Reset Button

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I stayed up too late finishing yesterday’s entry — the one about The Origin of Death. My mind was still turning long after I laid down. Even while I was asleep, it felt like my brain was processing, reorganizing, breaking down everything in life. I feed it a lot of information, so it makes sense that it keeps working even when I’m not consciously directing it.

I woke up later than I intended. I had to get up during the night to use the restroom several times. That’s been happening more often lately. Maybe I’m overhydrated. I do intake a lot of fluids. But I’m also aware that frequent urination can signal other things — kidney issues, blood sugar shifts, prostate concerns. I don’t have prostate problems that I know of, but when your father has had prostate cancer, you pay attention. You don’t ignore patterns. You observe. You intercept early if something needs intercepting.

My vision has been fluctuating as well. Last week it blurred, which immediately got my attention because I’ve dealt with vision loss before. I suspect the corticosteroids. I took dexamethasone for three days during my recent illness — one dose in the doctor’s office with Motrin and Allegra, then two days paired with Augmentin. I stopped the steroid early because of what I’ve learned about my body’s response to corticosteroids. I continued and finished the Augmentin because antibiotics are not something you half-do. That was the responsible part.

I’m paying attention to my body.

This morning, I couldn’t find my father inside the house. I stepped outside and saw him in the yard on a ladder, trying to cut high branches to keep birds from pooping on the vehicles. The branches were well beyond a safe reach. Even with the extension tool, it was too high. It wasn’t worth the risk.

I told him it wasn’t safe. I talked him down. I’m looking into hiring someone who can handle it properly. Some things are not meant to be forced.

After that, I stepped into the shower.

The shower has always been my reset button. If I can’t breathe because allergens are in the air, I go to the shower and let the steam open my airways. If I’m sick, I go to the shower. If I’m mentally overloaded, I go to the shower.

There’s actually a name for what happens there. It’s called the “shower effect". Although, I'm certain there's a precise scientific term for it or the effect, but it slips my mind.

The relaxing, routine, solitary nature of a shower allows the mind to wander. It triggers divergent thinking instead of linear thinking. It allows incubation — ideas that were sitting in the background begin connecting. The Default Mode Network activates. Dopamine rises in a warm, low-stress environment. Cortisol drops. The parasympathetic nervous system takes over.

Even the sensory element matters. The sound of running water reduces outside distraction. It’s a mild form of sensory restriction. External noise decreases. Internal clarity increases.

Some call them “shower thoughts.” I call it recalibration.

It’s where I go to regulate.

This is day two without my remote job.

I can sense the absence of the check. Not quite feel it yet. The discomfort is real. The uncertainty is real.

But I am standing in principle.

If something does not align with you, you leave. You accept the consequences and you trust yourself to rebuild.

I was not going to be gaslit into believing that staying in a toxic atmosphere was going to build my character.

And yes, I am speaking to someone particular.

You do not re-victimize the victim.

I do not operate from a victim mindset. That is not how I move. But there are times when wrongdoing occurs. There are times when someone is mistreated. When that happens, you do not double down on the mistreatment to prove a point. Especially once you've been informed of how bad it was for the individual and there is clear evidence. And you do not repeat the same behavior that caused the harm just to assert control.

That’s the side you chose.

I’ve already read that chapter several times over in my life.

I know what erosion feels like. I know what it looks like when integrity begins bending just to survive an environment that is fundamentally wrong.

Not again.

So I walked away.

And I stand behind that decision.

Today feels like recalibration.

And recalibration may mean stepping away from this blog for a while.

Unless, of course, the venting needs to happen — which is why I built this outlet in the first place. This space exists so that I don’t implode. But I’m going to try to get out of my head for a bit. Reset. Let the nervous system settle. Let the water do its work.

Maybe I’ll drive somewhere with my pops today. Maybe I’ll begin the downsizing project and clean one room at a time. Organize the house. Clear space physically while restructuring internally.

Today is not about rushing.

Today is about reviewing, sorting, resetting.

Letting the water run long enough for the noise to quiet.

This is day two.

Not collapse.

Interception.

Recalibration.

Reset.

Related blog entry: I'm No Doormat!