physical

darnold1975

Back in the Day My Body Worked: A Geological Study of My Decline

“Back in the day might be gone. I’m still here. Creaking. Leaking. Laughing. And refusing to go quietly into anybody’s geological record.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. “Back in the day” has officially stopped being a cute phrase. It has started functioning like a geological timestamp. We are no longer dealing with nostalgia. We are dealing with archaeology. And while we’re gathered here, let’s honor another painful reality. My pelvic floor, which has resigned from its position without notice, severance, or gratitude for years of loyal service. I used to laugh. I used to cough. I used to sneeze with confidence. Now? Every joyful moment is a bodily gamble. And my cats are watching me like I’m a malfunctioning water balloon.

My bladder used to be a vault. Fort Knox. A steel‑reinforced bunker. Now it’s a screen door in a hurricane. One giggle? A sprinkle. One cough? A drizzle. One sneeze? A flash flood warning. Tink, the union rep, carries a clipboard labeled “Mama’s Moisture Incidents.” Every time I laugh too hard, she checks a box and sighs like she’s disappointed in my performance review.

Meanwhile, My Colon Has Entered Its Renaissance. I don’t know who gave my colon the confidence to act like this, but it’s out here freelancing. A sneeze? “Let me contribute.” A cough? “I have thoughts.” A laugh? “I brought snacks.”

Piper, the dramatic CEO, escorts me to the bathroom like I’m a VIP guest at a scandalous event. Tail high. Judgment higher. Coco, head of security, treats every cough like a breach. And every laugh like a full‑scale emergency. If I chuckle, she sprints over like, “Ma’am, did something escape? Do I need to file a report?”

My Body Has Entered a New Era without consulting me, my ancestors, or the household democracy. Now my cats circle me like I’m a congressional hearing titled, “What Happened To Mama’s Knees.” Aging is not gentle. It is not poetic. It is a jump scare.

Piper has drafted a formal complaint titled, “Mama’s Joints: A Concerning Increase in Snap,Crackle, and Pop.” Tink follows me around like a Victorian widow who just discovered her inheritance is gone. Every time I bend over, she gasps like I’m performing a dangerous stunt. Coco treats my memory lapses as suspicious activity. If I walk into a room and forget why, she escorts me back out like, “Ma’am, this area is restricted until you recall your mission.”

Nobody warned me that aging comes with random brain glitches. I’ll be mid‑sentence, mid‑thought, mid‑Southern‑monologue and suddenly, poof my brain throws up a blue screen like an old Dell computer. My cats stare at me like I’m buffering. Tink even tapped my forehead once like she was checking the Wi-Fi connection.

I used to move like a person. Now I move like a haunted rocking chair. Every step is a creak. Every stretch is a negotiation. Every time I sit down, I release an involuntary “old person exhale” that sounds like I’m letting go of trauma. And the cats judge with the intensity of Southern aunties at a baby shower.

My knees have officially submitted paperwork titled, “We Did Not Sign Up For Stairs.” They’ve requested a mobility scooter, a heating pad stipend, and a written apology for every squat I’ve ever attempted. Piper stamped it “Approved” before I even finished reading it. I dropped something on the floor. I looked at it. It looked at me. We both understood it was staying there. Coco sniffed it and gave me a look that said, “Wow. She’s gone.” I sneezed. Just one. A cute one. And my bladder and colon both said, “Tag‑team?” My cats stared at me like I had just lost a custody battle with gravity.

“Back in the Day” Has Become a Unit of Measurement. Once upon a time, “back in the day” meant five years ago. Now it means before three presidents, two pandemics, and the rise and fall of skinny jeans. Scientists have the Jurassic, Triassic, and Cretaceous periods. We have

  • Back in the Day (Early Period): When my knees still believed in me.
  • Back in the Day (Middle Period): When I could sneeze without filing an insurance claim.
  • Back in the Day (Late Period): When my bladder wasn’t a part‑time sprinkler system.

Even my cats treat “back in the day” like it’s a historical documentary. Piper says, “Which era are we referencing, ma’am? Pre‑creak or post‑snap?” Tink stares out the window like she’s remembering a lost lover. Coco waits by the door like I’m supposed to take her there.

A sediment of memories. A fossil record of who you were before your joints started sounding like porch furniture in a horror movie. It’s weird. It’s humbling. It’s hilarious. It’s a little holy. My mind may wander. But it wanders toward wisdom. My body may creak. But it carries stories. My memory may glitch. But my spirit is sharper than ever. And my cats, judgmental, dramatic, chaotic, they’re my witnesses, my companions, my furry little archivists of this new era.

I’ve had more surgeries than a Real Housewife. And my uterus didn’t just get removed. She angrily quit. If she had a LinkedIn profile, she would list my hysterectomy as, “Voluntary separation from a hostile work environment.” She walked out, slammed the door, and said, “Y’all figure it out.” My gallbladder left early. My appendix said, “I was never needed anyway.” My tonsils left before the chaos even started. Now it’s just me, my stitches, and three cats running a post‑op reality show.

Things That Now Count as Cardio include putting on socks. Rolling over in bed. Getting out of a low chair. Sneezing. Thinking about laundry. And walking past the mailbox. My Fitbit is confused. It thinks I’m training for a marathon.

Aging may be turning my bladder into a leaky faucet. And my colon into a chaotic intern. But I’m still here laughing. Coughing. Sneezing. Leaking. Creaking. And telling the story. If my organs want to leave, fine. But the comedy? The comedy stays right here with me.

This is my era, the Drip Drop Dynasty, and I rule it with dignity, humor, and a strategically placed bathroom. Back in the day might be gone. But I’m still evolving. Still ridiculous. Still holy. And still funny enough to survive the Renaissance.

Affirmation: “I honor this body, this era, this chaos, and this comedy. I rise today with wisdom in my bones. Fire in my spirit. And three judgmental cats who remind me I’m still unstoppable.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

darnold1975

What Is “Scromiting?”

“If puking is punctuation, scromiting is writing in all caps.”

-Unknown

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about the some of the latest news in cannabis. There is a condition that is linked to chronic cannabis use known as “scromiting.” Let’s look at the latest news surrounding this unpleasant condition.

  “Scromiting” is a term for the condition known as Cannabinoid Hyperemesis Syndrome (CHS). It was once thought to be rare. But now it’s being seen almost daily in emergency rooms. The term is a combination of screaming and vomiting. And it’s linked to chronic, heavy marijuana use. The patient experiences intense abdominal pain and uncontrollable vomiting that causes them to cry out in distress (https://www.cnn.com/2025/12/02/health/scromiting-marijuana-vomiting-syndrome-wellness#:~:text=Still%2C%20why%20would%20the%20same,weed%20are%20affected%20by%20CHS.)

CHS is a condition where cannabis is used to alleviate nausea and vomiting. However, in some long-term heavy users, the high levels of THC can disrupt the body’s endocannabinoid system, which will cause the direct opposite effect. It binds to the receptors in your brain, spinal cord, gastrointestinal tract, and other body tissues. Common symptoms include persistent nausea, repeated vomiting and retching (up to 5 times an hour), intense abdominal discomfort or pain, fear of throwing up, and loss of appetite (https://www.nbcnews.com/health/health-news/high-potency-weed-linked-psychotic-episodes-mysterious-vomiting-illness-young-n1273463#:~:text=Scromiting%20cases%20have%20increased%20as,as%20high%20as%2090%20percent.)

This condition has become more common with the rising potency of THC in today’s cannabis market. And surprisingly, patients report that they find relief in a very hot shower or bath. The reasons why this seems to help is still unknown. This is not a reaction due to a single use. And not all heavy users develop the condition. Patients who develop CHS often report large daily amounts of THC with as much as 2,000 milligrams in a day. And it’s typically seen in heavy concentrate users in which THC levels are around 60%-90% (https://www.cnn.com/2025/12/02/health/scromiting-marijuana-vomiting-syndrome-wellness#:~:text=Still%2C%20why%20would%20the%20same,weed%20are%20affected%20by%20CHS.)

Cannabis Hyperemesis Syndrome occurs in phases:

§  Prodromal Phase: Early morning nausea and mild abdominal discomfort without actually vomiting. This phase can last for months or years.

§  Hyperemetic Phase: This is the phase where “scromiting” occurs. Recurrent bouts of severe nausea, intense abdominal pain, and frequent vomiting that can last for hour or days. 

§  Recovery Phase: Symptoms resolve completely after the individual stops using cannabis.

The immediate medical treatment for an episode involves IV fluids,  and anti-nausea medications. And due to the amount of vomiting that takes place, rehydration is a must to prevent organ failure. And sadly, the long-term solution to prevent recurrence is the complete stopping of cannabis use (https://www.discovermagazine.com/the-strange-rise-of-scromiting-most-common-among-young-heavy-cannabis-users-48351.)

The state of Mississippi, where I live, has a limit of 60% on concentrates. But there are some people that need the higher percentages to maintain a therapeutic dose for their conditions. I don’t know if this research is specifically related to bingeing or not. And I have also read where CBD can also cause “scromiting.” Unfortunately, you do not know if you’re susceptible to this condition until it begins happening. And no matter how much time goes by from cessation, the minute someone uses cannabis again, these terrible symptoms will continue.

I think that this is a horrible thing as cannabis has saved millions of lives. And for me cannabis will a be a part of my life for as long as possible. In the information that you have just read, 2,000 milligrams a day is an extreme about of cannabis. And I would be willing to bet that this high of a dose are related to edibles as many don’t understand how powerful they are and can be. So, at this point, I’m still willing to take my chances. Thanks for reading!

Affirmation: Everything will be okay. Not great but okay.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

National Domestic Violence Awareness Month

“Never stop fighting for your freedom, you are worth it.”

-DA Survivor-Anon

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negativity energy, go away. Today is the beginning of Domestic Violence Awareness Month. This month is when our voices from all over the globe will be heard. We as victims, survivors and warriors bring to light the horrors of domestic violence and the impact that it leaves on our lives and those around us. Let’s take time out for a little education on a few of the topics surrounding domestic violence.

Domestic Violence is a topic that I know a lot about. Well, I know how to function in it. And I know how to get away from it. But living with the aftereffects reveal a whole other set of problems. Where domestic violence used to be seen as something that only happens to women and their partners. There is more awareness on the abuse of men by their partners. No matter how you identify. It also happens to the most innocent, children and pets. This happens in all forms of relationships. And the statistics are staggering.

Domestic violence is violence committed by someone in the victim’s domestic circle. Which include partners and ex-partners, immediate family members, and other relatives and family friends (https://www.UN.org, 2025). The behaviors can include such things as:

·        Physical

·        Sexual

·        Emotional

·        Financial

·        Psychological actions or threats of actions that influence another person.

This includes any behavior that intimidate, manipulate, humiliate, isolate, frighten, terrorize, coerce, threaten, blame, hurt, injure, or wound someone. The repetitive exposure to violence teaches children that violence is a normal way of life (https://dvcc.delaware.gov, 2025). And for those of us who leave, constant confusion and every minute of no knowing when something else will happen again, is our normal. And the many years of programming by our abusers takes years of therapy to de-program ourselves. But you will never be who you used to be.

Recovery is not for the faint of heart. It is hard and uncomfortable. And it takes years to undo the damage that was caused on so many levels. I was one of the lucky ones. Long story short, I survived. But the mental damage that was caused has left me crippled in some ways. And through the sleepless nights filled with tears, therapy, psychiatric medications, body memories, flashbacks, phobias, and panic attacks, I have learned that I have a voice that deserves to be heard. And no matter what people say or believe, I can validate my own story regardless of the opinions of others. Because I lived it. 

The main thing I want to say to other women and men across the globe who are still in their own processes, “YOU ARE NOT ALONE!” Because it happened to me too. Thanks for reading! Keep smiling and pushing forward.

Affirmation: My light shines even in the dark.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife