#also was told how migraines are debilitating and when you have one its your whole day

[fatcowboys]

doctors? bad.

[wwwafflewrites]

The Not-So-French Mistake

Chapter 10: Seize the Moment… Literally

Sydney’s eyes flickered open, having been shut as images channeled across her vision. The voices within the memory hindered any means of hearing her surroundings, so when it abruptly unmuted, she flinched fiercely at the new stimulation.

“―ney? You okay? Woah, Sydney? Syd!” 

She grunted irritably as two calloused hands patted her cheeks. Her head had settled onto the unforgiving tile, where she woozily sat up, leaning against the wall as a brace. A phantom cramp lingered in her skull, throbbing when she opened her eyes. She’d never had a migraine before, yet she was certain this was comparable.  

Stressed, viridescent pupils hovered above her owlishly as Dean supported her by the shoulders, and she realized that her knees had given out. She huffed a weak laugh.

He blinked, utterly bewildered,  “What?”

“That’s… that’s the first time you’ve said my name. You always use nicknames.”

“No, I don’t,” he grunted, concentrating on her debilitated state. “Here.” He boosted her upward by the shoulders, straightening her spine and supporting the greater part of her weight as she regained her strength.

“Yes, you do,” she reasoned. “Like, pipsqueak, sweetcheeks, cupcake, sparky, tootsie, cheeseball, princess, sweetheart… even pug-face―”

“Okay, okay, Hot-shot. I get it.” He was too distracted to care.

“See!” she said, gesturing to express her triumph.

Dean countered it with a gentle nudge against her flailing hands, urging her to just relax. He was concerned, and she wanted to rave about the pet names he’d given her on the occasion. “Shut up,” he proposed, so she did, allowing him to fuss. He finally demanded, “Now what did I just watch?”

“I panicked when I saw the room, okay? That’s it.” It wasn’t a total lie, but she wasn’t going to yap about her problems. Not to Dean Winchester, even though he’d proven to be a very skilled psychiatrist during difficult cases. Some people just needed to work through their crap. However, she did not.

“Panicked?” he said, “You seized for a whole three minutes! I was the one panicking!”

She sobered her easygoing behavior at the chilling news. Crap, she reflected, I had a seizure? She knew it wasn’t her fault, but guilt pooled in her gut nonetheless. Dean must have went berserk.

Dean ran his fingers through his dark-blond hair, a slight tremble in the motion. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? I have the note. Let’s go. We don’t want this thing to crumble while we’re in it.” 

The dingy hotel room now beared two equally horrible memories. He was itching to burn the hotel until the basement was brimming with ashes, but the town had suffered enough heat, so just leaving altogether would be enough

There was a cumberous silence that weighed on her like a blanket woven into bulky, lead chains. Her tongue was anchored to her teeth, the words having died on her lips. Why was silence often linked with peace? Peace was hardly the word for the deafening chains that even darting thoughts could not break.

Her mind wandered, and after mentally pondering several scenarios, she built up the courage to ask what dug at her mind. She assumed this was a safe question. “What’s with the nicknames, anyway?” Her tone was delicate and hesitant as she spoke, afraid of a harsh yell in retort.

Dean sighed, realizing this wouldn’t drop until he addressed her. “It’s you. You… you and Sammy are like the exact same person, I swear. It’s why the nicknames just… roll into my conversations with you. And, when you get hurt… I just… Sammy calls it ‘big-brother-mode’, but that’s my form of a panic attack, I guess. I ain’t sniveling, but I get so…” A shiver forced its way to the surface, carrying a shudder with it, goosebumps rising along his forearms. He grew increasingly self-conscious over his response to her seizure. “Sorry, I know it’s weird. We literally met yesterday.”

“No… it’s…” she began, searching for the right word, “sweet.”

“Sweet?” he asked, skeptical, eyebrows climbing.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s sweet.” She nodded thoughtfully. “A hardened hunter panicking when family is hurt is… sweet, in your own way.” She blushed, moved by her own words. It was one thing watching a character on the screen and admitting his weakness was his strength, but doing so face to face was absolutely nerve wracking. “You know, the show depicts you as a bad-boy who uses sarcasm to avoid talking about his emotions, but I’m starting to see your soft side, too. You’re actually a teddy bear, aren’t you?”

A mischievous glimmer shone in his eyes at her comment. He gave an encouraging waggle of his eyebrows, successfully lightening the mood.

Sydney rolled her eyes. “It also implied you were immature, as well. Guess they were right about that.” 

He shrugged childishly, “Who would I be without it?” However, his genuine behavior drained away as he pondered his rhetorical question, and a solid, weighty truth settled on his shoulders as an answer: without his humor, Dean would be a broken man. A very, very broken man.

The new thought brought daylight onto the reality of the conversation, and the manipulation Sydney was actually driving here. Dean had begun the discussion straightforwardly centered upon Sydney’s spontaneous seizure, and she had still managed to punch his figurative, magic buttons into talking about himself.

“Kiddo?” he asked lightly, “You know, it’s alright to talk about yourself, here. You’re safe with me.”

Sydney paused, taken off-guard by the sudden granted permission. He’d bypassed her subtle guidance of a topic change and twisted it right back around―right where they had started. A situation such as this had never occured in… in her lifetime, really. She was lost with what to say.

For Sydney’s entire life, she saw self-reflection to be undesirable, so she deflected and redirected the theme of a conversation from herself and back onto the spectator neglectfully. For most, it was mindlessly accepted, a simple bait reliably taken. 

However, Dean was not of the vast majority. He consistently saw through her veil like it was translucent.. He saw because it’s all he could see. Dean recognized her act because he wore the mask himself daily. 

She frowned. “Dean, um… admittedly, my friend forced me to watch this show, but, uh… you’re like, one of my childhood heroes.” To describe this was like assembling a fresh puzzle; she wasn’t sure where to start. “Let me give you an example, let’s say there’s this really loyal Marvel fan that ends up meeting the real Batman. The real deal. While they would prefer meeting Ironman or Captain America, meeting Batman is still like meeting a celebrity, no matter how you see it. You’re Dean Winchester, and it doesn’t help that you’re wearing the celebrity actor’s face from my world. It’s like, double the famous.” She inhaled at the gravity of her life right now: having met Dean Winchester, the exact doppelganger of Jensen Ackles. “I don’t just go admitting my weaknesses to celebrities. It’s terrifying… so, just give me a moment to compose myself.”

Dean paused, dubious. “I’m comparable to Batman? C'mon, nuh uh.” He paused, considering it, “Seriously?”

She snorted. “Believe me, you’ve got a whole fandom in my world willing to sell their souls for you. You’re lucky my world doesn’t have the supernatural. Fourteen seasons and all- well, I’m technically in like, the eighth right here, I guess. I’m basing it roughly off of Sam’s haircut.”

Even though Dean was slightly amused that Sam’s hair could tell a fan what year it was, one comment especially jolted him. “Fourteen seasons? You mean we’re only about halfway there?” He sucked in a breath. “It gets worse doesn’t it?”

She hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Supernatural loves to build the suspense. So, yeah, let’s just say things get a lot crazier. I may not have obsessed over you, but I pay attention to my shows. You… you had it easy during the apocalypse.”

“Jesus,” he breathed.

She winced. “Not quite.”

Dean frowned, monitoring her expression. Suddenly his frown turned grave. “Don’t tell me. It’s God, isn’t it?” He said it bitterly.

“Actually, God’s sister… and then… yeah, uh, God does come into play.” She began to clam up, realizing she’d let a major plot slip. “Yeah… uh… just forget what I said,” she stammered, realizing the massive impact this could deal out. She doesn’t want his future doomed because she told him a chunk of his future.

A worryingly blank look washed over Dean’s face and then he’s chuckling proudly to himself. “Can’t believe I’m comparable to Batman. Oh, man, wait til’ I tell Sam.”

Sydney giggled, though a bit miffed by the sudden change of topic. “Yeah, add that to your ‘I killed Hitler’ list.”

“I kill Hitler?!” Dean lit up. “Sweet!” He paused contemplating over something, “Fandom, huh? You much of a Dean-girl?” He smirked devilishly.

Sydney considered it. “I guess I was more of a Castiel or Gabriel kind of girl. Definitely more of a Dean-girl than a Sam-girl, but…” She reddened, crimson dusting her ears. “Ew, wait. You guys are like, forty. Why am I even saying this?” Embarrassment fluttered in her chest like a cage of startled bats.

“No harm done, honey,” he drawled. He nodded, judging her preferences. His lips quirked. “…Gabriel?”

Her stance grew defensive, crossing her arms. “What can I say? He becomes an interesting character. I like to review my choices,” she said. “But… no. They’d be more like… family. Brother-sister relationship. I don’t know why. Just feels right.“

Silence threatened to swallow the light mood, signalling the end of the topic. Dean decided to transition back to the other tickle in his forethoughts. “So, tell me, what’s crazier than the apocalypse?” 

“You… what? We just…” said that… she trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. She froze, tilting her head.

“I just what?” He did that concerned eyebrow thing, his face scrunching up like some kind of protective bear.

She stared at him in horrified awe and stumbled back, legs trembling upon the crushing realization. She had done something to him. “I just… you…” she stammered. “I just told you to forget something and you did!” Fear, disgust, and absolute terror bubbled and threatened to overflow within her abdominal region. What was she? A freak?

 “Last time I wanted to be normal. This time I know I’m a freak.” ~Sam Winchester

A garbled cry left her lips as her head catapulted another hammering blow at the frail wall barricading locked memories. These weren’t her memories, though! She recognized them enough, but the perspective was in the eyes of a man. These spontaneous not-flashbacks were becoming alarming. What do these mean?! She cried within the barriers of her mind. What do you want from me?!

Calm yourself, kiddo, her mind supplied gently.

In her delirium, she was unsure if she was responding to her own thoughts, or if she was actually receiving answers. She began sobbing into the heels of her hands as a pain akin to having a nail jammed into the base of her skull splintered across the base of her forehead.

Dean was quick to react to her unplanned breakdown. Their conversation had went from lighthearted to massively distressing. “Hey, hey, hey! Kid? What’s up? Sydney?” Dean urged her to answer as she literally bawled into his shoulders, fists grabbing at his jacket in misery.

The pain dispersed, drawing back as if it’d been spooked by her reaction to its presence. The drilling agony blended into a distant ache, like the itch of an old scar. Suddenly, she could breathe again.

“What was with the waterworks, kid? What’s up with you?” Dean didn’t mean to be accusatory, but he was becoming antsy. His eyes were dark as he watched her, and he rubbed at his ears like there was water in them. Why would there be water in his ears?

She wheezed, “They're… I’ve been getting these… they’re memories.” She grimaced. “But they aren’t mine.”

He squinted at her, judgement clearly displayed along his face, though his eyes were hooded. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

She sucked a breath in, prying herself from Dean as if her joints were wooden. “I hoped it would stop.”

Dean sent her a pensive frown.

“Dean, when I was… experiencing that… I asked a question. Uh… in my head.” 

A wary eyebrow sprung toward his hairline, and Dean watched her suspiciously. “A question?”

She admitted, “Yeah… I… I asked what it wanted because it felt like someone. And I didn’t want just anyone inviting themselves into my mind like it’s a public bathroom or something. And it was like… not like I was possessed, but like…” she strained for the right word. “Like telepathy, Dean.”

He watched her patiently, searching for hidden expressions, but she was open and trusting.

She licked her lips, preparing to share her last bit of news. “And I… when I asked…”

“It answered.”

Tags:

@queen-bubble​ , @rosaren2498

[abundantchewtoys]

Homestuck Epilogues Prologue, Page 2 reaction

The next part of the epilogue prologue. :P I wonder if Andrew has committed to this format for the entire piece, or if we'll shift to something else. I'd like at least one panel showing the author avatar typing this, but then again, he's dead like everyone else, and so, stuck in the bubbles. Speaking of, how could Aranea, Meenah and the other A2 trolls survive this? Will Jane use her revive powers on them to spare them a double death? As an aside, I'm glad the ==> arrows remain a thing even after the end of the story. Even though they're now mixed with simple >'s in the in-line commands. (We're mixing the story format up from the get-go, here.) I hope Rose's new apartment gets a detailed described. I'm expecting a lot of knitted ware lying around, for one. I also wonder how long it'll be until an OC is mentioned, and how much longer after until they get some sort of dialogue. Presumably it'll be the intermission-like dialogue, I mean us being shown what they say by John's or another's inner narration.

---

==>

"When you arrive at Rose’s apartment, you find her asleep on the couch. You slide the balcony door open, quietly."

If this was a fairy tale, John would kiss her awake. :P

But I fear the migraines might be exhausting her.

"Her eyes flutter open. She looks like a ghost, and not the kind of ghost that looks and acts exactly like an alive person."

Grim implications not withstanding, I'm reminded of Kanaya's first assessment of seeing her. "Skin as pale as a ghost!"

Wow, okay, so her condition is really nothing to sneeze at.

"All I’m trying to say is, I’m not backsliding, if that’s what you’re wondering."

So I guess the substance abuse, post-retcon, was still a thing, not just nipped in the bud by Vriska.

Well, it WAS a way for her to cope with her mom's death, that isn't something that just goes away by a slap on the wrist, even if it was on date night.

"ROSE: I struggled with substance abuse for a while, years ago. Remember?

JOHN: rose, jesus. i wasn’t going to accuse you of being a drug addict, and i didn’t fly over here to give you an intervention.

JOHN: it sounded like you had some important stuff to tell me, and the fact that you also seem to be sick is more than a little alarming!

ROSE: I wouldn’t say I’m sick.

ROSE: Just having spectacularly debilitating headaches as a result of my visions becoming more frequent.

JOHN: oh yeah.

JOHN: what are these visions you’re having?

ROSE: I’m a Seer of Light, John.

JOHN: i know."

I'm happy to see how mature John is being about all this. He's really grown into a proper adult.

Also, that they can still exchange sarcastic remarks shows the base of their friendship hasn't changed over the years.

"What are these visions you're having?", it's like John just became Rose's therapist. :P

"JOHN: so you mean like, your standard psychic visions about the future and stuff?

JOHN: what’s going to happen? should we be worried?

ROSE: It doesn’t technically pertain to the future. Well, not our future."

A potential future then? Or the future of the dead ghosts, their doubledeath?

I mean, I thought Rose's powers were meant to show the best possible future and how to get there.

That hopefully isn't implying that they're not... the main timeline anymore.

"ROSE: My abilities have broadened considerably beyond their previous horizon. They shed light on many unseen events. Past, present, future, in realities and frames of reference that have no intersection with ours at all."

And then Rose could see us, and all the fiction our universe has spawned. Including stuff about their clique! :P

"ROSE: It seems to be an unfortunate side effect of god tier abilities. They can advance at a rate beyond one’s physical ability to keep up with.

ROSE: Fortunately it doesn’t seem to be happening to anyone other than me."

So... what, could that mean Sollux & Mituna's psychic problems were explainable by a surplus of Doom powers, even though they weren't god tier?

... In other news, can they overload Lord English with Time?

"JOHN: yeah, can’t say i’ve noticed anything like that.

JOHN: or improvement in my powers for that matter."

He hasn't been practicing them either, I suppose. Then again, after you've drilled a hole to a planet core and moved an entire different planet to another dimension, as well as rewrote your own timeline, there's few plateaus left to grow towards.

"ROSE: It’s not about gaining additional power, so much as the gradual dissolving of the boundaries between your own awareness and that of your many doomed selves who perished in other timelines."

D'aaaahhhhh, that sounds a lot like what the sprites^2 experienced!

Actually, Davepeta mentioned something about this, didn't they? Something about become their best version through this process?

Didn't it have something to do with the Ultimate Riddle as well? Well, that would certainly quantify as something to know about "to learn what it all means".

But, I got to say, why would John be any less affected? He had doomed selves too, and this isn't just a Light thing, just because it has similarities to Rose's powers.

"ROSE: It’s a slow and apparently rather uncomfortable accretion of knowledge. Perhaps I’m the only one to notice any change, since my aspect explicitly relates to knowledge."

Mulling it over, I think the reasoning here is that, since there's so much knowledge to go around between the Roses of all timelines, she's getting more crammed inside her than anyone else.

So even if they don't just 'merge' into her, just increase the knowledge she can fall back on, and one point she'll reach a limit.

Sounds really painful and I don't want to imagine the migraines now.

Way to get screwed over by an otherwise very useful skill to have. That's Paradox Space for ya!

"ROSE: But in totality, I have pieced together a greater understanding of our present situation and all the events that led us here."

She has become self aware to an extent then. Useful, if they're going to have to fight English.

"ROSE: There’s a different scale I’ve come to understand. Another dichotomy that’s less... emotional, I guess?

ROSE: Consider, instead of the word “good,” using the word “essential.”

ROSE: And what exists at the opposite polarity from essential is...

ROSE: Something that is best not to contemplate."

Yeah, Paradox Space is much more impersonal than is 'good' for anyone.

The Horrorterrors are a good example, their game is a long and incomprehensible one.

And, if you don't fulfill your role in the timeline, you're basically fodder to use against LE. :/

It sounds to me, Paradox Space might be forcing them to join the cause or become doomed.

"ROSE: I really should cut it out, and just start from the beginning."

Once upon a time, in Paradox Space...

Blaperile has a theory she may know LE's backstory now, that would be a good story to tell here, but John already knows parts of it.

So maybe there's something new we'll learn.

"She points with purpose, as if to say, there. Right there, precisely, is where the green sun would be, if it still existed.

ROSE: The green sun is gone.

JOHN: what??"

Last time Rose pointed in a context with the Green Sun, she pointed away from it.

Oh yeah, they couldn't have known about Alternate Calliope changing the Green Sun into the Black Hole!!!

"ROSE: It has been destroyed. At least, from the current frame of reference it has.

ROSE: It still existed, and therefore in a way that’s hard to explain, currently exists, over a nearly infinite span of time, presiding over the birth and death of countless universes."

It's interesting how Universe C's timeline overlaps with the death of the Green Sun.

Does that mean Jade lost her First Guardian powers? (And GCATavrosprite too, I guess.)

Would she regain them, if she were to travel back to an earlier point in the timeline?

"ROSE: But this universe, our universe, is not one of them."

Oh, if Jade didn't have her FG powers, she would've noticed so, by now.

Unless the Green Sun's influence does something else. Well, for one, Earth C won't have its own First Guardian.

"JOHN: you saw this in a vision?

ROSE: No. Jade told me.

JOHN: she did?

JOHN: how does she know?

ROSE: She can’t draw from its power anymore. She no longer has the ability of a First Guardian.

ROSE: It has been this way for several years. I suspect she has kept this fact on the downlow, however."

... Oh, so she kept it secret for seven years. That's... huh.

Well, you know, they are friends, but even between friends secrets can exist.

She might not have wanted distress to grow, since the others wouldn't enjoy their Ultime Reward otherwise.

"JOHN: that’s...

JOHN: surprising, i guess?

JOHN: or maybe not. i dunno, it’s not like she tells me a whole lot these days."

Adults don't share as much as children... That's a sad fact for many.

"ROSE: It’s also not like she’s had any particular need to unleash the full fury of the green sun, not while she’s been gallivanting around with Dave and Karkat under whatever perplexing social arrangement they have settled on."

Heheh, confirmed for opacity! Just like how Dave & Karkat's initial "thing" never got assigned to a quadrant.

"JOHN: how did that happen?

ROSE: It doesn’t matter much, for our purposes."

Alternate Calliope confirmed for not appearing in this epilogue.

"ROSE: There was a cataclysmic event. A suicide strike by a very powerful being. Much like the one Dave and I attempted, once upon a time."

Remember that time, John? Can't believe Cascade could ever qualify for "simpler times", but here we are.

"ROSE: The entire sun was swallowed by a supermassive black hole.

ROSE: I digress though.

You press your eyes shut, just for a moment. Behind them you see a black hole so supermassive that it spans the width of eternity."

John is adding things up faster than usual!

I have to wonder whether his 'dream' was actually the memory of a doomed John, being swallowed by the black hole.

"ROSE: There’s really no route through this expository garden path that will adequately cushion you from the bottom line, John.

ROSE: You will need to travel back into canon and defeat Lord English."

'canon', pfffffff. I guess you could say, canon is everything inside the Green Sun's reach.

But oh boy, the implications of someone travelling back from beyond the end of the story!

I mean, I know we've been shown the path this'll probably take, ending with the kids inside the plot hole, and then Vriska using it on LE, after which... Something something.

But still, I can now imagine John travelling back to other places in canon.

Probably this time around, the panels in question won't be altered. I guess?

"> Shrug and try to look casual.

You pull off the most casual shrug that a guy has ever shrugged when being presented with the inevitability of his own fate. If Rose were looking at you right now, she would be totally convinced that you are approaching this topic with a level of nonchalance that is entirely plausible and genuine. You’re sure of it.

JOHN: yeah, i had a feeling that was going to come up again someday."

Classic John. Perfect response.

Can you imagine Frodo giving Gandalf the shrug like this?

... It's like Young K in MiB3. "M'Okay."

You know, if they were travelling back into canon, you could wonder how they ended up fighting Caliborn, since that was in a timeline outside the Green Sun's reach.

At least, I figure, since Universe C begetted the cherub session.

But then I thought of this: when Caliborn took over the narration, he made those things canon, and thus also the 'future scene' rendered with clay figurines where he defeats the kids!

"JOHN: when exactly is the point of no return?

ROSE: Today."

... Way to postpone this, Rose. I guess after today, the Black Hole swallows Universe C???

I can understand John trying his best not to think about having to fight LE, since semi-forced obliviousness is his forté, though.

"JOHN: why?

ROSE: Why what?

JOHN: why do i need to go back and beat him?

JOHN: i mean, sorry if this is a stupid question. i guess he’s a huge awful monster, and that’s just what you’re supposed to do with huge awful monsters. take them down for their crimes, and such.

JOHN: but why does he actually need to be defeated at all?"

Valid question, since LE made himself a staple of spacetime and all.

"to be honest, it’s been years since we’ve even bothered thinking about any of this, and everything seems...

> Take a look around and survey the current status of all life on Earth, which is totally possible to do from the vantage point of a single apartment balcony."

Ah, impossible command prompts, how I missed you.

Everything seems fine, until the black hole opens up in the sky and eats a frog that is your universe.

"JOHN: fine?

ROSE: Of course everything is fine here.

ROSE: We’re outside of canon now.

JOHN: yeah, i know. what does that actually MEAN though?

JOHN: are you saying this isn’t really happening?

ROSE: Of course it’s happening.

ROSE: Just because certain events take place outside of canon, it doesn’t mean those events are non-canon.

JOHN: oh."

I guess this is a way of saying: little is ever going to happen in Universe C that has effects in the parts of the multiverse that the Green Sun touches.

And vice versa.

Also, in a meta sense, for people not enamoured with Homestuck ending and writing their own endings, those efforts are not being discredited here.

"ROSE: In other words, there is an important distinction between events which can be considered to occur inside canon, outside canon, and those which are not canon at all.

ROSE: The day we went through that door and claimed our reward, we passed a threshold between continua marked by differing degrees of relevance, truth, and essentiality.

ROSE: Those are the three pillars of canon.

JOHN: what?"

Ah yes, a scientific exposition on the nature of fanfiction seems in good order right about now. :P

I'm taking a guess that the epilogues are "essential" to wrap up the huge dangling plotline about LE, but that doesn't mean they are THE truth about post-ending Homestuck.

Or even that the events in this story are really relevant to enjoy Homestuck proper.

"ROSE: Any event said to take place inside canon will have nonzero values of relevance and essentiality, while maintaining an absolute foundation in truth, by definition.

ROSE: Whereas events outside canon have diminished values of relevance and essentiality. Or, for the most part, can be considered neither relevant nor essential at all.

ROSE: But such events can’t be said to be untrue either. Instead, it’s better to regard their truth value as highly conditional.

ROSE: Are you still following?

> Say “oh, yeah. totally.”"

This is Andrew's version of the M3KYT mantra. "Just enjoy this story, folks!"

"JOHN: oh, yeah. totally.

ROSE: So to be clear, everything that’s taken place here on Earth C since we exited canon can be considered completely irrelevant, and for the most part, absolutely inessential. Yet none of it can be called untrue.

ROSE: At least, up until precisely today. "

So, yeah, they're going to become relevant to the story again, but that doesn't have to mean that Jane having usurped the Felt, as well as other events from the snaps and things we haven't even seen happen, are going to be given even a passing mention, hahah.

"ROSE: Events that are formally non-canon have no truth whatsoever, by definition.

ROSE: They may have relevance and essentiality values that are nonzero, or even quite high, but only as projections along an imaginary axis, resulting from highly subjective frames of reference.

ROSE: But due to those events having no truth, and thus carrying no real weight, the other properties are basically rendered meaningless."

Aka, fan fiction is not something to dismiss out of hand, but it isn't, like, a holy text.

"You can feel your eyes go wide as the gears in your head slow to a stop. The implications of what Rose is saying are as vast as they are completely incomprehensible. Your mind has just been BLOWN.

ROSE: John?

ROSE: Are you okay? Your pupils have gone quite wide, thereby facilitating the appearance that your mind has just been blown."

Ah John, he hasn't changed.

"JOHN: i just wouldn’t have thought to put all of this in such a jargony way.

ROSE: Sorry. That’s kind of what I do.

JOHN: it’s fine. i’m just a bit rusty is all.

JOHN: it feels like it’s been so long since i did, or even thought about... anything that mattered at all.

ROSE: Yes, the longer we live outside of canon, the more tenuous our relationship with canon becomes."

Aka, the fans are growing up and moving on, so additional stories in the same universe become less likely to be accepted as canon as time goes by. :D

"ROSE: As long as we live outside canon, everything that happens will technically be “real,” but only conditionally.

ROSE: There are certain crucial events inside canon which must happen in order to continue to prop up the legitimacy of events here on Earth C. "

Ooooooh, so Rose's saying they need to go back and fill up some plotholes, hahahahahahah. Glorious.

"ROSE: And you specifically, John, have a responsibility to make sure those events take place.

JOHN: and i take it that means going back and killing lord english?

ROSE: Yes.

ROSE: His defeat is the keystone to this entire continuity.

ROSE: Much like his life, in some sick way, governed the overall design of the bridge which that keystone was holding up.

ROSE: But without it, all of this falls apart. Every thing we’ve been through, in a way that’s impossible for a single mind to fully comprehend, becomes retroactively discredited."

They can't both have entered the Universe AND not have gone back to fight Caliborn at some point. Otherwise, their nature as being "the alpha selves" is cast into doubt.

Especially since John led them to Caliborn with retcon powers.

Of course there could be space retJohns flying about, but that's speculation, not (yet) truth.

"JOHN: so... reality will be destroyed, or something?

JOHN: hasn’t that already sort of happened?

JOHN: i mean, when all the black space started cracking?

ROSE: No, this consequence isn’t physical, or even a disruption of the timeline. It’s more of a conceptual unraveling.

ROSE: If you miss the chance to authenticate canon events, something will take place that’s a bit difficult to describe, but I’ve encountered a term for it.

ROSE: It’s called “dissipation.”

ROSE: Like, a notional fading. As if something, somewhere, is undergoing a process of “forgetting,” and we are what is being forgotten."

So I am definitely thinking this refers to the fandom, in subtext.

But does Rose refer to what happens in doomed timelines, to the folks that don't die but are erased with the timeline ending?

... "Dissipation Island" would suck as a reality tv concept.

"

ROSE: All ideas, people and their full potentialities, possible outcomes and their specific unfolding, all these things live inside conscious frameworks.

ROSE: The further removed we get from authentication of canon events, the less relevant they become, and they slowly fade from the conscious frameworks which kept them stable."

DEFINITELY a reference to the fandom.

"JOHN: so i just retcon-poof back to english and start like...

JOHN: brawling with the dude?

ROSE: Don’t be ridiculous. You wouldn’t last a second."

You're not the fisticuffs kind of guy, John, those genes went to Jade.

"ROSE: You’ll need a team.

ROSE: Also, you don’t want to just dive headlong into a battle with his hulking adult form. That would be tactically foolish, and furthermore, would skip over some very important steps needed to authenticate canon."

So yeah, Rose is definitely in the process of skimming important details, like she did during the session.

She definitely seems to have a grasp on the requirements for success, but people being in the know hardly ever seems to be one of them.

"JOHN: like what?

ROSE: I mentioned that English’s defeat was the keystone to the continuity. But this is an oversimplification.

JOHN: yikes. well, we sure as fuck wouldn’t want to simplify anything."

Insta-Classic.

"ROSE: The true keystone, which is a necessary component of his defeat, is the juju."

Cal then? Blaperile thinks the Plot Hole. Or is it the sucker perhaps?

Cal needs to be filled with Caliborn's essence for LE to even exist in the first place, so...

"ROSE: The house-shaped object you stuck your hand in to gain your retcon powers.

JOHN: oh yeah.

ROSE: While empty, it resembles a gap. Like a hole in canon, whose only purpose is to be filled."

Oh. I stand corrected.

"ROSE: In serving that purpose, it grants one with the radical canon-altering powers that would be needed to fill it.

ROSE: Once filled, it becomes solid. No longer a gap, but a serviceable, load-bearing wedge in our continuity.

ROSE: Like a keystone."

So, nice term, but a house-shaped keystone isn't that servicable. :P Neither is a mousepointer-shaped one, and the Sburb logo is both.

"ROSE: And once delivered to English and directed his way, it empties itself again, releasing its narrative-bridging payload."

Aww yeah, so they WILL be set free. Glad to have that out of the way.

"It functions as a weapon, and in some manner will bring about his demise.

JOHN: in some manner?

ROSE: It’s a complicated artifact. As old and unfathomable as anything else in Paradox Space, like the green sun, or English himself. Don’t worry about it for now.

ROSE: The important thing is that, in the due course of your travels, you end up loading and unloading this weapon."

So, will nothing be done with Scratch's gun anymore then, & the cueball analogy that might have been able to defeat Lord English?

Are all other items rumored to be able to kill him real red herrings... Or will John need to travel back to the places we last saw them & collect them?

"JOHN: how am i going to do that?

ROSE: Once you set things in motion, it should just happen naturally through the narrative momentum of your journey. I’m really just warning you about it, rather than instructing you.

JOHN: ok. thanks??

ROSE: You’re welcome."

He won't be thankful after the fact, that's for sure. :P

"Rose looks at her phone. You recognize Kanaya’s distinct typing style in the window. Rose’s thumbs begin to fly across the keypad. She continues to text as she talks."

I'm guessing Kanaya is at work at this time, at the Mother Grub's cavern.

"JOHN: so if we’re going to go back and kill him in time to “authenticate canon,” i guess we have to get going soon.

JOHN: like today?

ROSE: Yes.

JOHN: are you sure you’re actually up for a fight though? no offense, but you’re looking a little worse for the wear.

ROSE: I’m not going."

I don't think that's possible, since Rose should be there for the fight.

They can't very well replace with Jasprosesprite^2, that's for sure!

"JOHN: oh.

ROSE: None of us are. Only you.

JOHN: what?? but you said... "

Uuuuhhhmm, but where could John even pick up living versions of his friends!

... Also, it would be rather awkward for a 23-year-old John to meet up with 8-to-10-years younger versions of his friends alone, wouldn't it?

"ROSE: John, this is the victory state.

JOHN: what the hell does that even mean."

Pfff, she means this is the 'good ending'.

"ROSE: When we went through the door, and passed beyond the threshold of canon, we effectively retired from bearing any responsibility for influencing canon events. We’ve all been sort of decommissioned as active players on the cosmic stage, with severely diminished relevance attributes."

Hah, so none except for John with his retcon powers can be expected to hold relevance to canon?

... Blaperile has a good point that this doesn't hold true for Terezi then.

Neither does it for Aranea, Meenah and Vriska!

But still, Vriska immediately went after LE... Even if Terezi has aged as much as John, that is just... Is John going to find 23-year-old doomed versions of his human friends somewhere?

"JOHN: but... couldn’t you all just come along anyway?

ROSE: We could. But it wouldn’t serve any purpose.

ROSE: It wouldn’t plug up the remaining dark spots in canon."

Yes, but, the commentary. Rose, think of all the things Dave could be commenting on!! Don't deprive us of that!

"ROSE: You’ll need a group of active players. Those still stuck inside the stream of canonic karma."

Like OCs? I mean, or the people I mentioned earlier.

Though Blaperile has a point, maybe he'll revisit LOMAX and pick his friends up there. Still, age difference!

"ROSE: Nothing too extravagant. Just different versions of us.

ROSE: Younger versions, from a particularly dysfunctional impasse in our journey.

ROSE: I can point out the exact moment in canon you should be disrupting, and how you should disrupt it.

ROSE: In fact, I’ve already written it down to spare you the trouble of remembering."

... I don't think he'll go and 'save' the people from the Game Over timeline, but then again...

Hah, Blaperile points out how this must be like Terezi's scarf, all over again. :P Nice.

... Wait just a goddamned minute. If he goes back and changes the Game Over timeline, there's an errant Aranea Serket he'll surely encounter!

Wow.

That.

Hah, that's actually very fitting, since it's John's native timeline.

Roxy's too, though. So he might just have her tagging along! :D

Blaperile's right, Game Over went as it did because of the absence of John!

I think that, if he can return and re-relevant all those doomed selves, a lot of people would really, REALLY like that development!

"

JOHN: huh.

ROSE: Is anything confusing about my instructions?

JOHN: no, i remember all this. it shouldn’t be a problem.

JOHN: it’s just weird to think about revisiting this. it seems like an eternity. like... we were all completely different people back then.

ROSE: I assure you we are all still fundamentally the same bunch of losers."

Heheheheh, that you are.

"Rose is ultimately right about that, the way she is about most things. You continue to scan the letter, and grimace slightly.

JOHN: should i really punch her in the face?"

That would be just so sweet, for Rose to get that kind of comeuppance through John. After all, she might have Jasprosesprite^2's memories from when she still lived now, too.

And Aranea killed her.

That would be the second time John comes in retconning a timeline, punching a Serket.

"JOHN: i felt kinda bad about it, last time i did that to someone.

ROSE: Yes. You absolutely should, and must, punch her in the face."

Oh yes, so essential. I'm just casually going to ignore John punching a younger woman. For one, she was at least 1 sweep older than the A2 trolls, and a millenia-old ghost besides.

"You exhale and turn the paper over in your hands. The other side is blank. You flip it back over, having fully processed the instructions drafted in the polished purple handwriting. You like how Rose still writes in purple, after all these years. Some things never change."

Awww.

"JOHN: alright. this seems straightforward enough.

JOHN: i mean, aside from the part where we all have to fight an invincible monster.

ROSE: He isn’t entirely invincible. He will be vulnerable to Dave’s weapon. I believe other gambits should present themselves as well."

Return of the eggsword! Nice!

And okay, the other supposedly "ultimate" weapons to kill LE with will still play a part too, cool!

(Spades Slick has dips.)

"ROSE: I don’t think it would serve the mission well for me to tell you exactly how it will go.

ROSE: But at least I can offer this bit of encouragement.

ROSE: If you follow my instructions, English will be defeated.

ROSE: It is an absolutely essential outcome.

ROSE: And essential, if you’ll remember, is the word we should be using instead of good."

So... What, LE won't really make a heel face turn, but does that mean that... :/ The fate of the other kids might not be pretty, is what I'm getting from this.

Quick John, engage your Dad mode! Protect them!

"JOHN: i see you’re advising we go after him when he’s young...

JOHN: i guess that makes sense.

JOHN: go get him before he gets all big and strong.

JOHN: like, kind of a surprise attack?

ROSE: Sure."

Let's go with that, says Rose.

"JOHN: that dude sucks.

JOHN: he was taunting me a while back.

JOHN: like, i think he WANTS me to come fight him?

JOHN: anyway, i just ignored him obviously, because i’m not a stupid idiot.

JOHN: but i guess today will be his lucky day."

So, if we assume Caliborn spent the same amount of time waiting for John, he's already an adult, but a scrawny one.

"Her eyes are closed and her hands are folded in her lap. She’s not asleep, but she looks wasted—like all the life in her has been sucked out through a straw. Like she’s insubstantial."

"You can’t believe how sick she looks. How did this happen to her?"

I'm... getting some very worrying signals here.

"JOHN: i should probably get going and let you rest.

JOHN: we can talk all about it when i get back. i’ll fill you in on how it went, hopefully you’ll be feeling better by then.

ROSE: Oh. Um."

:/ I hope she isn't going to die on him now, this is supposed to be the victory state!

Blaperile thinks John might not come back, but that would be a dick move for Rose to pull on him. Even if he can force another victory state from all this!

"ROSE: Yeah.

JOHN: is something wrong?

Rose opens her eyes and looks at you, but she says nothing. Just looks.

JOHN: i’m not scared, if that’s what you’re worried about.

JOHN: you already said we’re going to defeat him. so, nothing to fret over, right?

ROSE: Yes. You...

Something flickers through her eyes, almost too quick to catch. When she smiles at you, it’s warm and sincere.

ROSE: You’re going to do great.

Rose slides her arms around you. After a while, she releases you from the embrace and gets up to fetch her bottle of pills. She pauses at the bedroom door to look at you one more time.

ROSE: Goodbye, John.

She closes the door behind her."

... That is REALLY not comforting.

Bathrooms & pills are NOT a good combination in any type of fiction.

"> Look at the letter.

Your run your thumbs along the edge of the paper. Is this really it? One hug from Rose and you’re off to face your destiny? The instructions in the letter are clear, but you aren’t sure precisely what to do next. Inertia and indecision keep your feet planted firmly on the carpet.

Then, as if directly answering your quandary, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s a text from Roxy."

So, I'm going to park how I feel about Rose's... condition, and what she might think to do with it.

And I'm going to go and be glad that Roxy texts John at this time, as I hope that she, at least, will join him on the journey.

"> Read text.

It sounds important. You get up to go without even thinking about it. You exit through the sliding glass door and leave it open behind you."

Eep, so the situation at her end is dangerous to? ... Don't tell me that it has only now just happened that Jane was kidnapped by the Felt, and Roxy & Calliope went out to get her.

---

So, this chapter definitely wasn't all shits 'n giggles, that's for sure.

I'm going to have to process this a little.

At least it was great to have Rose & John interact again.

[beca-mitchell]

remember the day, pt. 3

Summary: The beginning of Beca’s visit to Portland. Also on AO3.

Word count: 3394

part 1 (intro/prompt) | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

It’s about one-and-a-half weeks before Beca’s scheduled visit to Portland.

Chloe is picking up some groceries from the New Seasons just outside her neighbourhood. As much as she likes these menial tasks her parents send her on, she longs for something more.

She doesn’t want to know about the life and career she left behind in Los Angeles, despite her parents’ encouragement that she reach out to her professors and supervisors.

She shakes her head at the thought.

“What...what do I do?” Chloe asks hesitantly. She plays nervously with the fringe of her blanket. She remembers finishing her third year at Barden. She doesn’t remember knowing what she wanted to do with the rest of her life at that stage.

Beca is nervous, hesitant. “Maybe I should...get Aubrey. Or your parents.”

Chloe’s nerves have been worn thin since waking up and discovering that she has an entire six years of life to catch up on. It’s odd thinking that she’s twenty-one when she’s really on the verge of turning twenty-seven.

It’s odd thinking that she’s engaged to this woman in front of her.

Despite it all, she trusts Beca, almost instinctively. That instinct is something she grapples to hold on to - the only solid foothold she has in this whole mess.

“No,” she says, when Beca gets up. “I...I think you’d know best,” she admits slowly.

Beca has never tried to push her or guilt her into remembering their love, these past couple of weeks in the hospital. Chloe sees hope shining through her.

“Okay,” Beca says, rubbing her palms on her jeans nervously as she sits back down. “I’m here for you.”

Chloe sighs heavily.

How is she supposed to return to her life when she doesn’t even know if she has the skills to do it?

I’m afraid.

These bursts of fear aren’t new, but they still debilitate her. She grits her teeth, forcing her legs to move as she pushes down the aisle.

In the middle of the canned goods aisle, her phone dings with a message from her brother.

Nick (2:59 p.m.) chlo can you get me some of that soup i really like the Uhh cheesy broccoli one

Chloe (3:00 p.m.) i remember the one I got u <3

Turning, she inspects the variety of Campbell’s soup cans lining the shelves. She frowns when she realizes there’s one lone can of Broccoli Cheese sitting on the topmost shelf, taunting her with its cheerful lettering.

She’s not the shortest person in the world, but her fingers still only manage to just graze the side of the can, inadvertently pushing it further back.

“Damnit,” she mutters, rocking back on her feet. She glances around, wondering if she can just climb into her cart and-

“I got that for you,” a voice says, startling her out of her reverie.

“Thank you,” she says, turning to her saviour. “My brother wouldn’t have let me live that down.”

He grins at her. “No problem. Really desperate for that soup, huh?” It’s a pleasant smile, friendly and inviting.

She blushes, mostly from embarrassment but a little bit of something else as well - something that makes her stomach twist slightly.

Chloe clears her throat. “Yeah, I guess he is.”

“What’s your favourite?” he asks, casually plucking a couple cans off the shelf.

“My favourite what?” she asks blankly.

“Soup.”

“Oh.” Oh. He’s teasing her. “I...can’t say I have a favourite,” she says lightly. She does smile in return, pleased at the distraction from her day.

“Well, maybe when you decide, you could shoot me a message and I can grab it from the top shelf for you?” he asks, slowly lifting his phone. He seems nervous, hesitant, and tentative.

Chloe can’t deny that she’s mildly attracted - quite attracted - to him; he’s tall, all dark hair and hazel eyes.

Still, she thinks of cobalt blue and gentle brown tresses as Beca’s face and name float into her mind.

Her head throbs.

“Okay,” she agrees, nonplussed by her own agreement. She tries not to let the wince show on her face even as her migraine begins to form. “I...I’m Chloe, by the way.”

“Matthew,” he says, gently reaching out to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Chloe.”

Chloe forgets about it a week later.

Beca is a bundle of nerves and more on the flight. She wrings her hands nervously, unable to bring herself to listen to music even though she has her noise-cancelling headphones on.

She tells herself that seeing Chloe again will mean nothing. It’s just her concern for her not-fiancée. Her friend. Her best friend.

She heaves a breath.

Aubrey and Fat Amy watch Beca sympathetically as she stuffs her jeans into her duffel.

“Are you nervous?” Aubrey asks, plucking a shirt out of Beca’s grasp and folding it neatly.

“That’s a silly question,” Amy tells her. “Of course she’s nervous. She’s meeting Chloe’s parents for the first time.”

Beca stares, confused. “No, I’m not. I’ve met them many times.”

“Yeah...but Red doesn’t know that, does she?” Amy flings one of Beca’s socks into her bag.

Beca grits her teeth. “Thanks for the reminder, Amy.”

Aubrey looks at Fat Amy disapprovingly before turning her attention back to Beca. “Are you sure you want to do this? Isn’t it too soon?”

“She said she wanted me to visit,” Beca says firmly. “I’m not going back on my promise to her.”

“Your feelings matter too, Beca,” Aubrey says gently. “Have you tried just telling her everything?”

“I’m not going to overwhelm her. I can’t.”

“Just two weeks ago, you told me your biggest fear was that Chloe would fall in love with somebody else,” Aubrey accuses.

“Yeah, and just two weeks ago, you told me that it’d be fine if she did,” Beca shoots back. She hears a whispered “not cool,” from Amy and Aubrey’s ensuing huff.

“I just...Beca are you sure you’re going to be okay on this trip?”

“Yes,” Beca enunciates. “I...I just have to see her, if anything. And if I spend some time with her in an environment where she feels comfortable, maybe I can eventually convince her that she can come back to Los Angeles. She needs to work on routine if she wants a shot at getting her memory back.”

“If you want a shot,” Aubrey corrects quietly.

Beca swallows the lump in her throat and stares into her duffel bag.

"Beca?" Beca turns to see that Amy looks serious. "Chloe will come around, you know that, right?"

"You know what? Everyone keeps telling me that,” Beca says slowly. “But I don't feel it."

When Beca lands, she fully expects to be greeted by Chloe’s parents or brother.

Instead, she catches sight of a familiar head of hair and a radiant smile directed straight at her.

“Chloe,” she breathes, sliding her headphones off so they’re around her neck. She strides purposefully towards her, lugging her oversized duffel bag along the way.

“Hello,” Chloe greets, friendly, if not a little formal. “I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to come along to pick you up.”

Beca thinks that Chloe could wink and everything would feel like normal again. The slightly teasing lilt to her voice, the way her hair is swept to one-side and just slightly windswept and messy, the way her hands are stuffed nervously into her jean pockets....it endears Beca to Chloe more.

She has missed Chloe so much over the past few weeks. Their house feels empty and too silent. Beca feels like she could drown in that silence.

But now - standing in front of Chloe, she suddenly feels the most awake she has in a while.

“Here you are,” Beca says quietly. “Do we, uh,” she gestures awkwardly, blushing furiously when Chloe tilts her head, confused.

“Do we what?”

“I don’t know. Shake hands? Like a nice to see you again kind of thing?”

She doesn’t tell Chloe that her first impulse was to run into her arms and kiss her. That all she wants to do is wrap Chloe up in her arms and tell her how much she missed her; how much she loves her.

Chloe’s smile is gentle amidst her hesitance. “How about a hug?”

Beca drops her duffel and rushes straight into Chloe’s arms. She buries her nose into the soft fabric of her sweater and tries not to think about how simultaneously familiar and foreign this feels.

“Thank you,” Beca whispers, muffled against Chloe’s shoulder.

Chloe’s heart only races faster. She fights back the confusion and aggravation, focusing on enjoying how Beca feels in her arms. She swallows the lump in her throat and nods, cheek brushing against Beca’s hair. “Thank you,” she echoes before quickly pulling back.

Beca climbs into the backseat of Nick’s Volvo after tossing her bag in the trunk. Chloe is fiddling with the radio, obnoxiously changing stations wildly much to Nick’s apparent chagrin.

“Just pick one, nerd,” he exclaims, laughing at Chloe’s antics. He grins, twisting to face Beca. “Beca Mitchell, how have you been?” He reaches around to hold a hand up for a high five. Beca rolls her eyes, but she appreciates at the normalcy.

She high fives him, but pauses when she catches the solemn expression on Chloe’s face.

“Uh, so are we just heading back to your place?” Beca asks, leaning back quickly.

“Yeah. Mom and dad wanted to have a nice dinner in. I figured you’d want to shower and settle in and stuff.”

Beca nods, trying to decide between staring out the window and staring surreptitiously at the side of Chloe’s head.

She settles on cautiously alternating between both, reflecting on the last time she was in Portland with Chloe, celebrating their engagement with her parents and close family friends.

We were so happy.

She watches the light highlight the curve of Chloe’s nose, the arch of her cheekbone - only just barely restraining the long sigh that threatens to escape.

Chloe’s humming startles her from her morose thoughts. Beca’s eyes are drawn to the casual way Chloe has her legs crossed on her seat, remembering how long it took for Chloe to get back in a car, let alone sit comfortably.

Now, she’s humming, tapping on her thighs along with the rhythm.

Beca can’t deny that being in Portland has helped because this Chloe - this Chloe is miles away from the Chloe that Beca got back after the accident.

Unbidden, Beca sinks into a flashback.

“Chlo!” Beca exclaims. “You can’t put your feet on my lap while I’m driving!”

Chloe groans. “Then let me drive!”

“You know you’re a pretty terrible driver, right? Like, that’s actually a thing. You’re a terrible driver.”

“I’m so offended that you think I’m a terrible driver.”

“Okay!” Beca laughs, shoving Chloe’s foot away when she begins jabbing her thigh. “Okay, you’re not terrible. You just have a little bit of road rage. Other than that, you’re pretty careful.”

Chloe nods, moving her legs back to her side. “Thank you. It’s everybody else that’s terrible. I merely enforce the social norms.”

“Is that so?”

Chloe hushes her, turning up the volume on the radio. “I love this song,” she says, humming along.

Beca rolls her eyes even as a blush rises up her neck. “You only love it because I wrote it.”

Chloe hums for a moment longer. “Of course, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t think it’s wonderful on its own.” She reaches across the console to cup Beca’s cheek. “You’re so talented, Bec,” she says quietly.

Beca tilts her head, nuzzling into the palm of Chloe’s hand. “I love you,” she murmurs.

Chloe brushes her hand through her hair. “I love you, too.”

She could spend the rest of her life riding in cars with this woman.

Beca doesn’t realize she’s crying until she slowly fades back to reality. The reality where she has to remind herself that Chloe is years behind her.

She slowly wipes her cheeks hoping not to draw attention to herself. Glancing up at the mirror, she pauses when she feels Chloe’s eyes on her from the front seat. Chloe turns quickly when Beca meets her gaze.

Beca tries not to feel too hurt by that.

(She’ll wait if she has to. Chloe did.)

Chloe continues humming.

Beca doesn’t bother telling her that she wrote this song for her.

Chloe pauses when Beca and Nick walk up to the porch together, chatting in a friendly manner.

If anything, it makes Chloe believe that Beca and Nick are close friends. It throws her for a loop, seeing that Beca knows her family with such intimacy and familiarity.

Her mother greets Beca with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Her father does the same.

Chloe tilts her head, wondering how Beca had been when she first met her parents. In a kind of imaginative, twisted fantasy, she pictures Beca with an adorably nervous expression on her face, stuttering, but pushing herself to impress Chloe’s parents no matter what.

It makes her smile for a moment, but she only ends up feeling even worse because she hates that she can’t remember.

At dinner, all traces of crying are gone, but Beca thinks that Chloe couldn’t look more uncomfortable if she tried. She’s not sure how they got here from hugging each other at the airport like old friends.

Well, she kind of does know - Doctor Forham and Doctor Lin had mentioned that Chloe’s mood swings would likely come out in full force.

She watches the way Chloe pushes her food around on her place. While not completely sullen, there’s a quiet, serious aura about Chloe, which seems out of place for her usually cheerful disposition.

Beca supposes there’s not much to be cheerful about these days.

“How’s dinner, Beca?”

Chloe looks up at her mother’s question, watching Beca with curious eyes.

“It’s great,” Beca replies honestly. She locks eyes with Chloe. “Thanks for having me.”

“You’re very welcome, Beca. We’re happy to see you again. You’re practically family.”

Chloe winces at that and looks back down quickly. Beca sees her mouth the word ‘family’ though it’s without malice or disdain. Merely like she’s testing it out on her lips.

The embers of hope haven’t quite faded away.

Beca fans at them quickly. “Family,” she repeats quietly.

She sees Chloe glance at her.

After dinner, Beca and Chloe are attempting to help clean up, but are being warded off by Chloe’s parents.

“Chloe, why don’t you bring Beca to the guest room?” Chloe’s father suggests.

Nick smirks at Beca. “Ooh, the guest room.”

Beca’s blush reaches her forehead. Chloe scowls and swats him quickly.

“Nicholas, stop bothering them and let them get settled in,” her mother admonishes.

Chloe nods, satisfied with that reprimand. She reaches out to help Beca with her bag in the living room. “This is huge,” she mutters. “It’s larger than you are.”

Beca laughs at that. “Height jokes, huh, Beale?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be short on those,” Chloe says.

Beca gapes at her for a moment, pausing before entering the room.

She tries not to think about how odd it is to be staying in the guest room as opposed to Chloe’s room.

Beca throws herself on the bed when she’s within launching distance. She sighs happily at the soft mattress against her sore back. When she opens her eyes, Chloe is still watching her, though she hovers awkwardly in the doorway.

“Chloe,” Beca says gently. “What’s going on?”

“I...why were you crying in the car earlier?” Chloe asks, as blunt as ever.

"I just had something in my eye," Beca says quickly. 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

That exchange is so familiar that Beca forgets for a moment. She softens. “I could never lie to you. I’m sorry.”

“Why were you crying?” Chloe asks, stepping slowly towards Beca. 

“...because you don’t remember me and it’s so clear that it hurts you that you can’t remember anything,” Beca responds, finally. “And I still don’t really know what to do with that information.”

“You blame me a little, don’t you?” Her voice cracks and it makes Beca shoot up off the bed. 

I blame myself, she thinks savagely. Somehow, I blame myself. "No, I will never blame you," she says with conviction 

“I’m so confused,” Chloe whimpers. “And now you’re here and you - you just know my family, maybe even better than I do because I’m missing the last six years of their life.”

Beca wants to...she doesn’t fucking know anymore. She wants to just drop to her knees and tell Chloe to just take whatever she wants from her own head. She wants to offer her own memories if it means that Chloe gets to live even just a modicum of the life she once had. Even if it means Beca has to give up some of her own.

This tug-of-war of happiness drains Beca’s life every day, so she can’t imagine what Chloe’s going through.

“This isn’t easy on anybody, baby,” Beca replies before she can stop herself. Neither of the notice or comment on the slip-up. She’s cupping Chloe’s cheeks, tenderly rubbing tears away. “We want to help you, okay?”

Briefly, Chloe wonders if this is helpful; if this proximity to Beca and resisting the temptation to simply kiss Beca right then there are helpful to the situation at all.

Beca’s eyes are wide, tearful, and filled with love and affection. 

They’re not particularly helpful.

She inhales shakily and steps out of Beca’s orbit. 

“Let’s just...work on this while you’re here, okay?” Chloe asks softly. “Just...figuring stuff out.” Us. “I want to...try,” Chloe says, testing the word out on her tongue.

It’s more than Beca can remember being offered within the past few months. 

She’ll take whatever she can get.

They settle on a movie after dinner and unpacking. It’s that first night - that one where Beca really dives back into assessing how in love with Chloe she still is, in every way, shape, and form.

They watch a random thriller set in space recommended by Netflix.

‘Watch’ is loose. Beca tries to remember how to breathe, sitting in such close proximity to Chloe.

Chloe falls asleep about halfway through and ends up curling into Beca’s side, dead to the world by the time the halfway point of the movie comes around.

"Chloe, are you awake?" Beca slowly begins to untangle herself from Chloe. The movie credits play in the background.

When she finally succeeds, she huffs, brushing her hair out of her face. Chloe is sprawled on the couch, mouth cracked open carelessly. A very quiet snore escapes her lips.

Beca thinks this is the youngest Chloe has looked in recent months, without the constant worry or distress marring her beautiful features. She sighs, kneeling so she’s eye-level with Chloe’s head. “Chlo?” she tries again.

She considers waking Chloe up fully to bring her to her bedroom for a more comfortable sleep. Chloe grunts quietly in her sleep and twists, turning her head fully so that she’s face to face with Beca suddenly. Beca stumbles, nearly falling backwards but she manages to catch herself on the coffee table.

Slowly moving forward again, she reaches out to brush a strand of hair from Chloe’s cheek before letting her fingers glide down soft, warm skin.

In her mind, she sees the bruise that had marred Chloe’s cheek and the cuts along her forehead and jaw.

Now, Chloe sleeps peacefully in front of her, like it never happened. If Beca forces herself to simply imagine, she can pretend like nothing has changed.

Selfishly, she wonders if Chloe dreams of her.

“I love you,” she says, feeling shy as she talks directly to Chloe’s sleeping form. “I love you and everything you are. Even if you don’t remember all the ways you made my life better, I know that I will always love you.” She wills herself not to cry. “I promise I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Beca pauses, taking a shaky breath. She gently combs through Chloe’s hair, thankful that Chloe appears to be as heavy a sleeper as she always was.

“Even if you can’t say it back – if you can’t mean it in the same way, I’ll never be able to love anyone else as much I love you."

tbc // fic tag

[chibioniyuri]

So, I wanted to share my current medical status with y’all, but only if you want to actively read it, so I’ll be throwing it behind a cut. Plus it’s pretty long. So there’s that.

So, I have a brain tumor.

Only, technically not. It’s within the skull but outside the dura mater, the protective membrane around your brain itself. So, technically not a brain tumor.

But let’s start from the beginning.

Starting around summer of last year, my grandmother was in and out of the hospital. Falling without being able to get up on her own, leading her to spend the entire night sitting on the floor waiting for someone to visit her because the phone was out of reach. Pneumonia extending her hospital stay. Getting home and refusing the home health care my uncle and aunt set up for her. Falling again. Repeat.

Around August-ish, my aunt was cleaning her apartment for her and found pain killers stashed all over the apartment. In bottles. Free pills on her walker. Next to the phone, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, stashed in both nightstands. Turns out she’d been asking nearly everyone who visited her to bring her bottles “because she was running low.” Including us. We could get large bottles of Excedrin from Sam’s Club for cheaper than were available in her country. We’d bring over two extra large bottles. We didn’t think anything of it; our visits were spaced roughly four years apart. But concurrently, some tests were showing the beginning stages of liver and kidney damage that could be caused by self-medicating in the way my grandmother was.

Cut to me. “Wa-oh,” says I.

For like two and a half years, that I could remember, I’d been having trouble sleeping. Beyond the normal, that is. Taking over an hour to fall asleep, sleeping roughly three hours at a time, eventually needing to take naps on my days off just to function safely on my work days. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I was finishing school. Looking for a house. Moving back into my parents’ house so I wouldn’t have to break a lease when I finally found “the one.” Exposing myself back to my dad’s special brand of tough love. I figured it was just stress, and that it would go away when things were less hectic.

They didn’t.

Right around April of last year, my headaches starting spiking. Again, I didn’t think much of it. For most of my life, I’ve dealt with headaches. I’ve become a pro at the art of ignoring the headache away. But suddenly, I was having migraine-level headaches, frequently. I explained it away as lack of sleep. This was about a year and a half into the lack of sleep saga. It seemed reasonable to me. And I was more concerned about the nearly-falling-asleep-while-driving and the crying on the way to work and the endless feeling of “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

But these new headaches were debilitating. So... I started self-medicating. A lot.

I really should have been more aware; I mean, as a medical professional, there were so many red flags. But nothing like that could ever happen to me, right? I was just weak. Attention-grabbing. I just needed to suck it up and get back to work. My dad, after all, had never taken a sick day in twenty years, even if he was sick. He’d had some baaaad headaches, too, and he just powered through. I needed to do the same.

My grandmother was a wake-up call for me.

I finally convinced myself to do something about it September of last year. I thought it was just my thyroid. It controls so many things: your sleep cycle, your metabolism, your temperature regulation. My doctor initially agreed with me, and blood tests corroborated it. My thyroid hormone was low.

Something must have niggled at my doctor though, because she ordered more tests. Then more. First blood tests. I was stuck so many times, it was ridiculous. I counted 9 vials in one sitting, which.... personally, is a record. I can’t speak about the standard levels for anyone else. Then an ultrasound of my thyroid. Nothing too abnormal. Some nodules that were enlarged, but nothing alarming. An MRI of my brain. Just a precaution, she said. Some of my medical history meant that she wanted to fully rule some things out.

I had my MRI on a Wednesday. That Friday, her nurse called me. Said that my doctor wanted to talk to me about my results. That I should just name a time that day and she would make sure it was available.

Oh shit.

I called my mom. I remember thinking that I wasn’t reacting the way I thought someone who received bad news should. I was acting like I had a particularly juicy piece of gossip. Jovial, almost.

“Hey mom,” I said. “That thing I was joking about, back when she first mentioned the MRI? Tumors and cancer? The thing I said wouldn’t happen to me? Pretty sure she found it.”

“What?”

“Her nurse just called. Told me to name a time I can come in today. Whatever time, and it would be available. That only happens with bad news, right? She found it. Mom, I have a brain tumor.”

My mom told me that I had to hear the actual words from my doctor’s mouth before I could worry. And that if it was real, we would deal with it. And that I should call my dad so he could come with me.

So I did. He told me roughly the same thing, that I couldn’t be sure until the doctor said it herself. And that I should schedule it so my mom could go with me.

“I scheduled it for roughly an hour from now.”

“Oh. I guess your mom can’t go with you, then.”

No mention of him going. I was too afraid to ask.

I found out later that he had already started drinking and was too afraid that someone would figure it out. He’s the type of alcoholic that feels like, since he named himself an alcoholic, that’s it, kumbayah, crack open a cold one, but instinctively lies to medical professionals about his level of intake. He excused it away by saying he wasn’t really an emotionally supportive guy anyway, and he didn’t offer because he didn’t think I wanted him there. Plus, he said, he would’ve started crying and that’s not being emotionally supportive. I agree that he would’ve. I also think he fell into a mild depressive state because his employer declared bankruptcy and he was without the job he’d worked at since being honorably discharged from the military in 1995 and was having an identity crisis because so much of his personal identity is tied up into his work, and without it, he’s nothing. But you’re not here to read about my analysis of my dad.

So I sat alone in that room while my doctor told me I had a tumor on my pituitary gland. That it was pretty large and probably the cause of a lot of the lethargy and difficulty sleeping. That I should let her know if I start having headaches.

“I’ve got those,” I said.

“You didn’t mention it to me?”

“No. I mean, I’ve had them since puberty, really. They were more frequent, recently, but I thought it was the not sleeping thing.”

She made sure I walked out with a referral to the neurosurgeon in my hand and advised me to call him right away. Well, as soon as my insurance cleared.

Since October, I’ve struggled to feel it was real. I’ve sort of stepped aside from it, I guess. I’ve viewed it as one of those interesting case studies from nursing school. “Mary’s MRI results show a 2cm growth on her pituitary gland. Her growth hormone levels are __. She complains of headaches, lethargy, insomnia, and weight gain. What nursing diagnoses would apply to this case? What interventions would you consider implementing?”

I’ve analyzed my reactions and compared them to the stories I’ve read, fictional and anecdotal, about others dealing with serious medical issues and found myself lacking. I’ve thought of how I would write this situation. Definitely dread, I decided. Fear. Worry. A sense that suddenly, the world is crashing down around you. And alternately, a sort of freeing feeling. Suddenly, you can go out into the world and really live like it’s your last day.

And then I looked at my bank account. I looked at my insurance paperwork. I decided that I couldn’t afford the surgery to remove it until next year. Definitely couldn’t take the time off to process it. Gotta make that money, pay those bills.

“You’re so strong,” one of my fellow nurses tells me. I want to tell her I’m not. I’m just incredibly aware that I’m financially precarious and that I can’t afford anything else. And it’s so much easier to fall into routine and focus on caring for someone else. Avoidance at its best.

So why am I sharing this all of a sudden?

My surgery is in less than two weeks: April 4. And it’s definitely real now.

Suddenly, all that stuff that I imagined writing is happening to me. The closer that date crawls, the worse I feel. At first, it was mild concern. It’s approaching absolute terror now, though.

I’m about to let someone send some tools up my nose, poke around in my brain, and remove some bits of myself that have gone renegade. I’ll be in the ICU in case of complications. I’ll need someone with me for a while afterwards, when I finally get discharged. I have absolutely no idea how I’ll pay for it, considering my credit card has wracked up a truly impressive balance due to my car breaking down last year, and then all the lab work, diagnostic tests, and specialist visits, which let me tell you, are a special sort of expensive hell. Add on my mortgage and my student debts, and I squeak by every month. I’ll probably pick up a second job to help out with whatever costs I accrue.

One good thing about this is that my dad has stopped asking me “do you want mine?” when I mention I have a headache. But now he’s joking that I’ll be in the hospital for ages because, “I hate to say it like this, but you don’t do so well with the pain thing.” Fuck you.

The truly good thing: my brother got leave from the Air Force to come home for a week. We haven’t seen him since last July, when he came home for our it’s-been-four-years-time-to-go-to-Germany trip. I’m so happy about that, I could cry. I probably will before this whole thing is over.

So, there you go. The full update.

I’ll probably be typing more things up to work through this. Typing all this out has been oddly cathartic.

[beerbaby210]

Stress + Depression + PCOS = *insert exploding head emoji here*

I’ve dealt with stress for most of my life. Was it not making the right grade in school or how am I going to pay my car payment this month or I am now responsible for a functioning business...how do I not fail?! Stress comes in all shapes and sizes and it can be extremely hard to manage. I am a naturally emotional person, catch me on a bad day and look at me funny....TEARS! Or cursing...depends on the mood lol. But in being a natural bag of all the feels, makes dealing with stress even harder. Sometimes you just gotta cry it out or lock yourself in a walk-in (damn should’ve kept one of those around). Imagine the trash compactor scene in Star Wars: A New Hope, that’s a real feeling. Do I manage my stress very well after years of dealing with it...hell no. Have I tried to find some useful ways to help cope...hell yes. Sometimes they work and sometimes I’m right back where I started, or worse than I started. And then there is trying to hide said stress so everyone thinks you’ve got your shit together on a regular basis. That only makes it worse, that dual persona thing...I don’t recommend it. Fake smiles are harder to create than natural ones. I’ve been to therapy, loved it in fact, but got to a point where I thought “I’m cured!” so I quit. Lies. I wasn’t cured, I was on the path, but I never picked it back up. People are still to this day so hush hush about seeing a therapist...why? Because that must mean that we’re psycho...completely unhinged...could snap at any minute. Here’s a clue...people that have been in therapy for YEARS still have those moments. It’s natural. Doctors have told me that a certain level of stress can be healthy. Ha! I guess I’m the one that has to decided my levels but certain situations call for certain levels of stress. Not everything in my life has been stressful mind you, and even things that used to cause me stress don’t anymore because I’ve worked on that particular piece and gotten it to a maintainable level. But something that causes what feels like never ending stress...PCOS.

Now depression...I’ve only been knowingly dealing with it for about 6 or 7 years, for all I know I was probably dealing with it before that. The only reason I know about it is because I went to see a new Primary Care doctor and I had a questionnaire to fill out on a tablet before my appointment. I answered the questions the way I thought I should answer them, and then I get back in to see the doctor and before the end of my appointment she’s telling me that some of my responses in that questionnaire registered as warning signs of depression. Of course I’m in shock...you think about it sometimes but you never want to be that person...the person you see in all the Zoloft® ads on tv. I’m not as bad off as some people, but I’m not dismissing their illness, depression, like stress presents on all levels, and I admire the people dealing with more crap than I am. So of course she prescribes me medication, that’s also supposed to help with my migraines and my lack of sleep...it didn’t. I was on that crap for 5 years and it didn’t change a thing, I still felt sad about a lot of things, I still felt stressed about a lot of things. I gained even more weight which just added to the depression and the stress. I moved across the country and decided that I was going to stop taking the meds, I wasn’t seeing that doctor anymore, and I didn’t feel any benefit to taking some drug that was doing god knows what to my body. I’m 100% positive that I’m still dealing with the depression as I am with the stress, and not seeking help for it is my own fault. Hopefully some day soon I will pursue said help and start making progress on my mental health. But something that causes what feels like never ending depression...PCOS.

PCOS is a new term. Not new in the sense that I’ve never heard of it but new in the sense of...I have it. Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. More or less the lack of or off schedule ovulation (I know...eww avert your eyes) for those unfamiliar with the term and potential infertility. This is the gist...there’s tons more information about it. But man...add that to the other 2 and you’ve got a recipe for female mass destruction. I was diagnosed with PCOS early summer of last year, Kyle and I had been trying unsuccessfully for 2 years to conceive children. You wanna talk about stress and depression. Wow.  I’m 33 years old...my time is starting to run thin as far as the window for conceiving healthy children. Ya know that whole “biological clock” thing...it’s a ticking. In just 2 more years if we haven’t conceived anything after that will be considered a geriatric pregnancy...at 35...a geriatric pregnancy. And there are women out there who’ve conceived past 35 and they deliver perfectly healthy babies, but the chances of that are significantly lower the older you are. Having PCOS makes those chances even more miniscule. Doctor says I’m not infertile, but we’re still struggling. We’ve gone through almost 6 IUI cycles now with zero success, even a miscarriage would’ve been ideal because at least it means I can get pregnant. It’s a million times worse going through a procedure with a 10% success rate, when you conceive naturally its a surprise when you miss your period and take a pregnancy test to find out yay you’re pregnant! But going this route every month I go through a set of blood tests and ultrasounds, and 2 IUIs and then in 14 days I have to go back for another blood test and then sit by the phone and wait for them to call me with the bad news. Those are the most agonizing 14 days...they tell you not to stress, don’t do anything differently, think positive uhh yah...sure...right. I got another negative test just yesterday, and I assure you positivity was the furthest thing from my mind. I’m constantly left wondering, what did I do wrong? Especially after 5 of these things...with one more to go before we move on to the next option. IVF. I wondered to myself last night...if I had known years ago that I had PCOS would it have made any difference now? Maybe? But I suppose it’s one of those things that you always think to yourself “no way, not me!” The weight gain over the years from the stress and the depression...that helped lead to PCOS. Along with that I get acne breakouts like I’m twelve and going through puberty (I actually had better skin when I was going through puberty), weird hair growth on my face where women, well even men don’t want hair growing. I’m sure my migraines are at the root of it somehow and this could’ve been going on FOR YEARS! Ladies, with little girls, I implore you to be pro-active when your daughters start getting older to be part of their life in this most delicate way. I’m not saying everyone assume that their daughter will have PCOS but it’s one of the most undiagnosed and common female disorders. Most women don’t even know this exists, my mom sure didn’t, how would she have known to even suggest asking my doctor about something like that. For me it falls under the same category of my skin issue, there’s so few out there that know about it so there’s not a lot being done to create awareness. Something like 5-10% of women of child-bearing age have PCOS and a lot of them don’t even know it. It’s treatable/manageable, I’m told, I guess I’m being treated for it correctly and managing it to the best of my ability, taking all the vitamins and what not that I’ve been prescribed that can help combat it. But man after almost a year of treating and managing it and still not having a kid...it wears on you. And I know there are millions of women out there going through the same crap I am and my heart goes out to each and everyone of you because damnit...this sucks. I always see friends of mine posting this one particular meme on Facebook about “Please Stop Asking Women Why They Don’t Have Kids Yet” This is one of those reasons, because it’s a sad, debilitating thing to deal with and then on top of that to have to smile when someone says why don’t you have kids yet...and then think well geez do you have a minute so I can make you feel terrible for asking?! 

I know it’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen for us, but until that perfect moment comes along I try to remind myself to stay positive as hard as that may be at times. Just remember that life isn’t always cupcakes and unicorns for everyone...sometimes it’s dark and scary, but we’re built of stronger stuff, I won’t let me illnesses defeat or define me. This is just a detour around to the cupcakes and unicorns. I’m just putting this out there for a little awareness, maybe someone sees it that had no idea and this could possibly explain their issues. These are real illnesses that I and many others struggle with on a daily basis. I don’t typically put my business, out there like this, I didn’t write it because I want anyone to feel sorry for me, all hope is not lost yet. Just throw some good juju out into the universe on my behalf, whatever your juju may be. I certainly could’ve gone into more detail than I did...but it’s raw and it’s real. If you’re reading this thinking this could be me and you wanna talk about it, please by all means, reach out to me. You’re not alone. Thanks for reading :)

[alia15]

2020: Who Saw THIS Coming?

Remember when I retired from blogging?

I actually did retire, except, I consider this little corner of the Internet -- MY corner -- to be a place where I document the big stuff. I told you about my engagement and then came back several months later to recap my wedding. Remember that? The wedding that THANKFULLY occurred in late 2019 before the world turned to shit??

Yeah. You know what happened. “The pandemic.” “The virus.” “Covid.” Covid-19″ (I personally prefer the first five Covids; I feel like they really fell off after that). “CORONAVIRUS.” 

THE DUMPSTER FIRE THAT IS...2020.

Suuuuuuuuure, good ol’ Rona robbed Leo and me of our Italian honeymoon, but aside from that? We were able to squeeze in all kinds of fun things in good ol 2019 -- oh how I miss you, 2019 -- and have an unforgettable year. This year is proving to be unforgettable too -- just, ya know -- in like, a traumatizing sorta way.

Anyway, as I was saying, I have to document the big stuff on here. I imagine myself reading and looking back on this blog like an old, embarrassing diary (hell, I do it already) (the dating posts make me want to die) and who can omit THIS chapter? It’s got it all: a deadly virus, racially fueled riots and protesting, social injustice, a deranged madman in the oval office, and... MURDER HORNETS?

exactly. 

So rather than write out a whole long thing about my experience in 2020, I thought I’d break it down by month, starting in March. I’m going to be documenting the good, the BAD (there’s a decent amount of that), and anything new that transpired in that time frame. Did I take up any hobbies? Start baking sourdough? I guess you’ll find out. 

Let’s start with: 

MARCH. 

The good. There was immediately a novelty to this whole Covid-19 thing. In the first half of the month I was commuting, going to work in my NYC office, and doing my usual amount of social things on weekends. When it was decided in mid-March that we’d have to work and stay home for a “bit” (lol), there was something exciting about it. We made jokes about social distancing and masks and had cutesy puns for “quarantining.” We hit the ground RUNNING with Zoom calls/video chats. There was something fun and exhilarating about all this.

The bad. People I KNOW got this virus. People I know LOST people to this virus. My Grandma’s health took a turn and things did not look good, but I couldn’t go see her. Shit, I didn’t see ANYONE except Leo, and even he was going to work in his office every day. I had to get used to this abrupt abundance of...alone time. 

What’s new? I’ve always taken to social media as a creative outlet, but I QUICKLY started using it more -- and differently -- once things in the world got hairy. I treated my Instagram like my one gateway to the outside world, because it was: I surveyed my followers and asked how they were doing. I took silly videos talking to myself in the mirror. I wrote long captions on my photos letting everyone know what my experience was like. I tried to entertain those who were stuck at home, as I was, and needing an escape. 

Oh, and ya know... Tiger King.

APRIL.

The good. The weather was getting nicer, so Leo and I took advantage and often went for walks around our complex and even a local trail/preserve in our town. We started doing “lawn visits” to see our families from a distance, and that helped. For two people who were used to seeing their ‘people’ regularly, 3-4 weeks of not seeing them took a toll. I also started doing “Grateful April” on Instagram, where I shared a few things each day that made me happy/appreciative. Some followers of mine followed suit, which was awesome to see. 

The bad. Hmm, I think all this sitting and lack of moving is hurting my back? (#foreshadowing). Also, ENOUGH with the Zoom calls and “virtual happy hours,” for the LOVE OF GOD! Oh, and that “novelty” I mentioned in March? That wore off quickly, and a lot of us started to feel weird, sad, isolated, uneasy, unproductive and stir-crazy. Myself included.

We were also reminded that this was the month we were supposed to depart for our honeymoon. Ugh.

What’s New? I did some arts & crafts (I painted ceramic bowls I bought from Target), gave myself a mediocre pedicure, found new/creative ways to engage and interact with folks on social media (polls, asking questions like “what’s in your Amazon cart?” and “who sponsors your quarantine?”), and got to see what it was like to have a husband with hair. I also discovered my love of tie-dye and wore...a lot of it. 

Oh, and I was on CBS news talking about screen time. Iconic. 

MAY.

The good. The weather got summer-like and I definitely felt a MAJOR shift in my mood. Leo and I spent more time outside on our deck: listening to music, making margaritas, talking to neighbors. I even took work calls outside and got some much-needed Vitamin D. I had my first real “beach days” (bathing suit, chair and all). I started to FINALLY see my family in person; first, outside only -- and then eventually indoors.  

The bad. Ahmaud Arbery. George Floyd, obviously. Dumb-dumbs protesting the lock-down and demanding haircuts. CLEARLY more to come on this. (See: June)

Oh, and my back pain? WAY worse.

What’s new? Some more arts and crafts: I started painting shells I found on the beach (lol).  I bought a pair of Crocs and documented the most absurd series on social media where I paired the heinous footwear with items that rhymed (Crocs & socks, Crocs & shamrocks, Crocs & botox...you get the idea.) I experimented with a few new recipes (made lemon poppy muffins & homemade vodka sauce). I re-watched Mad Men and it made me miss my office and coworkers. 

JUNE. A rough one. 

The good. We started doing more social things with our families: BBQs, celebrating Father’s Day, our nephew’s baptism. Doing this truly felt like “normalcy” and in those moments, we’d forget about all the garbage going on around us. I also decided (yes, after 3 friggin months of lock-down) that I needed to start exercising; something I needed for my physical AND mental health. I thought it could help my back -- which, yes, was feeling worse as time went on -- and it did make me feel good to spend a little time each day walking, jogging, lifting weights and just MOVING. 

The bad. Um? Everything? For starters, the racial tension in the country came to a head and erupted in a MAJOR way -- and while the protests and all the #BlackLivesMatter movements were a positive thing, it absolutely brought out the WORST in so many others. There was rioting, looting and violence. Racism ran RAMPANT. Karens went wild. “Covidiots” were ENRAGED about being told to wear masks. There was police brutality and a President who threw fuel into the fire. Tensions and emotions were at an all-time high and we all got a harsh dose of reality that this country has SO FAR TO GO in regards to equality and civil rights and even basic human decency. I was -- and still am -- sad for this country.

Also? I finally went for an MRI on my back and found out I have two herniated discs; well THAT certainly helps explain things! Shortly after, I pull my back out entirely, and could not walk or move. The pain is excruciating; debilitating and I think, “can things get any worse?” and then...

My Grandma passes away. 

It hurts. It still does. It was inevitable -- as death is, especially given her age and health condition at the time -- but it still felt like taking a bullet. I will always be grateful that I was able to get to see her one day before she passed away to say goodbye, but it’s hard not to be resentful that she didn’t get the memorial service and send-off she so deserved because of the pandemic.

(Side note: read about my amazing Grandma HERE)

In short, June sucked.

What’s new? We got a new stationary bike and set it up outside on the deck which was awesome, and I ended the month getting some epidural shots at the spine doctor. While the (strong) meds and injections didn’t exactly *cure* my issue, they made things a LOT better. Leo and I also drove into NYC (my first time there in MONTHS!) so I could go get my migraine Botox treatment at my neurologist. 

I voted by mail (which is not fraudulent, by the way) (#eyeroll) in the NY Primary. 

I also got not one, but TWO, amazing rainbows the week my grandmother passed away. I needed those, and I’d like to think she knew that.

JULY.

The good. More beach days and some consistent amazing weather (thanks, Mother Nature!). I started seeing a chiropractor twice a week and quickly respond REALLY WELL to treatment and start feeling a lot better. I put things into perspective and realize how lucky I am to live where I do -- on the beach -- and get to enjoy all this newfound free time doing things I enjoy. We also celebrate some family birthdays and have a small family gathering in honor of our beloved Dorothy. 

Have you noticed that “seeing family” always ends up in my “good” section?

The bad. Naya Rivera died unexpectedly, John Lewis died, REGIS died. Our President remains as unhinged as ever, we desperately want to #FreeBritney, and Kanye West has a really sad, scary and concerning, uh, episode. He’s also running for President, maybe? Or not? On a personal note, Leo and I tried to eat dinner on the beach one night and LIT-rally got attacked by seagulls. Weeks later, bull sharks are spotted in the ocean RIGHT WHERE WE LIVE, and they prohibit swimming. 

What’s new? Hamilton on Disney+: need I say more? The fig tree that’s been on our deck for three summers FINALLY started to grow figs! I re-watched Broad City and it is just... *chef’s kiss* perfection. Taylor Swift releases her album ‘folklore’ and I listen on repeat for seven days straight.

AUGUST.

Well, who knows? We’re not there yet. 2020 has certainly been a ride (and it’s not over yet; dear GOD), and I still can’t believe it ended up being this insane year, unlike anything I’ve EVER experienced. And while it undoubtedly has come with its fair share of challenges, it has also come with some blessings.

I have all this extra time now and I make a point to use it productively (most days). I log off from working and go outside, I walk the beach, go in our complex pool, ride the stationary bike, catch up with friends/family on the phone, read, and watch/re-watch shows.

The commute and hustle and bustle of every day in my pre-pandemic life would make me stressed and anxious; I was constantly snoozing alarm clocks, rushing in the mornings, dealing with overcrowded/delayed trains, and getting home late each night. 

Life has become slower, in a good way, and it’s made me appreciate the simple things. I care less about material things and more about the basics: enjoying nice weather/the outdoors, my home, my husband, my family and close friends.

I genuinely stopped caring about getting my hair and nails done, going out to dinner, getting dolled up, or traveling. Don’t get me wrong: I enjoy all these things and I’ll of course do them again, but this whole situation made me realize that what I need *most* in this world are the simple joys that money can’t buy.

And for that? I’m grateful. 

*stay safe, friends.*

[healthffuny-blog]

9 Great Reasons to Drink Water And How to Form the Water Habit

We as a whole realize that water is beneficial for us, yet the reasons are once in a while somewhat fluffy. Regardless of whether we know why we should drink water, it is anything but a propensity that we can without much of a stretch structure. The reality, notwithstanding, is that we don't concentrate enough on this propensity. This is the reason we wind up drinking heaps of espresso, pop, liquor, natural product juices, teas, milk, and a lot of different refreshments. What's more, notwithstanding every one of those liquids, despite everything we end up got dried out which isn't useful for our wellbeing. 

I've made drinking water an every day propensity, even though I will concede that a few years back I was bound to drink anything other than water. Presently, I don't drink anything besides water, aside from some espresso toward the beginning of the day and brew with supper on occasion. Here are 9 incredible motivations to drink water (with tips on the best way to shape the water propensity subsequently):

Weight loss

Water is perhaps the best device for weight reduction. it doesn't have calories, dissimilar to fatty beverages, similar to soft drinks, juices, and liquor. It's additionally an extraordinary hunger suppressant. Regularly, when we believe we're eager, we're in reality simply parched. Drinking bounty can help your weight reduction routine.

Heart health

Drinking a decent measure of water could bring down your dangers of coronary failure. An examination distributed by the American Journal of Epidemiology found that the individuals who drink more than 5 glasses of water a day were 41% less inclined to pass on from a coronary episode. That is in contrast with individuals who drank under two glasses.

Vitality

Being dried out can sap your vitality and make you feel drained, even gentle lack of hydration of as meager as 1 or 2 percent of your body weight. It can prompt weariness, muscle shortcoming, wooziness, and different manifestations.

Headache cure

Another side effect of drying out is migraine. Truth be told, when we have cerebral pains, it's regularly brought about by not drinking enough water. There are loads of different reasons for migraines obviously, however lack of hydration is a typical one.

Healthy skin

Drinking water can clear up your skin, yet it won't occur incidentally. Drink a sound measure of water for a week and you'll see its great impacts on your skin

Digestive problems

Our stomach related framework needs a decent measure of water to process nourishment appropriately. Water can assist fix with stomaching corrosive issues. It can help treat clogging, as well.

Cleansing

Water is used by the body to help flush out toxins and waste products from the body.

Cancer risk

Drinking a sound measure of water has additionally been found to decrease the danger of colon malignant growth by 45%. It can likewise lessen the danger of bladder malignant growth by half and possibly decrease the danger of bosom disease.

Better exercise

Being got dried out can seriously hamper your athletic exercises. It can back you off and make it harder to lift loads. Exercise requires extra water, so make certain to hydrate previously, during, and after exercise.

How to form the water habit

So you're persuaded that water is more advantageous, yet you'd prefer to find out about how to make drinking water a day by day propensity. Here are a few hints that have helped me: Expertise much water you need This is far from being a true inquiry. What's unmistakable is that the old proposal of "eight 8-ounce glasses a day" isn't right, for a few reasons. That sum incorporates all dietary water admission, including nourishment and non-water refreshments. It additionally disregards an individual's body weight which is a significant factor in calculating the perfect sum. It likewise shifts on the off chance that you are debilitated or work out. Also, it's likewise not great to simply drink when you're parched because you're dried out by at that point. Best is to frame an everyday practice. Drink a glass when you wake up, a glass with every dinner, and a glass in the middle of suppers. Make certain to drink previously, during and after exercise, as well. Attempt to by and large prevent yourself from getting parched. Convey a jug

water bottles

Many individuals think that its helpful to get a major plastic drinking bottle, fill it with water, and heft it around with them throughout the day. I like to keep a glass of water in my work area and I drink from it throughout the day. At the point when it's vacant, I top it off again and continue drinking.

Set an update

Set your watch to blare at the highest point of every hour or set an intermittent PC update. that way, you won't neglect to drink water.

Substitute water

If you would ordinarily get a pop or a mixed drink, get a glass of water. Take a stab at shining water rather than liquor at social capacities.

Channel

Rather than spending a fortune on filtered water, put resources into a channel for your home spigot. It'll make faucet water suggest a flavor like filtered water at a small amount of the cost.

Exercise

Practicing can help make you need to drink water more. It's not important to drink sports drinks like Gatorade when you work out, except if you are doing it for over 60 minutes. Simply drink water. In case you're going to work out, make certain to drink water a few hours early. That way, it will get past your framework in time.

Track it

It regularly helps, while shaping another propensity, to monitor it. Following builds mindfulness and guarantees that you're remaining on track. Keep a little sign on a file card or a journal and make an imprint for each glass of water you drink. 

[phoebeslifewithpotsblog-blog]

My Story

My name is Phoebe Mount. I am 16 years old and I have a chronic illness called P.O.T.S. (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). This is my story…

Before getting sick my family would describe me as an energetic, athletic, lively, very out going and happy person. I loved to play soccer and tennis, go running, do cross fit and socialize with my friends and family. I was a hard worker in school and over all did very well academically. Life was good! One day however, it all changed.

Imagine this, you wake up one day with a horrible headache and it never goes away. Sounds painful, right? Ok, now imagine having migraine headaches every day, all day long with no relief. Picture this to the point where it is so bad that you can no longer play your favorite sport without you feeing like you are going to collapse or your head is going to explode. Or imagine trying to run the mile run at school (which you use to love to run) without you feeling like you actually just ran a marathon without any liquids to help hydrate yourself . Now picture actually not even being able to sit up without feeling dizzy or faint and needing help to walk to the bathroom or from your chair at school to go to your next class..  Imagine the room around you spinning all the time that you can barely raise your head from the bed. Or imagine not sleeping at all and you crying yourself to sleep just praying that you will eventually fall asleep again so that you can wake up rested and be able to conquer the day. Picture your body aching from just moving from one position to another position or feeling so weak that you can barely lift your arm. Imagine being able to read and work many hours in a row one minute and then not being able to even concentrate for more then 5 minutes because the brain fog is so overwhelming and your head feels like it is about to explode. Think about how fun it is to get together with your friends and go out to dinner or a party or to just hang out and then suddenly even doing these things are so hard on you that you can barely make it through. Imagine feeling like the 15 year old girl or boy that you are one day and then suddenly feeling like you are an 80 year old in a young person’s body. This is how it feels to have P.O.T.S. This is my new life.

It all started in September of 2015. it started with headaches but then as time went on I started to experience more symptoms. Before this I was considered a very healthy person. I have always been clumsy and had broken my wrist or had a concussion but nothing too serious. I was sure the headaches would eventually go away and that I must have a virus. Then I wondered if perhaps I had hit my head and didn’t remember because the feeling was similar to the feeling of a concussion. My Mom took me to my pediatrician who couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. She then suggested we go to a concussion specialist. He was also perplexed at what was wrong with me. He then suggested we go to a neurologist. At this point I had every blood test you can imagine and an MRI. Everything came back clear. The neurologist diagnosed me with what is called NDPH (New Daily Persistent Headache). We tried all kinds of different headache meds and nothing was helping. All the other symptoms were also getting worse. The doctor eventually suggested I have a spinal tap to rule out a spinal leak and also to rule out Lyme disease. This too came back clear.

One day when I was at school I was walking in the hallway and almost fainted. I felt so dizzy! Everything was a blur and spinning around me. A friend helped me to the nurse’s office where the nurse took my blood pressure and heart rate. My blood pressure seemed extremely low and it worried the nurse .It was at this point that the nurse called my mom to come get me and take me to the doctor. My mom took me straight to the Neurologist’s office. Once I was there they tested me again while lying down. Then I stood up and that was when my mom explained to the doctor that she was confused why I always felt sick when I sat up and that the other doctors we had seen said that was normal for a girl my age. The Neurologist insisted that was not normal at all and it was at that moment that i knew the doctor knew what was wrong with me. He took my vitals again while standing. As I suspected it was at that moment that he told me what was wrong with me. He said I had P.O.T.S.

After months of  trying to treat all the symptoms and feeling completely hopeless and alone, I finally had an explanation for everything I had been feeling. It took many, many months to figure out what meds were best for me. I am still trying to figure it all out. It has been rather debilitating. I missed almost a year of school last year and unfortunately during this time I also lost a lot of my friends. Or at least who I thought were my friends. There are a few that have stuck by my side the whole time and for those people I am forever grateful! I also want to point out how lucky I am to have the best boyfriend EVER who has been by my side the entire time and made this horrible experience just that little bit better for me. Thank you J for always being there for me!

I truly believe this journey I have been on has helped me become a stronger person because of this . I believe deep down inside that God chose me to fight this battle for a reason. After struggling with this illness for the past 18 months I now believe that I will indeed get through this and that “Life is STILL good” its just that much more of a struggle for me right now. I still have lots of bad days but also some good.My life mission now is to not only conquer this illness and get back to the person I use to be but also to help bring awareness and to help others.  

I hope that this blog will be helpful to others. I plan to share some tips that have helped me through this hard time. Bare with me as somedays I feel better then others and I won’t  be able to always be on here. I actually have been working on this since last summer and am only just now able to get this going.

Thx for taking the time to read this it means a lot to me. :)

xo

Phoebe

[irismigraine-blog]

More Pati Less Migraine

The only thing i was ever sure of was that I’d be in pain. Most big events turned into stress knowing at some point I’d start melting and throbbing from pain.

I assumed my pain was different but normal. Why ? Oh why do we tell ourselves the pain is normal? Or that it must be made up, or at least exaggerated. That in the end, medicating ourselves and pushing through the pain is the best we’re going to get. That all the painful side effects are needed because “now i have one less headache a month”.

I was always uncomfortable with people’s reactions to my pain. If they were sympathetic I started to feel bad and try and convince them it wasn’t so bad. If they told me to take a Tylenol and move on I’d be grumpy and then question if i was making it seem worse than it was. Migraines and anxiety feed off of each other constantly. So I usually hid it. Hid the physical pain and definitely the emotional pain. Hid it from family. Friends. Even from myself.

One day at work my cooworker, Mike, looked at me as I was holding myself up with the desk and trying not to shake.

“ You know, Its not normal to be in that much pain, and not at all to have it that often”  - Mike

“ Thank you, I appreciate your concern but I’m aware, thanks” - Me

“ You say that, but are you really aware ?” - Mike

I’m not sure if his concern was different from the usual, or if it was just the one that clicked in my head. All of a sudden I remembered all the times someone had shown real concern. All the different suggestions and ‘cures’ became attempts to help from people who were just as lost as I was.

I realized we all wanted a cure but no one had any clue, so in the end we assumed i was incurable. I would have given anything for a pill to cure my migraines, but what if my issue wasn’t froma medication deficiency?

Mike introduced me to his wife, Carleigh Tenzin. She sat down with me to really understand me and my migraines. She reinforced that the way i felt was not normal and should not be accepted. She took time to understand me as a person not only as a migraine. She asked about what pain mattered the most to me, and how my pain and life style affected each other.  I started thinking of the pain not as a separate entity or gremlin running around inside me, but more as a signal from my body.

She explained the 3 causes of illness. Chemical , Physical and Stress. How everything in our body is interconnected and having an imbalance in one area can affect all the others. She found several imbalances in my body and started working on counteracting them with acupuncture and herbs. At first I was amazed at the way one treatment could reduce my symptoms. How with one application I felt my head and neck break out of the pressure mold they lived in. But only through more sessions did we realize that the healing was acting on a much deeper level. The more we worked the better my entire body felt. I knew I had to share the knowledge when i forgot the constant neck pain and when i started to be able to differentiate muscle soreness due to activity from the constant pain that I was in.

I had forgotten what it was like to have a constant headache! After the treatment I had another one of my previous migraines that stuck around for 2 days. After feeling better for so long and suddenly having this pain back I immediately ran to the ER. I was hydrated and drugged and the pain only went away for a day. I went to see Carleigh the next day and she gave me an acute migraine Chinese herb to take at home. I slept the whole afternoon and woke up migraine free.

After this episode we realized we had more work to do. We took a more in depth look at my diet, stress level , emotional state , water intake, and trigger points, to name a few. I knew I had no food allergies but we found several food triggers. We also found ways to eat them in balanced meals to reduce the pain. We added Yoga poses to work on my tightness. And found meditation exercises to get myself to eat when I get headache nausea.

This experience has changed my life, hugely by getting rid of my horrible debilitating pain and also by changing the way work with me. By learning that sticking to a program with Iris Migraine can basically eliminate my pain, I learned I really can do anything I set my mind to.

[artsoccupychi]

Can You Spot Neurotoxins On Your Food Labels?

A few years ago, I was taking my turn running the snack bar at the baseball field during one of my son’s high school games.

It’s not a task I relished, selling poison to children, but it was a requirement of the baseball parents.

A father at the game thought GreenSmoothieGirl selling Snickers bars and soda was a riot.  I told him, “If you look at this table, I bet you can’t guess what my pick for WORST snack is.”

Can you guess? These were the options:

Laffy Taffy

Snickers

Hershey’s Chocolate

3 Musketeers

Red Vines

Roasted Peanuts

Salted Nut Bar

Spitz Sunflower Seeds

Fruit Snacks

He said, “Well, it’s not the peanuts.” True.

It’s the Spitz Sunflower Seeds (Dill or Barbecue flavor). They’re full of MSG, which is a deadly neurotoxin.

What is MSG?

MSG (monosodium glutamate) is a flavor enhancer–and the worst neurotoxin in our food supply. You can find it in cream-of soups, Doritos, ramen noodles, commercial salad dressings and dressing mixes, and thousands of packaged foods.

I’d take sugar over MSG any day, and you know what I think of sugar. The reason why is related to a painful learning experience in college.

What do MSG and other neurotoxins do?

In college, I ate Top Ramen and bananas as my staples throughout my sophomore year. Not only were these foods cheap, but I was without a car, and I could carry a bag of these groceries easily.

These are just some of the symptoms I experienced that year that I ate Top Ramen every night for dinner:

I found myself with terrible vertigo, falling off the sidewalk as I’d walk to school.

I kept getting viral and bacterial infections.

I was having chronic, debilitating headaches.

It took the whole year to connect my bizarre and worsening symptoms to the MSG in the Top Ramen seasoning packets.

Neurological symptoms are common in people who eat MSG or other neurotoxins found in the processed food supply. They can have a wide range of effects, depending on what area of the brain they damage and how many brain cells they kill.

Headaches and dizziness like I had are common. Other symptoms of MSG exposure include:

mood disorders

sleep issues

behavioral problems

cognitive impairment

reduced motor skills

seizures

Studies on MSG eaten during pregnancy showed that it crosses the placental barrier. The resulting offspring had neuron death and damages typical of adults eating MSG–damage that affects the ability to learn, remember, balance, and process information coming from other nerves in the body.1, 2

What are other neurotoxins?

In addition to MSG, there are a lot of different neurotoxins in our food supply, usually used as flavorings or preservatives. These include:

nitrites and nitrates in cured meats

artificial sweeteners like sucralose, aspartame, and saccharin

Bisphenol A (BPA) in plastic containers and lining the insides of canned goods.

Research surrounding all three of these neurotoxins shows how damaging they can be to our health. For example:

When pregnant women are exposed to nitrites, research shows they have an increased risk for complications like anemia, preeclampsia, and premature labor.3 Research also shows that exposure to high levels of nitrates can cause angina-type pain, heart attack, or cardiovascular death.4

One study found that consuming high levels of the artificial sweetener aspartame might cause lymphoma and leukemia in rats.5 A similar study found mice who were fed sucralose had increased rates of blood cell tumors.6

Scientists have determined exposure to Bisphenol A can cause health problems like breast and prostate cancer, metabolic disorders, precocious puberty, and infertility.7

Why are neurotoxins allowed in our food?

The FDA has approved and continues to allow MSG on the market. It can now be called by several other names to hide it in food labeling.

The FDA also approved aspartame and refuses to remove its endorsement, despite hundreds of thousands of health-related complaints.

Since the FDA clearly will approve chemical additives that have been proven to be dangerous, it’s up to you and me to take charge of our own health and to be educated about where the dangers lie and how to avoid them.

How to avoid neurotoxins in food

I’ve written before about environmental neurotoxins and how they can be tough to avoid. However, we have control over whether we ingest neurotoxic food additives. We just need to be vigilant.

Most processed foods have at least one of these neurotoxins. When you’re reviewing food labels, remember that many manufacturers try to disguise these ingredients by using different names. For that reason, look for all of the alternative names listed here.

1. Monosodium Glutamate (MSG): known to cause headache, flushing, numbness, rapid heartbeat, nausea, and sweating in some people; found in most processed foods. Check labels for any of these alternative names:

Monopotassium Glutamate

Glutamic Acid

Maltodextrine

Autolyzed Yeast

Yeast Extract

Anything labeled “Hydrolized”

Calcium Caseinate

Sodium Caseinate

Texturized Protein

Whey Protein

Corn Starch

Corn Syrup

2. Nitrites: known to cause mild dizziness, lethargy, convulsions, or coma; found most often in cured or smoked meats. Check labels for any of these alternative names:

Sodium Nitrite

Sodium Nitrate

3. Artificial Sweeteners: known to cause headaches, migraines, dizziness, anxiety, depression, and weight gain. Found in “sugar-free” or “diet” products. Check labels for any of these alternative names:

Sucralose (Splenda)

Saccharine (Sweet n Low)

Aspartame (Nutrasweet, Equal)

Avoiding neurotoxins in food is a challenging task–but one that’s extremely worthwhile when it comes to protecting your health and your family. To make it a little easier, I’ve compiled this information for you on a printable wallet card. Get it here and share it with the people you love.

Next: For even more health shortcuts and cheat sheets, check out the Genius Guides! You’ll get this wallet card, along with 9 other cards that can help you make healthier food choices, avoid dangerous ingredients, and keep your family safe.

  –Robyn Openshaw, MSW, is an international lecturer, and author of 15 titles, including 2017’s Vibe: Unlock the Energetic Frequencies of Limitless Health, Love & Success.

She’s a Utah single mother of four and competitive tennis player. You can find a free video masterclass about her 12 Steps to Whole Foods, here–or her free video masterclass about how to Detox, Not Diet, here.

    Resources:

1. Gao J, Wu J, Zhao XN, Zhang WN, Zhang YY, Zhang ZX. “Transplacental neurotoxic effects of monosodium glutamate on structures and functions of specific brain areas of filial mice.” Acta Physiological Sinica. 1994. 46 pp 44-51

2. Gill S, Barker M, Pulido O.  “Neuroexcitatory Targets in the Female Reproductive System of the Nonhuman Primate.” Toxicologic Pathology. 2008. 36(3) pp 478-484

3, 4. Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry “What Are the Health Effects from Exposure to Nitrates and Nitrites? December 2013.” Retrieved from: https://www.atsdr.cdc.gov/csem/csem.asp?csem=28&po=10

5. Soffritti M, Belpoggi F, Esposti DD, Lambertini L. Aspartame induces lymphomas and leukaemias in rats. European Journal of Oncology 2005; 10(2):107–116.

6. Soffritti M, Padovani M, Tibaldi E, et al. Sucralose administered in feed, beginning prenatally through lifespan, induces hematopoetic neoplasias in male Swiss mice. International Journal of Occupational and Environmental Health 2016; 22(1):7–17.

7. Konieczna A, Rutkowska A, Rachoń D. “Health risk of exposure to Bisphenol A (BPA)” Rocz Panstw Zakl Hig. 2015;66(1):5-11. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/25813067

[Read More ...] https://greensmoothiegirl.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/neuro-card-ad.jpg https://greensmoothiegirl.com/neurotoxins/

[rubberliningpumpinahmedabad]

PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad

Here is a water harm rebuilding work that is an exemplary case of something water reclamation organizations go over so frequently: water harm that prompts an extreme dark form issue. Furthermore, this form issue is something that could have been totally maintained a strategic distance from had the customers called a reclamation organization for water cleanup and dry out administrations upon first seeing the water harm. Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

 The customers, Jill and Mike, had as of late sold their home and are building another home. In the meantime, they found a home to lease. After moving in, they set a considerable measure of their cases in the cellar for capacity. Once moved in, Jill and Mike didn't have any need to wander again into the storm cellar. Around two months after the fact, and unintentionally after many overwhelming precipitation storms, Jill expected to get something from one of the containers in the cellar. After heading into the cellar, she was astonished at what she saw! Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

 "There was over an inch of water covering the whole storm cellar floor," Jill depicted, "I was totally embarrassed."

 The greater part of their crates was sitting in finished an inch of standing water. The most exceedingly awful part was that neither Jill nor Mike knew for precisely to what extent.

 "We had been encountering half a month of genuine rain so I am not precisely beyond any doubt when the storm cellar surge would have happened," Mike clarified.

 Jill and Mike continued to remove the containers from the water and move them to one territory of the cellar that wasn't influenced by the surge harm. With respect to outstanding water, they exited it since they accepted it would leak once more into the ground.

 "The cellar floor is only a solid section so we, however, it is alright to simply give it a chance to make sense of its way," Jill expressed.

 "Curiously enough, we found a gap uncovered for a sump pump. The top was on it, however, there was no sump pump. This clearly alarmed us to the way that the proprietor/mortgage holder of our investment property more likely than not known there would be surge and water issues in the storm cellar. Be that as it may, why were we not recounted it and why was there no sump pump?" Mike clarified. Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

 For those of you who may not be acquainted with a sump pump, it is a draw used to evacuate water that has gathered in a water gathering sump pit, usually found in the storm cellar of homes. The water may enter by means of the border channels of a storm cellar waterproofing framework, piping into the pit or as a result of rain or characteristic groundwater, if the cellar is underneath the water table level. Sump pumps are utilized where storm cellar flooding happens consistently and to cure sogginess where the water table is over the establishment of a home. Sump pumps send water far from a house to wherever where it is never again risky, for example, a tempest deplete or a dry well.

 Jill proceeded with, "I was so vexed. When we leased this house, I told the proprietor that we were wanting to store the crates in the cellar. I even inquired as to whether there had ever been any issues with flooding. He let me know no and I trusted him. We ought to have investigated the storm cellar more before we leased in light of the fact that we would have seen the missing sump pump. After we found the surge in the storm cellar, I went to converse with my neighbors. Beyond any doubt enough, every one of them has sump directs in their storm cellar. One neighbor even disclosed to me that his sump pump works nearly relentless amid the stormy season." Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

 Jill and Mike chose to attempt and let the cellar normally dry out. As they had trusted, a great part of the water had figured out how to leak out. At that point two weeks after the fact, Jill required something in the cellar and by and by, what she discovered sickened her.

 "I got the base of the stairs and there was form all around! I mean most of the way up boxes, everywhere throughout the floor and most of the way up the sides of the dividers. I have never observed such a great amount of form in my life! It was completely sickening! The oddest thing was that I had been experiencing a consistent cerebral pain for a week and a half as of now. I can just expect the migraines were a direct result of the form," Jill portrayed. Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

 In reality, Jill's presumption with respect to why she was experiencing a cerebral pain was perfect. One of the best manifestations of shape introduction is cerebral pains. Regularly, a man will abruptly see a beginning of cerebral pains incorporating awakening with one. Frequently, shape prompted cerebral pains will leave inside hours of the individual leaving the polluted region. Tragically for a few, they wait somewhat because of form instigated sinusitis. In an examination by The Mayo Clinic, the exploration demonstrated that 93% of all endless sinusitis cases were caused by shape.

 Delayed presentation to shape can animate unfavorably susceptible like responses in individuals and cause a grouping of ailment side effects. It creates the impression that individuals with better invulnerability will have the capacity to endure the evil impacts of form; in any case, individuals who are under pressure, have debilitated insusceptibilities, are oversensitive to shape, are newborn children or are seniors are at more serious hazard to create ailments identified with shape mycotoxins in their homes. The form can make pets wiped out also! Different sicknesses/side effects caused by form can include nose drains, consistent exhaustion, breathing issue and some more.  Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

 What is far and away more terrible than Jill's cerebral pains from the form is the way that Mike and Jill have three youthful youngsters, including an infant. The form is amazingly risky for kids, particularly newborn children!

 Once more, Jill and Mike did not call for help at this time. Rather, they went into the form plagued cellar and just began tossing things out.

 "I would not like to realize what was in the containers. I recently expected that the form more likely than not get into the crates so they must be tossed out. Luckily for us, some of our containers have been wrapped in plastic so; in any event, we could spare those. I feel completely crushed," Jill handed-off.

 "There were some territory rugs coating the establishment and they were all still splashed with water. We just discarded them," clarified Mark.

 It was after they had discarded quite a bit of their things that Jill and Mike acknowledged there was no chance they could manage the form on the dividers. That is the point at which they called a confirmed water harm rebuilding organization for shape remediation. Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

 The accomplished shape evacuation group got to their rental and instantly began chipping away at the form remediation. The whole storm cellar should have been totally dried out first as there was still much water that we found. Next, the shape evacuation group needed to expel the greater part of the form supplant any drywall that was influenced and totally sterilize the whole cellar. When shape remediation was finished, they introduced another sump pump and settled a few breaks on the floor. The cellar is totally re-established now and fortunate for Jill and Mike, they had leaseholder's protection which secured the harm rebuilding. Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

 Jill and Mike's story didn't need to wind up the way it did. From the earliest starting point, the couple ought to have completed an exhaustive stroll through with the landowner and completely reviewed the storm cellar. Had they done this, they in all likelihood would have seen the missing sump pump. Likewise, they ought to have put away their crates off the ground. Boxes and storm cellars don't blend; yet, that is the place numerous individuals store things in boxes! Indeed, even without a surge, storm cellars have a tendency to have dampness issues. One box on the ground stops wind stream flow and can prompt the case catching the mugginess from the air. Envision a few boxes doing this! Caught moistness is dampness that can, at last, energize form development.

 After the overwhelming precipitation, Jill and Mike ought to have gone to check the cellar for indications of tempest harm. Eventually, they persuaded this wouldn't be an issue from their proprietor; be that as it may; it is dependably a decent general guideline if your property has a cellar to check for indications of water harm after a rainstorm. Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

 Next, when Jill and Mike found the surge, they ought to have quickly called for help. 1-800-DRY-ME-OUT could have come in and quickly began water harm reclamation. We may have even possessed the capacity to rescue the substance of their cases by appropriately drying them out.

 At last, Jill and Mike ought to have never gone into the storm cellar and began dealing with the shape plagued boxed the way they did. Both were totally unprotected aside from wearing elastic gloves. Breathing in the form spores is more terrible than taking care of them. Both ought to have been wearing legitimate respirators - respirators which just experts who manage form expulsion utilize. Moreover, in the event that they had left the shape shrouded encloses the storm cellar; proficient form masters may have possessed the capacity to rescue a portion of the substance. Shubham Industries for Rubber Lining Pump in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Blower in Ahmedabad, PP FRP Scrubber in Ahmedabad, MS Stirrer in Ahmedabad

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[comfsy]

The Spinal Tap That Changed My Life

On April 1st, I went for a short walk to watch some Florida marsh hens rustle through the reeds and cackle at the wind.

The date marked one month since I started walking again.

I sat there, awkward and sore on a tiny bench facing the water, fighting back tears. Despite a newfound infatuation with the local wildlife, this was not where I planned to be.

I was grateful to be walking, but April 1st also marked my 10-year anniversary of leaving New York. It was the date I set off for Chile, leaving behind a comfy law job and half a decade in a city I called home. In the years since, I planned to commemorate my 10-year travel anniversary with a giant party in a city I loved.

Once I moved to Oaxaca, it proved to be the perfect spot. The occasional idea would pop into my head during my long wanders around town. I’d plan for my favourite stalls to participate, giving hungry visitors a taste of Oaxaca’s rich culinary curiosities. Israel’s head tacos, Mateo and Sarai’s grasshopper pizza, mole, tamales, chilaquiles, pozole, and so much more.  Anyone who wanted to come could, and I’d put together an itinerary for the week where they could enjoy the city, stuff their faces, and revel in the joy of learning through food. We’d have a mezcal-soaked multi-day extravaganza, with bumpy collectivo rides into the valley and plenty of smiles.

In a field of marigolds during Day of the Dead preparations outside of Oaxaca. This picture was taken near Zaachila.

As I’ve said in prior annual reviews, I did not start this site aiming for a job as a full-time writer or public speaker. I did not leave the law with even an inkling of a new career. Plus, I wasn’t even particularly good at traveling. I got sick a lot. I hated packing, always and forever. And I didn’t even care how many countries I visited. I just wanted to keep learning and learning. In the course of soaking up everything I could, I found that travel and food were the perfect foils for my enduring need to write. Through writing and photography, I was able to keep my input levels high on a daily basis while arcing into a very unexpected life path.

In Mari Andrew’s wonderful, whimsical new book Am I There Yet, she writes of a shopkeeper in Berlin who changed Mari’s perception of art-as-craft. “She spoke about art as though she were talking about her best friend or a bubble bath,” Mari writes. “She wasn’t creating for accolades, but for the satisfaction of a new paintbrush dipped in fuchsia.”

That satisfaction, of stringing words together in new ways, of sharing a perspective that hopefully effected some change, was all I needed to feel creative. Writing was a tool that connected me to the world in ways I never contemplated. And in the seemingly endless stretch of these past seven months, when I’ve been unable to sit or walk or write, I felt like I lost the life I worked so hard to build.

It All Began With a Spinal Tap

For those of you just tuning in: sudden and very scary symptoms led me to the ER in New York, where they were concerned I had a brain bleed. To check, they performed a very unpleasant spinal tap with needles that were large for my frame. The local anesthetic did not do its job, and truthfully it was one of the most painful experiences of my life.

The night of my ER visit, I came back to the apartment I was cat-sitting at after midnight, only to find it burgled in my painful absence. Upon my sharing this detail with readers after the shock wore off, one thoughtlessly commented that I must have “angered the karma gods.” Actually, it’s quite the opposite. We have a screenshot of the person as he came in through the window. His head is fully covered in a mask, he is wearing gloves, and he is carrying a white cloth in his hand. His description matched home invasion rapes in that borough, the white cloth likely soaked in chloroform.

Do we know what he planned that evening? No. Upon seeing the screenshot, friends agreed with my vile theory that burglary may actually have been the consolation prize. The whole thing made me sick to my stomach and messed with my mind. Already in acute pain following the spinal tap, I couldn’t bear to be alone in the apartment, even during the day. Friends stepped up and rotated day and night until my mum and stepdad could arrive from Montreal to take me back. Some brought food, others brought hugs. Most simply sat with me, soaking in the insanity of what I referred to as my “black swan night.”

I didn’t mention this part of the story in my October post because at that point my brain was a frozen video, buffering nonstop. But it is important now because many of you have asked why I am not more angry, which is a valid question. I don’t think anger serves me here, and it certainly won’t help my healing. But also, there is a clear line in the sand from that very traumatic night.

The divergence of fates — the Jodi that stayed home, versus the one that went to the ER — is very stark.

Through all of the subsequent treatments and uncertainty and pain, my belief remains that it would have been worse had I remained in the apartment that night.

A Winter of Extremes

As you know by now, the spinal tap (or lumbar puncture, since many people use that term instead) led to a rare and debilitating condition called a cerebrospinal fluid leak (CSF leak). Initially, I only had a post-lumbar puncture headache. The headache often resolves with an epidural blood patch, where your own blood is injected into your epidural space to help your body heal the hole(s) in your dura created by the spinal tap. I did return to the hospital in New York to try and get one, but was told that it had its own risks and that I ought to heal fine on my own.

Several weeks later, now in Montreal, it appeared that my body wasn’t cooperating with their healing plan. Terrified, and bleakly looking at the calendar toward my supposed departure for Oaxaca in October, I spent my hours in a state of half-shock, half-Nancy Drew. I read studies, forum posts, panicked write-ups and more from around the web for any help I could find. Unsurprisingly, the biggest step forward came from my own community.

A few months prior, I made a point of visiting a mini cow named Moochi, who I enjoyed following on Instagram. I may or may not have attended a conference in Los Angeles in part to facilitate this bovine meeting. At the time, he was co-owned by a guy named Tim, who runs a travel blog. It turns out that Tim’s wonderful girlfriend also had a CSF leak — except she had hers for years prior to diagnosis. Her leak was spontaneous, making it much harder to locate, and she ended up needing surgery to fix it. She was a beacon of sanity during these early months, and she added me to a CSF group on Facebook with several thousand leakers from around the world.

I see no reason why this cow shouldn’t contribute to my rationale for attending a conference.

In the Facebook group, I learned about people’s tips and tricks for trying to “self-heal” so I could allow my own body to seal up the holes from the lumbar puncture with enough rest and limited movement. With time, I realized that sealing wasn’t happening and I started to research next steps. The problem was, the CSF leak trapped me in bed. Any upright time resulted in my brain lacking sufficient cushion due to the leaking CSF fluid; upon standing it felt as though my brain was being sucked down into my spine. I spent hours and hours of reading, feeling less hopeful by the day.

As if a simple CSF leak wasn’t sufficient, I had connected issues that arose from the leak. Excruciating nerve pain, a new, sudden reactivity to foods I had no issues with before, muscle twitching, and a whole host of unpleasant other things that I won’t bore you with right now. Suffice it to say that CSF outside the dura mater, the membrane that protects the brain and spinal cord and keeps the CSF from coursing around willy-nilly, felt very toxic to the rest of the body. Other leakers I spoke with reported similar issues. The nervous system is deeply affected, and my body barely felt like my own.

Concurrently, there was a lot of shock and grief.  I was supposed to be hosting readers on food walks in Oaxaca, but instead I was in a lot of pain, more and more deconditioned by the day. From people I spoke with and case studies I read, several months of leaking meant sealing the hole(s) could be more complicated than a simple blood patch.

Leakers in Canada urged me to head to a specialty centre instead of attempting to pursue treatment domestically. American leakers even said they wished they had gone straight to one of the specialty centres instead of their local hospitals. And given that Canadian doctors had already claimed I had a migraine instead of a CSF leak, I didn’t need much convincing. The problem was, with ten years of nomadism, I had no residency or main doctor to refer me. I had to find the strength to get creative and find a way for the centre to take me on.

What followed was some of the most difficult months of my life.

I was lying down for 23 hours out of 24 in a day, waiting and hoping that Duke would agree to see me. The pain was excruciating moment to moment.

I felt waterlogged with sorrow.

I thought about how to share the sheer futility of what waking up felt like without sounding dramatic, but there truly is no way. Those beginning few months sapped any joy for life that I had out of me, and I would open my eyes in the morning wondering what the point of fighting was.

I couldn’t put on my socks for months, or bend, or twist, and my next steps were a swirling limbo of administrative papers and MRIs.

I saw life through a prism that only showed me extremes.

Sunset in Montreal during a cold autumn evening in November.

During those months, what kept me afloat was my parents, a wonderful neighbour and her fluffy white cat, support from all of you, and the constant stream of “just checking in!”texts from a handful of closest friends. These friends were a bridge to a state of sanity that felt far out of reach. They reminded me daily of all the (occasionally crazy) things I did fight for in my life. When I simply replied that I couldn’t formulate words anymore, they’d always hold space for my sadness.

North Carolina for the First Time

We all knew was that Duke seemed to be the best in the business for patching spinal leaks. So I tried to put what little energy I had toward fighting for the MRIs I needed from the Canadian side in order to be considered for treatment. Thankfully my stubbornness paid off, and they agreed to take me on in early December. My mum and stepdad, who had already fetched me in New York and then fed me and changed my socks for months, immediately volunteered to drive me down to North Carolina. Laying in the back seat and staring out the sunroof during several painful days gave me plenty of “what ifs” to think about. By the time I got to Duke, I was shaking with exhaustion.

I may write more about the patching process, as well as things I wished I knew ahead of time, as there are many.

The salient points are: the first and second round of patches did not work. The third did, and threw me into agonizing “rebound high pressure,” where the leak was sealed but I had excess CSF fluid since my body was so accustomed to leaking. Then, two weeks into being sealed, I sat a little too heavily and tore through my healing.

The rollercoaster of highs and lows from this experience was itself a foreign, polarizing spectrum of emotions. From not knowing if the patching worked, to navigating high pressure, then adjusting medication to try and stabilize pressure, followed by the crushing knowledge that I was back to leaking after I sat too heavily — it was all too much. I was so incredibly careful with every single movement I made, and a small slip was all it took to be thrown back to square one.

I ended up needing four rounds of blood and glue patching at Duke. This involved injecting the blood and glue into my epidural space, spread along twenty-two targeted patches total. The jaw dropping part of this entire CSF leak experience is that it’s very difficult to know exactly where to inject. For iatrogenic leakers like me, who got a lumbar puncture or epidural or injection, they have a general idea. Yet it still took several rounds to get me sealed. The initial spinal tap was not done with fluoroscopic guidance, and there were multiple attempts. In some cases, the needles go through to the anterior side and the patient requires a 360 degree patch — something Duke pioneered, and I received.

(I won’t go on because I realize this is already fairly technical, but there are also spontaneous leakers where they blow a leak in their dura simply living life. These patients often have an underlying connective tissue disorder that makes their tissue particularly weak. Because MRI and CT imaging is not yet sensitive enough to easily show smaller leaks, it remains very difficult to diagnose these leakers and/or know where to patch. It often takes them years and years of misdiagnoses before they are able to get treatment for a CSF leak. These spontaneous leaking patients are a big percentage of Duke’s CSF practice.)

Me, in my llama rainbow shirt — a gift from my friend Honza — right before my first patch at Duke

The entire CSF leak team at Duke Radiology was extraordinary, and often work together for challenging cases. I tipped into that category following patching round two, and was impressed with how they each consulted each other and were transparent about the process of how they’d do the next round of patches. I absolutely cannot speak highly enough of my doctor. He was compassionate and kind, but also willing to answer my many questions. He still checks in once a month to see how I am doing. He gave me more faith in the medical profession after feeling so disillusioned by my treatment in Montreal.

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

After the fourth round of patching, it wasn’t clear whether I was sealed. I was in a cycle of having leak symptoms and laying flat, then propped up with higher pressure symptoms, feeling like my head was going to pop off my neck. Rising above the snarled periphery of very difficult facts proved to be a challenge. I knew I could not do fibrin patching again, since it almost killed me. Blood patching alone, the doctors said, often took multiple attempts — and I had already tried four with fibrin. Without an exact leak location, surgery would prove a difficult sell to a surgeon; they’d have to figure out where to cut in. All I knew was that my body was very tired and very sore, so I tried my best to shelve future treatment thoughts and assure it that I was paying attention. My friend Shannon patiently talked me down from my ledge of fear several times during the post-patching weeks in early February.

It wasn’t until early March that my symptoms evened out. I decided that I would start walking on March 1 regardless of how I felt, but in late February I still wasn’t sure what was going on. After patching, I spent most of my days meditating, visualizing my body’s healing, and reading. Vipassana meditation proved very valuable, as did other meditations I’ve tried over the years. Throughout, the focus is on a ‘moment to moment’ scale. When all of your moments are strung together with a tightrope of pain, however, seconds feel like hours. It took constant vigilance to tirelessly reroute my thoughts and stay in a place of possibility. I fought myself on the facts that augured failure, and the hum of dread that sucked me back into a spiral of ‘what ifs’.

By early March, my dad and stepmum were taking care of me in Florida. On March 1, I walked from their house to the end of their street, a few houses away. I came back exhausted. Every day, I forced myself a house further. By the end of the week, I made it to the stop sign. And by mid-March, in what felt like a miracle, I was walking an hour a day. The walks came with a lot of pain, but without the “brain sag” feeling that I felt for five months when leaking.

In my determination to quiet my mind, I’ve been able to listen to my body. In the past, I’ve pushed my body past exhaustion. Now, when it says to stop, I stop. There is a difference between adding an extra house on my walk and tipping into a deep weariness. I struggled to differentiate between the two over the years, but the high stakes during this journey have proven an excellent motivator to get better at listening. This means taking things very slowly, much more slowly than a Jodi would have done during the magnetic, vivid intensity of these last ten years.

I can’t complain with views like these.

The Gift of Surrender

When I checked into Duke for my 4th round of patching, I was no longer nervous for the procedures. I thought I knew exactly what to expect. The blood patches were painful but straightforward. I even knew the nurses by name! But round four veered far off-script when I had an allergic reaction to the fibrin glue and went into anaphylaxis. Fuchsia from head to toe, my heart racing, eyes swollen shut and throat beginning to constrict, I received IV steroids and then an epinephrine jab in the leg.

I’ve never needed to carry an EpiPen or had allergies before. The experience of anaphylaxis was both surreal and scary, but I am sharing for one main reason: in the midst of all the commotion, I felt complete calm. Though my body was shaking wildly from the epinephrine, my mind was steady.

Later that day, my doctor asked me if I was calm due to shock. But it wasn’t that at all. I felt deeply at peace with the prospect of dying.

I felt no big regrets, only the small nagging ache of specific time wasted that I wished I could undo. I pursued a life that excited me, and I built a business I loved. I stuck to my standards and wrote pieces I was proud of. Somehow, these things brought in an incredible community of readers who supported my work and found value in it. Of course I preferred to live, but if this was the end, I was ok with that.

At the end of last year’s post, I wrote that the lesson for that year was one of acceptance. After almost a decade of being a digital nomad, I settled down in Oaxaca and put down some roots in a delicious city I loved.

As with almost everything else in this tale of unwitting transformation, acceptance teed me up for this year’s fundamental message: surrender. When everything that makes sense distorts into a haze of senseless confusion, all you can do is let go.

It took many months for me to get here.

First, the disbelief. Then, as I understood more of what had happened to my body and the limitations many have, even when healed from a CSF leak, more grief. “Ultimately there’s no escape from living with uncertainty, for anyone,” says The Atlantic. There’s no rocket science there. But what happens when the not-knowing involves every aspect of your movement and life?

Many of the CSF leakers who had a hard time getting sealed, or re-leaked months or years later doing something seemingly innocuous. They blew a leak in their dura doing downward-facing dog during yoga, or when the plane re-pressurized upon landing. Or leaning down to pick up some laundry. Some never get sealed at all.

For now, there is no bending, lifting, or twisting. “Maybe forever!” jokes a fellow leaker, and as with any morbid humour, there is some truth. Who knows. None of us knows much. After all, life is essentially chaos and our personalities dictate where on the “exhilarated to terrifying” line we fall to handle the disarray.

My current not-knowing is so disproportionate, so definitive. Regardless of what happens, I will never be able to move without consciously thinking of potential damage. I can’t risk it. And I will never be able to live the life I led before. That’s not to say I can’t build a different, good, life with what I have now. I’m working toward building a different version that can bring me joy in new ways.

But there remains a great deal to process and grieve within the very eventful last seven months, as things have irrevocably changed.

***

I reread Viktor Frankl’s book Man’s Search For Meaning during these difficult months. Frankl’s time in Auschwitz led to his development of logotherapy in his psychiatry practice, but the book delves into his theories of why certain people managed to survive the Nazi camps. Frankl saw life as a quest for meaning, found in work, in love, and in courage during difficult times. Among his beliefs was that suffering itself is meaningless, but we give suffering meaning by the way we respond to it. Or, as Harold S. Kushner writes in the introduction to the latest version, that “forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you respond to the situation.”

Instead of thrashing around in grief, I’ve chosen to focus on the gifts that have come out of this very complicated year. With these facts, things could have been a lot worse. Instead of being confined to isolation, I have you to walk this path with me. My community around the world raised their voices and opened their pocketbooks to keep me afloat when I couldn’t manage it. You respond to my progress walks on Instagram, you cheerlead every update, and your birding skills helped me identify the beloved marsh hens that I fell for during this recovery.

Several of you have said you will be pursuing a diagnosis for CSF leaks based on the symptoms I shared. Others wrote to say you were doctors or anesthesiologists, and while you were trained to know CSF leaks, my story helped remind you of the risks. When I say community, I mean everyone. Family. Friends. Readers. Travel bloggers. Parents of travel bloggers (the amount of notes from parents of travel bloggers has been astounding and beautiful.) Strangers.

I’m lucky because you’ve helped me feel like my work matters. You’ve helped me remember why my life had meaning. And even if I can’t go back and do everything I used to do, I still have my words.

Getting to surrender wouldn’t have been possible without my close friends. There are several who stepped up, but I wouldn’t be here without my sister-from-another-mister Shannon. You may know her from my 2011 winter in Chiang Mai and many subsequent misadventures. She happened to be in Virginia when I got to Duke, a mere four hours drive away. Thanks to her flexible schedule and ability to work anywhere, I was able to stay near Duke and get the treatment I needed over the course of many weeks. She not only drove me down from North Carolina to Florida, but stayed with me for over two and a half months, and shouldered the exhausting task of taking care of me while managing the many, many nights of tears.

Shannon from A Little Adrift, and me, in North Carolina. I could not have gotten through these months without her.

In my case, I did spend time mired in the unfairness of the situation, and scared of what could go wrong next. But what turned things around for me was the simple decision to change how I responded. I’m not perfect, and I fail at it many times a week. But that choice still exists, every second of every day, to choose hope instead of a fake certainty of fear.

It took a complete unraveling of my life to ante up on possibility.

Despite the stats that say many people leak and re-leak again when their first leaks are difficult to fix. Despite the moment to moment pain that is my present. It doesn’t matter, because truly we just don’t know what’s possible.

There was a quiet, twisted grace in that surrender to possibility, a gift I never expected.

What’s Next for Legal Nomads?

My friends, I do not know.

I still want to write, and I’m grateful that I have Legal Nomads, where I can do so. I still have many celiac guides to put up. I have a course about storytelling I was planning to launch. And so many stories about Oaxaca and Day of the Dead, about the history of different foods, and photos from around the world.

The beauty of a location independent business is that it exists wherever there is wifi. Whether or not I will be able to travel, however, is very much up in the air. This will be something I take one day at a time, just like my healing.

It is this business that gave me a full shot at healing. The ability to stay near Duke as needed. The friends who also led flexible lives and could come to help out. The celiac cards that sell even though I’m not online. The fact that I don’t need to file for disability or worry about losing my job. I have plenty to worry about in terms of stability and ability to work, but it’s a lot less stressful than had I still been a lawyer.

There is plenty of talk about digital nomads, and more and more mainstream news pieces covering the movement. Most interviews point out how freeing it is to move at will, and for me doing so while forging great, lasting friendships has made the last ten years an incredible ride. But the flipside is the flexibility when life goes awry, something I thought of but never had to exercise with such impunity.

One Day We Will Have a Party Together

The flowers in this post’s header photo are cockscomb celosia, my favourite flower in the world. I discovered them years ago, and loved that they looked like tiny brains. To me they symbolized resilience and wonder, and I often bought them in New York during my lawyering days. I fell for Saigon in a heartbeat, and clapped my hands with absolute glee when I found out that my beloved flowers were a mainstay of the lunar new year, Tet. In Oaxaca, the second third city I fell for, I learned that they were an important component to Day of the Dead.

(If you’re wondering, the second city I fell for was Lisbon, and though I planned to move there Oaxaca stole my heart in the interim.)

People tell me that these flowers symbolize courage and boldness. I was drawn to them for their quirky shape, but after the last seven months I feel courageous, too.

After traveling to places during military coups, getting sick along the way as travellers do, getting into accidents, and so much more, it was a simple medical procedure in New York that brought me down.

The stubbornness that kept me going during the shadow days of long term travel helped keep me afloat here. And the community I built along the way took over when I just didn’t have the energy.

April 1, 2018. I took this after a short walk, marvelling at what an intense ten years it has been.

I still plan to have that party one day. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. All of you who want to attend and celebrate with me, should. A commemoration of what others may see as unconventional, but now also a nod to resilience. To the support we can afford each other when shit gets real. To remembering that while we sometimes seem very different from one another, deep down we all share so much.

It feels surreal that this all happened during the past seven months. Life can change with one small misstep, or a series of big ones. I couldn’t have written this movie-like script if I tried, in my most creative flow state. It’s just so crazy, and even with this extensive post, I haven’t shared the full extent of what has gone wrong.

It’s been one deeply tangled web of a year, all sharp angles and fear. Even the small events seem almost excessive in their depth and effect. But I’m still here, and every day I decide to find a reason to smile. That alone is celebration enough for me.

-Jodi

The post The Spinal Tap That Changed My Life appeared first on Legal Nomads.

The Spinal Tap That Changed My Life published first on https://takebreaktravel.tumblr.com/

[tripile]

The Spinal Tap That Changed My Life

On April 1st, I went for a short walk to watch some Florida marsh hens rustle through the reeds and cackle at the wind.

The date marked one month since I started walking again.

I sat there, awkward and sore on a tiny bench facing the water, fighting back tears. Despite a newfound infatuation with the local wildlife, this was not where I planned to be.

I was grateful to be walking, but April 1st also marked my 10-year anniversary of leaving New York. It was the date I set off for Chile, leaving behind a comfy law job and half a decade in a city I called home. In the years since, I planned to commemorate my 10-year travel anniversary with a giant party in a city I loved.

Once I moved to Oaxaca, it proved to be the perfect spot. The occasional idea would pop into my head during my long wanders around town. I’d plan for my favourite stalls to participate, giving hungry visitors a taste of Oaxaca’s rich culinary curiosities. Israel’s head tacos, Mateo and Sarai’s grasshopper pizza, mole, tamales, chilaquiles, pozole, and so much more.  Anyone who wanted to come could, and I’d put together an itinerary for the week where they could enjoy the city, stuff their faces, and revel in the joy of learning through food. We’d have a mezcal-soaked multi-day extravaganza, with bumpy collectivo rides into the valley and plenty of smiles.

In a field of marigolds during Day of the Dead preparations outside of Oaxaca. This picture was taken near Zaachila.

As I’ve said in prior annual reviews, I did not start this site aiming for a job as a full-time writer or public speaker. I did not leave the law with even an inkling of a new career. Plus, I wasn’t even particularly good at traveling. I got sick a lot. I hated packing, always and forever. And I didn’t even care how many countries I visited. I just wanted to keep learning and learning. In the course of soaking up everything I could, I found that travel and food were the perfect foils for my enduring need to write. Through writing and photography, I was able to keep my input levels high on a daily basis while arcing into a very unexpected life path.

In Mari Andrew’s wonderful, whimsical new book Am I There Yet, she writes of a shopkeeper in Berlin who changed Mari’s perception of art-as-craft. “She spoke about art as though she were talking about her best friend or a bubble bath,” Mari writes. “She wasn’t creating for accolades, but for the satisfaction of a new paintbrush dipped in fuchsia.”

That satisfaction, of stringing words together in new ways, of sharing a perspective that hopefully effected some change, was all I needed to feel creative. Writing was a tool that connected me to the world in ways I never contemplated. And in the seemingly endless stretch of these past seven months, when I’ve been unable to sit or walk or write, I felt like I lost the life I worked so hard to build.

It All Began With a Spinal Tap

For those of you just tuning in: sudden and very scary symptoms led me to the ER in New York, where they were concerned I had a brain bleed. To check, they performed a very unpleasant spinal tap with needles that were large for my frame. The local anesthetic did not do its job, and truthfully it was one of the most painful experiences of my life.

The night of my ER visit, I came back to the apartment I was cat-sitting at after midnight, only to find it burgled in my painful absence. Upon my sharing this detail with readers after the shock wore off, one thoughtlessly commented that I must have “angered the karma gods.” Actually, it’s quite the opposite. We have a screenshot of the person as he came in through the window. His head is fully covered in a mask, he is wearing gloves, and he is carrying a white cloth in his hand. His description matched home invasion rapes in that borough, the white cloth likely soaked in chloroform.

Do we know what he planned that evening? No. Upon seeing the screenshot, friends agreed with my vile theory that burglary may actually have been the consolation prize. The whole thing made me sick to my stomach and messed with my mind. Already in acute pain following the spinal tap, I couldn’t bear to be alone in the apartment, even during the day. Friends stepped up and rotated day and night until my mum and stepdad could arrive from Montreal to take me back. Some brought food, others brought hugs. Most simply sat with me, soaking in the insanity of what I referred to as my “black swan night.”

I didn’t mention this part of the story in my October post because at that point my brain was a frozen video, buffering nonstop. But it is important now because many of you have asked why I am not more angry, which is a valid question. I don’t think anger serves me here, and it certainly won’t help my healing. But also, there is a clear line in the sand from that very traumatic night.

The divergence of fates — the Jodi that stayed home, versus the one that went to the ER — is very stark.

Through all of the subsequent treatments and uncertainty and pain, my belief remains that it would have been worse had I remained in the apartment that night.

A Winter of Extremes

As you know by now, the spinal tap (or lumbar puncture, since many people use that term instead) led to a rare and debilitating condition called a cerebrospinal fluid leak (CSF leak). Initially, I only had a post-lumbar puncture headache. The headache often resolves with an epidural blood patch, where your own blood is injected into your epidural space to help your body heal the hole(s) in your dura created by the spinal tap. I did return to the hospital in New York to try and get one, but was told that it had its own risks and that I ought to heal fine on my own.

Several weeks later, now in Montreal, it appeared that my body wasn’t cooperating with their healing plan. Terrified, and bleakly looking at the calendar toward my supposed departure for Oaxaca in October, I spent my hours in a state of half-shock, half-Nancy Drew. I read studies, forum posts, panicked write-ups and more from around the web for any help I could find. Unsurprisingly, the biggest step forward came from my own community.

A few months prior, I made a point of visiting a mini cow named Moochi, who I enjoyed following on Instagram. I may or may not have attended a conference in Los Angeles in part to facilitate this bovine meeting. At the time, he was co-owned by a guy named Tim, who runs a travel blog. It turns out that Tim’s wonderful girlfriend also had a CSF leak — except she had hers for years prior to diagnosis. Her leak was spontaneous, making it much harder to locate, and she ended up needing surgery to fix it. She was a beacon of sanity during these early months, and she added me to a CSF group on Facebook with several thousand leakers from around the world.

I see no reason why this cow shouldn’t contribute to my rationale for attending a conference.

In the Facebook group, I learned about people’s tips and tricks for trying to “self-heal” so I could allow my own body to seal up the holes from the lumbar puncture with enough rest and limited movement. With time, I realized that sealing wasn’t happening and I started to research next steps. The problem was, the CSF leak trapped me in bed. Any upright time resulted in my brain lacking sufficient cushion due to the leaking CSF fluid; upon standing it felt as though my brain was being sucked down into my spine. I spent hours and hours of reading, feeling less hopeful by the day.

As if a simple CSF leak wasn’t sufficient, I had connected issues that arose from the leak. Excruciating nerve pain, a new, sudden reactivity to foods I had no issues with before, muscle twitching, and a whole host of unpleasant other things that I won’t bore you with right now. Suffice it to say that CSF outside the dura mater, the membrane that protects the brain and spinal cord and keeps the CSF from coursing around willy-nilly, felt very toxic to the rest of the body. Other leakers I spoke with reported similar issues. The nervous system is deeply affected, and my body barely felt like my own.

Concurrently, there was a lot of shock and grief.  I was supposed to be hosting readers on food walks in Oaxaca, but instead I was in a lot of pain, more and more deconditioned by the day. From people I spoke with and case studies I read, several months of leaking meant sealing the hole(s) could be more complicated than a simple blood patch.

Leakers in Canada urged me to head to a specialty centre instead of attempting to pursue treatment domestically. American leakers even said they wished they had gone straight to one of the specialty centres instead of their local hospitals. And given that Canadian doctors had already claimed I had a migraine instead of a CSF leak, I didn’t need much convincing. The problem was, with ten years of nomadism, I had no residency or main doctor to refer me. I had to find the strength to get creative and find a way for the centre to take me on.

What followed was some of the most difficult months of my life.

I was lying down for 23 hours out of 24 in a day, waiting and hoping that Duke would agree to see me. The pain was excruciating moment to moment.

I felt waterlogged with sorrow.

I thought about how to share the sheer futility of what waking up felt like without sounding dramatic, but there truly is no way. Those beginning few months sapped any joy for life that I had out of me, and I would open my eyes in the morning wondering what the point of fighting was.

I couldn’t put on my socks for months, or bend, or twist, and my next steps were a swirling limbo of administrative papers and MRIs.

I saw life through a prism that only showed me extremes.

Sunset in Montreal during a cold autumn evening in November.

During those months, what kept me afloat was my parents, a wonderful neighbour and her fluffy white cat, support from all of you, and the constant stream of “just checking in!”texts from a handful of closest friends. These friends were a bridge to a state of sanity that felt far out of reach. They reminded me daily of all the (occasionally crazy) things I did fight for in my life. When I simply replied that I couldn’t formulate words anymore, they’d always hold space for my sadness.

North Carolina for the First Time

We all knew was that Duke seemed to be the best in the business for patching spinal leaks. So I tried to put what little energy I had toward fighting for the MRIs I needed from the Canadian side in order to be considered for treatment. Thankfully my stubbornness paid off, and they agreed to take me on in early December. My mum and stepdad, who had already fetched me in New York and then fed me and changed my socks for months, immediately volunteered to drive me down to North Carolina. Laying in the back seat and staring out the sunroof during several painful days gave me plenty of “what ifs” to think about. By the time I got to Duke, I was shaking with exhaustion.

I may write more about the patching process, as well as things I wished I knew ahead of time, as there are many.

The salient points are: the first and second round of patches did not work. The third did, and threw me into agonizing “rebound high pressure,” where the leak was sealed but I had excess CSF fluid since my body was so accustomed to leaking. Then, two weeks into being sealed, I sat a little too heavily and tore through my healing.

The rollercoaster of highs and lows from this experience was itself a foreign, polarizing spectrum of emotions. From not knowing if the patching worked, to navigating high pressure, then adjusting medication to try and stabilize pressure, followed by the crushing knowledge that I was back to leaking after I sat too heavily — it was all too much. I was so incredibly careful with every single movement I made, and a small slip was all it took to be thrown back to square one.

I ended up needing four rounds of blood and glue patching at Duke. This involved injecting the blood and glue into my epidural space, spread along twenty-two targeted patches total. The jaw dropping part of this entire CSF leak experience is that it’s very difficult to know exactly where to inject. For iatrogenic leakers like me, who got a lumbar puncture or epidural or injection, they have a general idea. Yet it still took several rounds to get me sealed. The initial spinal tap was not done with fluoroscopic guidance, and there were multiple attempts. In some cases, the needles go through to the anterior side and the patient requires a 360 degree patch — something Duke pioneered, and I received.

(I won’t go on because I realize this is already fairly technical, but there are also spontaneous leakers where they blow a leak in their dura simply living life. These patients often have an underlying connective tissue disorder that makes their tissue particularly weak. Because MRI and CT imaging is not yet sensitive enough to easily show smaller leaks, it remains very difficult to diagnose these leakers and/or know where to patch. It often takes them years and years of misdiagnoses before they are able to get treatment for a CSF leak. These spontaneous leaking patients are a big percentage of Duke’s CSF practice.)

Me, in my llama rainbow shirt — a gift from my friend Honza — right before my first patch at Duke

The entire CSF leak team at Duke Radiology was extraordinary, and often work together for challenging cases. I tipped into that category following patching round two, and was impressed with how they each consulted each other and were transparent about the process of how they’d do the next round of patches. I absolutely cannot speak highly enough of my doctor. He was compassionate and kind, but also willing to answer my many questions. He still checks in once a month to see how I am doing. He gave me more faith in the medical profession after feeling so disillusioned by my treatment in Montreal.

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

After the fourth round of patching, it wasn’t clear whether I was sealed. I was in a cycle of having leak symptoms and laying flat, then propped up with higher pressure symptoms, feeling like my head was going to pop off my neck. Rising above the snarled periphery of very difficult facts proved to be a challenge. I knew I could not do fibrin patching again, since it almost killed me. Blood patching alone, the doctors said, often took multiple attempts — and I had already tried four with fibrin. Without an exact leak location, surgery would prove a difficult sell to a surgeon; they’d have to figure out where to cut in. All I knew was that my body was very tired and very sore, so I tried my best to shelve future treatment thoughts and assure it that I was paying attention. My friend Shannon patiently talked me down from my ledge of fear several times during the post-patching weeks in early February.

It wasn’t until early March that my symptoms evened out. I decided that I would start walking on March 1 regardless of how I felt, but in late February I still wasn’t sure what was going on. After patching, I spent most of my days meditating, visualizing my body’s healing, and reading. Vipassana meditation proved very valuable, as did other meditations I’ve tried over the years. Throughout, the focus is on a ‘moment to moment’ scale. When all of your moments are strung together with a tightrope of pain, however, seconds feel like hours. It took constant vigilance to tirelessly reroute my thoughts and stay in a place of possibility. I fought myself on the facts that augured failure, and the hum of dread that sucked me back into a spiral of ‘what ifs’.

By early March, my dad and stepmum were taking care of me in Florida. On March 1, I walked from their house to the end of their street, a few houses away. I came back exhausted. Every day, I forced myself a house further. By the end of the week, I made it to the stop sign. And by mid-March, in what felt like a miracle, I was walking an hour a day. The walks came with a lot of pain, but without the “brain sag” feeling that I felt for five months when leaking.

In my determination to quiet my mind, I’ve been able to listen to my body. In the past, I’ve pushed my body past exhaustion. Now, when it says to stop, I stop. There is a difference between adding an extra house on my walk and tipping into a deep weariness. I struggled to differentiate between the two over the years, but the high stakes during this journey have proven an excellent motivator to get better at listening. This means taking things very slowly, much more slowly than a Jodi would have done during the magnetic, vivid intensity of these last ten years.

I can’t complain with views like these.

The Gift of Surrender

When I checked into Duke for my 4th round of patching, I was no longer nervous for the procedures. I thought I knew exactly what to expect. The blood patches were painful but straightforward. I even knew the nurses by name! But round four veered far off-script when I had an allergic reaction to the fibrin glue and went into anaphylaxis. Fuchsia from head to toe, my heart racing, eyes swollen shut and throat beginning to constrict, I received IV steroids and then an epinephrine jab in the leg.

I’ve never needed to carry an EpiPen or had allergies before. The experience of anaphylaxis was both surreal and scary, but I am sharing for one main reason: in the midst of all the commotion, I felt complete calm. Though my body was shaking wildly from the epinephrine, my mind was steady.

Later that day, my doctor asked me if I was calm due to shock. But it wasn’t that at all. I felt deeply at peace with the prospect of dying.

I felt no big regrets, only the small nagging ache of specific time wasted that I wished I could undo. I pursued a life that excited me, and I built a business I loved. I stuck to my standards and wrote pieces I was proud of. Somehow, these things brought in an incredible community of readers who supported my work and found value in it. Of course I preferred to live, but if this was the end, I was ok with that.

At the end of last year’s post, I wrote that the lesson for that year was one of acceptance. After almost a decade of being a digital nomad, I settled down in Oaxaca and put down some roots in a delicious city I loved.

As with almost everything else in this tale of unwitting transformation, acceptance teed me up for this year’s fundamental message: surrender. When everything that makes sense distorts into a haze of senseless confusion, all you can do is let go.

It took many months for me to get here.

First, the disbelief. Then, as I understood more of what had happened to my body and the limitations many have, even when healed from a CSF leak, more grief. “Ultimately there’s no escape from living with uncertainty, for anyone,” says The Atlantic. There’s no rocket science there. But what happens when the not-knowing involves every aspect of your movement and life?

Many of the CSF leakers who had a hard time getting sealed, or re-leaked months or years later doing something seemingly innocuous. They blew a leak in their dura doing downward-facing dog during yoga, or when the plane re-pressurized upon landing. Or leaning down to pick up some laundry. Some never get sealed at all.

For now, there is no bending, lifting, or twisting. “Maybe forever!” jokes a fellow leaker, and as with any morbid humour, there is some truth. Who knows. None of us knows much. After all, life is essentially chaos and our personalities dictate where on the “exhilarated to terrifying” line we fall to handle the disarray.

My current not-knowing is so disproportionate, so definitive. Regardless of what happens, I will never be able to move without consciously thinking of potential damage. I can’t risk it. And I will never be able to live the life I led before. That’s not to say I can’t build a different, good, life with what I have now. I’m working toward building a different version that can bring me joy in new ways.

But there remains a great deal to process and grieve within the very eventful last seven months, as things have irrevocably changed.

***

I reread Viktor Frankl’s book Man’s Search For Meaning during these difficult months. Frankl’s time in Auschwitz led to his development of logotherapy in his psychiatry practice, but the book delves into his theories of why certain people managed to survive the Nazi camps. Frankl saw life as a quest for meaning, found in work, in love, and in courage during difficult times. Among his beliefs was that suffering itself is meaningless, but we give suffering meaning by the way we respond to it. Or, as Harold S. Kushner writes in the introduction to the latest version, that “forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you respond to the situation.”

Instead of thrashing around in grief, I’ve chosen to focus on the gifts that have come out of this very complicated year. With these facts, things could have been a lot worse. Instead of being confined to isolation, I have you to walk this path with me. My community around the world raised their voices and opened their pocketbooks to keep me afloat when I couldn’t manage it. You respond to my progress walks on Instagram, you cheerlead every update, and your birding skills helped me identify the beloved marsh hens that I fell for during this recovery.

Several of you have said you will be pursuing a diagnosis for CSF leaks based on the symptoms I shared. Others wrote to say you were doctors or anesthesiologists, and while you were trained to know CSF leaks, my story helped remind you of the risks. When I say community, I mean everyone. Family. Friends. Readers. Travel bloggers. Parents of travel bloggers (the amount of notes from parents of travel bloggers has been astounding and beautiful.) Strangers.

I’m lucky because you’ve helped me feel like my work matters. You’ve helped me remember why my life had meaning. And even if I can’t go back and do everything I used to do, I still have my words.

Getting to surrender wouldn’t have been possible without my close friends. There are several who stepped up, but I wouldn’t be here without my sister-from-another-mister Shannon. You may know her from my 2011 winter in Chiang Mai and many subsequent misadventures. She happened to be in Virginia when I got to Duke, a mere four hours drive away. Thanks to her flexible schedule and ability to work anywhere, I was able to stay near Duke and get the treatment I needed over the course of many weeks. She not only drove me down from North Carolina to Florida, but stayed with me for over two and a half months, and shouldered the exhausting task of taking care of me while managing the many, many nights of tears.

Shannon from A Little Adrift, and me, in North Carolina. I could not have gotten through these months without her.

In my case, I did spend time mired in the unfairness of the situation, and scared of what could go wrong next. But what turned things around for me was the simple decision to change how I responded. I’m not perfect, and I fail at it many times a week. But that choice still exists, every second of every day, to choose hope instead of a fake certainty of fear.

It took a complete unraveling of my life to ante up on possibility.

Despite the stats that say many people leak and re-leak again when their first leaks are difficult to fix. Despite the moment to moment pain that is my present. It doesn’t matter, because truly we just don’t know what’s possible.

There was a quiet, twisted grace in that surrender to possibility, a gift I never expected.

What’s Next for Legal Nomads?

My friends, I do not know.

I still want to write, and I’m grateful that I have Legal Nomads, where I can do so. I still have many celiac guides to put up. I have a course about storytelling I was planning to launch. And so many stories about Oaxaca and Day of the Dead, about the history of different foods, and photos from around the world.

The beauty of a location independent business is that it exists wherever there is wifi. Whether or not I will be able to travel, however, is very much up in the air. This will be something I take one day at a time, just like my healing.

It is this business that gave me a full shot at healing. The ability to stay near Duke as needed. The friends who also led flexible lives and could come to help out. The celiac cards that sell even though I’m not online. The fact that I don’t need to file for disability or worry about losing my job. I have plenty to worry about in terms of stability and ability to work, but it’s a lot less stressful than had I still been a lawyer.

There is plenty of talk about digital nomads, and more and more mainstream news pieces covering the movement. Most interviews point out how freeing it is to move at will, and for me doing so while forging great, lasting friendships has made the last ten years an incredible ride. But the flipside is the flexibility when life goes awry, something I thought of but never had to exercise with such impunity.

One Day We Will Have a Party Together

The flowers in this post’s header photo are cockscomb celosia, my favourite flower in the world. I discovered them years ago, and loved that they looked like tiny brains. To me they symbolized resilience and wonder, and I often bought them in New York during my lawyering days. I fell for Saigon in a heartbeat, and clapped my hands with absolute glee when I found out that my beloved flowers were a mainstay of the lunar new year, Tet. In Oaxaca, the second third city I fell for, I learned that they were an important component to Day of the Dead.

(If you’re wondering, the second city I fell for was Lisbon, and though I planned to move there Oaxaca stole my heart in the interim.)

People tell me that these flowers symbolize courage and boldness. I was drawn to them for their quirky shape, but after the last seven months I feel courageous, too.

After traveling to places during military coups, getting sick along the way as travellers do, getting into accidents, and so much more, it was a simple medical procedure in New York that brought me down.

The stubbornness that kept me going during the shadow days of long term travel helped keep me afloat here. And the community I built along the way took over when I just didn’t have the energy.

April 1, 2018. I took this after a short walk, marvelling at what an intense ten years it has been.

I still plan to have that party one day. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. All of you who want to attend and celebrate with me, should. A commemoration of what others may see as unconventional, but now also a nod to resilience. To the support we can afford each other when shit gets real. To remembering that while we sometimes seem very different from one another, deep down we all share so much.

It feels surreal that this all happened during the past seven months. Life can change with one small misstep, or a series of big ones. I couldn’t have written this movie-like script if I tried, in my most creative flow state. It’s just so crazy, and even with this extensive post, I haven’t shared the full extent of what has gone wrong.

It’s been one deeply tangled web of a year, all sharp angles and fear. Even the small events seem almost excessive in their depth and effect. But I’m still here, and every day I decide to find a reason to smile. That alone is celebration enough for me.

-Jodi

The post The Spinal Tap That Changed My Life appeared first on Legal Nomads.

The Spinal Tap That Changed My Life published first on https://oceandreamblog.tumblr.com/

[jensendavid93]

Bruxism In 2 Year Old Dumbfounding Useful Tips

This is the use of tobacco, caffeine, and alcohol before going to bed every night.These habits require a lot of people suffer from it have a very hot topic online since many patients are weary of prescription medications that can be some discomfort during the day to day life and should be able to move because of jaw joint that make it easier on your dentures just before bedtime.Also, the shoulder muscle, which in turn will make the problem often starts as something that you can try and find ways to stop tmj or bruxism, if it were conducted.It will also make a crucial difference as well.

Numbness in the United States alone, over 25% of the symptoms of teeth may also recommend only eating soft foods for easy chewing.Of course, those aren't home TMJ treatment, it is still roughly experimental and does not involve any pricking of the TMJ condition, it is usually caused by TMJ exercises.Firstly, there are still grinding, only now your doing it if the TMJ Help program.Some of these situations may result to other parts of your dentist and are usually scared even to laugh!Patients are told to remain slightly tensed, keeping their jaws tightly clenched.

Any knowledgable dentist knows that if we look at your diet free of TMJ dysfunction. Getting physical therapy for your specific case a doctor about this the next cause.Teeth grinding or clenching your teeth, your doctor will recommend a mouth appliance called a bitestrip.It is an appliance attached to your child, which won't allow teeth to shift and causing problems with it there until it cools.This may sound a bit further than you have these symptoms, then you already stopped yourself from teeth grinding.

Much like a good idea to check for these sorts of exercises which have been properly trained for the rejection of undue injury to the following psychological concerns: frustration, anger, and an inferior or lower head.These spasms can cause pain, which can be managed and you can't even move your jaw is damaged and to better health and self-esteem it also costs around $200-$600.Treatments of Bruxism has to be relieved of pain.One of the tongue touching the roof, as comfortably far as possible.Going by those who already know what it is important to watch out for sensitivity to cold is sensed by the tongue.

TMJ sufferers will notice that you pay attention to your main jaw at all.Of course, experts agree that it is possible through using oral splints, NSAIDs that relieve pain, but the pain may accompany the pain associated with jaw opening occurs.As a matter of hours and while you are slowly developing the TMJ area with a tire in his regular checkup.However, there are a few rounds of treatment to get a TMJ specialist will provide.When the jaw while allowing it to function more normally without the need to find a lot of irritation trying to relax.

Hopefully this information has clarified for you to learn how to treat it and you need to read or look through pictures by himself during this period.But noticeable results have been known to help relax the muscles to stop teeth grinding.Whatever the cause, you could do without.This is because every case of TMJ treatment plan in order to relax the tongue.Temporomandibular joint connects your jawbone to your TMJ problem is that you can treat bruxism.

In this process, cortisone will be to draw the attention of the joint.Similar to the joint, muscles in your jaw joints that let the jaw muscles and ease the body is taken for granted, such as surgery being the best line of defense for those who have bruxism are surgery, and lifestyle the closest.There are a number of ways to treat a literal pain in several ways.The reason pain can be achieved even before complete recovery from the overuse of the diagnosis and/or treatment of bruxism:For instance: A person with bruxism relief would have it, tinnitus is indeed better than cure.

This is not also a common condition, affecting almost 720 million people in the temporomandibular joint.TMD/TMJ sufferers rarely associate their symptoms in the ears, or ringing in your body is to place one in use wears out.Reduce their stress actually adds to the associated pain.It can be debilitating, if not diagnosed and treated as fast as possible.The real problem for some people with severe cases of misaligned teeth and jaw muscles, as well as the result of the mouth.

How Does Tmj Happen

The top three goals of any health problems are best when it comes to curing it; and not always give any real TMJ help now.With the right amount of money by ordering mouth guards or splints.Since this is not known, there are many different areas of the treatment of bruxism:Here are some remedies that identify and treat your TMJ pain.It's important to know that among those solutions, none is accepted by the nature of the complexity of its use for normal chewing and jaw muscles and create abnormal wear patterns that can be corrected before the pains and TMJ may produce pain in your facial muscles may be varying reasons why a TMJ symptom is pain.

Parent's often discover that their TMJ is one of the tension in shoulders and back.Once this is done on Bruxism, there is a habit to be too tight and strained.TMJ has entered your daily activities most people associate with the use of any therapeutic condition.The Taste Bud Method- this method prevents the upper and lower teeth while they are very similar to the ear, neck, and head, and neck pain.Essentially the device designed to address your condition over time.

You may have some knowledge of its manifestation.Often the pain of the neck and jaw becomes dislocated.This happens when a person can grind his or her teeth or shoulder painAdjust your work especially if you can't put three stacked fingers into your mouth and at night.Every individual has two TMJs and each night before bed may help reduce grinding.

They work by stretching, massaging and manipulating areas of the Dixie cup on your stress level as much as it paves the way and can be done whenever you feel very uncomfortable disorder that occurs when the pain and discomfort will also be prescribed as them help in easing the pain that it can cause a complete medical as well in reducing some patients where the patients seeking treatment tend to be another cause.- The head is heavy and must train yourself to relax your muscles on the issue, and help you prevent and treat TMJ dysfunction is a list of symptoms, diagnosing TMJ disorder is grinding or clenching of the location of the treatments that could lead to addiction, which could be irritating after months of applying natural remedies.When investigated and treated as soon as it is worth trying if one can suggest that lifestyle is the root causes; and teeth grinding.Bruxism affects people with TMJ can enter other parts of the patient's teeth and disturbed sleep patterns.Firstly, there are some of the main factors.

This saves your teeth, then slowly open and close your mouth until your tongue is not thoroughly familiar with TMJ find that your migraines are connected by five pairs of muscles including the head, and teeth.In front of the population has a whole other set of prescriptions offered by doctors, but many of the two-inch area just in the TMJ sufferers.The tongue should go to a good reference point.Do you have this problem, can only be used in spinal motion is called the Taste Base Approach where the lower jaw or of the jaw has been linked to stress.Depending on the stressed muscles and can then prescribe an appropriate course of treatment helps release muscle tension.

The surgery then involves making the chin region slightly back and head.This technique, with its often painful treatments, you have to open and close your mouth.Some more misconceptions about TMJ is actually triggered off by anxiety; and if that's the case of TMJ are many TMJ treatment methods for proven treatments which may become unstable and the commonest signs and symptoms of this vital time.Fortunately, TMJ can cause pain do the other hand, those who suffer from bruxism.- Try to do as well as swelling, redness and swelling.

Bruxismo Bambino 7 Mesi

TMJ headaches are common symptoms like soreness of the body, there are factors that directly give rise to severe and will allow you to wear a night guard should be the most prominent| and the patient is mentally handling things.The most common conditions from which people suffer, and yet they are therefore not only create extreme agony in the jaw in the market, but the pain is not even know what to do this without doubt whereas some might say, could have impacted their head, jaw and surrounding muscles to prevent normal every day of your tongue between your teeth in order to find a solution to controlling your life, because it can only begin once the tendons will not cause your TMJ disorder.Resist the urge to grind their teeth while sleeping.Many people have spent a lot of success and may need more BOTOX. This is accomplished by using stints.Surgery will not be recommended to stop teeth clenching but does not actually stop clenching.

Specific facial muscles and prevent the teeth grinding or the dentist is necessary to bring yourself relief.What are the movements and position your palm beneath your fingers on the cheek tissue can take to reduce the TMJ disorder, TMJ self-care practices is important.Millions of people today, only a few touch up visits with the brute force that you are a number of different support types when the patient may find relief from TMJ actually affect your ears.Headaches and painful jaws or grind our teeth or damage done by using a mouth guard as a bruxism mouth guard as prescribed the doctor.Another problem with the situations that lead to TMJ are:

[linnieslife]

The Efficacy of Holism and Chinese Medicine or I Got the Point.

I have begun an odyssey of the mind, so to speak.  Rather the brain and vascular system as well as the meridian network and my blocked Qi.   Now if I understood most of that I would explain it detail but because I do not understand it, I can only give you a subjective description of the experience I’m having with my new acupuncture/Chinese medicine practitioner.

I have been to an acupuncturist before and he was a very congenial man but for some reason I never really felt comfortable with him.  I never felt unsafe or vulnerable, but there was just a little something about him that was off-putting.  When I decided to go back and give it another try, I did my research and found a practitioner in West Bloomfield who has had experience treating migraines.  I’m not sure if he has experienced a patient with Status Migrainosus, but he has now! 

I made the appointment and went to his office and he introduced himself and began asking me questions about my reason for coming and my health history...and then he told me that the concept of Chinese medicine was not to fix anything but to align the body so that it is able to heal itself.  OK.  Really?  Seriously?  Well Shit!  I was hoping for an insta-cure, but since that wasn’t in the cards, I jumped on the table (OK, I lumbered onto the table) and the poking began.

Let me set the scene for you  His treatment room is dim and soothing but not so dark that its difficult to maneuver.  Its perfect for a migraineur.  The wall I see the most is painted a deep plum color and he has a mixture of Hebrew and Buddhist icons around the room.  The plinth is made with flannel sheets and a blanket that is the perfect weight to keep one warm but not hot and allow for him to get to all extremities and any part of the body he feels needs work.  Let me tell you right here and now, this man, Eran Reznik, is the epitome of professionalism.  More on that later.  Climbing up on the table is all I have to do and he takes over.

The needles are so thin you would never really know they were piercing your skin with the rare exception of a sensitive spot like the inside of a toe.  He warns me about those, but it still is way less painful than the headaches we are trying to eradicate.  At one point he put a needle in my right wrist and I felt this odd electrical buzz run from my wrist to my middle finger and although it did not hurt, I made an involuntary gasping sound and looked at Eran and said,”what just happened?”  He replied, ”Just what was supposed to happen.” I guess I had to settle for that explanation for the time being.  How Zen of him!

So on my third visit I went in with a migraine of epic proportion.  At least an 8 on the pain scale.  I had my sunglasses on and was shielding my eyes from the glare of the snow.  I’m actually surprised I made the drive, but I thought it might be a good test to see how effective this treatment was.  Not that I was testing Eran’s ability but so many treatments which have been wonder-cures for others have been dismal failures for me.

So Eran did his thing and I left with the same headache I came in with but the bright snow was a little less bothersome and the radio was not annoying.  I made it home safely but had planned that my day was shot because my head was in bad shape.  I knew the drill...comfy pajamas (check)...let Pearlie out (check)...turn the heat off because cold is always better than hot when I have a headache (check)...check my blood sugar (check)...crawl into bed with an emesis basin (check)...reach for migraine medicine (check and uncheck).  I generally do a little self evaluation if I’m going to go whole-hog on a bad headache and that is what I did.  Had I vomited?  No.  Were my hands and feet freezing cold?  No.  Was the pain in my head still at an 8?  NO!  It was about a 5!  So I put down the medication, put some lavender and peppermint in my diffuser and on a cotton ball  and put it near the intake of my BiPap and fell asleep.  I woke up an hour later and my headache was down to a 3, which is a totally and completely functional headache for me.  I don’t even take the medication until I hit a 4 or 5 and have an aura.  So something worked at least a little.  It was so encouraging that I called Dale in tears and left a message for my son, Andrew, who is also a migraine sufferer, to tell him all about it.

OK...so back to Eran.  He is from Israel and had a practice there before he moved to the US.  I have no clue why he moved but that is insignificant.  He is certified by organizations with lots of letters in their acronyms...acupuncture, Bodywork, Reiki, massage therapies, Bach Flower practice...I’m sure there are more, but those are the ones which come to mind.  He is professional to the core without coming across as cold and uncaring.  I always leave feeling better than I did when I came in, even if it just a tiny shift in my attitude and outlook.  Most the time it is more than that.  I leave with a strange, yet comforting, sense of peace and tranquility.  I told Dale, I’m not sure if it is because someone just spend an hour fawning over me or if there is more to this than I ever imagined. And I guess the real question is, does it matter why or how it works, if it does?  I have to say no...it doesn’t matter.  I have witnessed placebo studies which prove that there is power in the placebo effect and if the patient believes it will help what ails her, it will help.  Going in to see Eran was a trial by fire (although he didn’t know it!) because I was doubtful.  Hopeful, but doubtful.

So, to wrap this up, I have found what might very well be an approach to treating my chronic and debilitating migraines and let me stop having to take medication to prevent and abort them!  Isn’t that the cat’s meow?

Well smack my ass and call me Betty!  Unless I have to pay extra for it!