Trial and Error

I t started with a fresh haircut.

Just around the ears and the base of my head. Cleaned up. Maintained.

I still have goals of growing it back out the way I had it before someone chopped it off without care. That’s still the vision. This is maintenance, not surrender.

Then I went to Sprouts for some calming drink mix with magnesium.


Quick update: Sprouts moved from Airline. You’ll now find it in the shopping strip by Shoe Carnival, near Best Buy at Everhart and SPID.

That was the mission.

Something to take the edge off. Nothing dramatic.

And then my body decided otherwise.

My saliva got thick. My sinus passages dried up. I started hyperventilating.

I needed water.

That’s sympathetic nervous system activation. Fight-or-flight. Adrenaline.

Sudafed — pseudoephedrine — can increase heart rate and anxiety. Add dehydration. Add grief shock. Add a recent cold.

Physiology under load.

My nervous system spiked.

Here’s what mattered.

I asked for help.
I sat down.
I hydrated.
I communicated.
I stayed present.

It felt chaotic.

But it was regulation happening in real time.

I found a place to sit next to a security guard. His name was Glenn.

He didn’t rush me. Didn’t look annoyed. Just attentive. Calm. Present.

I told him I thought maybe it was the Sudafed I had taken. I had gone camping recently to try to relax and caught a cold being out in the cold temperatures.

He mentioned oregano pills.

I told him I was familiar with the antimicrobial effects of oregano oil.

Simple exchange. Practical conversation.

Then I told him the real reason I was there.

Grief shock.

Loss.

He shared that he started working in a retirement home at 21. He’s 34 now. Fourteen years around death. He said it gave him perspective. Acceptance.

The residents knew why they were there. They knew what was coming. They still had breakdowns — usually not in front of their loved ones, but in the dining areas, around each other. And the other residents would comfort them.

One big support group.

One shared reality.

That stayed with me.

I’ve experienced a lot of death in my life. A lot of close people. But certain deaths hit harder than others.

My mom.

Leilani.

Some losses don’t just hurt. They rearrange you.

You can go into death with logic. You can understand that it’s inevitable. You can prepare yourself mentally.

And then it happens.

And your body decides how you’re going to feel about it.

You don’t get to vote.

Grief isn’t linear. It compounds.

Meeting Glenn was grounding. Human. It reminded me that death isn’t foreign. It’s part of the structure of life. That doesn’t make it easy. It just makes it real.

Stabilize.

Hydration.

Calming powder.

Massage at 5 — slow work, nothing aggressive.

Tent in the front yard with Monkey.

Maybe pastel artwork.

Walk the track. Feel the breeze.

I’m regulating.

Today isn’t about productivity.

It’s about stabilizing the nervous system.

And that’s enough.

Update — Evening



Hands On Approach is a massage school located on Corona between Weber and Everhart. The staff is skilled, professional, and genuinely care about their craft. If you book a session, ask for Josh or Barry — you’ll thank me later.

Josh worked on me. This time it wasn’t deep tissue. He started at the base of my skull, behind the ears, down my neck and back, then into each hand.

Somewhere during the second hand, I felt something unwind.

It felt close to REM sleep. Or EMDR. Not dramatic. Subtle. Like information was being processed without me forcing it.

No digging. No excavation. Just processing.

After the massage, I went to my favorite little Indian spot — now called Lotus Indian Cuisine, formerly Pavani Express.

Chicken tikka masala. Samosas. Cheesy naan.

Being there, smelling the spices, reading the menu — it felt like returning.



I almost wanted to say, “I’m back.”

But I’m not declaring anything.

Later that night I worked on updating Life Is a Storm into a true creative hub — podcast, books, art, music.

Then I slept.


Updated OG.

New website updates!

Next Morning

The next morning, the haze was there.

I was concerned when it returned, but I also understood it wasn’t going to disappear overnight.

Not dramatic. Just present.

I still had Indian food left over.

Warming it up. Eating something familiar. That helped too.

Not fully.

But enough.

Tent. Vagus nerve resets. Magnesium.

Small tasks. Rest.

Focusing directly on resetting the vagus nerve and taking vitamins and minerals for brain support really did help.

Progress.

And I’ll need to stay on top of regular massages geared toward relaxing my nervous system.

I found the cheat code.

It works — because it’s not magic.

It’s understanding the system.

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