This has been my unintentional theme for 2024. Lots of things to be optimistic about, but then…I don’t even know.

I really haven’t been feeling well since the seizure event that happened back in September. A couple other smaller ones have happened since then, and my doctor has scheduled a couple more tests. I feel optimistic about them because the style of test makes it more likely to capture what’s actually happening in my brain. At the same time, it scares me that I keep feeling worse. Some days, the symptoms remind me of how I felt during the first years after this started.

I want to go running and not worry about it.
I don’t want to have to keep starting over.

I am very, very fortunate and have an amazing support group, and this is exhausting. I’m tired of thinking about it, and I’m tired of feeling like I’m being lazy, when that’s often (but not always) not the case.
​
Blerg. Time to talk about something else. Being ignored by crows is more fun.
​

 Think about how strange it is to recall a dream. You have the ability to remember specific events and feeling, but they don’t quite connect. There are gaps in the logic. Now imagine you had access to someone who saw everything that happened in your dream and could fill in all the missing pieces.

That is what happened to me last week.

My younger brother and I were both climbing the walls a little, so this past Wednesday, I convinced him to go on a hike with me. It was a nice outing. We grabbed lunch beforehand and the hike itself was short and pleasant. Leaving the trail, the route home goes through downtown Hot Springs. While driving past all the tourist shops and bathhouses, I started feeling really weird and nauseated. I pulled over, and crouched behind the car. My brother turn on the hazard lights because we were in a no parking zone. I remember not wanting to get sick on my shoes or in my muffler.

After that, my recollections get really vague. For example, I remember cheerfully telling the stranger who offered me water, “No, thank you!” The stranger was my brother.

I also remember wanting my brother to look at the pattern in the pavement (there was a face in the white paint). He reports that I became fixated on all kinds of patterns, particularly the lights in the jewelry store and the dirt on my car window. I even wanted paper towels to clean it off. I don’t remember any of this.

I also don’t remember going into my trunk to get my sodium tablets out of my box of useful things. My brother says I first grabbed a travel bottle of contact lens solution and insisted it was sodium. He was smart enough to know that wasn’t correct and found the right bottle. I don’t remember getting into the passenger seat and fastening my own seat belt either. But I did.

My brother says the whole thing outside the car lasted maybe 10 minutes. I was cheerful and talking, but was clearly “circling Mars” until the drive home, when I fell asleep. I didn’t start regaining awareness until we arrived in Malvern. I slept for at least another hour once home. Since then, I have been extra tired and fuzzy, but otherwise fine. I’ve actually been a bit more productive.

So, what happened?

I think it was a TLE seizure, or a focal seizure that only affects the temporal lobe. Reading the description, and it sounds like what I experienced. My brother agrees that it fits what he saw on his end. My chattiness was a little strange, but not unheard of. There’s no way to officially confirm it without an EEG and/or having more, and nobody wants that. It most likely is because I’ve been having trouble with my medication. The kind I’m on has a side effect of lowering sodium. Late last spring, it was confirmed mine had become chronically low, so my dosage was reduced. Evidently, that solved one problem while creating another. I have some blood work scheduled for today. I’m 99.9% positive my medication will be changed.

Meanwhile, all is well. Honestly, the event itself is borderline hilarious. My brother was definitely concerned and handled it brilliantly, yes/and-ing me to safety. However, we both agree, all of the humor quickly disappears when thinking about what might’ve happened if he wasn’t there…

Moral of the Episode: Scary things become fun when my brother is around!

​

Tuesday, June 11
I set the dish out before 8am. Around 10:30, I came out to check, and the crows were in that area. Wanting to give them space, I went around the long way. As I came around the house, they started cawing and flying around. I grabbed the dish (it was empty), and they were active the whole time.

Minutes later, I went to my brother’s apartment, and they were still noisily flying all over. I came back out with his dog, and they quieted down some, but still visible. I noticed that the peanuts I’d left on the bench yesterday were uneaten, so I decided to set them out in the dish.

Meanwhile, Sunday I reached out to my friend, Susie. She has LOADS of experience with birds, including crows, and has mad skills when it comes to animal behaviors. Yesterday, she got back to me. She confirmed my idea of using the dish. With any wild animal, especially ones as devious as crows (her words), it’s best to keep association with humans at a minimum. She had several other helpful tips for engaging with the birds while keeping their shenanigans in check.

The crows ate the second set of peanuts, too. Since Susie advised that restricting the amount of treats will prevent the size of the group, currently a negligent homicide, to growing into a full-on murder, this will be the last time I give them a bonus treat.


Wednesday, June 12
Made breakfast BEFORE setting dish out, so that I could keep watch from the screened in porch while eating. I had the dish out earlier than previous days (730 instead of 830). They were cawing when set it down.

I saw now crows while watching. I eventually left because the sun became too much. 30-45 minutes later, I went to check. There were several narrow paths leading to and from the now empty dish. They began cawing when the bowl was retrieved and were generally active overall.


Thursday, June 13 
Had the dish out by 830, again after prepping breakfast. I saw and heard a few while talking to my mom, who was weeding in a bed maybe 20m from the dish. Although walking around in the vicinity, no crows were seen approaching the dish. It was still untouched after leaving for a few hours before removing it at 12:30. Mom reports seeing crows in that area when going back out to the garden, but left.

That evening, saw two chilling in the bird bath.


Friday, June 14
AM: No crows sighted, no peanuts taken.
Saw two in a different part of the yard that evening. Took dish out, scared them off.


Saturday, June 15
First visual confirmation of a crow taking the peanuts!!!

Woke to a text from my brother reporting that he heard crows at around 6:30am. I set dish out by 730, placing it within clear view of the living room window, so I could watch from inside the house. After 15-20 minutes, spotted one crow eating worms and things in the grass near the bowl. It showed curiosity about the dish, eventually hoping on the rim, taking a single peanut, and eating it! After the one, it went back to picking critters from the yard.

I was unable to keep watching, but when I went out an hour later, the dish was empty. The shell from the peanut I’d seen eaten was where the crow had left it.

During the retrieval, two crows started talking to each other as I got closer. The first to start cawing was in a tree in front of me. The one replying was behind me and to the right, in the largest oak tree in the front yard. They were 75-100m apart. They kept conversing the whole time, and I’m fairly sure I heard a third one in a third tree join in as well.


Sunday, June 16
All but one peanut was taken after ~2 hours. For the first time, all shells were next to dish. Was this from the one crow I saw eating the day before?


Monday, June 17
The first cloudy morning since beginning this experiment. I checked the dish after 60-90 minutes and no peanuts were taken. Heard a few caws at that time, so left it. All 6 peanuts were still there another hour later, when the dish was removed due to rain.

​

I read a few stories about people striking up a relationship with the crows near their home, and I rather like the idea. My parents’ have a large yard. Crows are present. I’m a nature nerd with a love of projects. Sounds like great idea to pursue!

I liked it mostly as a notion, a potential possibility, until I mentioned it to me not-so-wee nephew in the card I sent for his 9th birthday. He was all on board, and passed along the message that he will feed them when they come visit this summer. They are coming the only week I am out of town, and as someone who loves being an aunt but is currently unable to see any niblings, this timing is grating. No way am I going to pass up this chance to bond with a kid I adore.

When I originally thought to do this, I wanted to do it in a way that didn’t make the crows too territorial about the house. I’d heard they can become rather possessive, chasing away guests and the like. The obvious solution was to center the feeding near the pond. Not only is it a reasonable distance from the house, the crows might even chase off the Canada geese that regularly try to make themselves comfortable.

In order to keep other critters away, the best course of action appeared to be to start feeding them up near the house, where we see them most often. Over time, I could move slowly down the hill to the permanent snack-time location.

​I talked to my family, and they’re all on board. I got some raw, shelled peanuts and cayenne pepper to deter greedy mammals. Now to initiate contact!

​

June 1 – Despite being in the yard quite often, this was the first evening we’d seen any for a while. I decided that the next morning would the day to begin.


June 2 – Put 6 peanuts in a jar, gave them a quick spritz of water, a dash of cayenne, and gave them a shake. I placed them on the ground near the old play fort. No crows were in sight, but they often hang in that area. Checking later, nothing had touched them aside for a few ants.

I mentioned to my fabulous brother that maybe I should put the peanuts on aluminum foil since crows do like shiny things. He suggested I use his dog’s shiny chrome water bowl he’d just replaced. That seemed like an even better idea, especially with the plan to move where they get the treats. It also addressed some worries I had about my not-so-wee nephew taking over. If the crows learn to love the bowl, they’ll hopefully not terrorize the person bringing it outside.

I also realized that it would be better to let the crows see me bring out the peanuts, so they know that they are for them.


June 3-7 – No crows were seen, and the peanuts near the play fort remained virtually untouched.


June 8 – Two crows seen in the early afternoon! Not wanting to waste this opportunity, I put 6 peanuts in the dish, skipping the cayenne. I walked out towards them. They flew off once I got within 15m, and I set the dish down close to where they’d been saying, “These are few you!” and walked away. I didn’t see any crows or anything else approach the dish.

I left for a few hours. When I returned home, I noticed a crow near the corner of the house. As I came closer, I saw it see me before it flew off, cawing. I went to check the dish and all the peanuts we gone without a trace! I couldn’t be 100% sure they were taken by the crows, but I felt encouraged.


June 9 – Not sure if I should wait until they see me or if consistent snack time was better, I set 6 more peanuts – with cayenne this time – out at around the same point in the afternoon as the previous day. No crows were seen, and when I retrieved the dish in the evening, only one peanut was taken.

This led to two thoughts.

Thought 1: Since only one peanut was taken, IF it was a squirrel or other mammal who took the previous day’s peanuts, then the cayenne worked to deter them today.

Thought 2: Especially since I’m still trying to initiate contact, setting the dish out when I wake up may be a better option since the crows are more active in the morning and evening.


June 10 – Set dish of 6 cayenne-seasoned peanuts further out into the yard around 8am. It was completely empty before 10am. Yay! No idea what took them.

Around 11 am, saw three crows. Quickly grabbed 5 peanuts (I miscounted) and walked towards them. Like before, they flew away before I got close. I placed it near, but not quite in, the area they’d been hanging. I got my computer and set myself on the porch to watch while I worked.

After a few minutes, they returned. One looked curious and slowly approached the dish. However, one it got with a meter, a mockingbird dove at it. The crow retreated. The trio nibbled their way across the yard, further from the dish. Wanting to communicate that the peanuts are for them, I moved them closer. Again they flew away.

I watched them for a while, as they made their way across the yard, increasing their distance from my offering. Looking for advice on the internet, I found a Reddit post from someone who also lives in rural Arkansas. Like me, there are crows around, but no clear roosting place. The general consensus was, as you’re casually walking your dog and living your life, toss a few peanuts their direction. They’ll catch on.

So, in one last effort for the day, I retrieved the peanuts and took them over to them. They took flight almost as soon as I came into sight. I gently tossed the peanuts as I watched their retreating backs fly across the pond. A few hours later, the peanuts were still in grass. Since I really don’t want any other critters to claim the treats before the crows, I picked them up.


Conclusion: The crows recognize me and do not trust me.

Blerg.

​

 The metaphor of people having baggage is a familiar and useful way to describe a person’s emotional experiences, particularly in the dating world. Comments like, “she may be young, but she doesn’t have a lot of baggage,” or “be careful of single parents, they likely have tons of baggage,” are common. Lately, however, I’ve been wondering why the idea of having baggage is construed as negative.

I have baggage. There is no questioning it. I have areas where I need to let go, and wounds that remain sensitive. These things have a tendency to create anxiety and self-doubt, which in turn make it harder to build friendships and pursue goals.

At the same time, as a direct result of the things I’ve carried with me, I have grown in kindness, compassion, and overall confidence. I am much more equipped to face and interact with the world than I was even 5 years ago, let alone 10, 15, or 20. I wouldn’t change that.

Consider literal baggage, the kind intentionally packed for trips. A person who packs too much creates an inconvenience. They may have everything they think they need, and then some, but the hauling of luggage limits travel options and requires others to carry some of it. Perpetual concern is given to keeping track of everything. Quite possibly their worry over their own stuff will disrupt their ability to fully enjoy the new experience.

On the other hand, a person who carries very little has a lot of freedom to travel and explore. They are not held down by the burden of heavy bags. However, their resources are limited. A simple change in weather can leave them unprepared and needing others to provide what they lack. There is a naivety to this reliance.

In between these extremes is the experienced traveler. They definitely have baggage, but they know what they have and why they have it. On previous trips, they have taken too much. On other trips, they packed too like. However, over time they learned what they actually need. Do they get it right every time? Of course not. Do they ask for assistance or offer help as the situation requires? Of course yes. Experience does not equal perfection. Experience provides a balance between preparedness and flexibility.

​Back to the metaphor, I argue that instead of asking, “Do they have a lot baggage?” a better question is “What are they doing with the things they carry with them?”

Today I am neuro tired.

When I am regular tired, it feels like moving through a thick fog, or becoming weighed down by a thick blanket. Thoughts and movements become slower. Bed is a welcome comfort.

With neuro tired, it’s as though a strange static takes over from the inside. My thoughts become more disoriented and disconnected. I can start feeling anxious and a little panicked. Sleep is a mandate.

If regular tired is a draining battery, neuro tired is disrupted signals.

​
I often have a hint that neuro tired might be coming. Usually it is preceded by some sort of spell. A brief moment of *whoa* a day or so in advance. Or there is some big, emotional happening, and the neuro tired appears as things return to calm. Other times, it comes out of no where. I’m going a long, and slowly notice that I’m just not functioning right. I become more anxious and frustrated until, suddenly, the realization hits me.

This time, the cause is stress.

Getting things going at Cage Free Voices is a roller coaster. Lots of really encouraging enthusiasm with some really amazing people, but very few are willing to commit. Lots and lots of interest, very little follow through. It’s made me normal tired for several weeks. It makes sense that my nervous system would decide to join the party.

I think that’s enough for now. There is still plenty to do, and plenty of students to take care of. A nap would likely be a better way to spend my time that catching up on this.

I graduated high school believing I was a bad writer. My senior English teacher fostered preexisting self-doubts, criticizing my essays with no real feedback. This was amplified by the fact I had several friends who could write their papers quickly, receiving higher grades, while I struggled getting the arguments and explanations swirling around my head untangled and onto the page. My insecurity was such that I chose a major that exempt me from the distribution requirements of a standard Arts & Sciences degree. I did not think I could keep up with all the writing requirements and was convinced people would decide I didn’t belong at the university.

In reality, I wasn’t a bad writer. I was slow, but that is unrelated to being good or not. There are a number of prolific writers out there who use a lot of words to say very little. It is true, however, that I has some catching up to do. Aside from the truly phenomenal Mr. Desimone in 10th grade, all of my English teachers from 7th grade on either provided few opportunities to write, or didn’t give instruction when I did. I got into my head that I was a math and science person, and, as such, I needed to avoid writing.

I managed to so quite successfully until the second semester of my junior year in college. The writing process incredibly stressful, but, much to my surprise, the response was positive. Even, years later, when I went to grad school, my professors marked my papers favorably. I still held doubts, though. Part of me suspected they didn’t read anything too closely.

That’s why I find it ironic that, for the foreseeable future, a huge part of how I will be making my living is through writing. In January, I left my job at ROP and now work full time for Cage Free Voices as the Lead Content Developer and Project Coordinator. Lessons, emails, and proposals, I will be doing all kinds of writing. It’s great!

The doubts continue to linger. As recently as last night, I became frustrated, hearing “you’re no good at this,” refraining through my head. That voice was wrong, though. My colleagues were encouraging. More importantly, the intended audience for the write-up replied in a way better than we were hoping. He even referred to the details I’d been struggling most to include “rightly”.

I’ve written this as a reminder. I do wish I was faster, but it’ll okay. Speed isn’t my gift. I recently saw that Neil Gaiman wrote 50 words a day while working on Coraline. So, I guess one could say that, at my current pace, I’m in the company of giants.