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Between Breaths

September 11, 2025 //
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This morning is better. This morning is even “good” for all the values of “good” that come to mind in the moment. It’s nice. No anxiety. I woke with my silent alarm, as the lights began to come on, and my morning routine felt… routine. The traffic heading to the more distant co-work space was light, and I got there “right on time” – by which I mean when I expected to. I got to the office with enough time to share a few words with my Traveling Partner, and enough time to set up without rushing, and to prepare for an early meeting. It all feels so… ordinary.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take the few minutes for meditation in the morning that I usually do. The early morning call means my walk will come a little later, and that’s entirely fine. I feel steady, centered, and comfortable in my skin. I feel self-assured and confident that I am in the right place at the right time, doing things I am capable of doing well. It’s as if I were never anxious at all, which is a very nice feeling indeed.

I look over reminders for later. No stress there, either. This is a lovely start to an utterly ordinary work day.

I’m grateful to be without the anxiety that has been riding shotgun with my consciousness since I learned I’d be laid off from my previous job. Strange that quickly securing a new job wasn’t enough to beat back my anxiety…it was the more-than-satisfactory completion of a project that had been assigned to me when I started. I really needed that, I guess, to soothe the background hurt (purely emotional, and mostly fairly bullshit and unnecessary) that resulted from being laid off at all. Knowing those sorts of business decisions are “not personal”, and even being treated with great consideration by colleagues, doesn’t mean it hurts any less. I really enjoyed that job, and could have happily done that until I finally left the workforce. That’s not relevant to the reality of the situation – in a sense that role no longer exists at all. Even the company doesn’t actually exist anymore, as any sort of independent entity. This is certainly a circumstance in which practicing non-attachment is the healthy choice. I smile to myself, feeling reminded of how very human I am. I’m grateful things are turning out so well, and I sip my coffee and reflect on that.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. New day; new beginning. The (metaphorical) clock ticking in the background? It’s always ticking, whether I hear it or not. Paying too much attention to the sound of the clock becomes a distraction; there is much to be done in those finite minutes of each day, and many practices to practice on the way to becoming the woman I most want to be.

I let gratitude fill my thoughts for a few more minutes. It’s a nice way to begin a day, reflecting on what is going well, what is working out, what I am fortunate to enjoy in this mortal life, and the people I am fortunate to know. Dwelling on the challenges seems only to fill my life with frustration and anxiety. Savoring the very best moments is very different. The small joys, the things that suprised me in some delightful way, the coincidences and happenstance moments of luck or of beauty – those things are worth “dwelling on”, however small, and they fill my life with joy long after the moments have passed. Gratitude has become a favorite practice – it feels really good, and lifts me up.

I glance at the clock… it’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Good Luck With That

August 26, 2025 //
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I am sipping my coffee on a warmer than average morning, grateful to have ice for iced coffee. Grateful to have coffee. Grateful to be as fortunate as I am. I am drinking this coffee and reflecting on how “lucky” I’ve been over the course of a lifetime, so far.

Meditation over coffee… like a sunrise in my thoughts.

I’ve survived a lot in this life: childhood sexual abuse, rape, domestic violence, head trauma, brain damage, military sexual trauma, poverty, homelessness, anxiety, upheaval, and despair… and illness, and injury, and poor decision-making. It’s been much. I did survive, though, and I’m here, now, and generally speaking I’m okay, for nearly all values of “okay”, and life is good. Even the insecurity of being unemployed, presently (well, as of later today) doesn’t sway my impression that I’m fortunate, and have been rather lucky my entire life. You may find it surprising that I see myself as “lucky”, but let’s face it – I’ve survived a fair few things and find myself here, now, with a good attitude about life, and feeling positive and hopeful, generally, and alive. My childhood was difficult – but I did make it to adulthood. My early adult decision-making was spectacularly poor – but I did survive those decisions and their consequences, and moved on to better things, and found greater wisdom, eventually. Considering that I managed to get past all that before I had a “complete set of tools”, I think I was lucky indeed. Things could have been much worse.

…At no point was surviving all that I’ve been through a given; more than once I could have died…

It was luck and happenstance that brought my Traveling Partner and I together, late in 2010. I still had a head full of chaos and damage, my hormones were wrecking my life daily, and I was awash in unresolved trauma, and mired in misery. How lucky was I that my beloved saw past that to the woman I could become? In 2013, on the edge of making an irrevocable decision about living life, I found a therapist who was actually able to help me – a massive stroke of good luck, and I am enduringly grateful. In 2015, I chose to step away from damaging drama and ended an unhealthy relationship that was undermining my emotional wellness, and I chose to live alone for a time. Though my relationship with my Traveling Partner remained important to me throughout the time that I lived alone (no “break up” or separation, we were simply living apart, still deeply in love, but working in different places), it was a healing time that allowed me to “grow up” quite a lot in ways I’d never managed before. I’m grateful (and fortunate) to have a partnership that could withstand that bit of distance for a time, even supporting and encouraging me. Lucky. It’s not just those years that I’ve known my Traveling Partner, either. Year after year. Address after address. Job after job. Friendships. Acqaintances. Experiences. I’ve been damned lucky in this very human lifetime of chaos, and trauma, and change. I try not to overlook my good fortune and privilege. No one actually “pulls themselves up by their bootstraps” and makes it entirely on their own. Choices matter. Relationships matter. Luck matters.

We don’t “win the game” solely through the cards we’re dealt, nor even how we play the hand. Luck matters. Happenstance. Circumstances. Coincidence. The actions of others. Good fortune and good friendships matter. What we do with what we’ve got matters – but so does how we perceive it all, and how we understand it. We create a large measure of our own experience, moment by moment, in our own heads. How we view the hand we’re dealt, and the options we are able to recognize, have a lot to do with our perspective on life.

…Don’t forget to dance, when you feel moved by the music…

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts and start my morning with gratitude. It’s a warm morning and the air quality continues to worsen as the wildfires to the east continue to burn. I’m grateful (and lucky) that they aren’t much closer. My Traveling Partner pointed out the poor air quality as I left for the last day at this job, in this office, and suggested I take my walk later on, in some large retail space with air conditioning and filtration, rather than tax my lungs with the dirtier air outside. I feel loved that he thinks of such things and affirm that I’ll take his advice. I’m grateful for the consideration of my colleagues, as we wind down this work together; I feel hopeful, not despairing. I feel supported and considered, not fearful and in shock. I am grateful to be comfortable and self-assured in this chaotic space between jobs; I’ve been here before, and I know it’ll be okay. I’ve been lucky in the past, and I’m grateful to have the positive perspective to rest on while I get something new lined up.

“Fortune favors the bold” – it’s worth noting that to a degree we each make our own luck. It doesn’t do much to just sit around “feeling positive” – there are verbs involved. There is work to be done. There are skills to hone, and resources to assess and to organize. Chillaxing on the couch playing Hello Kitty Island Adventure won’t get me a new job (probably)(most likely)(that’d be a remarkable amount of luck!), so I’ve still got to get on with things. Set a plan. Take steps. Act. Begin again in the face of every failure, every rejection, every “no”. I don’t fit everywhere, in every role – but I do fit somewhere. I’m fortunate to have developed so many highly transferrable skills in a lifetime. Sometimes I make fit happen. Sometimes I stumble into it. Sometimes it may be handed to me. Sometimes I work for it over many days with much careful decision-making. Luck happens along the way.

This morning I feel less tense than I have been feeling, mostly because it is “the day”. The last day – and there are steps that could not be taken before this day had come. I’m ready, though; I’ve got a plan and I feel lucky, and grateful.

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin. The path ahead is waiting.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Rape, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

The Stall Point

August 21, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and feeling sort of cross and “stalled”. Just sort of sitting here, not motivated to act, or reflect, or choose, or consider – I’m a bit stuck, honestly. It’s a very human thing. Maybe I didn’t get quite enough restful sleep? Maybe I haven’t actually consumed enough coffee to get my brain going properly? Maybe I’m feeling (understandably) a little lost, or frustrated, or down? One thing I am definitely feeling is that I am dragging myself reluctantly through my experience, at least for the moment. Maybe I need to take a moment and just… cry?

I’ve been a proper adult over this untimely demise of my current job. I’ve been measured. I’ve been resourceful. I’ve been easily able to pivot to tackling the job search related tasks that need to be done now, and plan ahead to those yet to come. I’ve reached out to contacts likely to know someone who knows someone who knows of an opportunity that may be a good one for me. I’ve handled it. You know what I haven’t yet done, though? I haven’t allowed myself to grieve. I’ll miss this job. I’ll miss these colleagues. I’ll miss so many details of this particular routine at this time in my life. I haven’t given in to the hurt, yet. I’ve simply handled business with a clear head and a sense of urgency and commitment. It still hurts, emotionally, to lose this job – and I haven’t yet dealt with that. I’m going to have to, though, otherwise it will burrow into me, fester, and rob me of my will to act. Not helpful.

I’ve got the office alone, and I close the door, put my head down, and let the tears come – they’re right there, waiting. I let the fear and uncertainty wash over me. I let myself feel the hurt. I let the anger and feelings of disappointment and unfairness surface enough to acknowledge them alongside the tears. I go ahead and feel the feelings, and I cry. From experience I know that if I stifle these emotions and don’t provide myself the nurturing and self-care that I need – physically and emotionally – I’ll pretty quickly reach my “stall point”, and just stop functioning properly. I won’t be able to remember errands, tasks, and commitments, I won’t feel like doing anything, and I won’t be able to interact with people comfortably to talk about what I’m looking for out of a new job (because I’ll be mired in the unaddressed pain of losing the old one and too prone to talking the experience of hurting and loss). It’s like any other grief; the way out is through.

The tears pass pretty quickly, for now. There may be other moments, and other tears, with potential to pull me down and stall me if left unaddressed. Funny how embarrassing it feels to yield to a moment of emotion under these circumstances – there’s no reason for that. It’s not anything besides a very human moment of emotion. Emotion is part of who and what we are. I stretch and yawn, and sip my coffee. I’ve got an interview with a talent agency a little later. Later still, I’ll catch up with a friend who may have contract work that will support the short-term need nicely, for some indefinite time – not ideal, but far better than unemployment. I smile – the same friend got me into the contract that eventually developed into this job, that I’m now leaving with such sorrow. I’m grateful. I chuckle to myself over the value in relationships feeling like some “secret life hack” – it really is the people that matter most, and how we interact with them, and the experiences we share.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I do a quick “body scan” and take inventory of myself in this moment. Pain hasn’t been an issue the past day or two, but this morning it’s ferocious, and I have to deal with that, on top of “everything else”. A very human experience. It is often the case that when I am feeling most overwhelmed, or when I am feeling “stalled”, it may be some one small thing that needs my attention so urgently it shuts down everything else until I do give myself the attention I need. Those are generally experiences very much about emotions. When I feel overwhelmed or stalled, I go looking for the feeling that isn’t “being heard”, and give myself a moment to sit with that feeling, deal with it head on, and provide myself with the genuine nurturing from within that I am needing. Self-care. It’s a big deal.

I sigh and drink my coffee in the stillness. The clock ticks on, without any regard for what I may want out of the moment before moving on to the next. It’s already time to begin again – and there’s a lot to do.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

Hey, What’s That Sound?

August 20, 2025 //
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Oh, damn – that’s the sound of “the other shoe dropping”. Familiar. Well, hell – that means change, eh? I get a fresh glass of cold brew, take a breath. Honestly, the uncertainty is more stressful than the knowing. Seasons, cycles, and change – it’s just time, again, to begin again. I’d maybe even say “nothing to see here”, but it feels bigger than that from this vantage point, and I’m feeling that moment. I breathe, exhale, relax, and take a deep satisfying drink of icy cold brew. I let thoughts come and go, reflecting on the circumstances a moment longer.

…Doesn’t much matter what the circumstances are, this is a very human experience, and it’s likely we’ve all been through (so many) “shoe-dropping moments” in life. Change is – and we don’t always choose it. I’m okay, for most values of “okay”. It feels good to have my partner in my corner, encouraging and supporting me. This particular bit of change is job-related, and honestly seems rather mundane, considering some of the heinous shit going on in the world right now. I definitely do like things easy, not gonna lie, and it’s disappointing that I won’t be enjoying this role until I eventually retire (because yes, I’ve enjoyed it that much), and I really don’t enjoy the chaos of changing jobs at all. But I also feel more or less okay. Fine with it in the sense that it really is pretty mundane as changes go, and I’ve been through it before. So many times. I smile to myself, thinking about my “professional timeline” and all the many stopping points along the way.

…I would have retired a long time ago, if I could have afforded to do so, but even if I had it would not stop changes from coming, they’d just be other changes…

It’s easy to be angry when change comes. It’s rarely useful (except in the rare circumstance in which the motivational power of anger can be harnessed with a sense of purpose for good use). I sip my coffee content to deal with the change.

I sigh to myself. I’d like to take time to paint. I’ve no shortage of inspiration, but the household feels “crowded with activity”, and I’m often (usually) a participant. That sounds like an excuse, but I do find it difficult to paint productively while also juggling conversation, caregiving, and the day-to-day routine of keeping a household humming along. Then, too, there’s this thing I have been having to deal with all year… my hands. The specific position and grip pressure of my hand and fingers when I am holding a brush or pastel has begun sporadically (and unpredictably) causing me pain in the joints of my thumb. Arthritis? Feels different than that. Tendonitis? Closer, but I really don’t know. I do know the pain is aversive and creates a reluctance to paint at all, sometimes. Disappointing, but real. Between wanting uninterrupted time for doing creative work and finding that hard to get, and the pain that turns up unexpectedly when I do paint, I just … don’t. This, too, will pass. Probably. For now, it’s not the thing that is truly top of mind… I just happened to think about it, just now. A passing thought about something other than work and looking for work.

…I let my mind wander on…

Life’s journey isn’t a reliably easy one. I am even pretty sure, based on my own experiences and observations, that “easy” is more a matter of luck than anything else, and “ease” is not an expected part of the human experience. We’re fortunate when we find a moment of “ease” to rest within, and to enjoy. I sit sipping my coffee, reflecting with gratitude on the many moments of ease and good fortune that have found me, over a lifetime. They aren’t “everything” – life can be fucking hard – but they are something worth cherishing. When hard times come, I don’t look back on the easy times and good times with anger, frustration, resentment, or despair (not any more). I’m far more likely to take a moment, now and then, to appreciate how good I’ve had it, and how often that has been the case, and “fuel up” to endure whatever hardships have (or may) come my way. They’ll pass. Generally things do – good or bad.

I’ll find a new job. Maybe even very quickly (though that isn’t a given, and this is a difficult time for jobseekers, generally). Will it be the amazing experience of “work joy” this one has been? Maybe not. Hell, probably not – such experiences are quite rare (so I hear). Most of my work experience has been some degree of tedium, or aggravation, or pure hell in some environment that feels a like purgatory, watching a clock tick off the hours until the next pay check, while I do my damnedest to produce my best work and to be the best professional I can, hoping for better next time. I work to earn my pay, and use that pay to support my life. In a very real sense, I am converting the finite mortal hours of my life into spendable currency. I reflect on that for some moments, and consider my worth. Each time I find myself in this in between place, I am also… “finding myself“. It is an opportunity to learn and grow. Fill in gaps in my professional qualifications. Understand what I want more than I did at the start of the last job. Understand what I need better than I understood it previously. Look ahead. Plan. Consider new options.

The very first time I was ever “out of work”, it hit me hard. I was pretty young, but I’d had that job, advancing through the ranks, for 15 years. I had literal hysterics over it. I felt as if I had lost my sense of purpose. I did not handle it well at all. I felt really lost. I felt “blown off course”. Then, later, I felt really… spoiled and stupid and foolish, because I had known it was coming, refused to deal with the reality, and done nothing to actually prepare. I pulled myself together, and figured out what resources I had. I moved to a new place on the other side of the country (in a battered used Ford F-150, with all my mechanic’s tools in my toolboxes strapped down carefully in the bed), and I began again. (I make it sound simple, but it was a process, and it was weeks, and the outcome wasn’t ideal.) In the two years that followed, I changed jobs 4 times before I found something that could last (it didn’t). I moved 4 times. I left my first marriage. It was a complicated season of change.

During that two years, I learned something that would be valuable for all the years that followed, and continues to serve me well; jobs end. They are not the totality of our lives, they’re just… jobs. I learned how to handle lay-offs and ends of jobs graciously while I was in construction. The job always ends. Each new job, I’d show up, do the needful, and be sent back to the union hall once the job was over. Job after job. Season after season. Year after year. In the downtime in between, I painted. It was brutally hard work, paid pretty well, provided good medical care, and I had seasonal breaks for leisure (and for physical recovery from the effects of manual labor on this fragile vessel). The most important thing I learned in construction was how to face the end of a job. I haven’t forgotten.

So… here I am sipping my coffee in an office that will soon no longer be a place I come for work. Probably. (I could end up with an employer who seats me here in this co-work space – hard to know, it’s a small world.) I’ve got a few more days. I’ve got options. There are verbs involved. Tasks to deal with. A resume to refresh and “version” for the various industries that hold my interest (and higher than average potential for jobs I’ll do well).

Change is.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. This all feels so… commonplace. I feel fairly “unbothered”, although I also feel a mild amount of annoyance over it; the work I do here has been valued, necessary, and no doubt there will be consequences if those tasks are not assumed by someone, but that’s not my concern, now. No, the annoyance is simply that I really liked this particular job, company, and team, and was figuring on staying in this role until I leave the workforce (probably at 70). It is what it is. It’s not “personal”. I smile to myself, grateful to have had the chance to really enjoy the work I do for awhile. That’s been rare. I’ve often been employed doing things I’m really good at, and don’t enjoy at all. Less than ideal, but quite practical and commonplace. I feel a pang of disappointment and… grief? It passes quickly. The future is unwritten, and the menu of life’s Strange Diner is vast and filled with things I’ve yet to try. The trick is to choose wisely, eh?

The sun rises beyond the window. I arrived before dawn. It’ll be a warm summer day, and sunny, later. The morning is mild and pleasant. The air in the neighborhood around the office is filled with the scent of garden flowers. It’s a lovely time to get a walk in before the heat of the day. The need for self-care does not diminish when change comes (quite the contrary, it intensifies). I think a walk sounds like just the thing. It’s a good time to begin. Again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Logic & Reason, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Cheat or Treat?

August 18, 2025 //
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This is about Ozempic and whether/why it amounts to “cheating” to achieve a weightloss result, and “aesthetic culture”, and moral failure, and self-control, and all manner of other related things that just happen to be all tangled up together in my own experience of life as an American woman carrying “a few extra pounds” (more than a few, unfortunately), viewed through the lens of my own experience(s). I’m providing this wee summary to more easily allow you to simply move on if the topic lacks interest for you, personally. 😉

…You could just watch South Park “The End of Obesity”…

When Ozempic became “a thing” in the news (early in 2022), it was mostly due to celebrity endorsements for weightloss and shortages having developed because it had become commonplace for people who are not diabetic to be prescribed a GLP-1 (which is what Ozempic is) for the sole purpose of losing weight. I’m not criticizing – whether you’re grossly obese, or just a few pounds over your “ideal weight”, we live in a world that puts a lot of emotional effort into blaming and shaming “fat” people, and puts a ton of emphasis on “thin is beautiful”. Thin sells products. So do feelings of guilt, shame, and envy. The conversation in the media immediately began swirling around who should have these GLP-1 drugs available to them, and why, and the 100% ridiculous (and unaffordable) cost of them to individuals (and insurers). Celebrities whose transformative weightloss was a topic of discussion were picked to pieces over did they use a GLP-1 or lose weight “the right way”? (Who decides that? It probably shouldn’t be a matter of public opinion.) The articles about terrible side effects followed. What I found interesting at the time was that the first GLP-1 approved for treating type 2 diabetes was approved in 2005. No fanfare. No media hype. No alarming back-and-forth about side effects. All that developed much later – after it was clear that GLP-1s could “cause weightloss” as a side effect, and they became popularly prescribed off label by GPs to clients who could afford them in spite of the offensively high retail price (long before insurers would cover them for weightloss).

…2005… They were in use for decades without any remarkable controversy. Safely. Huh.

When I started thinking about them and whether I might benefit from them, myself, I was only aware of them because of the media hype to do with weightloss, and that was where my own interest was centered. In spite of my type 2 diabetes, a GLP-1 hadn’t really been discussed. To be fair, I was not “open to” the diabetes diagnosis, in spite of serious difficulty managing my blood sugar (it seemed to clear up any time I corrected my diet by more or less eliminating sugars, and got my weight down a bit).

At one point, faced with quality of life and health threatening weight, and my difficulty managing it, (and my Mother’s similar challenges) I got serious with myself and managed to shed almost 150 lbs over about 18 mos. Over time, in part due to stress, in part due to health and mobility challenges of various sorts, I gained some of that back (and I’m not at my ideal weight). I lost a lot of it, again, then gained it back, again. It’s been a challenge and it’s a serious health concern. But – I did lose all that weight, without a GLP-1, or medical intervention of any sort. It is possible for many people (and for some people it just isn’t). I say this because my thinking on weight, weight management, and various medical options regarding weight management are built on my own experience, and are nuanced.

My thinking evolved over time, and I tried a lot of things to manage my weight when it became a problem. I was self-critical and hard on myself after I gained weight in my 30s. I wasn’t overweight “all my life”. I was healthy, fit, and a “curvy muscular” woman when I was in the Army. I was faced with a culture of “fat phobia” that tended to promote an unhealthy leanness that I could never catch up to with my muscles and curves. Emotionally, that was hard on me. I struggled to see my own youthful beauty. Society’s messaging was harsh and unyielding. Be thin. Non-negotiably, thin was “pretty”. Thin was “sexy”. I even achieved thin for awhile – it wasn’t healthy for me to be a size 0 at 5 foot 6 inches tall.

I’m bouncing around a bit here, sorry. The tl;dr is that I was “coached” over a lifetime that my weight was my own to manage, that the acceptable beauty standard was “thin” – preferably like a pre-teen girl – and that failing to achieve that standard was most likely a moral failure or a lack of effort on my part.

We each walk our own hard mile. I know I can (possibly) lose the extra weight I’m carrying, with a serious reduction in calories and an equally serious increase in exercise. That’s the basic deal; eat less and exercise, right? I’m also quite human. Mobility issues and disabilities often make exercise difficult or complicated (no jumping rope on this f*ed up ankle, I’m just saying – I’ve got limitations). Other medications prescribed for chronic medical issues can change the efficiency of my metabolism (or rob me of my will and energy). Food and great dining are truly among life’s most profound sensuous pleasures, and it can be difficult to say no to some treat. That’s just real. “Emotional eating”? Another challenge. The cost of healthy calories? Yet another consideration. Losing unhealthy weight is not universally easy.

I decided against Ozempic for losing weight, figuring I’ve lost weight before, I’ll just keep at it, you know? The side effects sounded pretty terrible, too. And the expense?! Nope. Not worth it.

My blood sugar was still an issue. I was also struggling with other health concerns, including chronic fatigue, irregular (high) blood pressure, fairly ordinary middle-age stuff like that. My doctor was insistant this time; my diabetes needed to be managed. We tried this, we tried that, I eventually ended up on metformin (common), which immediately reduced my quality of life with near-daily diarrhea that had the potential to force me to stop going out on the trail for long walks. It was problematic. That’s how I ended up giving a GLP-1 a try – for my diabetes. (That I refused to acknowledge for far too long, and now deal with the consequences of that stupidity.)

Within 60 days, my blood sugar stabilized – normal. Then my blood pressure. I felt somehow younger and more energetic, too. Weird. Yes, I also lost the near-constant focus on food, eating, meals, sweets – in fact, meal planning to cook meals for my family became almost impossible for awhile. lol I just wasn’t thinking about that. Huh. Wild. I did lose some weight. Quite a bit, actually. Then – relatively recently – on a stable dose that serves me well with few side effects (and those I do experience are manageable) – my weightloss stalled completely. I still get all the other benefits, but a new reality unfolded; for those of us who take a GLP-1 for diabetes, there may not be quite so much aggressive weightloss coming quite so easily. There are still verbs involved. I still need to do an appropriate amount of healthy exercise (human primates need exercise, that’s just part of what we are as creatures). I still have to manage my calories. Frustrated with my lack of weightloss, and watching my Traveling Partner manage his post-injury weight gain (and closing in on his goal weight quite efficiently) I finally put the pieces together…

…I can be a little slow sometimes…

It’s the calories. I’m still eating calories that support the weight I am right now. I started on the GLP-1, reduced my caloric intake as a byproduct of starting on that medication and losing interest in grazing, snacking, sweets, and impulse eating, and lost weight until I got down to the weight supported by the calories I’m actually consuming. Well… that’s fucking obvious. LOL So… now I have to reduce my caloric intake down to the quantity that will support my goal weight. Of course. Nothing to see here. So ordinary it is almost not worth mentioning.

You know what is worth mentioning? It’s just mean to be shitty to people because of their weight. It’s definitely rude and inappropriate to comment on it. You know what else is worth mentioning? It’s also not your fucking business how someone is managing their weight, their health, or even what their personal aesthetic is. Do you think someone is “fat”? Well, okay, you have an opinion. Let it go. If nothing else, just shut up about it. It’s most likely not your concern, at all. Is taking a GLP-1 “cheating” if the only reason someone takes it is to lose weight? I’m not sure that’s anyone else’s business in the first place. It’s inappropriate to be taking it for vanity weight loss if there are shortages that prevent people who need it for their health and wellness from getting it. Still not your business (or mine) who is taking it and why. Like any other medical question, that should be a conversation between patients, doctors, and caregivers. (And it would be nice if we could all take a wee step back and stop hassling each other over appearances.)

Taking Ozempic has changed my life a lot. My poor impulse control, for example, just generally (a byproduct of head trauma and brain damage) is now notably improved (like, just not a problem), which was an unexpected bonus. I’m not distracted by the thought of food or thinking about the next meal, which means I can more easily focus on what I’m doing. I have more energy, which means I get more done – including the exercise I need to be healthy. My health concerns are mostly well-managed – and this has also resulted in being able to discontinue several other medications, which means my body isn’t having to process all those other drugs. My quality of life has improved, and sure, I lost some weight. There are still verbs involved. I still have to watch what I eat, still have to get healthy exercise and take care of myself. It’s not a fucking magic trick, it’s just a treatment for a medical condition.

So, here I am, 16 months after starting on a GLP-1, still human. Still working, walking, and being. My results vary. I still have to practice healthy practices. Still have to eat right and exercise. Ozempic isn’t a cheat code to perfect health, or achieving my ideal weight – it’s just a medication. It does have serious side effects, which seem to be more of a problem for consumers taking larger doses solely for weight loss, than for people taking it to manage their diabetes (something to consider). For me, the side effects have been mild, and limited, and tend to be easily managed by eating a healthy diet that maximizes plant fiber, protein, and includes plenty of water. I supplement my magnesium. I make a point to drink a yogurt beverage with reliably good quality active cultures (several varieties). I feel good on this GLP-1; it changed several “small things” and has had big results (for me). It’s not for everyone, I’m sure.

One day at a time, one step at a time, I walk my own path. You’re walking yours. Neither of us actually have the time to waste on criticizing other people’s choices with regard to personal aesthetic or health, wellness, or beauty. There’s too much to do in life to waste it on interfering in other people’s business, isn’t there? I hear that clock ticking in the background (here in the office, it is a literal ticking clock that I hear). It’s already time to begin again…

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, inspiration, Perspective, Practices, The Art of Being, The Big 5, weight loss secrets
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