I Keep Meaning Too...

How many times do you say that to yourself in one form or another?  "I keep meaning to.."  or "I mean to do...".  Sometimes it's because life gets in the way.  Sometimes it's because you keep making excuses or finding ways to avoid that which you know you should do.  I know it happens to me often.  I have a list of shit I want to explore and complete, which I often don't.  Generally for the reasons listed above. 

There are times when life circumstances will come into play.  Like issues with my TBI.  One of the side effects is that I have an EXTREMELY difficult time with disorganization and uncleanliness in my environment.  It's not quite obsessive compulsive level, but it can be so distracting at times that I put off other tasks because until something is done about said situation, my brain won't allow me to focus.  

This is not our actual fridge.  Though it looked close that day

It happened yesterday in fact.  What started with planning to do dishes turned into cleaning and organizing the cabinets, deep cleaning the fridge, and then yes, also washing the dishes.  A 30 minute chore (I'm extremely slow at doing dishes obviously) turned into four hours.  It was certainly satisfying when completed but I also ended up putting off planned tasks because I'd gotten distracted.  

And while TBI could be partially to blame for yesterday, it's not for today, when I'm again putting off  chores in order to sit and write this.  

However, today comes with a caveat; this post is a step toward fixing a "I keep meaning too" situation I've found myself in.  

Together with other projects, I've been meaning to write more.  To explore and discuss TBI and fitness, and training, and all the things in between that make up large parts of my life.  To work on editing the novel I wrote a few years ago and to begin the new one that's been on my mind.  To set to work on researching, creating, and implementing business plans for future endeavors.  To sit down and focus on my studies as I strive to learn and pass along the latest techniques in training and nutrition.  To grow myself, my business, and my family into what my brain envisions.

It has to begin somewhere and today it begins by simply making a choice that writing this a priority.  And what's truly ironic is that thus far, I'm only 10 minutes in.  All the excuses I come up with NOT to pursue passions and yet, often when I sit down and just do it, I realize I'm potentially passing on years of living that envisioned life because I can't be bothered to sit down for 30 minutes and do what I tell others I enjoy.  

How fucking crazy is that?

There will always be reasons to keep a full, "I keep meaning too" box.  Tasks that will keep you busy enough to justify not pursuing your goals will always present themselves when we want them too.  But there are better reasons to work on keeping that box minimal.  Your dreams and aspirations.  The dreams and aspirations of your friends and family.  The desire to find out who and what you really are.  The ending of wondering "what if".  

Tasks will always be apart but what's in your "I keep meaning too" box often has an expiration date.

Don't let your own reluctance, excuses, and fears keep you from completing them.  

    

Morning Anger: Seeking the Route Cause

This morning a situation presented in our house that caused anger.  And like a virus, my anger quickly distributed itself among the rest of the family.  Thankfully my wife is just as big a hard headed pain in the ass as I can can be, which played a large part in it's eventual resolution, but between the time my anger spiked and that resolution I was able to arrive at a place where investigating the true source of my emotions became possible.  And that's important, because like many physical injuries, it's often not what's presented that's the actual cause, but simply a symptom of an underlying issue.

I'm not going to get into what the situation was today because it's not pertinent, but my subsequent reaction is because it's a situation that happens to all of us.  How often has a situation or scenario caused a surprise emotional response and you're left dumbfounded as to why that, of all things, caused such a reaction?  I'm willing to bet more than you even remember.  In the after, did you investigate the why?  And if you found the why, did you address it?  Did you communicate it with the person or persons who upset you?  Did you stand in the mirror and search for you own role in the situation?

Because nothing is easy about it.  From confronting your own feelings to communicating them to others, the whole things sucks.  And it needs to.  It needs to be uncomfortable.  Because the comfort we seek is often the reason that we feel so shitty.  The avoidance of conflict, even with those we love, seems more comfortable than the 5 minutes of discomfort we'll feel having a difficult conversation.  But what we don't know, forget, or choose to ignore, is the comfort that's on the backside of this discomfort.  As a coach/personal trainer, I see this play out all the time from a physical standpoint.  People don't want to come to the gym but they force themselves to and by the time they're done, they're happy they showed up.  It's the same thing when confronting our emotional well being.  We must show up, even when we don't want to, and put in the work.

Quite frankly, I've been a bit of a mess lately.  I've been pushing extremely hard to get many tasks accomplished before the snow arrives plus continuing with my half-marathon training.  Throw in the upcoming holidays, life events, and day to day tasks and my TBI affected brain is screaming for relief.  And while I've been working to give it sleep, hydration, and better nutrition, I've been ignoring many of its requests for respite.  And that's largely what led into today.  My brain has been giving me signs that I need to communicate my needs better but instead of listening I've simply ignored and continue to pushed foreword.

To my own detriment and to the detriment of solidly being able to communicate with my loved ones.

But while my injury may get some of the credit, it doesn't get all of it.  Because I'm not the only person who does this.  And similar situations would arise before my accident so clearly this is something I've needed to work on for sometime.  As I get older, more experienced, and gain more understanding and insight I hope my ability to confront such things before they get to a point like they did this morning will improve, but that won't happen unless I demand it of myself.  Unless I get more comfortable being uncomfortable.  Unless I continue to work on taking my own advice and the advice of those around me.

Because that's how this this works.  In order to find the causes of our anger and other discontentment, we must both seek the toughest truths and then confront them.  And we must remember that we're generally not alone unless we choose to be.  For me, that's difficult.  I do a lot of things alone.  From working to learning to attempting to diagnose difficult issues within my life, I've spent years approaching such situations myself.  Sure I'll take some input here and there but I've spent more time seeking to solve problems than was necessary if I'm being honest, because asking for assistance was something I didn't even wish to entertain.

There is more information than ever before available on the internet when we choose to seek it instead of looking as ass pics on Instagram and video game feeds on Twitch.  There are people like me writing about life situations and there are those with much higher education publishing information at unimaginable rates that can help us be better.  Be physically more healthy.  Be better in our careers and with our families. To be better emotionally and spiritually.  But reading and watching such things often isn't as fun or comfortable as watching the ball game or scrolling our feeds, so we don't.  And that's unfortunate.

Because we can find the causes.  And we can be better.

For our communities.  For our families.



And for ourselves. 

There's Always Shit To Do

It's amazing how fast time moves the older you get.  As I signed in to Blogger today I realized I hadn't created a shareable post since February and I hadn't even sat down to begin one since May.  I've been feeling the itch to write and be creative in other ways and seeing those two dates helped me realize it's because I've been storing and pushing down the many ideas. When you're a creative person, not having those mental releases will actually begin to turn into stress.  Stress is not something I need a whole lot more of currently so today I'm making writing at least 1 full post a priority.  And that's hard for me admittedly.  Because I have shit to do.  Important shit as a matter of fact.  Shit like getting ready for winter by completing the wrap on the woodshed and splitting and stacking the remaining wood I have to fill it.  Like house projects that are partially completed and new ones I'd like to begin.  Like studying and learning, and organizing.

But what I'm finally learning after 36 years is that there's always shit to do.  There's always something that should take priority.  And sometimes, those things really should take priority.  But other times, tasks like writing this today, must take precedence because it's important as well.  Important not just to me as a creative, but important to me as an aspiring business owner who desires to grow organic reach through the creation of quality and informative content.  You see, priority doesn't necessarily mean done for tomorrow, it can be tasks that matter for next week, next month, next year. 

So today's priority is writing.  And after that it'll be organizing some thoughts.  And perhaps even some more writing.  But for this day I'm not placing time constraints on myself.  Because frankly I can't.  It's been a rough week in the Barnes household because my TBI symptoms have been flaring and I've continued pushing, much to Shawna's chagrin.  But I also don't want to sit and do nothing because as mentioned, I have tasks to accomplish.  Many of them in-fact.  Some, like the woodshed and firewood, preferably before snow flies.  But it also doesn't do me any good to continually antagonize my brain to the point it forces me to shut down completely.

Another tidbit I've learned and am working to truly understand, is the principle that there's never truly a good time for many of the wants instead of the needs.  And this extends to everything from hitting a workout to having children.  However, that begs that question of how we properly classify a want vs a need.  In the example about, is going to the gym a want or need?  That may depend.  While I'd contend everyone, including those with otherwise physical jobs, should workout a couple days per week, another may classify that differently.  If you're a construction worker or a member of the park service crew who hikes into remote locations to fix trails, going to the gym may classify as a want.  If a person works in a cubicle 50 hours per week and spends another 5 traveling back and forth, I'd argue workouts are a physical need.  The same today goes for my writing.  I could classify doing this as a want.  However, as mentioned above, content creation is important not just for my mental health, but for future business endeavors as well.  That, in my book, classifies as a need.

Once you've established whether something is a want or need, it's time to understand where it lies on your hierarchy.  For me currently, firewood and it's surrounding tasks are near the top.  But today, and perhaps only for today, writing is at the top.  Because the stronger I am mentally the safer and more efficient I'll be with those tasks.  Would I always have taken this approach?  No.  Frankly, I've often had a fucked up take on what I thought were needs but again, as I've gotten older I've learned a few things.

And with those words, I'm done with this task.  And it feels great to be sitting here, having written for the first time in months, a screen full of words that began as unorganized thoughts.  And all because I made doing so a priority, even though I had other shit to do.






 

Thank you Simple Things

If you've followed this blog for any length of time, you may notice that the name has recently changed.  While 'The Simple Things' worked in the beginning, as I've moved into a different stage of life, it was time for a change here as well.  So, why 'Country Strength Maine' you ask?  Because it's the name I've chosen for the business I'm currently in the process of developing.  While eventually I'll develop it into a brick and mortar

Country Strength Maine

location; a gym and training center to be precise, for now it's simply social media pages and this blog.  And the one thing those all have in common is they allow me to present ideas, information, opinions, and down the road video's, interviews, and graphic's.  What it came down too is eventually for both efficiency and my own sanity everything was going to need to fall under one heading.  Doing it now is taking the needed and inevitable step and I know it's right because doing so exhibited a physical deep breath of relaxation.

So what else is going to change with the new CSME blog?  Not much that I can foresee other than my plan to use it while developing a clearer picture of how I want the future to play out..  The premise will remain the same in that I'll write about a variety of topics such as training, leadership, education, concussion/TBI, being a husband and caregiver to someone with a neurological disorder, parenthood, relationships, and how working with and around life develops us into the people we become and the changes that take place within us throughout the journey.

The truth is, I really do enjoy writing.  I often find myself writing social media posts meant to be a few lines or at most a paragraph that turn into damn near blog post length.  The problem becomes time, specifically time management if I'm being honest, though it's a problem I feel like I'm continuously getting better at.  Managing my time is so much more important now than it's ever been.  Between the TBI and it's effects, family, dogs, house, my career, and my desire to develop my own business, I'm somewhere between not having and not making the time to sit and put fingers to keyboard.  I haven't worked on either editing a novel that's first draft completed nor really begun my next book, which I feel excited to write at times but go blank with upon finally sitting down to work on.  (Steven Pressfield calls this resistance and I admit it defeats me often).  By treating everything as multiple platforms under the same umbrella rather than multiple platforms with no connection, it's my hope that it'll make post writing more efficient because it'll allow me to be more focused and reduce the amount of new topic generation I'm required to do.  Of course, it's unlikely to be as simple as change the name and voila, things are amazing but given some time and practice I can foresee this being a great long term change.

Spring is the Season for Growth

I guess that's it for now.  Just a quick update but it feels good to be writing again.  So good I think upon completion of this I'll begin the next post, which will be a bit more topic specific.

It's spring here in Maine.  The birds are chirping, the mud is beginning to dry up, and soon things will begin to bloom; Maine will be alive again after its winter slumber.  It only seems appropriate that in a season of such change, Country Strength Maine begins to grow from the seeds planted by The Simple Things.

Crash

The afternoon I hit the publish key on my previous discussion regarding TBI and mental health, all the issues I'd been dealing with during the spring and summer came to a head.  Though there is certainly no good time for it to have happened, the fact that it did so on a day when I was openly discussing the suicidal ideation's that can come with brain injuries couldn't have made the timing worse.  That evening was the catalyst for many changes that have taken place since and while I can sit here today thankful....ish, that the situation transpired as it did, at the time the varying emotions and levels of each was overwhelming, frustrating, and scary as hell. 

On August 17th 2018, the very day I posted discussing the effects TBI can have on mental health titled, The Dark Side of TBI, life for myself and my family took an extreme turn.  On that day I woke at my normal time but rather make my way to the farm, I completed the post, hit publish, and then prepared for work.  At the time I'd be working mostly mornings due to our acknowledgement my mental clarity was best during the beginning of the day but that evening I'd switched in an effort to accomplish a task (washing stalls to be exact) best completed when horses are not being moved and boarders are not present.  Luckily, I'd gone in early enough that a trainer was still working with her own horse and our stable hand hadn't quite finished up her evening shift yet.  Otherwise....well.  This would be an entirely different story and likely not told by me.

Before I continue, I feel as though I need to step back a bit further in order to provide clarity.  Over the course of the winter and spring my health, specifically regarding my TBI, had continued to degrade. I'd been having increased difficulty remembering and processing information, my speech was seemingly getting worse by the week, I was constantly fatigued, and I was consistently agitated to put it nicely.  Physically and mentally I was a wreck.  Whether it was simply the stress from the job and life, the need to work a range of hours in varying weather, or a combination of it all, it was clear I was having issues and the methods of treatment I was using weren't working.  By the time August rolled around, my days consisted of work, (minimum) daily requirements at home, and then rest as much as possible.  None of the projects on our homestead were getting accomplished, I wasn't working toward my long term career goals, and working out had become limited to one day per week, if that.  All the things I'd been doing, including running, were set aside in favor of rest so I could get myself to work the next day.  My interactions with anyone outside my home were near non-existent and the relationships within were suffering tremendously.  I wasn't living.  Hell, I'm not sure if I was really even existing.  I functioned enough to get though the day and that was it.  My wife knew how bad I was struggling.  My OT knew.  My family knew.  And while I'm sure they, like myself, didn't understand the degree, I'm assuming people that saw me at work everyday had some indications as well.

But even though I knew things were getting worse, looking back I don't think I understood the severity of the situation and even if I had, between the need for food on the table and the don't quit/don't fail/don't let down everyone fear I held, do myself any favors simply wasn't in the cards. 

I was in survival mode, just trying to get through the next day, the next week, with the hopes that somewhere along the line I'd find an answer and would once again begin to feel like myself.  And eventually that would come.  But first, I'd have to crash.

And that brings us back to the evening of August 17th.  Upon arrival I was already not feeling great.  My brain felt sluggish and I was already tired given I was accustomed to it being the end of my day. Regardless, I had a job to get done and feeling off was simply something to be worked around by that point.  Additionally, it was a standard task.  Something I'd already done more than a few times so I had no concerns that'd I'd do it well and go home.

Not the exact stall but a good representation if you added a door

I did all my basic checks and with the barn basically empty of riders and the horses in their required locations for the evening, I set to work gathering the tools I'd need; pressure washer, hose, brooms, shovel, large tarp and moved them to the task location.  (For those that don't know, stalls and wash stalls are periodically pressure washed and sanitized to help maintain the health of the horses.  Just like cleaning ones home, living in filth can lead to illness whether human or equine.  In order to do so, the large rubber mats are pulled out, each weighing in the neighborhood of 100 pounds, so that the floor underneath can be cleaned as well.)  After hooking everything up, (this is where things went south in a hurry), because there were still a couple people handling horses and I didn't want the sound of the pressure washer to startle them, I made the decision to pull the gas powered pressure washer into the stall with me...and close the door.

Let me state that one more time:  I, the maintenance man, a person who's lived in Maine my entire life and been hearing and watching warnings related to carbon monoxide poising due to small engines running inside homes (happens at least a couple times of year in the winter due to generators) since I can remember, pulled the gas powered generator into the approximately 12 foot by 12 foot un-ventilated room...and Shut. The. Fucking. Door.

I made it for quite awhile before I began to feel the physical consequences of such a careless decision.  I washed all the rubber mats first without issue, shut the washer down, opened the door, and pulled them out; feeling nothing at that time.  I then went back in, closed the door.... again, and began spraying down the concrete floor and walls.  I have no idea how long I was in there before the effects became noticeable.  At first I thought it was heat related and tried to push through because I was fairly close to being done.  Frankly, given it was August and the washer was hooked to hot water, I thought what I was feeling was heat related.  However, from the time I began to feel ill to the time I needed to sit down because I wasn't sure how much longer I could stand, was mere minutes.  Shutting the washer off I opened the door, and stepped out into the cooler and cleaner air and sat down, working to clear my head and catch my breath.  It still hadn't dawned on me what I'd done.  I thought the heat and humidity of the room had flared my TBI symptoms.  It wasn't until my co-worker, who was thankfully still there even though it was a few minutes past the end of her shift, saw me sitting, came to check on me, and upon smelling the fumes, recognized and informed me of what I'd done.

Immediately, I knew she was right and immediately, I knew that I'd fucked up severely and was in potential danger.  When asked, I agreed to have the ambulance called and while waiting, her and the aforementioned trainer, who's also a vet tech (I believe that's her title anyways) stayed with me and checked on me best they could.  When the ambulance hadn't arrived after an extended period, the owners husband swung in to pick me up and dropped me off at the ER.  I was obviously feeling fairly shitty at that point and they got me on pure O2 in an effort to break up the carbon monoxide in my blood as quickly as possible.  I was in the hospital for a few hours with it and the attending physicians stated that I had likely had a CO2 blood level somewhere between 40-50%.

What does that mean?  At those levels the symptoms are headache, confusion, collapse, and fainting during exertion.  At the 60-70% loss of consciousness, possible convulsions, heart failure, and possible death occur.  At 80%, it's all she wrote.(https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK220007/table/ttt00024/?report=objectonly)
If things hadn't gone exactly right and I'd passed out in the stall or if my co-worker had left on time and after sitting for a few I'd decided to try and finish up (which is a reasonable course of action to consider frankly), I wouldn't be writing this.  I was lucky, very lucky.  My inability to make admissions to myself regarding my brain health almost cost me my life.

For obvious reasons, I was pretty shaken up in the days after.  The incident would lead to the eventual separation from the job because admittedly such actions shown me to be a liability given what the job entailed.  My confidence in my decision making was clearly shaken as was my emotional state.  I was broken physically, mentally, and emotionally.  I don't really remember the subsequent couple weeks other than shortly thereafter the life changing opportunity I'd been waiting for came to fruition and after being offered the opportunity to work as an intern as a coach at a gym, I was able to turn it into a job and pursue my passion.

And while some may not know my TBI story, I also do not hide it nor can I or should I hide from what happened last August.  We all make mistakes but on that day what I did was not me.  It was a clear indication that I could not continue to live that life and it was going to change whether I wanted it too or not.  Do I wish I'd been able to handle it differently?  Yes.  Did it have to go the way it did?  Unfortunately, probably.  But like with the rest of my concussion story, my hope is that eventually I'll be able to work it into a teachable moment so it wasn't all for nothing.  So that scaring the shit out of my wife, family, and self wasn't all for nothing..