Archives for posts with tag: TBI

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.

The car is unloaded. I’ve had a shower and mostly unpacked everything and returned my gear to storage. There are still thoughts to think, and some metaphysical baggage yet to unpack. It was a good getaway. Time well-spent. I’m glad to be home, though. As with most plans, reality got to have her say and I’m glad I’m an adaptable sort of creature – it came in handy. I’ll tell those tales over the next several days. Today is about coming home. It is everything, for now, and it is enough. 😀

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

At home in the forest.

No connectivity for three days. My walk-in camp site was too far to lug some of the gear I brought for this trip out into the trees. It was an oddly stripped down bit of time away, and the lacks of convenience served to push my focus to the moment I was in, without regard to my comfort. I needed that more than I knew. I spent my hours in my own good company, easily able to hear myself think.

…Friday I was too tired to bother with lugging my pastels and my tabletop easel to the camp site. Saturday I was in too much pain. By Sunday I had “found my way” – and it didn’t involve painting, or long hikes, or looking at the world through my camera’s lens. I spent my time in thought, giving myself the rare treat of my own undivided attention. Three days. Well, almost three days – more than two. lol The long drive to (and home from) this forest was definitely one of the nicest parts of the journey – what a beautiful drive! Very little traffic.

The best part of the trip, and the most wonderful part of my days of solitude? Coming home to my beloved Traveling Partner, for sure.

This just in from the Department of FAFO; our nation is burning, and it’s not just our incendiary politics to blame (although maybe a little… pretty sure DOGE and Trump’s platoon of criminally unqualified bootlickers cut staffing in some critical areas…)

From the wildfire layer in Maps this morning.

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

I sigh to myself as I set off down the trail. Nice morning for walking. Cool, clear skies, dry well-maintained trail, and the quiet time to make the walk without rushing; it’s just about perfect. There’s just this subtle haze over the hills on the horizon that isn’t a byproduct of distance alone, and this wildly colorful sunrise. In combination they tell me things elsewhere are burning. Fire season is here. I’m grateful it isn’t closer and that the sky hasn’t turned that sick orange-brown that results from fires nearby.

…I enjoy a colorful sunrise…

I walk on, thinking my thoughts and wishing I’d allocated my time a little differently over the weekend. I had intended to spend some time painting, and I have a head full of ideas. Instead, I chose to hang out quite a lot with my Traveling Partner (time well spent, in spite of some contentious moments mostly to do with miscommunications of various sorts). We’re both studying for our drone pilot license (part 107), and it was pleasant to share that time and the studying is more fun together. As fun as that was, I had still intended to carve out time to paint, and failed utterly. Oh well, at least the laundry got done.

I get to my halfway point and stop awhile to meditate and to write. The bold pink hues of the sunrise have faded away, revealing another likely hot day ahead. The sky is clear and blue. The air is still, and still cool. It’s already warmer than when I left the house, though. The forecast suggests 30C/86F today – a proper summer day. I’m grateful for the luxury of air conditioned spaces, and clean drinking water. I consider contrasting my experience with “less developed” nations, then recall Flint, Michigan, and am reminded that there are people in this “developed nation” that still don’t have reliable clean drinking water. For fucks’ sake, really?? Really. Pretty appalling.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let that go, and everything else that isn’t this moment here, now, too.

Some time later, I realize I’m sitting here frowning, thoughts of packaged items to be returned, a work day ahead, and a short list of small things vexing me somehow already (still?) on my mind. A litany of little reminders plays on repeat in the background of my consciousness like some surreal but very practical chyron. I sigh, frustrated that I’ve failed completely to quiet my mind. Prescriptions to pick up. Figure out dinner later. Drop off the returns. Follow up on that item from my boss from Friday. Hang up the rest of my laundry. Change the linens on the bed. Do I need to stop at the store? Remember everything that has been forgotten, and get to all the meetings on time… All routine and ordinary… and much.

… How the hell do I finish a relaxing three day weekend by starting a new week already tired? It’s not as if I didn’t get enough rest! What annoying bullshit. 😆 Very human. I could do a better job of taking care of myself.

I breathe, exhale, and relax – and give meditation another chance. It is, after all, a practice. We become what we practice. I silence the endless reminders in my head, and get ready to begin again.

I woke early, but after daybreak, and headed down to the beach to walk as the sun rose. The tide is going out, and as it recedes, rock formations and tide pools are revealed. As I begin, everything is in shades of gray, the foam crests of each wave seeming luminous on the opaque gray of the ocean. As I return, the sky is lit with shades of pink and edged with pale blue. There are gray clouds on the horizon. Feels cool enough for rain, but my bones say “not today”. I return to the room too early for a better coffee in town, and settle for the coffee in my hotel room. It’s enough.

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

I sit down at the table with my coffee and this lovely view, ocean waves below, sky streaked with pink and blue above, horizon beyond. I could sit with this view for days and never miss television or videos at all.

Another sunrise.

As I sip my coffee, I notice a detail on one of the new paintings that I am not ideally satisfied with, and since I still have all my pastels out, I get up and make some final changes. “Finishing touches.” I listen to the wind and the waves, and watch the tide recede.

…I’ve still got to pack…

An hour, minimum, to a better cup of coffee, or a bite of breakfast. I don’t feel like going out, then coming back to the room, though… I sigh to myself thinking about the packing. A shower. Reloading the car. I can feel my eagerness to return home beginning to replace my enthusiasm for this place. When I notice I’m lost in moments that are not now, I pull myself back. It is worth it to enjoy here, now, just as it is, awhile longer.

…I’ll be home soon, I’m here, now…

The waves approaching the shore appear quite a bit larger than previous days, and I find myself wondering whether it is an illusion. As if on cue a tiny man down on the beach below walks into my view. Assuming he is of average height, the waves are larger than they have generally been. They appear almost surf-able, aside from the flesh-shredding bone-breaking truth of the multitude of jagged rocks unseen, barely covered by the ebb tide. This would not be safe location for surfing, I suspect. I chuckle to myself; Oregon beaches are not known for being great surfing locations, as far as I know. Not my sport, though, and I know only that I would not myself be interested in surfing here, nor even swimming in that icy cold water.

I sip my coffee, watch the tide go out, and think about art. This has been a nice bit of time away. I’ve gotten some beautiful pictures, and a lot of inspiration for future work in pastels. I’ve gotten a few miles on my boots, and spent some time “hearing myself think”. I finished reading Jurassic Park, which was much better than the movie adaptation. I slept in. I took naps. I felt the burden and stress of work lifted from my shoulders and from my thoughts. I have had a chance to miss my Traveling Partner for a little while – and I’m eager to return home. It’s time to get “back to life“.

The sun begins to light the crests of waves further down the beach, but I know they’ll reach the section of beach directly beyond my window shortly. I put on a playlist with a good groove for dancing and packing things up. It’s time to put the finishing touches on this coastal getaway, meditate, and think about better coffee and a bite to eat.

Wind, waves, a ticking clock.

…I’m definitely missing my Traveling Partner. Of all my choices in life, the choice to travel through life with this particular human as my companion on this journey is probably one of my best. I grin into my empty coffee cup. It’s for sure time to begin again.

Some of the most useful “tools” in my self-care/mental health “toolbox” seem to be those to do with pain management, or which serve some other purpose, but also make it maybe a bit easier to manage pain. This seems odd to me any time I’m not in pain, but when I wake twisted with arthritis pain early on some morning, I’m grateful.

The view I woke to is no less beautiful because of pain.

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

I woke in pain to a cooler morning. The sunrise isn’t visible from here, but I see it reflected in the pink hues of the dawn sky over the western horizon. A distant bank of stormy looking clouds hangs above the horizon, a dark gray beneath fluffy white. The ocean reflects back silver gray like brushed aluminum, each wave reaching the shore crested in a curl of white. The ebb tide seems to sound different to me than the flood tide that will come later today, sometime in the afternoon.

…If the beach were just a little bit easier to get to from here, I’d already be headed down there to check out the tide pools before the day warms up, and while the beach is deserted. I hurt too much for that right now, and I want to paint later, so I sip my coffee and avoid exhausting myself…

Gulls fly by the window, calling to each other. A crow flies by. The morning sky continues to evolve. I sip my coffee letting the dawn sky and the beach scene beyond the window entice me with inspiration. Swallows swoop and dive just beyond the window. There are so many! The textured gray of the ocean holds my attention for a while, working out just how to capture that in pastels. Breakfast crosses my mind, and more coffee.

A beautiful view is sometimes enough distraction.

One of the most powerful pain management tools I’ve got doesn’t come in a pill. It’s distraction. Simply that; distracting myself from focusing on my pain prevents it from dominating my experience in the moment and frees my attention for other things. By itself, it may not reliably be enough to manage my pain, but it is useful, and it really does help to focus on other things, most particularly things that may evoke wonder, curiosity, awe, joy, or delight. I’m grateful for this beautiful view.

…I’m grateful for this solitary time…

I stretch and sigh to myself. Practices being what they are, there are things yet to do this morning to begin the day. Meditation. A walk (yes, even in this amount of pain, I just have to go to a beach access point that doesn’t involve endless stairs down a cliff to get to the beach) – my morning never feels quite right if I don’t get a walk in more or less first thing. lol My bones feel less stiff, and I know a hot shower will help more. I think about the day ahead as the view continues to evolve.

…Ooh, breakfast…

It’s as good a time as any to begin again.