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

Memory Lane [Mind Fuck].

 

Herkimer Coffee

Back to the library I go.

Lesson learned from last time: this girl drove.

Walking in, I got distracted by the row of magazines neatly organized off to the side; one, in particular, stood out: Psychology Today: “The Law of Attraction” in bold, block letters – a conventionally attractive white couple in an interlocking cradle, giving each other “googly eyes.”

Curiosity got the best of me; I spent 10 minutes breezing through the article only to discover what I already knew about the human condition: I certainly didn’t need Psychology Today to layer on the fact that men want fertile young women, opposites really don’t attract and ‘bad boys’ are attractive because of their perceived power.

Mmkay. I’m still 29, been there / done that and kicking 30 in the face…soon. [August marks 6 months to go].

Not for nothing, the article did have some cool stuff on relationships and brain chemistry.

Anyway, I digress. Again.

---

Readers: I am stuck in a rut, man!  Writer’s block has me questioning why I am doing this and where it is going!

I should take my own advice [see: post on writer’s block].

I needed a trigger, some inspiration…some…something to get me writing [see: article on writing exercises].

Yes: my new environment is a bit unfamiliar and occasionally peculiar.

Inside Herkimer: Where their coffee comes from.

Yes: I’m going through an adjustment period. Similar to a toddler trying to find their footing, I find myself bumbling around with a permanent look of  confusion, smeared across my mug.

But. With the strange, come the awesome – at least for me.

I’ve managed to date and have a few [unrelated] bizarre experiences in the process. 

It’s fun, interesting and weird at the same time.

Sidebar: I play no games – I got those dating apps POPPIN’ at least 3 weeks before my move. I have no shame or fear.

You would think I would have words for the plethora of [?????] that I’m experiencing, amiright?

For whatever reason, the struggle [continues] to be real. Kind of. I’m easing into the flow; observing and seeing what happens. Exploring this new, “outdoorsy” side of myself that I did not know existed.

---

I’ve mentioned before that the characters I’m writing about are loosely based on people I know in real life; those interactions create a more dynamic storytelling experience...for me.

And slightly more traumatizing. Ha.

Obviously, I'm going to put into practice a lot of creative liberties.

To get to that point, I needed to be summoned back to those moments.

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to ‘time travel’ – the next closet thing is…

*sigh*

Facebook.

I had previously been deactivated since 2014, but because it became necessary for my roommate search, I had to activate that motherfucker again.

The inner ‘creeper’ was awakened from the dark abyss of my soul.

Old journal entry from 2015 - found this when I was sniffing around for inspiration.

Lol. Don’t judge! You do it too!

Going back in time through Facebook  triggered old memories of high school, college and people I would by and-large, love to forget.

I spent 25 minutes scrolling through my newsfeed, discombobulated by all its’ 'new' features.

Andthisisonereasonfordeactivation.

It’s a mind fuck; people are still presenting their ‘best self’ in a rat race to outshine their neighbors.

I was over it before it began.

After a few eye rolls, I was able to find my unnamed muses.

Almost immediately, character blanks and dialogue were filled it.

[Characters Dawn and Ira are intricately linked in a pseudo mom-daughter relationship built on dependency – I started here].

Situations. Arguments. General Dispositions.

Hell, messages [which I may get into at a later date] bought me back to my 22 year old self [shudder] and all of the shenanigans I chose to participate in. 

The creative bear was poked – 600 words and counting.

I left my initial character sketches [outlines] at home on accident. This will be the first and last time I say, “Thank God for Facebook”.

Mood Music: Give Me One Reason - Tracy Chapman

The Resistance.

 

Caffetto Coffee House

You know you should be writing, but you can’t get it out.

The coffee pot is empty. The car is out of gas. It’s like you dropped something in the crook between your refrigerator and kitchen counter and just. Can’t. Reach. It.

The creative genius within you put up their “gone fishing” sign and has failed to return.

Writer’s Block.

Fuck Writer’s Block. I’ve got it bad. Real bad. Tapping into the well is difficult when you’re already depleted.

General stressors of everyday life, slow down what once was an increased acceleration.

Sometimes, it’s deeper than that – at least for me.

My anxiety causes my mind to excessively wonder.

I’m a worry wart. A curious one – always have been – even as a child.

I could physical sit still, but my brain was like an overactive 6 year old who was just shot full of sugar while simultaneously having an existential crisis.

It’s a peculiar feeling – especially the part about get worked up over nothing.

I always tell myself, “Yo. It’s really not that serious. Calm down.”

Whoooosah.

I wake up feeling drained – like I ran a 10k.

And I hate running. I mean, I’ll do it if someone is chasing me or my life is in jeopardy, otherwise…nah. I don’t run for fun. I ran enough in High School when I played ball.

Anyway…

I’m mentally exhausted.

Funny, because I’m writing this blog post. So... I’m tapping into something, right?

Mwhahahahaha.

#avoidance.

Instead I just get distracted by watching dance videos on YouTube.

[I WILL dance at this studio one day].

Inside Caffetto - Art Decor From Your Grandma's Basement. I dig it. 

After researching [Googling] I rounded up a number of informative articles on Writer’s Block: potential causes and how to mitigate this mind fuck.

The New Yorker had an article that read me for absolute filth – in it,  Maria Konnikova probes into the historical psychology behind creative blockages, beginning with her analysis of Psychiatrist, Edmund Bergler:

For two decades, Bergler studied writers who suffered from “neurotic inhibitions of productivity,” in an attempt to determine why they were unable to create—and what, if anything, could be done about it…blocked writers didn’t “drain themselves dry” by exhausting their supply of inspiration. Nor did they suffer from a lack of external motivation …they didn’t lack talent, they weren’t “plain lazy,” and they weren’t simply bored. So what were they?

Konnikova goes on to expand on his initial theory:

In a 1950 paper called “Does Writer’s Block Exist?,” published in American Imago, a journal founded by Freud in 1939, Bergler argued that a writer is like a psychoanalyst. He “unconsciously tries to solve his inner problems via the sublimatory medium of writing.” A blocked writer is actually blocked psychologically—and the way to “unblock” that writer is through therapy. Solve the personal psychological problem and you remove the blockage.

More recently [well, kind of – 1970s/80s. Recent enough] a couple of Psychologist were able to bounce off of Bergler’s findings to conduct their own, more empirical experiments. From there, they categorically broke down “unhappy writers” into [4] groups, expressed as:

• Anxiety & Stress – “Deep Emotional Distress = The Fun Sucker.”
• Interpersonal / Anger and Irritation – “It Isn't Me, It's You."
• Apathetic / Disengaged - “Frankly, My Dear, I Don’t Give A Damn.”
• Angry / Hostile / Disappointed – “More Pissed. Less Sad.”

Things that make you go hmmm.

I can certainly admit, I’ve got quite a bit happening in my personal life – sometimes, the struggles is most definitely real. When I think back to my script writing days, I was completely in the zone; driven with bright ideas.

My life was simpler back then – boring; I talk about that in my very first post.

The short of it?

…it’s useful to escape from external and internal judgment—by writing, for instance, in a dream diary, which you know will never be read—even if it’s only for a brief period. Such escapes allow writers to find comfort in the face of uncertainty; they give writers’ minds the freedom to imagine, even if the things they imagine seem ludicrous, unimportant, and unrelated to any writing project.

Solid point.

GoodTherapy.org echo similar sentiments in their article titled, “Creative Blocks.”

Strategies sans the 'heaviness' can be found here: “25 Ways To Overcome Writer’s Block,” written by Ellie Grabski.

Notables Include:

#15. Write Your Struggle Into The Content -

This is why the kid blogs.

#18. Change Your Location - 

Coffee. Shop. Theme.

#22. Skip To The Middle - 

Yeeeah. I suppose it never occurred to me to just do this.

I’ve been stuck at the beginning, for...forever.

Mood Music: Headstrong - Trapt