Running Late.

 

Intelligentsia Coffee | Chicago, IL

Welcome to 2023? I’ve had a busy winter season and it’s clear that you and I have a lot to catch up on. Let’s rewind a couple months to November – I owe you a NaNoWriMo update. Spoiler: I didn’t make my goal in 2022.

To be honest, my heart wasn’t in it this go-around. Life complications and seasonal depression have been kicking my ass. Listen, it takes a lot of work to maintain this blog—it’s even harder when you have a few wrenches thrown in the plan.

As mentioned in my last post, I’ve been reevaluating what I want to do with this project. While I’m still massaging my thoughts on it, I have enlisted a few friends for support as I get my proverbial sh*t together—guest posters who will help me keep this thing afloat!

Soft callout: if you are a member of the brain injury community and would like to share your written thoughts, words or experiences as a survivor [or caregiver], please feel free to reach out at nomadicaffeinesubmissions@gmail.com.

Having said all of that, I want to thank you for sticking around.

When I initially started this blog in 2016, the focus was more on the writing portion of my journey—it’s something that, for many years, I took pride in.  You can start from the beginning, here.

The desire to write something special stayed with me from childhood, but up until my stroke, it was difficult to find a clear way forward.

I decided to share my progress in terms of storytelling with both the survivor and the writing community, opting to cloak my personal narrative in a fictional format. I didn’t feel the need to have the spotlight on me. By structuring the book this way, I could create enough separation that would allow me to process everything that happened.   

At the time, I spent every Saturday or Sunday morning at a different coffeeshop in Minneapolis. My love of coffee [and coffeeshop culture associated with writers] inspired the name of this blog. The mood music element is based on my deep appreciate for music [thanks, Dad!]

Most of the time when I do the actual book writing, I listen to a mellow track or an hours long instrumental. Too much bass or catchy lyrics distract me – I’m pulled away from the story and into my own peripheral dance fantasies.

The characters were an amalgamation of several different people I knew in real life. I could fill in gaps using made up plot lines, essentially rewriting my story. Looking back to 2016, I remember feeling the buzz of excitement: I had a cadence and boundless optimism for what I was doing. It felt meaningful.

As I approached my 30th birthday, I found myself drawn to the jungles of Costa Rica. I spent a week at yoga retreat meditating in and around the Pacific Ocean.  I needed guidance on this project and the courage to change course.

I noodled on the decision for a bit, but ultimately decided to open the gates of vulnerability through storytelling in memoir form: a recount of my brain bleed from ages 24 to 30. The real deal.

In terms of the blog, when the pandemic hit, I could no longer visit coffeeshops—I thought my theme was shot. If I wanted to keep the blog, I had to pivot. My focus became #beyondthestroke: connecting with more of you on your journey moving forward despite having experienced a brain injury.

I made connections through social media and did interviews with survivors who shared their engaging and compelling experiences of reactivation.  These folks [myself included] have told their “origin story” repeatedly. I was particularly interested in hearing about how they restarted their lives and continue to flourish in the aftermath.

It is important to recognize that we are more than just our brain injuries.

Although these narratives are remarkably inspirational, even after a decade, I continue to grapple with finding my niche in this community.

Part of it could be seen as survivors’ remorse: you wouldn’t know if I didn’t tell you. Even in the absence of any obvious markers, I still face internal struggles – aphasia and general processing take much longer for me than most.

I live a relatively normal life, working full time in semi successful corporate career. I care for myself without a partner to rely on for support.  

I live as if it never ever happened.

I don’t have pictures of my recovery period to share, I no longer participate in medically prescribed physical, speech or occupational therapy and to be honest, I don’t view myself as “disabled.”

Because of this, I often wonder how serious people will take me.

I’m having a really hard time finding survivors who align with my story.

Running this blog is enjoyable, but it is a one woman show and can be overwhelming and quite frankly exhausting to do by myself.  

I’m hoping that in 2023, I can find a sustainable strategy to keep this project going. I’m hoping to find more people…like me.

Mood Music: Float - Janelle Monae, Seun Kuti + Egypt 80

March Madness.

 

Fresh Flours

It’s March! Can you believe it?  The onset of 2020 has been productive in terms of writing; to briefly recap:  January into mid-February, I knocked out around 15,000 words, completing Part One of my story. During the last two weeks of February, I took a break to celebrate my birthday and relax.

Sidebar: my mother advised me that I should not have stopped my momentum, ha.

A little bit of construction never hurt nobody.

The kid was drained. Writing a memoir is exhausting - I cried a lot of tears, mentally click-clacking back through 2011 and 2012.

I turned 32.

It’s not a milestone year - I’m not making a big deal of it - but yeah, I’m a little bit older and hopefully a tiny bit wiser.

The improvement I continue to make is not a total surprise: the high of the new year is often a big push, propelling me forward into karate kicking the goals I’ve set. Most people feel similarly.

It’s keeping those goals at the forefront, year-round, that seem to be the hard part.

I find it helpful to create new habits – small things that I do daily or weekly that help in moving me toward my overall goal.

I use my insomnia as launching point:  oftentimes, I wake up at 4:00am, 5:00am – instead of laying in bed, staring at the wall like I normally would, I get up to start my day. I might do a quick yoga routine via YouTube, shower, make a pot of coffee and write some before work. I will typically block out an hour and a half before signing in, and chunk up to two additional hours after work depending on what I have planned in the evening: dance class, friends, cooking etc.

(Note: this works for me because I work from home).

I manage between 500 - 1000 words per day and feel pretty damn good about it.

On Saturday mornings, I get up between 6:00 - 7:00am, start my usual pot of coffee and write until around 10:00 – 11:00am.  I stop for a lunch break or a brain rest and start my second session around 2:00pm, going for another hour or so.

Sunday’s I keep for myself as a general “catch up” day: hair wash, grocery shopping etc.

I’m super excited about the structure that I’ve been able to put into place for the story: the way I’m organizing the narrative makes it fluid to write. Everything – as is true for memoirs – is in chronological order.

I’ve divided the events into parts:

• Part 1

• Part 2

• Part 3

There are certain elements of the story that I have left to finish for the end [as in, I will finish it during the editing process]. I keep it open because a) it needs further/intensive research –

When I start getting into the particulars of my stroke [the medical minutiae involved] I have to dig through a lot of my own documentation. I want to make sure I am using the correct terms, analysis and such.

The time for digging through that is not now – there are boxes upon boxes of paperwork in my closet when I’m ready.

I want to get the story out in full and fill in those details, later.

b) whatever I’m writing may be too heavy for me to process and ultimately interrupts the flow in a way that is disruptive to my creativity.

In those instances – there aren’t many in part one – I still need to work through them.

When I say that, I mean, I have to run it past my therapist. Writing helps, but so does she.

As of now, I’m moving around in Part Two. I created chapter outlines before my two-week break and have constructed a road map to follow. Chapters 6 - 12 are gritty, so I decided to start writing some of the more lighthearted fluff that begins in chapter 8.  I’ll back it up to 6 and 7 when I’m finished, diving into relationship rigmarole thereafter.

The dating stories I have to tell are edifying, depressing, sexy, heartbreaking, interesting and fun.  I had a very robust dating experience in Minneapolis and although every involvement cannot and will not be present in the book - only the ones of true impact and relevancy, especially since the book itself is not solely focused on my dating life - I think it’s important to  discuss the challenges that come from dating with a disability in your 20’s.

Spoiler: it makes you much more vulnerable.

The end of March signals the end of first quarter: with that, I can honestly say, I am very proud of the progress I’ve made and can’t wait to rev up for quarter two!

Mood Music: Hungry - Fergie Ft. Rick Ross