Caterwumpus
Today everything is caterwumpas. When the world doesn’t quite line up the way it is supposed to.
Today everything is caterwumpas. When the world doesn’t quite line up the way it is supposed to.
I measured the juice correctly. I got the microwave time right. I remembered the sweetener. I was feeling pretty darn competent. Then I tasted it. 😂
There are days when I can feel my capacity narrowing. Not always in an obvious way. Sometimes I am still doing things. I am still answering people, reading, writing, participating in conversations, even accomplishing things I had intended to do. But underneath it all, something is becoming harder.
Headaches are not considered a defining symptom of most dementias, yet many people living with dementia describe them. This article explores what medical research currently knows, what remains uncertain, and what we can learn by listening carefully to lived experience.
Yesterday was bubbly with excitement. One of those rare bright days where ideas move quickly, possibilities feel open, and the mind feels almost light again.
There are people who walk beside you for a season,
and there are people who change the way you understand the path itself.
Lately i have been thinking about why paintings sometimes communicate things that words cannot.
I’ve been working quietly on something for a long time now. Not a single post, not a single story—but something larger that has been slowly forming underneath all the writing.
This is the beginning of that project.
Some symptoms arrive with names and checklists. Others you only learn by living them. For me, one of those has been a persistent, watery runny nose—present for years, yet rarely mentioned in discussions of Lewy body dementia. When paired with unpredictable night sweating, a pattern begins to emerge: not random nuisances, but signs of an autonomic system that no longer regulates quietly in the background. Sometimes the body is speaking clearly. It is the categories that are still catching up.
What I see in dementia peer groups is not the loss of intelligence, but its transformation. Ideas move between people—shifting, softening, connecting—until what no one could solve alone becomes something we can carry together. This painting of a circle is not about completeness, but about relationship: an intelligence made not of certainty, but of shared, adaptive, and deeply human ways of knowing.