Keep Calm And Write On

I first drafted this post well over two years ago, and for some reason, I never hit  "publish".  Maybe because this post just seemed to be too real, too honest. It felt raw at the time, with cognitive flooding fresh on my mind (as it were). I knew what was causing my 'overload', but it was still hard not to feel abnormal, unusual, dramatic.                      I'm beyond fortunate that I only deal with flooding now on very rare occasions when I'm overly tired, and not every-time I'm in Walmart. Partly because of how I've structured my life, even pre-Covid, but in large part due to the tremendous healing my brain has experienced in the past few years. I'm beyond blessed. This is no longer my day to day reality.                      But please read anyway, because it's still a reality for many others with brain injuries, and they need you to understand, as well as you can. This is a picture of a devastating flood in British Coloumbia. W

This post has been on my mind for quite a while, but every-time I try to write it, something stops me. Because I desperately want to be understood, and I know that what I have to say may be somewhat controversial. Well, here goes anyway. I hate the term "Self-Care". I just do. I don't even know why, because I'm not against the concept, in fact I'm in great favor of taking care of one's self, which seems to be the hallmark of so-called "Self-Care", but I think the reason i dislike the phrase is that it seems to elevate relaxation to something that must be planned, just like the rest of our lives. If you google self-care, you'll find multiple internet gurus that tell you that self-care must be purposeful.  Personally, maybe because I'm chronically ill, most of my 'self-care' is spontaneous. I decide what I need in that moment and give myself permission to tweak my day to give myself what I need. Maybe I'm tuckered out at 7