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Walking in the Dark

August 22, 2025 //
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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.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, 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

Perception, Perspective, Reality

August 16, 2025 //
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I am in some pain this morning, but nothing like the worst of the pain I am sometimes in. My coffee is good, better than average, not my best cup of coffee. I sit quietly with my thoughts and my coffee, after my walk, giving my illness-weakened body a little time to recover from the walking, before I get started on the housework. It’s a cycle, this thing we call “life”. Many cycles, actually, on a journey without a map. It’s easy to narrow my focus to just this space, here, and to allow life to become the cycles, and little more: sleep, walk, coffee, write, work, rest, cook, clean-up, sleep again. We are so much more than the practical task-handling endeavors that are necessary to build and maintain the quality of life we enjoy. Getting ahead sometimes means so much more work, and doesn’t always feel “worth it”. Falling behind happens in an instant of thoughtless ease. Finding balance is sometimes difficult, and I sometimes sacrifice self-care on the alter of providing for others (not a healthy approach long-term).

…I am fortunate and grateful for a partnership that encourages self-care and provides mutual respect…

My Traveling Partner inquired about the towels this morning – were there more clean washcloths somewhere? I’d fallen behind on the laundry, and committed to doing that today. When I arrived home, he’d already started a load of laundry. Having help feels good. Going into the kitchen, I see dishes piled in the sink… no one thought to do the dishes while I was down sick. I frowned at the dishes while I made my coffee. I’ll get those done, too. (Definitely feeling better.) Pride of place, a sense of responsibility, and a desired quality of life tend to be enough to keep me at it, but omg, sometimes it is just much. (I will admit that one practical factor in my lifelong decision to remain child-free was my total lack of interest in doing all that work for some other human being, most especially without help!) It’s hard to take the breaks I sometimes need, to maintain my own health. Finding balance is complicated… Why is that so complicated?? I think it comes down to a couple of things: perceptions, perspective, and reality.

One perspective on a morning walk.

How we perceive things around us changes when we’re ill, or under stress, and our priorities may change in the moment. How people around us perceive things may be something we have to consider, too, depending on their needs and expectations. When we’re sick, we may care a lot less about the vacuuming, or clean kitchen counters. When we’re exhausted, we may not care at all about whether the shower is actually clean. All very human, eh? But, once we’re back at our best, those things may suddenly matter quite a lot, and begin to be something causing us stress or a sense of urgency.

…I really dislike the “catch-up cycle” after I’ve been ill; I feel like I have to get it all done immediately to make up for any allowances and accommodations I made while I was ill (a thoroughly internalized lingering consequence of growing up in a culture of misogyny that treats the unpaid labor of women as a given, and a notable bit of baggage I am still dragging around)…

A very different perspective, focused on the details.

Our perspective on the details, large and small, is a big piece of how we set our priorities. Do the dishes in the sink matter a lot – or just matter a lot to me? Is it a health concern, or just something I don’t like to see? (Some people don’t care that much about having a handful of dishes in the sink that need to be washed and put away, other people have literal break-downs over a dirty glass sitting in an otherwise clean sink. Care to guess which one I am?* Which one are you?) Sometimes, keeping an orderly house feels more like self-care than it feels like manual labor. In circumstances such as that, it’s pretty easy to “stay caught up” and handle those tasks as a sort of meditation. Things do take the time they take, though, and housekeeping workload stands in defiance of creative endeavors. Again with the challenge of finding fucking balance. I sip my coffee and laugh at myself. I do what I can. I get a lot done – often more than I think I’m capable of, because even there – my perspective may not be a close fit to reality.

What we turn our attention to, and how we think about what we perceive, changes how we understand the world around us.

…Reality always gets the last word…

When I had cats years ago, I was quite convinced that my cats didn’t do any damage to my home, and that I kept things sufficiently tidy that there was “no cat smell”. That’s perception. I felt that the benefits to having my (much loved) cats far outweighed any concerns about cleanliness or health – lots of people have, and love, cats. That’s perspective getting involved. We don’t all see the world the same way, nor do we all share the same understanding of it. Still, the world is the world – reality largely ignores our perceptions and perspectives and just does its own thing. My apartment full of cats (and many of my belongings) definitely “smelled like cats” – but I didn’t perceive it (acclimation) and didn’t understand what I didn’t see as a potential concern (lack of adequate perspective). The reality of it was unmistakable when I moved out. (As well as difficult and costly to remedy, due primarily to my lack of awareness over time.)

I’m just saying – I have a shitload of housework to catch up on, after a camping trip, several days in too much pain to do housework, and then being sick. I can chuckle over how human that is, now. It is what it is, right? Now I see the need, because my perspective has shifted with my improving state of wellness. I feel the internal pressure to make it a very high priority – putting myself at risk of poor self-care. Cycles and balance. Fuck. Adulting is hard.

…We do become what we practice…

I sigh to myself and glare into my now-cold coffee. I’ve got a to-do list ready, and it’s a long one (but I’ve got the entire weekend to work on it). It’s already time to begin again – I’ll just be over here doing my best.

…

…

*Both. I’m rather inconveniently both of those types of people with regard to the dishes. Baggage is heavy… I remind myself to put some down.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

The Uncertainty Factor

August 15, 2025 //
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People are funny. We like “certainty” – a lot. Which is sort of inconvenient considering just how much uncertainty there really is in life. In the world. In the way events play out over time. Change something, and other things also change. Make a choice, and events unfold differently than if a different choice were made. Seems like something that could be very useful, if embraced and understood, but understanding uncertainty is not the easiest thing… Perhaps better to simply accept it?

Uncertainty often comes with a measure of anxiety – maybe that’s why we seem to dislike it so much? (I say “we” because observation strongly supports that this isn’t a “me” thing at all; it’s quite common.) It’s often easier to just lock in on a particular way of thinking, or a particularly useful piece of “knowledge” in some moment, and insist on the rigid truth of it, compared to gently accepting a lack of knowledge and making room for curiosity (or unknown truths to come). It’s scary to be uncertain (sometimes).

I sip my coffee, thinking about yesterday. I drove home feeling more and more ill. Knowing a colleague had tested positive for COVID that very morning, and that I’d had some measure of exposure, I allowed myself the thought that maybe it was “all in my head”, just from hearing that news. My Traveling Partner looked at me when I arrived home; I definitely did not look well. So, maybe it isn’t COVID (test was negative), but I’m down with a bit of something or other. Uncertainty. I don’t even know “how sick I am”, or whether this will pass quickly. I just feel like crap. I woke after sleeping something more than 13 hours, interrupted briefly a couple times. I know better than to return to sleep without having my coffee; that’d just be an unwanted headache later. So. I’m up for a little while, sipping my coffee and thinking my thoughts, which are sort of gloomy and unsettled, probably because I’m sick and just not feeling my best. Harder to be positive.

Aches, pains, symptoms… The coffee is good, though, and I’m “okay” for most values of okay. There’s nothing really going on. It’s just a sick day at home. I’m grateful that it isn’t a whole lot worse. I’m grateful to have sick days. I’m grateful for an employer who strongly discourages working while ill. I’m grateful for a Traveling Partner who cares for me, and the Anxious Adventurer, who was willing to run to the store for sick day supplies so I didn’t have to go out and spread this around. This is a good place to be. It could most definitely be worse.

I reflect on the value of “leaning into” uncertainty, and take a moment to contemplate what could be driving my background anxiety lately. Work, maybe? I face things head-on. I look over my resume. I love the job I’ve got, but there’s still “uncertainty”. The human mind is an amazing thing; it’s hard not to be aware (on some level) that my average churn point professionally as been around two and half years for almost two decades. I think that’s on my mind as I approach my two year anniversary on this job. Instead of being fussy and anxious, I update my resume and reflect on the work, the job market, the opportunities (or lack of) for advancement. I think about “what I want to be when I grow up” (still my favorite way to frame the question of what to do professionally). Most of my job changes have been about better benefits, or more money, some have been about redirecting my skills into a different role or industry. I think about money, and debt, and the distance from here to retirement. I think about life. There’s a lot of uncertainty. Running away from it doesn’t change that. I make some updates to my resume, and look at job opportunities in my areas of interest. Curiousity is a soothing anodyne to anxiety, and I use it frequently. It has been more effective than any of the drugs I was ever given. (CBT for the win!)

I breathe, exhale, relax, and let all that go for awhile. My head aches, but I don’t know if it’s “just the usual headache”, or if it’s “viral”. Uncertainty. Doesn’t matter. Once this coffee is gone, I’m going back to bed anyway. I decide on a video game to “go with” the last of my coffee. I’ll begin again later.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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