Archives for posts with tag: TBI

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.

In spite of the heat I spent some time in the garden yesterday (before it got too hot, in the cooler morning hours). I happily watered and weeded, and reflected on the chaos that has arisen over weeks of hot weather, busy work days, and other shit that just had to get done. Time is a limited resource, and so is the energy I’ve got available to get things done with.

I found myself doing what I tend to do when I observe chaos creeping further into my day-to-day experience; I made a list. I took some notes. I contemplated the varying levels of urgency and the considerations driving that.

The chaos in my garden.

There are peas dry on the vines ready to harvest for next year’s planting. There are carrots ready to harvest, and favorite salad greens that bolted in the heat (may as well harvest those seeds, too). The deer were haphazard with their “helpful” pruning of tomatoes, but I’ve still got a few tomatoes ripening, hidden in the greenery. Thirsty roses want deeper watering, and need a bit of pruning. There is so much weeding to do. Work had gotten busy, and I had gotten tired with other every day tasks on top of that, and I fell behind on several of the things the garden needs to thrive and be beautiful and productive. Our choices have consequences. Now I’m faced with those; I put my attention on work (for a job that I won’t be doing any longer) and let the garden go a bit wild, and the weeds remind me that my own choices allowed them to thrive.

I’m neither mad nor frustrated. The garden manages to be lovely regardless, and I enjoy my time spent there, even on a muggy summer morning before the heat of the day sets in. There are roses blooming at the edge of the lawn (at least one of which does not know the meaning of “winter” and will likely bloom all year) and it delights me to pause along the walk to see them there in the sunshine, drops of water glittering on the edges of colorful petals after morning watering.

“Baby Love”, blooming in the summer heat.

I spent the day contentedly creating order from chaos. I find it a useful practice for reducing background anxiety and stress. Chaos in my environment tends to result in chaos in my thinking. Tidying things up, clearing out clutter, and working down a list of tasks that need doing has proven to be a really good practice for managing my stress and anxiety. When those tasks are specific to supporting my own needs as an individual, it also feels like self-care. Conveniently enough, there nearly always seems to be something to do that meets those needs. lol Laundry. Dishes. Hanging up the various pairs of earrings that have managed to find some random resting place here or there in the house. Putting books away. Filing paperwork that has stacked, waiting to be filed. Dusting. Pulling weeds in the garden and from the flower beds as I pass by on my way to some other task or destination. It quickly becomes a form of meditation, when I stay engaged with the task and present in the moment, and don’t allow myself to “wander off” in my own head.

All along the way, task by task, hour by hour, there are moments of wonder, delight, and beauty that turn up to be savored and enjoyed. A colorful display of flowers. A lingering romantic hug with my Traveling Partner. A beautiful blue sky. I make a point of really enjoying these (and so much more) whenever they occur. Another sweet way to reduce stress and anxiety; really being present for moments of joy and beauty and savoring them. It matters so much to allow myself to be delighted, even for an instant.

A colorful display of flowers in the summer sun, at the grocery store.

I am never too busy to enjoy something beautiful. (I find myself wondering when I’ll next be in the city… maybe I can work in a trip to the art museum?)

Change can feel so incredibly chaotic. The loss of familiar routines feels disruptive. Managing the stress and the anxiety that can come with change can feel overwhelming – until I break things down into smaller pieces, and create order from the chaos one task at a time. Breathe, exhale, relax – like any practice, there are steps, and I’ve got to do the work myself to experience the results (otherwise, we’re just having a conversation about it, eh?).

I sip my coffee as the sun rises. I won’t be watching that from this office window much longer… Change is. Jobs end. We are mortal creatures, and however tightly we cling to some experience, or person, or moment, we will face the reality of impermanence sooner or later. The plan is not the experience. The map is not the world. Reality will be what it is without regard to our thoughts or feelings about it. Practicing non-attachment has tended to make me more practical about change – and chaos, and I no longer take such things so personally. I’ll take a new breath, and I’ll begin again. Really, what else is there to do?

For now, I sit with the quiet, and this good cup of coffee, and I look over what needs to get done today. I make a plan. I smile when the thought of my beloved Traveling Partner crosses my mind for no particular reason; he is a steady presence in my life whether we’re in the same room or not, and I am grateful to be so loved and supported. I reach out to a friend via email wondering if they have time to get together for a coffee sometime soon? It’s the relationships that matter most, in work and in life.

A hazy dawn, a row of birds gathered on a powerline.

I sigh to myself, feeling this contentment and practicality like a firm foundation beneath my feet. I’m okay right now, for nearly all values of okay, and that’s enough. The future is unwritten, and I can’t see where this path leads… but this feels like a good place to begin, again.

I woke ridiculously early this morning. I could hear my Traveling Partner coughing in another room. “Rough,” I thought, as I sat up, “sounds like he’s having trouble breathing.” As I reached for my phone to turn off my sunrise alarm and turn on a dim light, I realized I was pretty stuffy, myself. Allergies? Probably. Or not. Doesn’t matter, if it isn’t going to kill me, I guess. I notice that my head is pounding, too. Nasty headache to begin the day with. Great.

I sigh and stretch, and start getting ready for a new day. I figure I’ll just go get an early walk in, before work, although it’s not yet 03:30, and this changes which trails are available – or safe to walk. I think it over as I dress. My beloved seems a little surprised that I’m going to just go ahead and go, so early, but there’s another heat warning in effect, and it’ll be uncomfortably warm relatively early in the day, so perhaps it is just an opportunity? A lifetime of sleep challenges and insomnia have prepared me well to make use of strange hours. lol A hug, a kiss, and I’m headed out the door to walk in the darkness.

I walked the marsh trail with my headlamp in my hand, pointed down low to illuminate only the ground, and I watched Venus chase Jupiter up the dark backdrop of the starry pre-dawn sky. The morning was ever so still and quiet, and even the traffic was muted. I heard the crunch of my steps on gravel and over dried leaves. The air was still and smelled faintly of mushrooms and summer nights. I definitely had the trail to myself! Sounds in the underbrush as I strode through a grassy stretch covered with sparse old oaks gave me a moment of doubt about my decision-making, but it was only a family of racoons scrambling about, playing and foraging. They took off in other direction when my light reached them.

We spend a lot of our lives “walking in the dark” – life is a journey without a map, and we don’t see clearly where the path may lead. I think about that as I walk. I feel fortunate that this stretch of the journey is a familiar, there’s comfort in that. I stretch as I walk, hoping to ease stiff muscles and joints, and maybe this headache, too. It doesn’t help much, but it feels good to move. As I walk, I think about the tools in my toolkit, metaphorically speaking, and how best to organize my time and manage limited resources in this new here-and-now filled with uncertainty. Isn’t life always a little uncertain? I breathe, exhale, and relax. Could be worse – so much worse. This is only a beginning. Yet another. I wonder where the next opportunity may take me?

…I laugh out loud in the darkness when I catch myself thinking “what do I even want to be when I grow-up?”, realizing I am a long way down life’s path to feel that way, and yet it is still a question I often ask myself…

I get back to the car. I drive to the office that will soon no longer figure into my days at all, most likely. I prepare the budget for this pay period, aware that “things have changed” and that I need to consider new concerns, new details, new limitations – at least for now. Sometimes it’s a little scary. Sometimes it feels rather mundane and ordinary. My emotions are still shifting and I’m still “processing this”. Fuck I will so miss this particular job… on the other hand… it’s a job. There are others. I sigh as I hit “send” on the email to my Traveling Partner sharing my thoughts on the budget and seeking his. I’m grateful this is a shared journey.

I had planned to go camping next week, feeling very secure in my position in life and the world when the plans were made. I cancelled that to make room for uncertainty – and to map a new path. There’s quite a lot to do. I smile to myself; I may even spend time helping my Traveling Partner in the shop – or paint. Change is. Were this 5 years further down the road, I could perhaps simply file for my social security retirement, and breathe a little easier while I look for work, but that time is not now. Doing so now would be a terrible tactical move for the future. I sigh again and shake off the temptation toward wishful thinking. It’s a good time for taking a practical (and where feasible, wise) approach to “right now” – with a loving eye on the future, too.

…Aren’t we all sort of “walking in the dark”, much of the time? I sip my icy cold office coffee and think my thoughts awhile longer. The sun is rising now, and it’s time to begin again.

I finished my very early morning walk in the darkness. I arrived at the office still very early. Still dark. There’s a busy day ahead, and plenty of uncertainty about the future to exist within, and to get beyond. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sip my coffee. Office cold-brew, and it’s fine. Not great. Not bad. Completely unremarkable in every way. Another big, deep, breathe, and I exhale slowly, completely, and feel myself relax (again) as I do. My head is stuffy (which is what woke me early this morning). I’m feeling sort of cross for no obvious reason.

Do you find yourself wondering, ever, why it is I so often focus on just these random-seeming here-and-now details and observations? I mean, what’s the point, really? It’s all about those new beginnings; it is far more likely to get me somewhere if I begin where I am. That’s it. No mystery, it’s just a more effective choice to begin where I am, rather than begin somewhere else (whether that somewhere is in my thoughts or on the road to a destination). It’s rather difficult to go from Baltimore to L.A. if I’m standing in the wilderness of Montana. I can anchor myself in the present moment by making observations about my experience, here, now. It’s not a fancy practice, as practices go, but grounding myself in this moment, right here, through observation and awareness, is a very useful tool for establishing a feeling of perspective, and giving me a starting point on the next moment that is definitely connected to the moment I’m in. I’m struggling with my anxiety a bit this morning.

My stuffy head is vexing me. I woke around 03:30, and clearly wasn’t going to be able to sleep; I couldn’t breathe. I got up. Now I feel my anxiety surge – and each time it does, it is eased by blowing my nose and restoring my breathing. It’s almost comical. I notice the anxiety before I notice I can’t breathe, again. It is easy to conflate the anxiety with other potential causes – the world of 2025 contains plenty of anxiety provoking moments, events, and circumstances. I could get all spun up over this or that bit of doubt, fear, or insecurity and lose myself in my anxiety, but it’s really all about the breathing, right now (at least, that’s the situation this morning). Other mornings it is more about pain management. It’s frankly very rare that my anxiety is driven by some real world experience that is not about something to do with this bodily very human existence. lol It’s nearly always my body screaming at me through my emotions to do something about some uncomfortable physical experience.

I chuckle and think happy thoughts of my Traveling Partner sleeping at home. He is peculiarly sensitive to my breathing; if I am struggling, he’s aware and uncomfortable. I’m glad I went ahead and started my day, and I hope he can get the rest he needs. Maybe I didn’t wake him as I left? I sip my coffee and smile. Without any added context, thoughts of love create such beautiful points of bright light in a human experience. This love we share feels like a “firm foundation” for a good life.

There is real uncertainty, and real cause for anxiety now and then, those are ordinary commonplace parts of the human experience. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let the thoughts come and go, and consider the moment and the day. “The winds of change are blowing,” said my Traveling Partner yesterday, while we talked about work, the future, and a certain “funny vibe” in the office. Change is. Am I ready? (Is anyone, ever, really “ready” for unexpected change, or change they don’t look forward to, or did not choose?) I don’t know how much longer this good thing may last… but… we never do, do we? Whatever it is, however good or bad, it is as temporary a thing as everything else. There is damned little permanence in a human lifetime, and trying to cling to what is, in defiance of what is ahead, isn’t an effective strategy.

I smile to myself, and in my thoughts I unfold the vastness of the menu in life’s Strange Diner. Any time now, it may be time to begin again… I wonder where this path leads?

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…