Jean Marshall | Author, Coach, Speaker

  Rebuilding My Strength: The Long Road Back After my accident, I honestly had no idea what my rehabilitation journey was going to look like. I didn’t even know exactly how long I was in the trauma unit because so much of that time is a blur. From what I understand, I was there for about two weeks before they moved me out. When I finally started waking up and becoming more aware, they transferred me from the trauma unit to an acute care hospital. Even then, I wasn’t really coherent. I was heavily medicated, and my body had been through something unimaginable. I had extensive injuries and was still connected to machines that were keeping me alive. I had six broken ribs, and from what I later read in my medical chart, I apparently broke another rib on my right side that didn’t require the same treatment. I also fractured my pelvis and my right wrist. My left ribs were wrapped with metal. My left leg had been crushed and reconstructed with plates and screws around my knee and ankle. M...

Beyond Tithing: Letting Go of Guilt and Rethinking Abundance I've struggled with this for a long time. Recently, I watched a video about a man who confronted a pastor because his elderly mother was on a fixed income. She couldn't even make it to the end of the month, yet she faithfully tithed every week. The son asked the pastor, "What are you doing for the elderly?" The pastor's response was, "Everybody's allowed to tithe." That answer honestly blew my mind. It also brought back a lot of my own experiences. There were times I didn't even want to go to church because I felt guilty that I couldn't afford to tithe. I grew up hearing that you were supposed to give 10% of your income because that's what the Bible says. I heard that if you don't tithe, you won't receive God's blessings, and those who give freely will be blessed even more. Whether that's exactly what's being taught or not, that's how it felt to me. It ma...

How Do They Expect Me to Survive? I finally made the call to disability, hoping for answers, hoping for movement, hoping for something that feels like progress. Instead, I got more waiting. My file finally got back to my caseworker after several months, and it still has to go to the doctor for review. But now more medical records need to be ordered because I’ve had another surgery and more medical treatments done. So I go back into the wait game. It’s exhausting. I was sent to see an internist, which only added to my confusion because it didn’t make sense at all. It left me a bit scared and doubtful because he didn’t ask me any questions at all. I expected a disability evaluation to include basic questions like how long can I sit, how far can I walk, do I need assistance, what are my daily limitations, how does pain affect my functioning. Instead, it didn’t feel like that. It felt brief, procedural, and disconnected from what I’m actually living through. And I walked away thinking...

  Sometimes the Setbacks Are a Blessing in Disguise When you’re rebuilding your life after a life-changing accident, every setback feels like another thing being taken away from you. For me, the last few weeks have been incredibly frustrating. I was finally starting to feel more confident using my prosthetic leg. I was making progress. I was walking more, getting stronger, and beginning to feel like I was getting a piece of my independence back. Then came the blood blisters. My amputated leg developed painful blisters, and suddenly I couldn’t wear my prosthetic. I had no choice but to slow down and give my body time to heal. At first, it felt like another obstacle. Another delay. Another reminder that recovery doesn’t happen on my timeline. But something unexpected happened. My remaining leg and ankle finally seemed to have the time they needed to recover. After my ankle surgery to remove three screws and the plate that had been holding my bone together, I had given it about four w...

I Almost Forgot My S trokeversary 💔 Please read my story, share this post, and help me get the word out.  Yesterday, August 3rd, marked six years since my stroke. I almost forgot. Not because it isn't important, but because I'm carrying so much pain from the injuries I suffered in my car accident on September 6th, 2025, that my stroke anniversary completely slipped my mind. That first year after my stroke, I honestly thought I was going to die every single day. I was constantly dizzy, scared, and didn't know if life would ever feel normal again. I remember telling myself, If I can just make it through the first year, I'll be okay. I had to learn how to walk, talk, and eat without choking all over again. Then came the second year. The third. Things slowly got easier. Life gradually started feeling normal again. I still have deficits—mostly in my left hand and a little weakness on my left side—for the most part, you couldn't really tell when I walked, or at least tha...

  One of the hardest parts of sharing my recovery online isn't the physical therapy, the setbacks, or even learning to walk again. It's the people who think they know my story after watching three seconds of a video. I recently shared my 10-month recovery update as a new below-knee amputee. The video wasn't asking for gait critiques, medical advice, or strangers to analyze my every step. It was documenting where I am in my journey and celebrating a milestone that took months of pain, determination, surgeries, setbacks, and rehabilitation to reach. I was sharing progress. I was sharing hope. I was sharing what it looks like to start rebuilding a life after a catastrophic accident. But instead of people simply celebrating that milestone, some immediately jumped into telling me what I should be doing differently. "Ditch the crutches." "Take gait lessons." "You're going to fall." Here's the problem. They didn't know my story. They didn...

  The Hardest Part of Recovery Had Nothing to Do With Learning to Walk Again When people think about recovery after a catastrophic accident, they picture the obvious things: surgeries, physical therapy, doctor's appointments, learning how to use a prosthetic, and rebuilding physical strength. Those things are hard. But one of the hardest lessons I learned had nothing to do with my injuries. It was learning to see people differently. Before my accident, I had always been someone who knew where I stood. If someone crossed a line or a relationship became one-sided, I had no problem recognizing it and walking away. What's different now isn't me. It's my circumstances. After my accident, I suddenly found myself needing help with things I had always done independently. I couldn't just jump in my car and run errands. Now a simple trip to the store requires planning, arranging transportation, and relying on someone else. That change taught me something I never expected: Nee...

  The Invisible Weight of Recovery People see me walking with a prosthetic and assume I’m getting better. What they don’t see is everything that is still happening behind the scenes. Recovery isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. It’s mental. It’s financial. And sometimes, the people who are supposed to help you end up making your recovery even harder. I’ve learned that the hard way. After surviving a near-fatal accident, spending four months in the hospital, losing my right leg below the knee, breaking my pelvis, ribs, wrist, vertebrae, and crushing my left leg, I thought the hardest part would be learning to walk again. I was wrong. The hardest part has been carrying everyone else’s mistakes, choices, and stress while trying to heal my own body. I’ve had caregivers who couldn’t follow simple instructions, showed up late for months, argued instead of taking responsibility, and somehow made everything my fault. I found myself repeating the same directions over and over again. “Get t...

I felt the need to write this because I've realized that a lot of people have good intentions. They're trying to relate. They're trying to connect. They're trying to help. But sometimes the things they say leave me hurt, angry, sad, or just completely dumbfounded. People need to understand that you can't just say the first thing that pops into your head. When you're talking to someone who's been through catastrophic trauma, your words matter. Think before you speak. Don't just word vomit all over someone because you're uncomfortable or trying to relate. Some of the things people have said to me over the past eleven months have been incredibly hurtful. They didn't make me feel seen. They made me feel dismissed. And in some cases, they did more harm than good. I'm writing this because I hope it makes people stop and think before they say the same things to someone else. It's only been eleven months since my accident. My trauma is still fre...