “Sitting Still Isn’t Giving Up”

May 12, 2025

Today, I watched Tobias sit in his wheelchair, parked just a few feet from where he wanted to go. He sat there, quiet, still, and focused—his right leg poised for a move that didn’t come. I didn’t rush in. I didn’t rescue. I just watched it. And waited.

How long is too long to wait?

That question lives in the quiet spaces of our daily lives. It’s not just about time; it’s about trust. Trust in the process. Trust in the effort, even when it may not appear to be effortful.
Trust in the stillness that might seem like stuckness but could actually be building something unseen.

We’re teaching Tobias to move his wheelchair using his right leg on the floor—just a scoot, a push, a glide. It sounds simple. But for someone whose brain was once bathed in blood from a rupture he didn’t ask for, it’s a mountain. And yet, day after day, we practice.

Occasionally he can do it, but sometimes he freezes.

And that’s where the tension comes in—for both of us. Do I step in and guide his leg, or wait and let his body and brain try to figure it out? Do I speak or stay silent? Do I give him two minutes? Five? Fifteen?

Here's what I'm learning: sitting

still isn’t the same as giving up.
It’s often the ground where determination is born.

Stillness can mean thinking. Trying. Remembering. Resetting. Stillness can be full of purpose. This is particularly beneficial for a recovering brain.

I’ve learned to start with two to three minutes of space. If he’s showing signs of effort—eyebrows furrowed, foot tensing—I give him a few more. But if his eyes wander, shoulders droop, or a sigh escapes, I know it’s time to step in—not to take over, but to co-pilot.

The comeback involves more than just physical activity. It’s about knowing when to act and when to allow.

It’s about honoring Tobias’s pacing in a world that moves too fast.

And maybe—just maybe—it’s about the rest of us learning to sit in the hard moments too, without always rushing to fix them.

So today, he sat. And then, with a tiny nudge from his toe and a lot of cheering from me, he moved.

Not far. But far enough.

Far enough to remind us both: he’s coming back.

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#TobiasComeback
#NeuroRecoveryInMotion
#SmallMovesBigWins
#FrontalLobeFaith