Tag: mental health

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, February 18, 2026.

Our big snowstorm is over! We’re melting out of it. Sunshine rules although washed gray clouds coil and twine on windbound courses of the snowy mountains. More snow is expected tomorrow morning, and rain is forecast for tomorrow afternoon.

How many inches we got yesterday depends on what part of town you’re in. One section saw twelve. We saw seven at our house, sunshine reduced it to three fast.

It’s 35 F now. Three hours ago, it was 26. The high is expected to be 41.

Ah, time. Enormous time was spent texting sisters about Mom’s situation. We’re frustrated and sad and often feel helpless. I think the people at the hospital and the social workers understand this and are doing their best. I think Mom is, too. As someone commented, there’s a lot of relationship history built into this moment. Mom and Frank were firm on their choices; they were not moving into assisted living.

‘Water under the bridge’ is the easy way to dismiss it all, but that water runs deeper than it first appears.

Things will be resolved with Mom but it won’t be a resolution that any of us want to own. It won’t satisfy anyone involved. At least for now, the short term. Perhaps, in a year, it’ll be different. What am I saying? It will be different. The greater question is, how will it be different?

I spent a lot of time this morning reading about the EPA’s Endangerment Finding EPA decision. While it’s an agency decision, deeper implications arise about short-term and long-term effects and the government’s role and responsibility to mitigate them. Beyond that, we have established history of how the Clean Air Act helped us become healthier. When we’re healthier, we’re happier and more productive. Yet — here we are, mired in controversy.

My views about what’s going on politically are also tainted with his use of the military. I don’t approve of that.

And my views are tarnished because history says what tariffs will and won’t do, and the majority of economic experts agree. Yet, Trump and his administration is doing the opposite.

It’s the same pattern with COVID-19, and now the same with vaccinations and the measles outbreaks. I ask myself, what will it take, and end up, nodding, yes, FAFO. That’s just how some minds work.

I’m disappointed, too, that MAGA supporters lambast President Biden for what they perceived as his mental and physical limitations, and yet treat Trump as though he’s a gift from God. And yes, I understand the role of social media and information bubbles, and news spin. But understanding those doesn’t alleviate my disappointment, conversely enhancing my frustration and disappointment.

I feel like I’m on the sidelines in many ways, watching, commenting, but removed, and maybe too insulated and isolated. It’s no surprise that The Neurons brought John Lennon with “Watching the Wheels” into my morning mental music stream.

May peace and grace get through to you and carry you on through the fray to better times.

Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Monday, February 17, 2026.

Our first snowfall of the season has arrived. 32 F, about 3 inches have accumulated in my area. Heavier accumulations are expected in the mountains, but much more is needed. We depend on the snowbanks for our summer water.

It’s a pretty scene out there. At this temperature and elevation, heavy, fat flakes fall without stop. We’re expected to warm up to 41 today and the snow is forecast to become rain. Temperatures tonight are projected to drop into the upper twenties, and more snow is possible.

Speaking for himself, Papi offered a disdainful sniff and found a place inside to groom.

I had my best night sleep in days last, and my mind moves through concerns. My cold is winding down, as expected for day 6. Only one nostril is blocked, no sinus pressure is felt, and the violent sneezes that left my abdomen sore have subsided.

My wife asked yesterday, “Which is worse, cold pain or your oral surgery pain?”

Oh, easy, the cold by far. I feel next to nothing from the oral surgery. The surgical team did a good job. I still have stitches, but they’ll fall out on their own.

My wife’s cold seemed to be gone by Sunday. I had it worse than her but for both it was an upper respiratory infection.

Mom’s situation has occupied me more than my health and weather. After her suicide attempt on Saturday, we had a mandatory stay put on her for evaluation. A psychiatrist reversed that yesterday and the hospital said she could be discharged.

It seemed like the hospital was falling short in several areas. Mom was supposed to be evaluated for 72 hours for mental health and physical issues. They also said they had to wait to see if her urine tested negative for infections, which was supposed to be four days. Their rushed timeline alarmed us.

Besides Mom’s health, we have questions over where she will live and how she’ll get care. Yesterday involved phone calls and texts, trying to sort information and get answers. Today we have more methodical movement.

Essentially, because no family members would pick Mom up, the hospital was forced to house her again. It’s a painful way to say it but that’s the truth.

Physical and occupational therapists evaluated her today. They recommend assisted living or a skilled nursing home for Mom. The social worker seemed remote and disengaged yesterday. Today, she provided recommendations and contacts for finding housing and assistance for Mom.

Venting a little, I foresaw this years ago and tried getting Mom into a better place but she, bolstered by Frank’s presence, didn’t want to address it. Now it’s a crisis. It could have gone so much better, but yes, I know, it’s an emotional issue for most of us. I worry that I’ll be like Mom if I have to make such decisions in my future.

I’m hopeful that with the focus on Mom, we’ll finally get her somewhere that can provide her with satisfactory arrangement. An agency has been contacted to work out the arrangements to see what Mom wants and needs, and review the financial part. It’s progress.

Dad’s wife reached out to me yesterday via text. He was writing Christmas cards when he suddenly became ill and died. The cards were never sent.

His wife told me that he loved doing the cards each year, which surprised me, and that his card to me and my wife was in the mail. I think it sweet of him and her extra effort moves me.

In other focus areas, I’m concerned with the different military buildups happening around the world. More war machines are being shifted to the Arctic area. Additional U.S. troops are in Africa in advisory and training capacities. History shows that such involvement can easily rise into armed conflicts.

It’s a great concern with Trump. When Americans — two military members and a translator — were killed by ISIS, Trump ordered attacks in December. Operation Hawkeye Strike against 70 ISIS targets in Syria was conducted in early days but the military campaign is still active.

Just as worrying, a second U.S. carrier group is being sent to that region. It seems like the world is moving from trying diplomatic channels to manage disagreements to using military force.

Finally, to complete the circle of concerns, got my auto insurance bill yesterday. Premiums jumped $50, adding to our general affordability worries.

Jumping onto the idea of circles, The Neurons ordered some Billy Preston. “Will It Go Round in Circles” from 1973 is playing in the morning mental music stream. I also enjoy the song’s musical intricacies, and the lyrics make me grin. Here’s my favorite part.

Lyrics

I’ve got a dance
I ain’t got no steps, no
I’m gonna let the music move me around
I’ve got a dance
I ain’t got no steps
I’m gonna let the music move me around

Yes, just let the music move me around.

Now I got my coffee. I had a cup yesterday, first since my surgery, but today, I’m drinking it hot out of the pot.

Hope your day finds a groove that takes you to a place where peace and grace join you and makes your life a little better.

Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon – Monday, February 16, 2026. 41 F under a blend of blue skies and clouds. 54% percent chance of snow, with a a high of 48 and a low of 30. Showers are possible.

The Mom saga resumed. Despite Mom’s talk of suicide Saturday and her wild accusations, she’s being discharged today.

She has nowhere to go. Mom called sis to get a ride. Sis is adamant that Mom is not returning to her house. No one else can take her in. I’m amazed that the medical authorities so quickly decided that Mom is physically and mentally capable. I have a long list of reasons why I don’t think she is. I guess their requirements are different.

New update: My other sister called the hospital to confirm they were letting Mom out. The hospital ‘had their wires crossed’ and did not know about Mom’s suicide. A 302 process had been started but the hospital missed that part. The hearing was scheduled and has not been held.

I made a number of calls and spoke with people involved, and then passed that info back to my sisters, who were the 302 petitioners. They must talk to the hospital and stop them from discharging Mom.

It’s frustrating, trying to cut through the fog of information and bureaucracy, a situation compounded by distance.

Here’s a little Jimi Hendrix with “Manic Depression” to lift your spirits. Hope you all find some peace and grace today and that it keeps answering the call for you.

Oh yes, and happy President’s Day.

Cheers

3

Friday’s Theme Music

Colder but dry, Friday the 13th stole into Ashland. Sunlight and warmth are now missing, shrouded by thin clouds.

It’s February 13, 2026, 48 F in Ashland, but that ‘feels like’ index probably shows a colder picture. Today’s high will be in the low 50s, still better than many areas.

Pivoting from weather to Mom, it pains me to report that Mom, 90 years old, texted me that sis is slapping her, shouting at her, being mean, etc. Mom also accuses her son-in-law of sneaking in at night to hide her remote control, lock the brakes on her wheelchair, and other cruel things.

None of it is true. Sis has sent me several recordings of her interactions with Mom. Mom insists her stories about the SIL of doing things to her is ‘absolutely true’, adding, “Why would I make it up?”

But Mom is staying up all night, sleeping all day, exhibiting classic sundowner syndrome, including confusion about what’s going on and the date. She texts other sisters in the middle of the night, asking them where they’re at, asking them to bring her things to eat and drink, when she has both available.

Sis is again angry and frustrated with Mom and wants Mom gone, based on what Mom is saying about sis’s husband. The managed decline in their relationship and Mom’s situation continues.

All that about Mom has The Neurons playing “Slip Slidin’ Away” by Paul Simon in the morning mental music stream. Lyrics like these make it feel like the song fits the day.

Lyrics

I know a woman
Became a wife
These are the very words she uses
To describe her life
She said a good day
Ain’t got no rain
She said a bad day’s when I lie in bed
And think of things that might have been

I feel Mom is doing a lot of looking back, wondering what happened and pondering what’s going on.

I hope you all have a strong day of health and safety. Cheers

3

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Wednesday, February 11, 2026, and it feels like spring is launching in Ashland. Let’s call it a false spring. 51 F with unchallenged blue skies and sunshine, 60 F is the expected high. Papi would be so happy, except a balmy breeze, which chases him back inside to nap his misery away.

I have dental surgery tomorrow, disrupting the normal flow, and spent time this morning responding to texts about Mom’s mental issues. Connecting dots, my thoughts turned toward an overheard conversation from yesterday.

Sitting in the coffee shop, typing and thinking, two women of about my age shared a table to my right. Music and conversations were cooking but now the room was empty. The two women’s conversation floated to me through the sudden quiet.

One chatted for a while about health concerns regarding her mother, daughter, and herself. The tone changed a little as the other one talked about her concerns over Trump’s policies, ICE, and the general news tone, which she referenced as ‘disturbing’.

The first woman agreed with her and they both addressed concerns about being tired and depressed. Then they touched hands and smiled, telling each other how much it meant to meet and have moments like this.

I studiously tried to stay out of their circle. But one glanced at me and smiled as they rose to leave. Smiling back, I said, “I hope you have a beautiful day.” Thanking me, she wished the same for me.

Their conversation resonated because it feels like an echo of my life, and other people I know. We’re all sailors trying to navigate change. Some of it is about aging, maturing, dying, not necessarily depressing but certainly generally somber matters. Norms for me and them are shifting, and so are expectations. Our emotions become compressed under the loads we carry.

With all that rolling through me, along with dreams, The Neurons’ morning mental music stream offering is Harry Styles singing, “As It Was”.

Chorus

In this world, it’s just us
You know it’s not the same as it was
In this world, it’s just us
You know it’s not the same as it was
As it was, as it was
You know it’s not the same

That about sums up my reflections this morning: it’s not the same.

Hope peace and grace find and carry you forward into a better future.

Cheers

1

A Work Dream

Despite not working for anyone since 2016, I had another work-related dream last night. This wasn’t from my last employment with IBM but was with one of the medical startups from earlier, shortly after retiring from the U.S. Air Force.

We were in a large, clean, bright room. The company’s engineering section, thirteen people, including their director, were at tables shoved together across the room. I, the lone marketing person, sat on the room’s other side, alone.

Wanting to be involved, I moved over there and asked for permission to sit in on their meeting. They were developing the product I would market, after all, and I was part of the team that collected input on the product’s design. The director and others said, “Sure,” so I sat at the edge, so I wouldn’t be intrusive.

Note that all of these people were known co-workers from real life from two different medical device startups.

Not feeling included, I left after a short period, returning to my space. But I had nothing to do; no assignments, no emails, no phone calls.

With no warning, children suddenly swarmed our workspace. I don’t know why they were there. Crossing back to the engineers, I discovered that they were gone, then spotted them leaving the building.

I followed them out. They were going up a dirt path into the mountains, past large boulders and pine trees. One said, “Look, there’s a huge bald eagle up there.” He pointed.

I nodded; I’d heard about the bird earlier and had seen it. I didn’t know what the engineers were doing. Seemed like it could’ve been some team-building exercise, so I left again.

Heading back down to our office, I realized that my boss was in Paris for a trade show. I’d not heard anything from her, which was unusual. Then I realized that she hadn’t included me in any of the show prep.

Deciding that I didn’t really have a job, I thought that I should probably look for new employment and began compiling a resignation letter in my mind as I walked.

Dream end.

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Fridaz Theme Music

Frida finds our Ashland home peaceful. Alexa says it’s 55 F outside, but my systems put it at 38. Other locations report it’s 48. The invisible fog has lifted, leaving sunbeams a clear path to spread warmth and light through the blue sky.

Today is January 16, 2026. 60 is our projected high, kicking off a week of days in the low to mid 60s. We’ll see if that holds, given weather’s changing ways.

Whatever the temperature, Papi is in good spirits. Patio sunshine glows off his white and orange as he grooms after breakfast.

After a night of a long series of dreams, I’m in a very good mood. One had me with Jerry Seinfeld and George Constanza going to a small, intimate open-air comedy festival. I was with Jerry, who was driving, while George followed in his own car. Although an interesting time, I lost my sunglasses. I kept thinking I’d lost them in the water but consoled myself, it’s only a dream.

I also feel very good with where my health is — today. I’ve kept my lost weight off and still run and exercise. My feet, legs, and ankles stay almost pain-free, with twinges sometimes remarking on what I’m doing. Aided by supplements, my abdominal discomfort and bloating have diminished. I remain careful about what I eat and always give myself time to digest before thinking about eating something else.

While I continue to percolate with dream details, feeling healthy and peaceful, I’ve avoided looking at the news. Trump has a habit of making a good day bad, and a bad day — worse. I’ll eventually scan headlines, hoping that ICE violence isn’t climbing, the U.S. hasn’t attacked another nation, or measles aren’t spreading.

Looking at Trump statements over the last several years, remarks made by him counter history or demonstrate a weak grasp the government. I calculated that Trump has been alive for about 32% of the United States’ age as a nation. You’d think he would’ve picked up that information by now. He is college educated.

Now, for no particular reason at all, The Neurons are playing “The Passenger” in the morning mental music stream. Iggy Pop wrote, performed, and released it in 1977. As it plays, I think, here we go, off on another daily journey.

Hope your journey today is happy and carefree, graced with peace and hope. Cheers

4

Satyrdaz Theme Music

We’ve come to a new 2026 Satryda. Falling on January 10, nothing in my introduction to it portends to anything significant — yet; the day is early.

46 F outside, with clouds and stagnant air planning to shuffle us into the low to mid 50s. Despite storm warnings about snow, none materialized in our town. The surrounding mountains received a chunk. As that’s where the snowbank resides, it’s reassuring that some moisture has been stocked up for the summer. More is still needed.

I’m thinking about patterns today — life, daily, political, weather. A dream inspired the initial thought flow. Then my usual consultation of temperatures, my weather cat — Papi — and the view outside intersected.

Weather shapes our lives, as does technology, relationships, and modern politics. Each day is a snapshot of the present, but we can see the past and future in it. Interpretations of those depends on which details we notice and how we apply knowledge to what we see.

More, some let themselves try to see less to force it into a preconceived framework. They work to strengthen their framework by challenging less.

Conversely, I think knowing less weakens our framework. I always fear that I’m limiting myself, that I’m chasing facts to support assumptions. I know I have biases which emerge to curtail my views.

I can see that happen in the entire spectrum of myself, whether the thoughts are about writing, fiction, sports, weather, politics, or personal relationships. All these things have their own spectrums. I move along them, and they move along me. The resulting dynamics are always complex.

I want to have a fidelity to truth, facts, honesty, and history. But it seems like we’re living in a period in which those elements are under consistent attack.

At the same time, I remind myself that I’ve never lived in another period. I can easily visualize hundreds or thousands of years ago when people struggled to understand and learn the truth and apply it to their lives, just as I’m doing now.

The more things change, the more they remain the same. That’s the essence of all of these thoughts about patterns.

Getting involved with my thoughts, The Neurons planted “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac in the mental morning music stream. The Neurons weren’t focused on the dream aspect, though; they came through with the song’s first lines.

“Well there you go again, you say you want your freedom. Well, who am I to keep you down? It’s only right that you should play the way you feel it.”

Because, you know, beyond all those facts and truths, we’re always dealing too with emotions.

Hope this Satyrda finds you safe and comfortable in your patterns, ready to move forward in positive ways. Cheers

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Satyrdaz Wandering Thoughts

Eating oatmeal remains a little messy and problematic. It almost slipped off the spoon and down my chin.

Wait, I should set it up right: I’m talking about reverse days. That clarifies it, doesn’t it?

Maybe if I go further back, this will begin making sense.

I’m right-handed. Years ago, I decided that I would be right-handed on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I’d be left-handed on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Sunday was dealer’s choice.

I began easy and worked my way into more difficult efforts. Along the way, I grew deeper appreciation for what left-handers must suffer in order to cope with our right-hand biases. My house feels specifically set up for a right-hand user. I never thought about that when I bought it; I accepted it as ‘normal’. I realized that many things can be changed to accommodate a left-hander, matters like how the faucets are oriented, and the way the dryer and refrigerator doors open.

After my practice with reverse days, I can only imagine how difficult daily life must be for natural left-handers. Learning to drive must require a Herculean effort.

Beyond those, I’ve become fascinated with how my right and left hands have negotiated into who does what. Holding and eating a banana, for example. I found that I hold my banana in my left hand so I can peel it in my right. Yet, I continue to hold it in my left hand while I eat it.

The most daunting task for reverse days: definitely shaving. I can shave my face okay with my left hand. But my left hand hasn’t earned my trust for trimming my mustache and beard. An electric razor is used for that task. Using it to shape things requires careful movement and concentration. I like it just so, you know. Although I’ve picked up my razor with my left and braced myself to do it and yet…wincing, returned it to my right. Yes, I am a chicken.

I’m sure I’ll someday summon the courage to permit the left hand to give the electric razor a go. Until then, the left hand won’t know what the right hand is doing.

Then it’ll learn just how hard it is being right.

4

Twozdaz Theme Music

A tight light gray sheet is pulled down over Ashland. Woven of clouds, rain, and fog, it reduces sunlight to graylight. As light rain sings, the temperature hangs at 38 F with a high of 38 F looming. This is Twozda, December 23, 2025.

Thinking of Mom, life, and politics led me into paths of cogitation about how we shape others’ impressions of us. Sometimes our impressions of others actually undermine our ability to see who they are and what they mean. History with them, and disappointments with them, seem to frequently color our greater impressions and reactions. Emotions overtake thinking. Anger sets in and calcifies. Then we limit engagements, refuse to talk to them. Why should we? They’ve proven who they are to us.

Yet, we know that one of the greatest constants of existence is change. Many of us try and succeed to change ourselves for the better. Sometimes we awaken from whatever cocoon held us and realize, “Oh, shit. What did I do?” Then we hunt avenues to fix whatever mess we created.

Not all, I guess. I’ve known some terminally ignorant people who refused to ever admit they were ever wrong, let alone try to fix things. But others saw them for that toxicity and drifted from them until they stood alone, stewing in their rage about how they knew they’re right and everyone else is wrong. I think Trump is deeply into that circle. The thing is, his wealth and power keep extending his life. He’s surrounded himself with enablers. To admit that he’s wrong is to admit they’re wrong. And they’re shying off from that.

Like Trump, like Mom, like me and others I know, underlying our behavior are health challenges. I’m dealing with mine and seem to be rapidly improving. But I know others who are skating downhill, picking up speed, piling up the problems. It’s harder to see those things in others, whether their causes are emotional, neurological, matters with digestion, depression, or the simpler and more insidious problem…getting old. Even when you know ‘what’s wrong with them’ in clear and lucid terms, it’s hard to grasp the many ways that what’s wrong with them interferes with their being, causes them suffering, and makes them seem to lash out. Some people magnify what they’re going through, hungry for attention. Others hide it as deeply as possible, shunning attention and sympathy, disgusted that they might be *gasp* pitied. We’re complicated beings in a complicated world.

I have Fall Out Boy in the morning mental music stream. “Save Rock and Roll” featuring Elton John is the breakfast soundtrack. It hinges on the pins of my reflections and a lyric that goes, “You are what you love, not who loves you.” Not sure how it fits into my morning morass of mingling musings.

Rock and roll never forgets even if peace and grace seem to. Got my coffee. Here we go, into the gray future once again. Cheers

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