Tag: mental health

Friday’s Theme Music — Ignored

Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, August 21, 2026.

It’s a cool 75 F under cloudy skies right now. Looks like it could rain but rain is not in our forecast. Today’s high is expected to be 90, ten degrees lower than what we saw yesterday.

Mom is really down right now. She feels trapped and ignored, and that’s very understandable.

Mom texted me that her PCP told her she looks tired and old. Mom’s claim; don’t know if that’s what the doctor said. Mom also texted me, “I don’t want to see another birthday,” “Why won’t God let me die,” and “I don’t want a memorial service when I die. I don’t want anything.”

Mom, to me, always depended upon the structure of routines and schedules. Now her aging, medical issues, and medications has fractured her norms. She used to use cleaning as an outlet to stay on track, along with writing copious notes on her calendar about what was going on: children’s schedules and visits, appointments, bills due and paid, house and car maintenance. Those mechanisms are gone, too. She’s being told one to sleep, eat, and socialize, and she doesn’t like it. Additionally, she and her daughters who live closest to her have a huge emotional schism relating to their lives together and Mom’s choices.

Mom reacts to the gap with anger; the sisters react to Mom’s anger with more distance.

It’s like a self-fulfilling doom loop.

The closing for the sale of Mom’s house is next Tuesday at 5 PM. I texted Mom to ensure she was aware.

She didn’t respond.

Without real surprise, I see that Trump is encouraging the construction of AI and data centers. Backlash against AI/data centers is growing across the United States, creating an ideological trap for Donald Trump.

Part of this is that these types of sites take up land, water, and electricity, but nothing tangible that can be held in your hand emerges from it.

The other part of the trap is that the corporations often demand huge tax breaks and subsidies for the privilege of building there, and the locals are not usually consulted. That pisses them off, because nobody is listening to them. That was exactly the angry and emotional fodder Trump used as fuel to win their votes; he was speaking for them, ‘telling them like it is’.

Now, as others have done, Trump is ignoring them.

And it’s happening on the cusp of the midterm elections.

Those of us who understand who Trump is aren’t surprised. He used MAGA to achieve political power. Then he used that political power to enrich himself. Now he’s using it to further enrich the ultra-wealthy. There are no surprises there, if you’ve been paying attention.

Trump is breeding discontented supporters. They won’t vote for Democrats — “Never Democrats” is probably one of their most repeated mantras — but they won’t come out and vote for Trump, either.

All this thinking has The Neurons playing “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M in my morning mental music stream. When people feel ignored, they hurt. Released in 1993, the song was written about and for teenagers and what they endure. I think it’s sensibilities are more universal than that.

Sample Lyrics

When your day is long
And the night, the night is yours alone
When you’re sure you’ve had enough
Of this life, well hang on

Don’t let yourself go
‘Cause everybody cries
Everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong
Now it’s time to sing along

When your day is night alone (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (hold on)
If you think you’ve had too much
Of this life, well hang on

‘Cause everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts

May you prosper today, enjoying peace, joy, and happiness. Hopefully, you won’t feel ignored or alone.

Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music — Get You

Ashland, southern Oregon. Sunday, August 2, 2026.

Our weather is cool, 62 F right now. It’ll rise to the mid 80s, basically as it did yesterday. The air is clear with an AQI that says ‘it’s good’. Clouds muddle around the sky as if they’re waiting for a door to open somewhere.

I’m suspicious of it all.

Things are going well — here. Relatively. Everything is relative. We live on spectrums of changing needs, abilities, awareness, knowledge. It all seems more acute for me as I grow older.

I don’t feel particularly old now but then I look in the mirror. Like, who stole my hair? Will they be returning it?

My face just looks different. Not like my parents or grandparents. Now I’m wondering if someone stole into the house and replaced my face.

Then, why would they have taken my average white, upper middle age (ahem) face?

Answer is, of course: they’re going to use my face to commit a crime somewhere.

So now I wait to see what crime my face shows up as part of.

Watching Mom, friends, and Trump, I don’t look forward to getting much older. Mom, 91, is cranky on most days. Filled with pain, she tells me. I see a video of her in a chair, trying to exercise. She’s listing to her right as she jerks her right arm up. She doesn’t look happy or healthy, but she’s trying.

Trump worries me even more. His language, never a strong suit, has become much worse. There are reports of him crapping his pants or delivering some nasty farts. Where there’s this much smoke, I got to wonder about the truth behind it. If he’s crapping himself or emitting enough noxious foulness that others are gagging and turning away, those aren’t signs of good heatlh.

In photos, Trump’s face has that old person, mean, angry look going. He’s glaring at the world like he’s trying to hear what they’re saying and can’t.

Worse, though, are those late night texts — from Mom and Trump.

Mom reached out at 2 AM to ask me if we’re safe from the fires. She pinged me again a few minutes later to ask, “Why don’t you answer?”

I don’t see these texts until I get up a few hours later. Then reply, sorry, missed your texts, was asleep, we’re fine. And I thank her for her concerns.

My sister later reports that Mom texted her in the middle of the night, asking what did Gina do with all the clothes Mom left behind in her house.

I worry, why is Mom up in the middle of the night texting?

Trump worries me in the same way. He spends a lot of nocturnal hours texting. Then he’s shown ready to fall asleep in his chair at meetings during the day.

Trump’s texts are worse than Mom’s texts. Mom shows a belated handle on what’s going on and often shows concern for others.

Trump texted an AI generated vision of himself as Elvis Presley. What an absolutely strange thing to do, I think as I see this. Who in their right mind pretends to be someone else like that?

Let’s pause to think about it: Trump is posting an image of himself as a popular pop culture star. One who died in 1977, almost fifty years ago. What is going on in that troubled head that he entertains these thoughts?

I then think of Trump’s MAGAts. They say that he speaks for them.

Are they out there generating AI images of themselves as others? Are some of them projecting themselves as young Johnny Cash or dead young athletes and actors?

As an aside to that, I admit that I admire the new Iran War Participation Award someone created for Trump. It has the right mix of bitter humor and deadly insights.

I received other texts and messages from people worrying about us and the fires. As the fires grow in the Pacific Northwest and more are evacuated, the news shifts toward the top of the news cycles.

We’re fine, I reply to all, knock on wood. No, it’s been a remarkably ‘cooler’ summer, with us rarely challenging 100 F. Wildfire threats have been far away. The smoke has only been mild and hasn’t lasted too long — knock on wood. Hope to hell I’m not jinxing us by mentioning it.

No, our thing remains the drought. Winter supplies are down to the low 40s. We’re conserving. Vegetation is browning, which would be nice if these were pie crusts baking in the oven instead of grassy fields and mountain meadows.

Between nature’s growing extreme trends and aging, there’s a sense that something is going to get you. Trump, acting crazy, arming ICE and mobilizing them in cities, fostering more war, using violence as a mallet to try to fix things, only makes that feel worse. Especially as his main concerns are promoting himself as a young Elvis Presley, affixing his name to buildings, and destroying our heritage and cultural norms.

No surprise then, with The Neurons’ music choice for the morning mental music stream. “One Way or Another” is a 1979 Blondie song. Deborah Harry was being stalked but wrote the song with some humor injected into it.

Sample Lyrics:

One way or another, I’m gonna find ya
I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya
One way or another, I’m gonna win ya
I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya

One way or another, I’m gonna see ya
I’m gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya
One day, maybe next week, I’m gonna meet ya
I’m gonna meet ya, I’ll meet ya

Catchy. Easy to sing along with, good hard beat with a fast tempo made it a popular and memorable song. Makes perfect sense for today, with the threats being raised by nature and Trump.

Hope your day is threatfree, and that you enjoy carefree moments of pleasure and happiness with people you’re fond of, in places which you enjoy.

Cheers

3

Saturday’s Theme Music — The End

Ashland, southern Oregon.

Saturday, August 1, 2026. Happy Lammas Day!

It’s 71 F in our valley at the moment. Light, high white clouds. We expect a high in the upper 80s.

A new heat dome is moving into the region. But the jet stream shifted a few years ago. Now we’re often protected from those heat domes. It can change again at any moment, so I’ll take it for now and celebrate the small win.

It’s a new month but much hasn’t changed.

Eight-five fires are burning in Oregon.

They still haven’t closed on Mom’s house. She is aware that it’s being sold, though, asking me for updates every day.

Trump is still lying. Still squirming, trying to distract us from his failures.

The Epstein files haven’t been released. Trump’s war with Iran is still going on. Affordability remains a crisis. Healthcare costs are going up.

Like many people, I’m waiting for other things. Like the old story: waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So, it’s a new month, but the same mode of waiting.

Without much surprise, The Neurons caught onto my thinking. My Neurons can be slow and flaky, easily distracted by games and cats, but like a car, they can get fired up and pointed in the right direction once in a while.

Today’s song in the morning mental music stream is “Waiting for the End”. This is a Linkin Park song. Came out in 2010. I caught it on SNL and went looking for it to hear it again.

Sample Lyrics:

Waiting for the end to come
Wishing I had strength to stand
This is not what I had planned
It’s out of my control

Yeah, yeah
What was left when that fire was gone?
I thought it felt right, but that right was wrong
All caught up in the eye of the storm
And trying to figure out what it’s like moving on
And I don’t even know what kind of things I’ve said
My mouth kept moving, and my mind went dead
So, I’m picking up the pieces now, where to begin?
The hardest part of ending is starting again

The song is about hope, paralysis, and frustration, IMO. Feels right for today. Here we are, waiting for the end, trying to figure out how we define the end.

I hope you have a strong day, whatever one it is, whatever your season, a day that comes with lasting peace and grace.

Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music – Round and Round

Ashland, Oregon — Saturday March 21, 2026.

56 F, spring is holding on against a late winter effort. Today’s sky favors heavy cloud blanketing and pots of sunshine. Blue has been shouldered out of the scene. Our high will tap the low sixties and tomorrow is supposedly going down into the 30s at night.

Round and round is going round my head. I began writing about the news. It became so Trumpcentric, I split it off.

I’m also going round and round with health matters. It’s bizarre to me because I feel pretty damn good. Could lose a few more pounds, and if you’re giving out miracles, put some hair back on my head.

They found a mass in my bladder yesterday. Not big, something like 2cm. We’ll check it out next week, see what it is, deal with it. The CT scan said liver, intestines, spleen, pancreas, appendix all look good. No loose fluid. Kidneys are intact and the right one has come calculi. The summary says all those things look just like they did in the 2021 scans, when kidney stones advanced out of my left kidney. Oh, what a night.

Everything with Mom is going round and round. The tale is familiar and old. Mom seems happy, enjoying others’ company, goes silent with all. All seems well. Then WHAMO. We’re bowled over by unexpected news and then wait for updates. Mom is being very cagey. We’re letting the assisted living home and county adult social services run the show.

So round we go, weather, health, Mom, Trump. The Neurons have blessed me with “You Spin Me Round” by Dead or Alive in the morning mental music stream. The song’s sentiment is about seeing and wanting someone. The disco beat just has me hooked on the idea that things keep me going round like a record.

Amusing: do the children know what it means to go round like a record?

Probably as much as I knew about ‘going spooning’ or a bicycle built for two.

Going round with a cup of coffee now. Hope your day goes well and peace and grace came around.

Cheers

4

Friday’s Theme Music — Nobody Knows

Ashland, Oregon — Friday, March 20, 2026.

Spring has officially sprung north of the equator. It’s 56 F in Ashland with high, thin white clouds coalescing in our blue sky. 72 will the high.

Just returned from a CT scan with iodine contrast. Had blood and clots in my urine last week. Urinalysis earlier this week showed cloudy urine with high levels of blood, along with particulates associated with kidney stones. Not a surprising. I passed a kidney stone on my left side in 2021. One was found in my right side, but at 15mm, it was too large to pass. That one seems to be getting cranky, agitating the kidney around it.

Texts are arrived talking about Mom moving and contacting an attorney. Details are sketchy. My app seems to have missed several texts. A new phone is being ordered. This one is now almost ten years old.

The Trump partial government continues to cause travel congestion due to long TSA lines.

Gas and oil prices continue to rise due to Trump’s war on Iran as Trump moves more troops into the middle east. Trump’s war is also producing an increase in mortgage rates, which have reached their highest level in 2026. 2025 home sales were already the weakest in three decades.

Trump’s tariffs continue to drive up food and housing prices. Have you seen the recent price of coffee?

The national debt is going up fast, thanks to Trump’s fraud and waste.

And more rural hospitals are closing, especially in Trump strongholds in the Midwest and South, accelerating a rural hospital crisis.

— Just in from Mom’s assisted living place, Mom has put in a notice to vacate by April 17th and contacted a lawyer about elder abuse.

With these topics and uncertainty inhabiting my thinking, The Neurons are assisting by playing “What Happens Now” by Duran Duran.

Hope your change of seasons bring the best to you. Whether you’re going into spring or fall, may peace and grace find you.

Cheers

2

Navigating Some Changes: A Dream

It started weird.

In my mid-twenties, I’d been somewhere, had a few drinks, went home. At home was an old girlfriend, visiting someone else, staying the night. Morning broke with sunshine through windows. I realized she was leaving and wanted to get up to say good-bye.

I could not move.

Paralyzed isn’t quite the word. I had no control. My limbs were flopping, weak, uncoordinated.

How did this happen? I kept asking myself. I didn’t much the night before, struggling to remember what I’d eaten, concluding, not much. I suspected someone had spiked my drink.

Thinking over the previous night, my memory pulled up a hypothetical scene where a man dropped something into my dream. I couldn’t guess his motivation and speculated he thought my drink belonged to someone else.

Then, damn – I’m late for work.

In the military again, I scrambled to find a clean uniform and shit, shower, shave.

Rushing out of the house, I headed for a train station and realized, I’m in Germany and I don’t know where I’m going. Nor did I speak the language.

There were long lines and a byzantine system of turns and steps. Putting together clues from what I saw others do, but screwing up, I sometimes got scolded – in German. I studied landmarks for more evidence about where I was, where I was going, then made it to work.

I was just a little late. Eventually I explained to the commander that I thought someone else had spiked my drink. He eagerly agreed, recapping my symptoms and then explaining the same thing happened to him the night before. That greatly relieved me, knowing someone else had gone this. I sensed that he felt the same.

I need to go somewhere else, they told me. Out in the system again, I tried putting pieces together to get to the right place and ended up going too far. Figuring that out, I backtracked until I found the right station. I realized we were sometimes going through people’s personal lands. They were very particular about what was permitted but sometimes changed it. For example, one old, white hair man opened up a door as a shortcut, apparently on a whim. An elderly gray-haired female chastised us when we considered using part of her walk as a shortcut.

Then it was time to go home. I had to figure out where to go, what to do, but fewer people were available. I had to figure it out on my own.

Dream end.

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Monday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Monday, February 23, 2026. Today’s sky is mottled gray streaked and splashed with blue. All the snow is gone from view. It’s 50 F. Rain is expected, along with a high of 56.

No text messages greeted me this morning. I thought, well, we’re into a consolidating/adjusting phase. Or the text message systems aren’t working, or they’re no longer using the group chat.

Turned out that options 1 and 3 are right. The sisters are doing things more one-on-one back east. Mom has gone silent, troubling our youngest sister, who has the tightest relationship with Mom, because she lived longest with her. As another pointed out, that sister was the only one who was living with Mom when they celebrated their 18th birthday. The rest of us left before then.

Moving on from family matters, I’m watching and reading stories about the east coast blizzard. Already a big storm, I hope everyone stays safe and warm.

There are other thoughts but this needs to be short because it’s our Food & Friends delivery day. Meanwhile, The Neurons have Laura Branigan singing “Self Control” in my morning mental music stream. Branigan’s 1984 hit is a cover of a song that was an international hit, something I always need to remind myself. I like the song’s mellow beat and its overall imagery about night, impulses, and not losing it. I think Les Neurons plugged it in in association with a dream, as the song started in my head after I began remembering the dream.

Lyrics

I, I live among the creatures of the night
I haven’t got the will to try and fight
Against a new tomorrow, so I guess I’ll just believe it
That tomorrow never comes
A safe night (You take my self, you take my self control)
I’m living in the forest of a dream (You take my self, you take my self control)
I know the night is not as it would seem (You take my self, you take my self control)
I must believe in something, so I’ll make myself believe it (You take my self, you take my self control)
This night will never go

Well, let’s hope peace and grace find a way to show up and make themselves felt more strongly and persistently in our daily lives. Have and do the best you can.

Cheers

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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

2

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

0

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

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