Things I Learned the Hard Way (A Fact-Based Rant) BTW This is post 200!

January 25, 2026 JoLeave a comment

I used to think my body malfunctioning was a personal flaw.
Turns out it’s mostly biology reacting to stress and occasionally filing a formal complaint.

Here’s what’s actually happening — and what helps a little.

1. Stress Steals Memory Access

Fact: Cortisol suppresses the hippocampus, the brain region responsible for forming and retrieving memories.

Translation: The information is still there. Stress just locked the door.

What helps:

Write it down immediately (notes app, scrap paper, hand, whatever)
Say it out loud once — verbal encoding helps retrieval
Reduce decision load where possible (same routines, fewer choices)

2. Cold Weather Makes Pain Louder

Fact: Cold increases nerve sensitivity and muscle stiffness while reducing blood flow.

Translation: Winter doesn’t create new pain. It turns the volume knob up.

What helps:

Pre-warm before moving (heated blanket, warm shower, heating pad)
Layer before you feel cold — not after
Gentle movement > total stillness (even tiny stretches count)

3. Writing Things Down Works Even If You Never Read It Again

Fact: Writing engages motor, visual, and language centers, strengthening memory encoding.

Translation: Your brain remembers better when your hands are involved.

What helps:

Write while someone is talking to you (yes, even mid-sentence)
Use ugly notes — perfection kills follow-through
One notebook or app only (scattered systems cancel each other out)

4. Stress Interrupts Thoughts Mid-Sentence

Fact: High cognitive load disrupts working memory and verbal recall.

Translation: Your thought didn’t disappear. It got stuck in traffic.

What helps:

Pause instead of apologizing — the thought often comes back
Say “hold on” and take one breath (literally one)
Jot down keywords, not full sentences

5. Your Brain Uses Food as Fuel and a Clock

Fact: Irregular eating can destabilize blood sugar, affecting attention and recall.

Translation: Skipping meals doesn’t just make you hungry — it makes your brain unreliable.

What helps:

Eat something at the same time daily (even if it’s small)
Pair eating with a routine you already do
Low-effort calories count — fed is better than ideal

6. Fatigue and Forgetfulness Share a Nervous System

Fact: Chronic fatigue alters neurotransmitters and executive function.

Translation: “I’m tired” and “I can’t think” are often the same sentence.

What helps:

Stop pushing for clarity when exhausted — it won’t come
Plan important thinking for your best energy window
Rest without guilt; recovery is not optional maintenance

Closing Thought

None of this is a character flaw.
It’s a nervous system under prolonged stress doing its best with limited resources.

Coping doesn’t mean fixing it.
Sometimes it just means making today slightly less hostile.
Til next time guys, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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Why Cold Wrecks My Body (and What Actually Helps)

January 20, 2026 JoLeave a comment

Cold doesn’t just make things uncomfortable.
It changes how my body functions.

When temperatures drop, my muscles tighten automatically, my joints stiffen faster, my pain threshold lowers, and my nervous system shifts into protection mode. Even before I move, my body is already bracing — like it’s expecting something bad to happen.

What helps:
I warm my body before I ask anything of it. Heat isn’t a treat, it’s a prerequisite. Heating pads, hot showers, warm drinks — anything that tells my nervous system it’s safe enough to stand down.

Cold also makes my muscles stay clenched — especially my shoulders, neck, hips, and lower back. That constant tension creates soreness that doesn’t feel earned and doesn’t go away with rest alone.

What helps:
Targeted warmth and gentle movement. Not “bundling up,” but keeping the parts that guard the most actively warm. Slow stretching or light movement early prevents stiffness instead of fighting it later.

In winter, everything costs more energy. Getting dressed hurts more. Moving hurts more. Thinking hurts more. By noon, I’m exhausted and I haven’t even done anything impressive.

What helps:
I move earlier and smaller. A little motion before the stiffness sets in keeps my body from locking up. This isn’t exercise — it’s lubrication. Waiting until later usually means paying interest.

Cold doesn’t just affect my body — it stresses my nervous system. That means higher pain, lower tolerance, and less emotional bandwidth, even if nothing “bad” is happening.

What helps:
I treat cold days like high-stress days. Fewer plans. Fewer decisions. More quiet. Less pressure to perform. If my nervous system is already taxed, I don’t pile more on top of it.

Winter also messes with expectations. I want to function the same way I do in warmer months, and my body refuses. That gap between expectation and reality is where frustration lives.

What helps:
I lower the bar before I hit it. Winter isn’t the season for pushing limits — it’s the season for pacing. Needing more support when the environment is harsher isn’t regression. It’s adaptation.

Cold doesn’t mean I’m failing.
It means my body is responding to stress the way it was built to.

Winter raises the difficulty level — and I’m allowed to adjust how I play the game. Til next time guys, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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Why Stress Steals Memory

January 9, 2026January 10, 2026 JoLeave a comment

(Explained Like I’m Four Because Its My Current Mental Capacity)

Imagine your brain is a house.

Inside that house are different rooms. One room is for thinking — remembering things, planning, finishing sentences, and holding onto a thought long enough to actually say it out loud. Another room is for danger. That room has alarms, flashing lights, and a big red button labeled OH NO.

Most of the time, the thinking room is in charge.

Then stress shows up.

Stress doesn’t knock. It barges in yelling things like “PROBLEM,” “URGENT,” or “SOMETHING BAD IS HAPPENING.” Your brain doesn’t stop to check whether the threat is real or just an email, a memory, or the general vibes of winter. It just flips the switch.

The danger room takes over.

When that happens, your brain makes a very practical decision: remembering things is no longer the priority. Surviving is.

So it starts redirecting energy away from memory, focus, and word-finding. Not because those things aren’t important — but because they aren’t useful if you’re about to be eaten by a bear. (Your brain is old-fashioned like that.)

This is why, under stress, you might forget what you were saying mid-sentence, lose track of why you walked into a room, or feel like your thoughts evaporate the moment you reach for them. Your brain isn’t failing. It’s triaging.

There’s also a chemical reason this happens.

When you’re stressed, your body releases cortisol. Cortisol’s job is to help you respond to danger. It speeds things up, tightens muscles, sharpens attention toward threats, like bear attacks, and keeps you alert. But it also tells the memory-forming parts of your brain to quiet down.

In simple terms: cortisol says, “We don’t need to remember things right now. We need to stay alive.”

So memory takes a back seat.

This is especially noticeable when stress isn’t a one-time event, but something ongoing. Chronic stress — from pain, trauma, long-term anxiety, caregiving, or just living in a body that never fully relaxes — can keep your nervous system stuck in high-alert mode. Over time, your brain starts acting like danger is the default setting.

That’s why memory problems can show up even when you’re not actively upset. Conversations feel harder to track. Words go missing. Thoughts disappear halfway through forming. The system never fully stands down.

And this part matters: this isn’t laziness, lack of intelligence, or a personal failing.

It’s not that your brain forgot how to work. It’s that it learned how to protect you — and protection came first.

Memory didn’t disappear. It just got temporarily demoted.

That’s also why external supports help so much. Writing things down, setting reminders, repeating information out loud — these tools reduce the load on a system that’s already busy. Sometimes just writing something is enough for it to stick, even if you never look at it again. Your brain trusts that it doesn’t have to carry everything alone.

The takeaway is simple, even if the experience isn’t.

If your memory struggles when you’re stressed, it doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means your brain is doing exactly what it was designed to do — keeping you safe, even when the threat isn’t obvious.

And sometimes, safety comes at the cost of remembering where you put the thought you were just holding. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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Your Body Thinks You’re Being Chased by a Bear (Spoiler: You’re Not)

January 6, 2026 JoLeave a comment

So here’s a fun thing that’s been happening: my body has apparently decided that normal life is a constant threat and has responded by keeping me in a perpetual state of “OH GOD OH GOD WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE” even though I’m literally just sitting at my desk trying to answer emails.

Welcome to chronic sympathetic nervous system activation, or as I like to call it, “why I can’t relax even when I’ve been scheduling rest and also why am I clenching my jaw right now?”

If you’re reading this and thinking “wait, is that why my shoulders are permanently attached to my ears?” – yeah, probably. Let’s talk about it.

What Fresh Hell Is This?

Your nervous system has two settings: “EVERYTHING IS FINE” (parasympathetic) and “NOTHING IS FINE PREPARE FOR BATTLE” (sympathetic). The sympathetic system is supposed to kick in when you’re actually in danger – like if a bear shows up or you’re about to miss a deadline or someone says “we need to talk.”

It’s supposed to turn on, help you deal with the thing, then turn OFF.

Except sometimes it just… doesn’t turn off. It’s like that friend who came over for dinner three months ago and is still on your couch. Your nervous system has overstayed its welcome in fight-or-flight mode, and now you’re stuck with elevated heart rate, tense muscles, and the general vibe of someone who’s been drinking espresso for 72 hours straight even though you haven’t.

The Fancy Medical Terms (In Case You Want to Sound Smart)

Doctors and wellness people might call this:

Sympathetic dominance (sounds like a kink, isn’t)
Hyperarousal (also sounds like a kink, still isn’t)
Autonomic dysregulation (absolutely does not sound like a kink)
Chronic stress response (boring but accurate)
Low vagal tone (your vagus nerve has given up)
High allostatic load (fancy way of saying “you’re worn the hell out”)

Pick your favorite. I personally enjoy “sympathetic dominance” because it makes it sound like my nervous system is being bossy, which honestly tracks.

What This Nightmare Actually Looks Like

Physical symptoms (aka your body’s way of saying “I hate it here”):

Heart doing gymnastics for no reason
Muscles so tight you could bounce a quarter off them
Digestive system on strike (nausea, IBS, the works)
Sleep? Don’t know her
Exhausted but also weirdly wired (tired and wired, the worst combo)
Headaches that won’t quit
Getting every cold that walks by
Hands shaking like you’ve had six cups of coffee (you’ve had zero)

Mental/emotional symptoms (aka your brain being a jerk):

On edge like you’re waiting for bad news that never comes
Brain fog thicker than London on a bad day
Irritable about literally everything (yes, even that)
Cannot. Sit. Still.
Hypervigilance (constantly scanning for threats like a meerkat)
Feeling nothing and everything at the same time
Anxiety that laughs at your attempts to meditate

Why Your Body Has Betrayed You Like This

Short answer: sustained stress that your nervous system couldn’t process properly.

Long answer: Maybe it was work stress, or caregiving, or financial pressure, or relationship drama, or past trauma, or chronic illness, or just living through the general dumpster fire that is modern existence. Your nervous system was like “okay, we need to be alert right now” and then just never got the memo that the crisis ended.

It’s not your fault. Your nervous system was trying to protect you. It’s just really bad at knowing when to clock out.

How to Convince Your Body That the Bear Has Left

Alright, here’s the part where I actually try to be helpful instead of just complaining (revolutionary, I know).

Vagus Nerve Stimulation (or: Push the “Calm Down” Button)

Your vagus nerve is basically the brake pedal for your sympathetic system. Here’s how to use it:

Breathe like you mean it – Longer exhales than inhales. Your body can’t panic and breathe slowly at the same time, so you’re basically hacking the system
Cold water to the face – Splash it, shower in it, or just hold ice. Your body goes “oh we’re doing survival mode differently now”
Hum, sing, or gargle – Yes, really. Yes, you’ll look weird. Do it anyway
Gentle yoga – Not the “let’s pretzel ourselves into oblivion” kind, the “we’re just stretching and breathing” kind

Daily “Please Chill” Practices

Sleep schedule – I know, I know. But your nervous system needs the routine like a toddler needs naptime
Move your body – But maybe don’t go run a marathon if you’re already exhausted? Shocking concept, I know
Go outside – Nature is basically free therapy and your nervous system knows it
Reduce caffeine – I’m sorry. I know. But coffee might be part of the problem
Eat actual food – Omega-3s, magnesium, B vitamins. Your nervous system needs fuel that isn’t anxiety and spite

The Woo-Woo Stuff (That Actually Works, Dammit)

Progressive muscle relaxation – Tense and release muscle groups. It’s boring but effective
Meditation – Even 5 minutes. No, you don’t have to empty your mind. That’s not how it works
Somatic practices – Basically any movement that helps you actually feel your body instead of just inhabiting it like a haunted house
Heart rate variability training – Apps exist for this and they’re legitimately helpful
Massage/bodywork – Yes, you deserve it. No, it’s not frivolous

The Practical Stuff Nobody Wants to Hear

Set boundaries – Saying no is self-care, actually
Reduce stressors – I know this is easier said than done, but where you can, do
Get professional help – Therapy is great. Medication is sometimes necessary. Both are fine
Actually rest – Not “scroll on your phone” rest. Actual, doing-nothing rest
Connect with humans – Safe relationships help regulate your nervous system (unfortunately we do need other people)

Real Talk

This doesn’t get fixed overnight. Your nervous system didn’t get stuck in panic mode in a day, and it won’t unstick in a day either. Some days you’ll feel better. Some days you’ll feel like garbage. Both are normal.

You’re not broken. You’re not weak. You’re having a completely normal response to stress that lasted too long. Your nervous system is just trying to keep you safe – it’s just really, really bad at its job right now.

Also, if this is seriously impacting your life, please talk to actual medical professionals. I’m just some person on the internet who’s been through this. Doctors and therapists have actual training and sometimes you need the real help.

The Point

You deserve to feel safe in your own body. You deserve to not feel like you’re perpetually being chased by something you can’t see. You deserve to actually rest without your nervous system screaming “BUT WHAT IF—” at you.

Start small. Pick one thing. Give it time. Be patient with yourself (I know, gross). And know that it does get better.

Your nervous system will eventually get the memo that the bear is gone. It’s just taking the long way around. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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When My Brain Picks a Fight, My Body Throws the Punches

December 27, 2025 JoLeave a comment

Sometimes I wake up already in pain, which feels rude considering I was unconscious and minding my business.

My jaw aches like I spent the night grinding concrete. My shoulders are locked halfway to my ears. My hands hurt like I’ve been stress-clenching imaginary problems in my sleep (which, honestly, tracks). I didn’t overdo it yesterday. I didn’t injure anything. I just… existed.

This kind of flare doesn’t start in my body — it lands there.

My nervous system wakes up feral.
Heart racing. Muscles braced. Skin overly dramatic.
Brain fog so thick I could lose a thought mid-thought.

It’s like my body heard a rumor that something bad might happen and decided to prepare for war before confirming the details.

When the nervous system is under prolonged stress, it can amplify pain signals even without new injury — a process called central sensitization. It’s common in fibromyalgia and chronic pain conditions, and it means the pain is real, measurable, and neurological — not imagined or exaggerated.

Here’s the annoying science part: emotional stress doesn’t stay politely in the “feelings” department. It rewires pain pathways, cranks up inflammation, and lowers the threshold for flares. My body doesn’t care if the threat is physical or psychological — it reacts with the same unhinged enthusiasm either way.

So when I say I’m in pain, I’m not being metaphorical.
I mean my body is cashing a check my nervous system wrote.

There’s research behind this, by the way. Emotional distress activates the same pain-processing pathways in the brain as physical injury. For people with fibromyalgia or trauma histories, the nervous system can stay stuck in high-alert mode — turning stress into very real, very physical pain.

It looks like moving slower. Canceling plans without guilt (or with guilt, but canceling anyway). It looks like heat packs, silence, and a deep distrust of anyone who suggests I “push through it.” It looks like exhaustion that sleep laughs at and pain that refuses to justify itself with visible damage.

This isn’t weakness.
This is a system that’s been on high alert for too long and forgot how to stand down.

Some days the goal isn’t fixing anything — it’s lowering the volume. Fewer demands. Softer expectations. Treating my body like it’s been through something instead of asking it to perform like it hasn’t.

Pain doesn’t always come from injury.
Sometimes it comes from carrying too much, for too long, with no off switch. Til next time gang, take gentle care of yourselves, and each other!

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Signs You’re Pacing Your Energy Correctly (Even If It Feels Like You’re Doing Nothing)

December 17, 2025 JoLeave a comment

If you live with chronic illness, neurodivergence, or both, pacing your energy can feel suspiciously like… failing. We’ve been conditioned to believe that productivity equals worth, and rest is something you earn after pushing yourself to the brink. Spoiler alert: that mindset is garbage — and it actively works against bodies and brains like ours.

Energy pacing isn’t about doing less because you’re “giving up.” It’s about doing what keeps you functioning tomorrow. And sometimes that looks like absolutely nothing from the outside.

Here are signs you’re actually pacing correctly — even if it doesn’t feel impressive.

1. You Stop Before You Crash

If you’re resting while you still technically could keep going, congratulations — you’re doing it right. Pacing means stopping at the “I should probably rest soon” stage, not the “I have made a terrible mistake” stage.

Ending an activity while you still have a sliver of energy left isn’t weakness. It’s strategy.

2. You Plan Rest on Purpose

Rest isn’t something that “just happens” anymore. It’s scheduled. Protected. Sometimes defended like a feral raccoon.

If your calendar includes intentional downtime — especially after appointments, errands, or social interaction — that’s not laziness. That’s advanced-level self-management.

3. Your Week Looks Boring but Survivable

A paced week doesn’t look exciting. It looks quiet. Repetitive. Underwhelming.

And that’s the point.

If you’re no longer stacking five demanding things in one day and calling it “normal,” you’re learning how to live within your limits instead of constantly bulldozing them.

4. You Say No Without a Full PowerPoint Presentation

You don’t owe anyone your medical history, trauma background, or a five-paragraph explanation for why you can’t do something.

If you’re starting to say “I can’t” or “That won’t work for me” without spiraling into guilt — that’s growth. Messy, uncomfortable, necessary growth.

5. You Recover Faster Than You Used To

Maybe you still flare. Maybe you still crash. But if the recovery time is shorter than it used to be — that’s pacing working.

Progress with chronic illness is often measured in less severe consequences, not total avoidance.

6. You’re Choosing the Easier Option Without Shame

Delivery instead of cooking. Grocery pickup instead of the store. Frozen food instead of scratch meals. Sitting instead of standing.

If you’re choosing accessibility over aesthetics, you’re not “giving up.” You’re adapting. And adaptation is how people survive long-term.

7. You Feel “Unproductive” but Less Destroyed

This one messes with people the most.

If you feel like you didn’t do much, but you also didn’t completely wreck yourself — that’s a win. A quiet one. An invisible one. But a real one.

8. You’re Thinking About Tomorrow, Not Just Today

Pacing means asking, “How will this affect me later?” instead of “Can I force myself through this right now?”

If future-you is part of your decision-making process, you’re playing the long game — and that matters.

Final Thought

Pacing doesn’t look heroic. It doesn’t get applause. It doesn’t fit hustle culture or toxic positivity.

But it keeps you alive, functional, and able to show up again.

You are not doing nothing.
You are managing a body and nervous system that require intention, restraint, and care.

And honestly? That’s not weakness.
That’s skill. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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Fibromyalgia Isn’t Just Pain: Why the Fatigue Hits So Hard

December 15, 2025 JoLeave a comment

When people hear “fibromyalgia,” they usually think of pain — aching joints, sore muscles, that constant feeling like you overdid it yesterday even when you didn’t.
Pain is part of it, yes. But for many people with fibromyalgia, fatigue is the symptom that quietly dismantles daily life.

This isn’t the kind of tired that goes away with a good night’s sleep or a strong cup of coffee. Fibromyalgia fatigue is persistent, physical, and rooted in how the nervous system functions.

Common Fibromyalgia Symptoms (Beyond Pain)

Fibromyalgia is a multisystem condition, not a single-symptom diagnosis. Common symptoms include:

Chronic widespread musculoskeletal pain
Ongoing fatigue
Non-restorative sleep (waking up unrefreshed)
Cognitive difficulties (“fibro fog”)
Sensitivity to light, sound, temperature, or touch
Headaches or migraines
Gastrointestinal issues (often overlapping with IBS)
Muscle stiffness, especially in the morning
Mood changes linked to nervous system stress

Not everyone experiences every symptom, and severity can fluctuate — sometimes daily, sometimes hourly.

What Makes Fibromyalgia Fatigue Different?

Fibromyalgia fatigue isn’t simply being tired from doing too much. It’s tied to central sensitization, a process in which the brain and spinal cord become overly reactive.

In simple terms:

The nervous system stays partially “on alert”
Pain signals are amplified
The body burns energy just maintaining baseline function

Even rest can require effort when the system responsible for regulating stress, pain, and recovery isn’t working efficiently.

Think of it like running multiple background apps you can’t close. The battery drains faster — even on low activity.

Mayo Clinic explains that people with fibromyalgia commonly experience fatigue and disrupted sleep, noting that individuals often wake up tired even after sleeping for a long time, as pain and related sleep disorders can interfere with rest. Mayo Clinic

Why Sleep Doesn’t Fix Fibromyalgia Fatigue

One of the most frustrating aspects of fibromyalgia is that sleep doesn’t reliably restore energy.

Research shows that people with fibromyalgia often experience:

Disrupted sleep architecture
Reduced time in deep, restorative sleep stages
Alpha-wave intrusion during sleep, keeping the brain partially alert
Frequent micro-arousals caused by pain or nervous system activity

This means someone can be unconscious for eight hours and still wake up feeling unrefreshed, stiff, and exhausted.

Sleep happens — but rest doesn’t fully occur.

Sleep research indicates that people with fibromyalgia often experience abnormal sleep patterns, such as reduced deep sleep and brain activity resembling wakefulness during sleep stages, which helps explain why rest does not always feel restorative. Sleep Foundation

The Role of the Nervous System

Fibromyalgia is increasingly understood as a disorder of nervous system regulation, not muscle damage or inflammation alone.

When the nervous system struggles to downshift:

Muscles remain tense
Pain signals remain elevated
Stress hormones like cortisol can become dysregulated
Energy recovery is impaired

This is why fatigue in fibromyalgia often feels disproportionate to activity levels — and why pushing through it usually backfires.

Why “Just Rest More” Misses the Point

Well-meaning advice like “get more sleep” or “listen to your body” often falls short because it assumes the system responsible for rest is functioning normally.

In fibromyalgia:

Rest helps, but it’s not a cure
Sleep matters, but it’s not always restorative
Energy management requires strategy, not willpower

Understanding this difference matters — medically, socially, and personally.

The Bottom Line

Fibromyalgia fatigue is not laziness, lack of motivation, or deconditioning.
It’s a nervous system issue that affects how the body processes pain, stress, sleep, and recovery.

Recognizing fatigue as a core symptom — not a side effect — is essential to understanding what living with fibromyalgia actually looks like.

Because when the system itself is misfiring, exhaustion isn’t a failure.
It’s feedback.
Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!

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Brain Fog: Why Your Brain Suddenly Feels Like Dial-Up Internet

November 25, 2025 JoLeave a comment

Let’s cut the polite medical fluff and get to the truth:
Brain fog is real, it’s intrusive, and it can make you feel like you’re slowly losing your mind… even though you’re not. We not only deal with it within our illnesses but alot of us have Menopause or Perimenopause right along with these other intrusive issues

And the worst part?
Everything is affected.
Memory, focus, emotional regulation, sleep, language, motivation — pick a brain function, and menopause and Bipolar, ADHD, and Fibro toss a snow globe at it.

You’re not imagining this. And you’re definitely not “lazy” or “slacking” or “not trying hard enough.” What you’re feeling is neurological turbulence, courtesy of hormones that suddenly decided to jump ship without leaving a forwarding address.

Let’s break down what’s actually going on, in normal-human language.

🌡️ What Menopause Brain Fog Actually Is

Imagine your brain has a hype squad.
The leader of that hype squad? Estrogen.

Estrogen talks to your neurotransmitters — the little brain chemicals that run your mood, your focus, and your memory — and keeps them energized and coordinated.

Here are her three favorite teammates:

Serotonin → mood, emotional stability
Dopamine → motivation, attention, reward
Acetylcholine → memory, learning, focus

When estrogen starts dropping during perimenopause and menopause?
The hype squad gets tired. The music cuts out. Everybody forgets the dance.

Suddenly the whole system is like:

“Wait… what were we doing? Why did we walk into the kitchen? Where are my keys? Why can’t I think of that one word? Why does everything feel… slow?”

It’s not subtle. It hits like a grocery cart to the ankles.

🧠 So What Does This Look Like in Real Life?

You may notice:

Forgetting basic words you’ve used for 40 years
Losing your train of thought mid-sentence
Walking into a room and immediately forgetting why
Misplacing everything — phone, keys, glasses, sanity
Feeling mentally “slower” or foggier than usual
Struggling to switch between tasks
Needing instructions repeated
Finding it harder to learn new things
Getting overwhelmed faster than you used to

And then there’s the emotional layer:
You start wondering if you’re declining, losing your edge, or secretly broken.
(You’re not. You’re literally chemically glitching.)

😫 Why It Feels So Big and So Personal

Because menopause doesn’t just change estrogen — it changes sleep, stress hormones, and mood systems too.

Sleep becomes trash.
Night sweats and hot flashes interrupt the hours you do manage to get.
And sleep loss alone slows memory consolidation and attention — for anyone, not just hormonal women.

Add in drops in serotonin and dopamine, and suddenly:

You can’t regulate stress as well
Motivation takes a hit
Focus becomes slippery
Everything feels “harder” than it used to

So the fog isn’t coming from one place — it’s coming from everywhere at once.

That’s why it feels overwhelming. That’s why you feel unlike yourself.
That’s why it feels like your brain betrayed you.

🧬 The Science Behind It (In Actual Plain English)

Two big findings from research you can quote, cite, tattoo, whatever you need:

1. Menopause measurably affects memory and cognitive performance.

Large studies show that during the menopause transition, women experience real, trackable dips in memory, attention, and verbal fluency — especially when hormones fluctuate the most.
(SWAN Study – Greendale et al., 2010)

2. Estrogen plays a major role in protecting attention and memory systems.

Estrogen directly affects acetylcholine and dopamine — the same systems involved in memory, focus, and mental clarity.
When estrogen falls, those systems weaken, and cognitive symptoms follow.
(Sherwin, 2012)

This isn’t a personality flaw.
It’s biology.

❤️ You’re Not Failing — Your Brain Is Rewriting Its Operating System

Seriously — if your computer said “installing major update… do not shut down,” you’d expect things to be weird for a while.

That’s menopause.

Your brain is recalibrating.
Your hormones are rebalancing.
Your neurotransmitters are trying to remember their choreography.

You’re not broken.
You’re not incompetent.
You’re not “losing it.”

You’re adapting to a massive physiological shift that affects everyone going through it — but nobody talks about enough. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

Greendale GA, et al. The menopause transition and cognitive performance: the Study of Women’s Health Across the Nation (SWAN). Menopause. 2010;17(4):910–917.

Sherwin BB. Estrogen and cognitive functioning in women: lessons we have learned. Psychoneuroendocrinology. 2012;37(8):1287–1295.

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Pain Flare Types, Ranked From “Mild Nuisance” to “Summon the Ancestors”

November 19, 2025 JoLeave a comment

Let’s be honest: pain flares deserve their own tier list.
Not all suffering is created equal. Some flares are just a polite tap on the shoulder and others feel like they’ve traveled across lifetimes to personally drag you into the void.

So in the spirit of scientific accuracy (and by scientific accuracy, I mean vibes), here’s the ultimate ranking:

1️⃣ The Tiny Gremlin Twinge — A Mild Nuisance

This one pops up like, “Hey girl, just checking in!”
It’s annoying, but you can still function… mostly. You limp a little, grab a heating pad just in case, and pretend it’s fine.
It’s never fine — but we lie to ourselves anyway.

2️⃣ The Low-Battery Huff — You’ll Feel This Tomorrow

Your body starts sending strongly worded emails.
It’s not enough to stop you, but everything feels… heavier. Slow. Foggy.
You start rationing spoons like you’re preparing for a winter on the Oregon Trail.

3️⃣ The Surprise Stab — The “Who Threw That?” Pain

Sudden. Sharp. Personal.
Like your muscles decided to reenact a crime scene with no warning.
You freeze, gasp, and immediately question every life decision that led you here.

4️⃣ The Weather Channel Special — Barometric Betrayal

You wake up and instantly know a storm is coming.
Your joints creak like a haunted staircase. Your spine predicts humidity better than any meteorologist.
Honestly, you deserve a salary for this accuracy.

5️⃣ The Sensory Riot — Everything Hurts and Also Everything Is Loud

Pain spike + fibro fog + sensory overload = a cursed smoothie.
Clothes? Too much. Lights? Too bright. Air molecules? Too aggressive.
You consider relocating to a dark, soft cave forever.

6️⃣ The “Cancel All Plans” Episode — Nope. Absolutely Not.

The flare that turns your day into a hostage situation.
Suddenly every joint is negotiating its own peace treaty.
Even sitting still is exhausting. Being alive? Optional.

7️⃣ The Full-Body Betrayal — Your Skeleton Has Filed for Divorce

It spreads. It radiates. It’s everywhere at once.
Nothing helps. No position is comfortable. You do that weird slow shuffle walk that looks like your bones are taped in.
Heating pads, meds, and prayers to whoever will listen.

8️⃣ The “Summon the Ancestors” Flare — You Have Exited This Plane

Oh, this one?
You can feel your DNA screaming.
Pain so intense it becomes almost spiritual. You’re like, “I see the veil… it’s thin… tell MawMaw I’m coming…”
You contemplate your will, your life choices, and whether reincarnation offers better warranty coverage.

Final Thought

Pain flares are rude, unpredictable, and truly lack professionalism.
But calling them out? Naming them? Ranking them like Pokémon?
Sometimes that’s how we cope — with humor, honesty, and a little dramatic flair. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.

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Brain Fog vs. Cognitive Fatigue: Understanding the Science Behind “I Can’t Think Today”

November 10, 2025 JoLeave a comment

Some days, my brain feels like it’s buffering. I’ll stand in the kitchen with zero clue why I’m there, reread the same sentence five times, or forget my own train of thought mid-sentence. And then there are the days when my brain feels tired. Not fuzzy—just done. Like someone unplugged the power source and said, “Nope. We’re closed.”

People often lump brain fog and cognitive fatigue together, but they’re not the same beast. Brain fog is that hazy, disconnected, “can’t access the file” feeling. It’s common in chronic illness, ADHD, and even post-viral recovery because it’s tied to inflammation and disrupted neurotransmitter signaling—especially in areas like the prefrontal cortex, which handles planning and focus. (See research: Defining brain fog across medical conditions.) ScienceDirect+1

Cognitive fatigue, on the other hand, is your brain’s version of muscle fatigue. It happens when your mental resources are overused or depleted—like when you’ve been masking all day, juggling a thousand tasks, or fighting through sensory overload. Studies show that prolonged cognitive load triggers measurable changes in brain activity consistent with fatigue. BioMed Central+1

The cruel joke? Many of us with chronic pain, ADHD, or trauma live in a state where both are happening at once. Inflammation clouds the signals (fog) while constant effort to function burns through what little energy reserves remain (fatigue). Add medication effects, sleep disruption, or stress hormones—and your poor nervous system is basically trying to run Windows 98 on low battery.

The next time you say “I can’t think today,” remember—it’s not laziness or lack of willpower. It’s biology doing its best under impossible conditions. Be kind to your brain. It’s been through a lot, and honestly, it deserves a nap and maybe a snack. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other.