Some people confuse acceptance with apathy, but there's all the difference in the world. Apathy fails to distinguish between what can and what cannot be helped; acceptance makes that distinction. Apathy paralyzes the will-to-action; acceptance frees it by relieving it of impossible burdens. -Arthur Gordon
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"The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely."
-Carl Gustav Jung
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"We cannot change anything until we accept it. Condemnation does not liberate, it oppresses." -Carl Gustav Jung, Psychological Reflections
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Acceptance is definitely a process rather than a singular event. Personally, I believe the degree of difficulty is multifactorial. The journey winds between placing one foot in front of the other, doing what you can do, a whirlwind of activity and varying degrees of support, to a plateau of recovery as different as each person. When the flurry of activity, denial's best friend, slows down and allows the unconscious momentary access to awareness, snipets or flashes of "what is" show up when least expected. Brief moments occur that scream, "this is it!", this is what remains of what was.

While I'm still very busy (denying) wrapping up physical therapy, legal issues, buying a converted vehicle, considering plans for an accessible home, replacing my daughter's car with a newer model, sleep has become elusive once more. Sleep means dreams with denial stripped away. Dreams of trying to find my way through maze like rooms, not able to keep up or practice my profession. Lost and searching. Frustrating dreams. Better to not have them and awaken disturbed than to stay awake and busy, busy, busy.

Clouds have rolled in, hovering above, dulling perceptions, numbing. The distance between denial and reality is narrowing. Early mornings, particularly after a night of spastic muscle contractions, are the most difficult. Looking at the wheelchair by my bed, I realize that I'm facing another day of the same. Sometimes, I have a brief moment in the morning after awakening, warm and relaxed, after a spasm free sleep, with brief glimpses of "what was" and smile. I close my eyes, enjoying the memory, then I look at the sunlight streaming in across the seat of my wheelchair and I remember the truth...after three years of concentrating on what I am able to do, I'm beginning to catch glimpses of what has been lost.
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"Real loss is only possible when you love something more than you love yourself." - Sean McGuire's statement to Will Hunting, from movie Good Will Hunting