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

NaNoWriMo 2022

 

Dark Matter Coffee: Osmium | Chicago, IL

My official first year in Chicago has come and gone. From personal experience, the first 12 months is almost always a little disorienting – particularly if you have very little to no network in your new homebase.

I am the queen of starting over; I understood what I was up against and knew there would be an adjustment period ahead.

Unfortunately, I was unable to participate in last year’s NaNo. At the time, there were other things that took precedent, however, I did manage to punch out a few really good interviews over the spring and summer months.

Something With A Little Ginger.

Between the excitement, the discomfort, and the isolation of being in a new, more diverse environment, my book project fell from top of mind. As I become more settled and familiar with the city [neighborhood and transit navigation, developing friendships etc], I have started to re-center myself.

This relocation has been emotionally challenging, but I’m back to give you an update and wrap up 2022 strong. The idea here is to become more aligned with this project while throwing some consistency in the bowl, ha. This is a one woman show – I do the best I can.

Cleary 2022 was meant to be a “growth” year for me.  My limits have been tested in multiple areas of life, siphoning my attention and draining my spirit. Through it all, I still managed to passively put in work, consuming audio versions of various memoirs and a lot of Brene Brown. I love Brene Brown. And self-help-y material that, although unrelated to the book project, has been helpful in prompting my return.

There was a point that I thought about taking a writer’s workshop through the University of Iowa to help get me back on track. That didn’t pan out – I was pressed for time [I found out about it, late] and processing [2] breakups. And looking for a new job. And dealing with housing issues. And acclimating to Chicago. And attempting to create community as a single, 30+ year old woman. And dealing with family.  And half-ass dating in a pool with pee in it.

But I’m glad you’ve decided stick around.

I always come back. Always. This is a passion project for me – I may set it down for a bit, live my life, explore, but I return with renewed perspective on how to interpret the set of events leading up to and the aftermath of, my brain bleed.

---

Here’s What I’m Thinking For This Years’ Go-Round:

I have to finish my proposal. I’ve been working on it since late 2019, then Covid happened and threw everything off. It’s essentially a 20+ page document detailing the book chapters and summary, attached to a marketing plan. Included in the document is a research portion I’m high-key dreading – a deep dive into the book audience: who am I doing this for? Why? Where are they? How do I reach them?

[Funny enough, I’m assisting with a research-based marketing project in my day job – I don’t normally do market research. The best practices, techniques, resources and tools are eye-opening].

But the spotlight is on the proposal. I really want to get this buttoned up.

The good part: I’m halfway there.

Good luck everyone!

Mood Music: It’s Givin’ - Latto

Where Do We Go From Here?

 

Home: Seattle, WA

The ugliness finally came to a head in the post-Obama era: the popped zit and nasty sludge on the face of America is out in the open.  A combination of fear, anger and frustration are now front and center.

I’m not going to do an intensive deep dive analysis of everything going on; the entire world is watching our country as it implodes. If you are here, you are already aware.

The right combination of COVID, the economic fallout of a quarantine, the lack of leadership and uncertainty, sprinkled with deliberate injustice – a filmed, “snuff” video that saw a police officer in Minneapolis arresting a man using brute force, kneeling on his neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds – lit the fuse.

Enough is enough.

The Bad:

I previously spoke about COVID and its’ effect on survivors. The anxiety that it may cut closer to home, left me on edge; I was desperately praying it wouldn’t.

Iowa was one of the handful of states that resisted a full shut down.  I saw many of my former schoolhouse peers expressing concern with Gov. Reynolds COVID management or lack thereof.  

I come from a working-class background – most of my tribe would be considered “essential employees,” and either stood on the front lines or were furloughed. They don’t have the luxury of working from home.

Black people, working class and poor folk are on the battleground in the service industry and manufacturing. Stocking your shelves, checking your pulse, delivering your food items or Amazon orders. Building your tires, processing your meats, serving your food, providing you with live entertainment.

With increased exposure, I knew it was inevitable; the insidious respiratory disease found its’ way into my family. COVID has the propensity to trigger any underlying health issues – and unfortunately, it did.

As such, the past couple of weeks have been incredibly gut-wrenching, stressful, confusing and terrifying. I am 1,700 miles away in Seattle; it’s not so easy to hop on a plane given our current climate and my own health concerns.

I received the news mid-May. It is now June and my parents are in a stabilized place and doing well but I think about the subsequent effects:  what happens after they are cleared? What are the rates of re-infection?  Is my family “safe” now? Are we going to send them back into the petri dish? They are 56 and 62, respectively.

We are far from the wealth that could, at least partly, protect us and neither of them can afford to retire early. They have to work. I am frightened and rightly so. Without adequate, dependable leadership at the top, where do we go from here?

Americans are hopeless, depressed, no jobs, no money and my family, in particular is vulnerable: African American, over 50 with latent health concerns, which lead me to…

The Ugly: The World Is On Fire.

The murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis set off a storm of protests across the country, spiraling worldwide. This was not an isolated event – Black people have experienced the injustices and brutality of the police for years on end. Modern policing in this country’s southern states, manifested as a “slave patrol,” catching runaways to return to their “owners.”

We have always had a contentious relationship with law enforcement, however, this incident felt different.

What happened to George Floyd came on the heels of the death of Ahmaud Arbery, the young man shot while jogging and Breonna Taylor who was unlawfully shot in her home, as she slept.

There are countless others.

In the midst of a global pandemic, we rise, putting our lives at risk to express our fury.

Minneapolis, a city I lived in for 5 years, came through with a ‘one-two punch’ and I was proud to see it.

I heard complaints – people pushing back about the looting and rioting, concerned for buildings and things over bodies, “why can’t you do this peacefully?”

We have. It didn’t work. You are not hearing us.  Sometimes you have to do extreme shit to be seen.

A viral interview with author Kimberly Jones, breaks down the economic disparities that lead to the civil unrest. Looting and stealing are threaded throughout the fabric of America – did we conveniently forget how we got here?

The stress of being Black in a country that was not built for us to thrive.

The stress of having to fear for your life if someone erroneously calls the cops.

Job opportunities lost because of the hiring manager’s implicit bias.

Career advancement halted and given to someone with comparable or less experience.

Our ideas and bodies stolen and put on white faces because it’s more “palatable to the masses.”

Children not allowed to be children and instead viewed as adults.

High maternal mortality rates.

Food deserts. Red Lining. The list goes on. All of this is systemic racism and contributes to hypertension, heart disease and other ailments hastening an early and often death.

This is not something Black people can fix – we did not create the system.

What’s Coming:

Solidarity from the other side – I see the wave of protests filled with hundreds of White people and others. Corporations announcing their support of the Black community; I’m unsure of its’ authenticity – I sincerely hope and pray it is and that this isn’t something “trendy” people are hopping on because it’s good for their brand. Or worse: to placate.

My life is not trend. My safety is not a trend. My value is not a trend.

Yes, some of us are skeptical – we’ve had our hears broken time after time by this countries lies and quite honestly, bullshit. We’ve been in a physically, mentally, emotionally and financially abusive relationship with the United States since the moment we got here.

I’ll leave you with a quote from Amanda Seales – a cultural commentator, actor and comedian:

“We didn’t ask for solidarity, we didn’t ask for a Juneteeth holiday, we ask for legislation, we ask for you guys [white people] to make spaces in your financial realm to for actual growth. Animals evolve by learning what works and what doesn’t for their survival. In the world and its history of civilization…it has proven that it is best for Black folks’ survival to not simply just trust white words. We have seen so many times those words twisted and manipulated for the elevation of whiteness.”

Don’t just talk about it. BE about it.

Instead of mood music I’m linking a 1960 interview between James Baldwin & Nathan Cohen.

Resources For Donation:

• The Loveland Foundation for Black women and girls.

• Louisville Community Bail Fund helping to bail out arrested protesters.

Research local initiatives in your community to help defund the police.

Books To Read That Have Been Circulating [FYI - I’ve personally read them all]:

• “White Fragility” Robin DiAngelo

• “So You Want To Talk About Race”  Ijeoma Oluo

• “The New Jim Crow” Michelle Alexander

And lastly, this is a big election year – please, get out and vote.

#beyondthestroke: Bridget, The Photographer.

 

Tucson, Arizona

The COVID quarantine has given me space to evaluate the ways in which I connect with other survivors. I was prompted to start a new series called #beyondthestroke; interviews featuring young women and men who have persevered through a brain injury, moving to forward to create interesting careers and fulfilling lives for themselves.

We are more than our strokes.

I met Bridget, a Photographer out of Tucson, via Instagram some odd months ago – we bonded over our shared experience as young survivors of cerebral hemorrhages. She has a playful personality; followers open a window into her universe: Bridget the Mother. Bridget the Survivor. Bridget the Photographer.  Her enthusiasm for the latter is mirrored in her collage work - exploring different shapes, colors and textures - sometimes using her kids as inspiration.

Under the Tucson Sun.

At the center of Bridget’s business is Boudoir – a sensual style of photography that aim to celebrate the beauty of women’s bodies. The word “Boudoir” is French meaning ‘a lady’s private dressing room.’

Such a sexy style of photography, juxtaposed against nurturing displays of motherhood, unwrap the competing layers that women often deal with – she addresses this in a recent Instagram post, “I am going to start posting my Boudoir work here. I should have done this long ago, but I was like ‘oh I can’t, someone will get offended.’ I am choosing to let go of the fear and choosing my happiness instead.”

I was curious to learn about her shift into photography and how the bleed opened a pathway to recognizing a new passion. Like myself, Bridget had an AVM rupture in her mid-twenties, “I was two miles into one of my favorite hiking trails with my daughter when it happened.”

The rupture occurred in her cerebellum, the part of the brain controlling balance and motor activities. She talks about the beginning of her photography journey shortly after her hemorrhage, using it to retain precious moments with her children.

“About a month after my stroke, my husband and I took my daughter out trick-or-treating - I woke up the next morning and realized that I couldn’t remember what she dressed up as, what candy she got, or which houses we went to. It made me sad to know my brain was now broken and I might miss out on those memories with my kids. I started taking pictures of everything, almost like a ‘backup hard drive’ for my broken brain.”

One of the more difficult parts of recovery is having to relearn basic proficiencies. Depending on the severity of the bleed - walking, talking, reading and life skills can be struggle.  Bridget taught herself how to navigate around a Canon T6i using resources like YouTube, but adding the task of mastering photography on top of stroke recovery, present more challenges.

“Learning how to use my camera was tough. Processing new information so early in my recovery was next to impossible. I would get frustrated with myself very easily; I view the world in a different way than most. Photography is about finding beauty and art in situations or moments that you wouldn’t normally see. My stroke rewired my brain to view the world in that way. Now, it’s just all about snapping that photo so the rest of the world can view it as that too!”

Finding the beauty in the madness as a form of self-expression, require a high level of creativity and confidence; Bridget constantly bucks the tradition with her photography.

“I thought it had “rules” in the beginning. I thought my photos needed to look a certain way. I convinced myself that my work had to resemble what my favorite photographers were doing. I had to teach myself how to trust my vision as an artist, and once I came out of my shell and did that… the magic started happening.”

Her brush with death reframed her outlook, “I’ve put blinders up to most negativity. I don’t focus on it – it doesn’t tear me down and get inside my mind. All I know now is to keep creating and making art that I love.”

I asked her about the creative process behind her photos and how she prepares both herself and clients for a shoot:

“Most clients have never had a Boudoir session and are extremely nervous. When it comes to my Boudoir work, I try and go over every single step of the session with them: how they will be posed, what I am looking at or what light I want to be able to catch in their hair. My clients are also my muse. I really soak in their vibes the second they walk in. When I am bombarded with all of the magical ideas in my mind, it’s tough to think of the right words to say or describe what I am thinking. Most of my clients find me through IG and are aware of my brain injury. They are aware of my unusual tendencies and the way I create. I am thankful for that.”

She shared a few stores with me about specific client sessions that stood out, highlighting the impact of working with women survivors of all kind.

“A woman came in for a session three weeks prior to getting a double mastectomy. I am all about loving your body at every single stage of your life and the fact that she trusted me to document that for her, was everything. Another was a stroke survivor: it was beyond rewarding for me.  After a stroke you become a “new version” of yourself. I didn’t like “the new me” for a very long time. I would take photos of other women who were beautiful, but I didn’t think of myself that way. Once I got behind my own lens and saw myself how the “photographer” in me would see me, it was a game changer. Being able to provide another stroke survivor with that view, was indescribable.”

Bridget’s story reminds me of something I read long ago: one of the ways to build confidence is by authentically giving to others.  Feelings of accomplishment from offering direct, positive impact – in her case, letting clients view themselves in the way she does – by extension, increase self-esteem.

Her advice to those coming out of post-stroke recovery: “Be patient with yourself. Be kind to yourself. Love yourself.”

Bridget is currently taking a break from her regular studio work due to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. “I’ve been getting creative and doing different styles of shoots to feed my soul for myself. I like the direction it is taking me, and I can’t wait to see what comes out of it!”

Fast5 Facts:

Define Success: Happiness
Coffee or Tea: Green Tea Latte
Who/What Is Your Motivation: My Children
What Balances You: Hiking
Favorite Color: Pink

You can catch up with Bridget on IG @bridgetclarice

Mood Music: Bright Eyes – Bowl of Oranges