✨KITTING AROUND✨
BLOG 363–EVERYONE HAS A STORY
This Video will let you know more about me–
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr8QFnD1yGc
This Blog is Best Read on a Laptop, Rather than Your Phone.
By KIT SUMMERS — World-Class Juggler to World-Class Comeback
To Learn More about Kit, Go Here >> https://kitsummers.com/about-kit/
Once upon a life, I made gravity nervous—
Headlining at Ballys, tossing clubs with a grin.
Seven of them. A world record—
Because physics loves a good insult.
Then came the truck—the coma.
Thirty-seven silent days offstage.
And here I am now—not juggling clubs.
But throwing purpose, grit, and joy.
Balancing healing, catching courage.
Tossing hope sky-high. ♂️
The mission grew bigger than applause.
Now I lift humans. I write to stay connected.
I write because it’s how I breathe.
If these words help you, too?
That’s magic catching air.
What’s next on Kit’s journey through life?
Back to juggling? Back to life?
Stay with Kit and find out.
Life can get better.
Life will get better. ✨
Part 1) THE BEGINNINGS
Every story pretends it needs permission and asks,
“So… where do we begin?” At the start. Let’s be honest—
The beginning already happened, whether we were ready or not.
Your beginning has come, and you are flourishing, remember?
Mine began a long, long time ago, back when I was young…
Always wanting to be different, I found a lone path.
As a teenager, I was throwing balls and clubs in my backyard.
And life was quietly sharpening its sense of humor.
You’ve heard much of my story—now let me ask about yours.
Each of us carries experiences that can lift, guide, and encourage others.
Lately, my blog posts have been growing longer and longer, and it’s time to sharpen the blade.
Fewer words. More meaning. Only the ones that truly matter.
TO BE A GOOD WRITER —YOU MUST READ, READ, READ
I’ve discovered something simple and quietly powerful: you must keep joy in your life if you want to live well. Everyone can find this for themself, you must find joy! As I get older, I am getting younger. It is how we see our life.
Not someday joy. Not “When everything works out” joy. Daily joy. Right-now joy. Pocket-sized joy.
Look for the small joys. They matter more than you think. All your joys can add up to magnificence.
Tiny joys add up the way pennies become savings—or the way one good breath can calm an entire body.
SOME OF MY JOYS >>
One of my steady joys is the skill of juggling.
And, I build my garden wherever I land. 
I plant life. I clean it up. I watch things grow.
Another joy is cooking—turning ordinary ingredients into something that says, “Yes, today was worth it.”
And sometimes, joy looks like writing a short piece on my blog, hoping it lands gently in your hands and helps you feel a little more alive. Writing this blog helps me as much as it might you.
Joy isn’t accidental. It’s gathered. You have to notice it, choose it, invite it in—again and again.
Bring your joys forward as often as you can. Put them where you can reach them easily.
Find your joy while you are still on earth; it will enrich your experience.
Because here’s the truth:
One small joy can carry you through long days and quiet nights. It can steady you when the world feels heavy. It can remind you that you’re still here—and that still matters. Always drive yourself toward success–you will find it.
As I see my later years approaching, I understand this more clearly than ever:
I must actively create more joy and pleasure in my life.
I’ve watched too many older adults let negative thoughts move in,
rearrange the furniture, and take over the house.
Don’t let that happen to you. Those thoughts are terrible roommates.
It saddens me to see how many people miss this.
They forget to hold on.
They forget to look for joy.
They forget to play.
They forget to delight.
Please don’t be like “them”.
Hold on to joy—because that’s not extra. That is life.
And just as important: help others find theirs. Point it out. Encourage it. Celebrate it with them.
Too many people drift through their final years without joy, just enduring time instead of living it.
That breaks my heart.
You still get to choose.
Plant something. Cook something. Create something.
Laugh when you can. Love when you can.
And never stop gathering joy like it’s your job—because in many ways, it is. ✨
PART 2) THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK
Kit’s Daily Delights — Inspiration, Served Fresh.
>>>>> January 31
Early morning again—my favorite quiet hour—already tinkering with the next blog. ☀️✍️
How’s it landing so far?
Today was one of those low-noise, high-focus days. Not much is happening out there, but plenty is happening right here at my computer.
The next post is basically done—just needs the daily updates sprinkled in like confetti.
Momentum? Still rolling.
>>>>> February 1
Here it is—Sunday again.
No church for me. I do just fine without an intermediary for meaning or a weekly donation basket. My faith, such as it is, lives in action, kindness, and paying attention. Amen to that.
Last night? Twenty degrees. With wind that had attitude. I went out to the garden this morning and—of course—the tarp I so carefully secured had taken itself on an overnight adventure. I did track it down. The tomatoes, though… they didn’t make it. Nature shrugs. Lesson delivered. Onward we grow—literally and otherwise.
I’ve made a new friend—Janet. No idea how she found me, but here we are, exchanging kind words like trading cards of humanity. That still amazes me: strangers showing up at just the right time. I keep half-expecting you to write, too. When will that happen? I’ll be here. Door open. Light on.
Weekends are slow here. Slow like syrup in winter
I know—intellectually—that it’s up to me to stir the pot, make something happen, create motion. But today? That gear feels a little rusty. And that’s okay. Not every day is a fireworks day. Some are “sit on the porch and breathe” days.
You can see what I’m doing with this blog.
Tightening it up. No extra fluff. No verbal junk drawer.
Only the words that earn their place.
Editing is respect—For the reader and for the moment.
It’s 2:00 on this Sunday afternoon now. Tiredness has wrapped itself around me like a heavy coat. Not sleep-tired. Soul-tired. I’m still figuring out how to shake that and get my pep back. It may start small. A walk. A smile. A sentence like this one.
If you’ve got extra energy today, send some my way.
I’ll trade you a thought, a laugh, or a fresh start tomorrow.
I just finished writing a piece for the blog about joy—that slippery, sparkly, sometimes-hiding-behind-the-couch kind of joy. It reminded me (again!) that joy isn’t something you wait for like a bus that may or may not show up; it’s something you hunt, collect, and protect.
You have to notice it in the small, ordinary moments—the quiet wins, the tiny laughs, the unexpected beauty—because life will gladly distract you if you let it. Joy doesn’t demand perfection; it asks for attention. So grab it whenever it peeks out, pocket it, and keep moving forward a little lighter than before. ✨
On the computer, I heard a story that The Fonz was dead.
I had to search, and this came back >>
Quick pause, gentle correction—with love and truth.
Henry Winkler is alive. (Still cool. Still very much The Fonz.)
But your heart is aiming at something real and vital. Here’s a polished, joyful version that keeps the message strong without burying a living legend:
Hearing news about people we admire always reminds me of this simple truth:
None of us is promised unlimited time.
That’s why joy isn’t something to save for “someday.”
Find it now. Live it now. Laugh louder, love deeper, notice more.
Don’t wait for a headline to wake you up—Joy is the point, and now is the time. ✨
>>>>> February 2
Only a few therapies were scheduled today.
From 9–10 a.m., there was an OT group. I skipped it—another game that didn’t call my name.
From 11–12 was the Sports Group—also a pass.
From 1:30 to 2:30 was OT, and that one I did attend.
Before that, I headed outside to clean up the garden and deck area. The strong winds the other night had scattered wood chips everywhere, so I swept the entire deck. It looks much better now—order restored, chaos humbled. I always hope someone notices and appreciates the outdoor work I do. It matters to me.
At some point, something I wrote apparently bothered one of the therapists. She asked that her name not be used in future posts. I went back and reread the recent blogs and honestly couldn’t find what caused the issue—but no problem. I’ll leave names out going forward. Easy fix. Life moves on.
In OT, we reviewed what’s needed to make my chocolate chip cookies—just a few items left—progress measured in teaspoons and joy. Then I was placed on what I lovingly call the whack-a-mole board. I can see how I could have been faster. That said, it’s one of those activities I don’t feel much connection to, so I didn’t give it my full fire. Some things light you up. Some don’t. And that’s okay.
Tomorrow’s another toss of the balls.
At 11:30, I had a speech session with Lilly, and she is truly excellent at what she does. With calm precision, she pointed out a few gaps in my speaking and thinking—not to discourage me, but to show me exactly where the work still is.
She played an audio track of a voice saying random letters and numbers. My job was to click a button whenever a specific number appeared. It wasn’t difficult, and I did well.
The exercises focused on processing speed, attention, reaction time, and repetition. I also had to respond to target words. Again, I thought I did OK, but Lilly showed me what I missed. That was the value of it.
This session helped me clarify my thinking and reminded me that awareness is progress, even when the results aren’t perfect. Thank you, Lilly, you’ve helped me a lot. Growth starts with seeing the truth—and today, I saw it.
>>>>> February 3
I didn’t write about what I did today.
Not because nothing happened—but because some days don’t arrive with fireworks, fanfare, or tidy bullet points. Some days slip in quietly, barefoot, and do their work beneath the floorboards of the mind. Today was one of those days.
We’re taught to measure life by motion: I went here. I did that. I checked the box. I produced proof. But not all progress makes noise. Not all growth shows up with a receipt. Some of the most critical days are inward days—when nothing looks different on the outside, yet something subtle shifts inside.
Today was shaped by pauses. By noticing. By letting thoughts wander and then gently bringing them home. By listening more than speaking. By allowing myself to simply be—without auditioning the moment for productivity or applause.
Life isn’t built only in bold strokes and dramatic chapters. It’s also formed in the margins. In the white space. In the quiet recalibrations that prepare us for whatever comes next. Roots grow in darkness, after all.
So yes, nothing flashy to report.
And yet—everything necessary may have happened anyway.
>>>>> February 4
Today, it was off to https://cleantheworld.org/—a place where doing good isn’t a slogan, it’s the job description. As a group, we showed up to volunteer and help however we could, turning ordinary effort into something quietly powerful. Small actions, shared purpose, and a reminder that when people come together with willing hands and open hearts, the world really does get a little cleaner—inside and out.
>>>>> February 5
First, I’ve noticed a pattern: most therapy sessions tend to start late—usually by about five minutes. I always arrive early. That seems to bother some people, though I’m not quite sure why. Punctuality feels like respect to me.
At 9:00 a.m., Terrie from OT wanted to go out and pick up the items needed for the cookies we’re making. I let her know that I had already picked up everything. That threw her off a bit, since her goal was to observe my visual scanning and my ability to locate items in the store. Fair enough—but the mission was already accomplished. ✔️
There’s a big Super Bowl party coming up on Sunday. I jokingly asked, “Isn’t the Super Bowl the one where they try to hit that little ball into a hole?” Regardless of my impressive sports knowledge, we went to the store to pick up supplies for the party. Preparations are officially underway.
At 10:00 a.m., an OT group session was scheduled. I chose not to attend. Group sessions usually don’t give me much, and I decided my time would be better spent back in my room—writing this for you. And yes, I genuinely mean it when I say I’m glad you’re here, reading my words.
Later, with Lilly, we worked on memory. I actually like pulling memories—it feels like mental weightlifting. Her simple question, “What did we work on yesterday?” completely flustered me. That moment really bothered me. I should have known the answer.
With a few hints, the memories came back, but the struggle was sobering. It made something obvious: I need better organization and more structure to support my memory. I need to find ways to use my brain better.
In Lilly’s group, she handed out an alphabetical sheet. For each letter, we had to write words that matched. Then each person read their list aloud. After that, we were asked to remember items from other people’s lists. It was hard. Really hard. And that was the lesson.
I think it helped all of us see—clearly and honestly—where our memory challenges are. I know it did for me, maybe more than anyone else. Awareness is the first step toward improvement.
Thank you, Lilly, for that lesson. Truly.
Time to cut my hair again. I’ve done this for years. Do you have a hair trimmer? I keep all the hair on my head the same length. I usually cut my hair outside so the wind can just take it, and I don’t have to clean up. This saves a small fortune on haircuts.
>>>>> February 6
As usual, I was up before the sun.
Theresa Soto, who works here, told me she loves my blog posts.
Those words never get old. They matter.
I heard that Lilly is homesick today. She’ll be missed.
“Impulse Control Group” was scheduled for 9:00 a.m., but no therapists or patients showed up. Just Tiger and me. By 9:35, it was clear nothing was happening. One of the OT staff decided to default to a game—something she knows I dislike—so she let me go. That part, at least, I appreciated.
What continues to trouble me is the overall pattern: patients often feel like an afterthought. That’s a hard thing to witness. We are the reason this place exists, yet punctuality, preparation, and presence too often fall short. I would love to see more passion and care directed toward the people who are here to heal.
At 10:00 a.m., I met with Dino. We came to my room and talked for a bit. At 10:30, I asked about his next patient—who was likely waiting. Since I firmly believe the next patient should always be the priority, I sent him on his way. I dislike lateness in therapy, and I try to model the standard I wish to see.
To be fair, not all delays are the therapists’ fault. The therapy-room door is kept locked, and patients must buzz to be let in. Too often, the wait is long and unnecessary. Therapists have keys; patients do not. That system needs rethinking.
It’s now ten till eleven. No more therapy today. I’ll hang out here until lunch—food arrives close to our rooms.
Until then… YouTube, you’re up.
I haven’t been wearing my new teeth because they still hurt when I do. I will have to return for an adjustment.
Part 3) BLOG 363 — EVERYONE HAS A STORY
⚽ Think one Ball—Not Seven.
Think One page—Not a Book. 
One Heartbeat—One Clear, Honest Message.
1. Start With a Moment—Not Your Resume
Skip the birth dates, job titles, and the “Once upon a LinkedIn…” stuff.
Open with a moment that changed you:
A loss. A failure. A success. A hard choice. A quiet realization.
The day everything cracked—or finally clicked.
2. Name the Struggle (Briefly. Honestly.)
Inspiration isn’t polish. It’s truth + courage. Share just enough:
What hurt. What scared you? What almost stopped you?
No drama padding. No victim monologue.
Just enough for the reader to think: “Oh… me too.” That’s the hook.
3. Show the Turning Point. Every inspirational story has a hinge.
Ask yourself: “What decision did I make?” “What belief shifted?”
“What tiny step mattered more than I realized?”
This doesn’t need to be heroic. Sometimes the turning point is simply:
“I didn’t quit.” And yes—that counts BIG TIME.”
♂️ 4. Show Growth, Not Victory
You don’t need a shiny ending. You need movement. Tell us:
What do you do differently now? What did you understand that you didn’t before?
How do you stand up faster—even if you still fall? Lessons learned?
Readers don’t need you on the mountaintop. They want to see the trail you’re walking.
5. Hand the Torch to the Reader. The story isn’t just about you.
End with: A question. A gentle challenge. A reminder that they aren’t done either.
Something that softly says: “If I can do this… maybe you can too.”
Now what do you think of those words?
✨ One-Page Structure (Feel Free to Steal This)
Opening moment (pull them in)
The struggle (short, real.)
The shift (decision or realization), who you’re becoming.
Invitation to the reader–That’s it.
One Final Pep Talk
You don’t write an inspirational story by trying to sound inspiring.
You write it by telling the truth, with a bit of courage, and a lot of heart.
Your life already has meaning. The page is just where it learns to breathe.
Now—pick up the pen—one ball. You’ve got this.
We all have a story.
Every life is a one-of-a-kind narrative, written in victories and setbacks, laughter and scars. Mine began with motion—objects flying through the air, hands learning trust, gravity becoming a dance partner. I learned early that focus can turn chaos into rhythm, that persistence turns drops into applause. I also learned that life, like juggling, never promises an even toss.
Each chapter—whether shouted from the rooftops or whispered in the quiet—shapes who we are. Some of my chapters were loud and bright: stages, crowds, the thrill of doing what I loved. Others arrived without warning, heavy and hushed: hospital halls, long nights, relearning the basics, discovering how fragile momentum can be. Those pages didn’t ask for permission. They simply turned.
When stories are shared, they become bridges: creating connection, inviting healing, and lighting sparks of inspiration. For a long time, I thought strength meant carrying my story alone. I was wrong. Strength showed up when I began to tell the truth—about fear, about fatigue, about the slow courage it takes to stand back up. Every time I shared, the bridge widened. People met me in the middle. Some crossed with me.
Stories remind us to lead with empathy, because we never truly know the weight someone else is carrying. The smile you see might be balancing grief. The laugh might be holding pain just long enough to breathe. I learned to look again, listen longer, and ask better questions. Compassion became less of a concept and more of a practice—one small, human moment at a time.
Our most significant achievements matter, yes—but so do the unseen struggles. The victories you can photograph are sweet. The ones no one sees—the choice to try again, the patience to heal, the humility to ask for help—those are the muscles that last. They don’t sparkle, but they hold.
Often, it’s the painful pages that become the strongest foundations, turning lived experience into compassion, wisdom, and a hand reaching back to help someone else rise. I didn’t choose every chapter, but I have decided how to carry them now. I prefer to build with them. To stack the hard-earned lessons like bricks and stand on them—taller, steadier, kinder.
This is my story so far: a life still in motion, still learning the rhythm, still tossing hope into the air and trusting the catch. And if my pages can help you turn yours with a little more courage, then every scar has done its quiet work.
Why this idea resonates so deeply:
Life experience.
No two paths are the same. Each of us collects moments—hard ones, joyful ones, surprising turns—that quietly shape how we see the world and who we become.
Background and history.
Family roots, culture, geography, and circumstance all leave fingerprints on our lives. Where we come from matters. It always has.
Hidden depth.
The phrase gently reminds us not to judge by appearances. What we see on the surface is rarely the whole story. Beneath it lives context, struggle, resilience, and reason.
Connection and empathy.
When we remember that everyone is carrying a story, it softens us. We listen more. We assume less. We grow more generous with understanding.
Your story is important!
Every story counts. Your story matters—even the quiet ones.
Especially the ones we haven’t heard yet.
It’s time to write your book.
PART 4) A FEW SPARKS TO SLIP INTO YOUR POCKET
✨ THE MAGIC OF QUOTES ✨
Quotes are tiny magic lanterns—pocket-sized beams of brilliance we carry through the dark. ✨
They hold oversized truths in travel-size form, ready to glow exactly when we need them.
A single line can calm a wobbling heart, snap a fuzzy thought into focus, or nudge us forward when our feet hesitate. Sometimes a quote doesn’t shout or lecture—it leans in close and whispers, “You’re not lost.” And that quiet glow? It’s often just enough light to keep us moving. ♂️
Take the next step. There’s more ahead.”
“Stories are a communal currency of humanity.” — Tahir Shah.
“Write your life story, it’s important and will change the world!” — Kit Summers.
“When you’re sharing, it offers the opportunity for someone to help you.” — Marala Scott.
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” — Maya Angelou.
“Sharing our truths can provide the opportunity for great healing.” — Kristen Noel.
“The fact of storytelling hints at a fundamental human unease, hints at human imperfection. Where there is perfection, there is no story to tell.” — Ben Okri.
“Your heartache is someone else’s hope. If you make it through, someone else will make it through. Tell your story.” — Kim McManus.
“When I am afraid to speak, it is then that I speak. That is when it is most important.” — Nayyirah Waheed.
“There is surrendering to your story and then knowing that you don’t have to stay in your story.” — Colette Baron-Reid.
“You are not your illness. You have an individual story to tell. You have a name, a history, a personality. Staying yourself is part of the battle.” — Julian Seifter.
“Tears are words that need to be written.” — Paulo Coelho.o
“Tell the story of the mountain you climbed. Your words could become a page in someone else’s survival guide.” — Morgan Harper Nichols.
“Perhaps everyone has a story that could break your heart.” — Nick Flynn.
“After nourishment, shelter, and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.” — Philip Pullman.
PART 5) YOUR CHALLENGE THIS WEEK >>
Start writing your story. Your book. Not someday–TODAY!
Choose a subject that won’t let you sleep.
Pick a title that tugs you forward—even on low-energy days.
Create a table of contents—not as a contract, but a compass
It points the way, even when you wander.
For each chapter, sketch it simply:
What’s the moment? What’s the lesson?
Why does it matter to a living, breathing human?
And when you write, write to inspire, not to impress.
This isn’t a résumé. It’s a hand reaching back, saying,
“I’ve been there. Come on—I’ll walk with you.” ✨
PART 6) NEXT WEEK>>BLOG 364–“SPEAKING WITH SILENCE”
Write me today—kitsummers@gmail.com
PART 7) FINAL THOUGHTS
Because the best is always still ahead.
So juggle joy like it’s the air you breathe.
The horizon holds more than you can yet imagine.
Your present moment is not the finish line—it’s your starting block.
Chase sunsets as if they’re secret treasures waiting just for you.
Laugh so loudly that tomorrow leans in to listen.
Live as though you’ve only just begun—
BECAUSE YOU TRULY HAVE!
