Archives for category: Healthy Living

I woke slowly, a moment ahead of the alarm. I shut it off, dressed, and left the house. Then, I went back in because I somehow managed to forget the fob for my car. This tended to cause me to be concerned about whatever else I may have forgotten, and as I went to grab my fob, I double-checked whether I remembered to turn off my alarm, my noise machine, and various little details that are part of my morning routine. I think I got it all.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I got a little more than 9 hours of sleep last night. I was tired and in pain and I laid down “for an hour” after my Traveling Partner and I enjoyed a genial meal together. That hour stretched into 3, and I got up briefly, enjoyed the company of my beloved while he worked on something. I went back to bed, unsure how I could possibly sleep more… and immediately crashed out. I certainly feel rested this morning. I clearly needed the sleep, my partner was right about that.

I grabbed my headlamp and cane eagerly when I reached the trailhead, and got started on my walk feeling light on my feet and merry. It’s a good start to the day.

A new day begins. What will you do with the opportunity?

I get to my halfway point and stop. The morning feels chilly. It reminds me that summer will end soon. Seasons change. The clock keeps ticking. The sunrise begins with a colorful display. I’m content to watch it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s hard to believe that the world is in such chaos – I let all that go. This is not the time for all that; these quiet moments are best spent on other thoughts… gratitude, love, wonder… I exhale, and let go of worry and doubt. The sky lightens as daybreak becomes the dawn of a new day.

“Nothing to see here,” I think to myself, contentedly. Just how I like it – calm. Quiet.  A small buck steps out from the vineyard rows and crosses the trail, heading into the trees. The western sky has become a pearly blue gray, clear and cloudless. A soft distant wooshing is audible from here. HVAC on the nearby water park building, probably, but in a different moment and place it might as easily be the sound of the seashore. It’s only a pleasant illusion, and I don’t mistake it for real. I yawn and stretch and fill my lungs with the cool air of this lovely summer morning.

… I almost feel like I could go back to bed! It’s a silly notion, and I got plenty of restful sleep last night…

I get to my feet, stretch again, feeling the movement as I extend my arms towards the sky. There’s coffee on the other side of this walk, and to get to it, I’ll need to begin again. 😁

I woke from complicated dreams feeling unbothered. They faded from my recollection before a memory of the details could form. I dressed and left the house, going back for my new headlamp, which I managed to forget in spite of the helpful note from my Traveling Partner.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I set off down the trail in the dark, my headlamp creating a well lit area ahead of me (or wherever I happen to look). It’s a much better headlamp than my old one. I’m not really surprised by that; my beloved recommended it to me. I smile to myself. I feel loved, with every step.

The humidity is 93% this morning, according to the weather app on my phone. Bleh. I feel it. It feels like other places I’ve lived… Maryland… Georgia… Alabama. Oof. I begin sweating before I’ve reached my halfway point. By the time I stop, I’m pretty damp. The air quality is some better today though, feels like. The temperature is mild and the air is calm. It’s a quiet morning. I sigh to myself and take a seat on a big rock. It’s not yet daybreak.

“Nothing to see here,” I think to myself. It’s not a criticism. I feel content and unbothered, and mostly pretty comfortable. Comfort is relative. I don’t escape the chronic pain very often at this point (hardly ever), but this morning it is a manageable 2 out of 10. I stare at the circle of light on the pavement just beyond the edge of my boots. Nothing to see there either really. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Nice morning for a quiet bit of meditation.

I rub my hands together, massaging my thumbs with particular care. I’d like to be painting and it feels unfair to be feeling arthritis developing in my hands. I find myself wondering if a paraffin wax heat treatment would help or only feel nice? I sigh out loud without meaning to, and notice that the air tastes a bit like fall, already. My mind wanders – maybe some time in the studio this weekend? That would be lovely.

I sit watching as daybreak arrives. I turn off my headlamp and let it hang from my neck. I’ll wait awhile longer, here with my thoughts, and then I’ll begin again. I can see the path ahead pretty well now. Here comes a new day. What will I do with it? I don’t know yet, aside from working. I hope I choose wisely.

Like, subscribe, comment… it’s a trap. The “hype cycle”, the outrage machinery, the click farming, and trying to get “engagement” from the bored and uninterested; it’s all part of monetizing our attention as consumers (of content). Pretty gross.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Add to all of that the pestilence of AI slop and enshittification and what have we got? Incentive to put down the device, step away from the screen and go outside.

On the trail at first light.

It’s a gray morning, overcast and cloudy. Looks like rain, but it doesn’t feel like rain. The forecast has no rain in it today. I set off down the trail as soon as I have enough light. (My replacement headlamp should arrive today or tomorrow.) I don’t mind the few quiet minutes waiting for daybreak. I spend the time, this morning, thinking about… Ozempic. 😆

I started on Ozempic in April, 2024, more than two years ago. I’ve lost some weight, sure, but I take it for my diabetes. I could stand to lose more weight, I’m definitely carrying around an unhealthy surplus (just being real). I’ve been improving my strength training a bit at a time, recently, with my Traveling Partner’s encouragement, which is helpful.

“Healthy” and “thin” are not synonyms. “Heavy” and “healthy” are not antonyms. It’s more complicated than that, but in my own case, I’m heavier than is healthy for me, and certain “features” of my brain injury complicate my impulse control and self-awareness. The Ozempic controls my blood sugar, reduces my interest in food, and eating becomes notably less gratifying, and the Ozempic profoundly improves my impulse control, generally (a very helpful side effect). I’m fortunate I haven’t had to deal with unpleasant side effects like nausea or constipation (only very rarely and not for long).

… There’s nothing shameful or embarrassing about taking appropriate medication for medical conditions…

I’ve never felt embarrassed, ashamed, or awkward about taking Ozempic, although I was very reluctant to try it at all. I’m often puzzled by the weird criticism of strangers regarding people using GLP1’s for weight loss, as if it amounts to “cheating”. (And I had to deal with that face to face with myself, before I was willing to try it.) Life isn’t a proctored exam. We’re each having our own experience. One person may find managing their weight (or their blood sugar) quite easy. Someone else may find it quite difficult. We are individuals. Ozempic may cause terrible life threatening side effects for one person, and no side effects at all for another. Keeping it real, though? It’s not anyone else’s business in the first fucking place. Take it or don’t; the choice is between you and your doctor.

…As with using Ozempic, talking about that is also a personal choice (stay out of the comments section 😆 the Internet trolls may be hangry – or jealous)…

I sit with my thoughts awhile, at a favorite stopping point. The trail is still mine. I love these quiet moments. This trail is very popular with dog walkers, though, and on such a mild morning there will no doubt be dogs tearing around in the brush and tall grass (because in spite of prominent signage with rules about keeping dogs leashed, people do as they please). Rude. It is the same disregard for basic consideration and manners that make people think it’s okay to criticize someone for following their doctor’s advice about their medication.

… Sometimes it feels like the idiots are winning…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m in a good mood, on a pleasant morning. No reason to undermine that with cynicism or petty anger and disappointment with humanity, generally. 😆 Later, housekeeping, exercise, and some hang out time with my beloved. I smile to myself. Useful perspective. Why was I even thinking about any of that other crap on such a lovely morning? Oh, right. My weekly dose increases today (and for the foreseeable future). 😂 I’m facing it with some unnecessary trepidation. I shrug it off and remind myself to drink plenty of water.

See, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Nearly every challenge we face also has steps we can take to directly improve our experience, we just have to choose to take that step. “Do the verbs.” It is also necessary to be open to the possibility – and to allow myself awareness of the options available to me. Small steps. Choices.

I breathe the fresh summer air. It smells of mown clover drying in the sun, and summer flowers. I think about maybe going to a cafe that serves a particularly delicious Borgia mocha (a nice treat), then wonder if I can even be bothered? Maybe I’d actually rather head home and do laundry and clean my bathroom? How delightfully adult of me. 😆 I sit smiling, enjoying the moment. It’ll be time to begin again, soon enough.

For now the sky overhead is quiet. Later, the annual air show will shatter the peace with a fun display of military might in the sky. Don’t misunderstand me; I enjoyed seeing the Blue Angels as a kid. These days it’s just very costly wasteful noise interrupting my ability to focus on whatever I’m trying to do.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m admittedly a bit of a buzzkill about air shows (noisy, wasteful), parades (traffic, crowds), fireworks displays (noisy, wasteful, crowded)… You may be getting the impression I dislike noise, crowds, and the chaos and expense of public celebrations, entirely. You would be correct; not my thing at all. I rarely even go to concerts to see artists I truly love. I don’t like the noise and the crowds. Hell, I don’t like it if the grocery store is busy enough to feel crowded. 😆

Most of my trauma has been at the hands of another person, directly. The result? I mostly don’t trust people with my safety, least of all my safety from direct harm by another human being! Viewed through that lens, it is probably not hard to understand why I am cautious about people and a bit averse to crowds. The noise sensitivity I live with (PTSD, head trauma) is its own thing, but we are interesting creatures built of systems, and it’s not easy to tease symptoms apart and assign them to this or that, independent of each other. That’s not really how we work.

I’ll endure the air show the way I generally endure such things: I’ll stay away from the event and associated traffic, and I’ll refrain from being a dick about my dislike of such things, and choose instead to just let folks have their fun. They aren’t hurting me, and the air show isn’t a personal attack on my peace. 😆 In fact, one of the best things I have gotten from practicing non-attachment is learning to embrace how very few things are ever “personal”. It’s a very impersonal universe, and it does not give a damn about one artist of middle-aged years living quietly between town and farm fields, I promise.

I set off down the trail at daybreak. I wasn’t sure this trail would be accessible today, with the air show going on. I had a plan B ready to go, if it weren’t. I’m grateful to be able to walk this familiar trail. It begins the morning well.

I reach my halfway point ahead of the sunrise. Looks like a cloudy day ahead. I yawn and stretch, and my muscles remind me that I’ve resumed strength training. It’s a healthy soreness, but still uncomfortable. I rub my aching shoulders and distract myself from the discomfort by scanning the underbrush slowly, looking for details I may have missed…or bunnies. 😂

The air is a little hazy, again, but the AQI is still in a safe range. The weather feels mild, and the cool of the morning hints at autumn. I stretch again, and look to the smooth gray sky overhead. The clock ticks on. It is a journey of miles and of moments. As with any practice, it’s about the verbs. I sigh as I get to my feet to begin. Again.

Well, here we are, another morning, another moment, another chance to begin again and to do better than we did yesterday. A little at a time, our actions and experiences, and the things we choose to practice, will change us. Choose wisely. 😁

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Today feels better than yesterday, although neither experience of a lovely morning offers me real insight to the difference. This morning I feel calm, kind, and unbothered. Yesterday I was cross with myself and the world and didn’t really have any more reason for that than I have for feeling quite differently now. I say that as an observation that our subjective emotional experiences are sometimes not directly connected to some obvious cause – they simply are what they are in that moment.

…Sometimes what we do about how we feel is more important than the feeling itself…

I slept pretty well, and woke a little startled when my lights flashed on before slowly brightening. I woke seriously groggy and had to slow down and make a careful point of going down my morning checklist to avoid making some small mistake that might wake my Traveling Partner or mess with his morning when he wakes a bit later. I appreciate a good routine, settled, reliable, predictable. This one isn’t that, yet. It needs more practice.

The sunrise from the trailhead already hints at autumn. It comes later, and the colors are a bit different. I consider whether or not to get another camping trip in, maybe after Labor Day? (Less crowded, fewer kids.) I don’t know if I really want to, or if I’m toying with the idea instead of something else. Life’s menu is pretty big, and there is a lot I’d like to do or try or see.

… My mind wanders on…

This year is already half over. Seems strange that it has gone by so fast. Subjectively, in this moment, I feel as if I have “achieved nothing”, which would be a huge bummer if it were objectively true. Oh for sure, I haven’t cured a major disease, changed the trajectory of world events, or solved homelessness in my community, those achievements were never within my reach as an individual. Not my path.

I’ve been painting, working, and supporting my Traveling Partner’s return to working, too. I’ve walked a few miles (about 600 or so, I estimate). I’ve started and finished some projects. I’ve started and failed to finish a few projects, too. I enjoyed one celebratory evening out with my beloved that is still lingering in my memory fondly. I tried out drone flying as a hobby. I got an RC car and happily drive it (it suits me better than flight). I don’t know, none of that seems odd or particularly noteworthy, just snapshots from one human life. Still, isn’t it enough for most of us to live and love and hope to learn to do those things with some measure of skill, over time? Doesn’t that amount to an achievement on its own?

…I feel fortunate…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful for the job I’ve got that supports the life I share with my partner. I’m grateful to be able to say I was able to provide caregiving to my beloved that helped see him through a major injury and recovery, to see him working in his shop once again. (Now that’s an achievement!) I’m grateful for our little house in a small town situated between suburbs and farm fields. I’m grateful for this well-maintained trail available to me each morning and for the sunrise I am lucky enough to see. Maybe it is all quite ordinary, it’s the experience I live, and I feel fortunate for the highs, and I try to learn something from the lows. It’s a very human experience. It’s enough.

I smile and breathe the summer morning air deeply. It smells nicely of mown grass and meadow flowers. The air is clear and still. The temperature is mild. It’s a nice pause before I begin a new day – again.