My full-time job is a caregiver to myself.
I often have to remind myself that I am serving others by caring for myself.
I serve my husband and my family and thus society.
~*~
From mid-October 2024 through early-March 2025, I was mostly homebound.
The isolation felt worse than previous years.
It felt harder, courser, narrower, more confined, the feeling of pointlessness magnified.
But was it actually worse?
Perhaps it feels worse at the moment because this season is less chronologically distant than past seasons; out-of-sight, out-of-mind type thing.
Perhaps it feels worse because of the accumulation-effect; as isolation year-in and year-out piles up, the weight increases into a heavier burden.
(Hm... there's some nuggets in there regarding lessons on integrating life experiences, allowing them passage and flow, not resisting when certain memories arise via feeling and/or mental images, and then approaching their resurrection with curiosity and questions; in other words, treating these aroused memories with respect.)
Some folks may respond with something like, "Well, being homebound is a good time to get some things accomplished at home." I agree, except when the person is literally not able to cook or to clean or to organize and when their fulltime job is selfcare.
It can feel very isolating, especially with a rare disease that most are not familiar with.
Folks living with a chronic illness/disability know isolation well, both physically and emotionally.
But have not all sentient beings experienced feelings of isolation?
Is not isolation part of the fabric of life?
Interesting phrase, "fabric of life."
Fabric touches our tactile sense; when we are physically comfortable, we usually aren't consciously aware of this fabric-touch upon our skins.
If isolation is a part of that fabric, what are some other parts?
Oddly perhaps, I'm actually feeling thankful for the experiences this season.
As I've witnessed the repercussions and stepping into the now, I find it interesting.
It's like, I'm looking back at the past six-plus months as a different person, maybe?
What did I learn from my (mostly homebound) isolation this round?
My brain suffered.
Regularly, there were times when I felt like I had holes in my brain, like my brain lacked substance. Memory function worsened.
This observation-feeling was different than the feelings of brain-fog or brain-mud.
You mean, "Less substance than fog?"
Yes, it was like more of a void; thus, lack of substance.
I'd find myself concerned; I should talk to Dr. Neurologist about this. But I'll wait until my next appointment.
As I pondered this lack of substance in my brain along with some habits I had (understandably) fallen into, I had a kind of aha-moment.
By the time my next appointment came around, I'd already experienced this 'aha' moment, and I shared my observations with my neurologist (of 11 years) as he listened and nodded his head.
What were these habits?
I had fallen into too much time on my phone, reading.
And too much time watching TV, which to me isn't as bad as the cell phone; but still, it's a screen.
I enjoy the essays I read from my phone, but this tiny screen shrinks my world, shrinks my feeling of being present in the material realm.
So, in March (after getting my printer to work properly.; yay me!), I started printing the essays.
I also started reading more from books and reading less X-Twitter posts.
X-Twitter is the only social media platform I use, unless one counts my blogs as a "social media platform."
I will sometimes post and reply on X, but I seldom engage in back-and-forth dialog.
This is true in my 3D life as well; engaging takes precious energy.
When I do engage, I prefer face-to-face, then phone or Zoom conversations, then digital text communication.
I find digital texts (which includes email) laborious.
Since making this change from digital screen to material paper, I've noticed a significant shift...
My brain no longer feels like it has holes in it...
My memory function has improved...
Are there other factors for these changes?
Yes, one being confined inside walls.
Humans, like other animals, are not designed to live inside walls of confinement.
When a person is isolated indoors, their world shrinks.
Not only that, but their eyesight is also stymied; it stops at the walls.
I started raising the window blinds so I can see outside when I perform my Synergetic exercises, a type of westernized tai chi.
As I move and sway my body, I am looking at a tree with a big rock beside it.
I often witness the scamper of a squirrel or a songbird perched on the rock or on a limb.
This helps to make life just a little larger.
I watched part of a documentary about prisoners who had spent decades in solitary confinement.
No, my isolation can barely be compared to solitary confinement, and for decades? What torture.
Anyway, as the prisoners shared about the effect of SC and how they found ways to engage their bodies and brains, I could relate.
The monotony is maddening, and it takes fortitude & endurance to keep on doing whatever one finds to do with such limited choices.
~*~
Transferring my reading from my little SE iPhone screen to paper. it feels like I can see the context more clearly, larger, more expansive.
Symbols on a physical piece of paper that one's fingers touch delicately (though not really conscious of that fact) so that the paper doesn't tear.
A crinkle sound may enter my physical sense of hearing (again, not really being aware of that fact).
These symbols on physical paper -- letters that turn into words that paint pictures -- seem to have more substance than symbols on a digital screen.
Is this true for others too?
If so, it seems that would fall into some anecdotal evidence of one effect of digital screens on the brain, on consciousness, on humanness...
