I observed today a mother and child, as I was sitting waiting to speak to my neurologist about changing migraine treatment options slightly.

I looked out the window and there was a mother helping lift her little toddler over the bank and off the curb. It was so sweet, seeing her lift him by the arms and bring him down to the pavement. She then kneeled down and lifted him by his sides and raised to a full stand and he spread his arms like he was flying.

It was a magical moment to be witness to. Sometimes, it's the simple things that are the most extraordinary moment and that make life better and bring on a sweet and sincere smile.

They walked a little and she brought him down to her hip and carried him towards the car and put him in his car seat — the correct way — taking off his jacket and making sure there was a secure belt. She was not only a sweet but also a savvy momma.

He likely won't remember this moment as a child really doesn't remember moments all that great until about 4 or 5 years, but the impact of being a good mother always has its foundation and roots in the care from the beginning.

From a distance, that little toddler looks like he has a good mom, who is fun, sweet, and kind.

I had a lengthy conversation with native old friends who happened to have the same time slot for their appointment. Deb, as Leah their older daughter, had let me know in late November, has been on a fast neurological decline and is now wheelchair bound. I talked with her husband, a dear old family friend whose family estate was bought by Swiss Re. He is modest, a total teddy bear, and a truly rare gem of a gentleman, humble, kind, sincere, always caring and smiling and considerate.

He has two adopted daughters, one is a higher functioning special needs daughter and another older daughter, Leah, a grade school friend, making her way through the business side of modeling- not the 'go see' modeling side. Leah and Evan talk regularly, as she walks her dog in the city, and to hear any updates or changes, and Evan turned to me and reminded me just how wonderful it was to see me.

I praised him for the care and attentiveness to Deb, and we continue talking, about life changes, and also how we both have mourned over dogs that have died — his chocolate lab Hudson who was the cutest thing in the world, though scared the bejesus out of my blonde lab beagle Layla on a walk. The two of us stood there remembering the moment, how Layla took off and I had to run after here hoping she would be safe and not get hit by a car, and I received word that somehow she ran straight back to the house through woods and streams — she knew her way home. I messaged Evan that all was good, and hoped Hudson didn't tear his ACL while chasing Layla, carrying the gravitational force of a well loved dog who got extra treats and affection.

I mentioned that my black hunk of love was a very significant loss for me. Turns out both my lab and Evan's lab had canine cancer that brought about their end. Layla, with a bit of beagle in her was a walking skinny mini not ready to go and likely could have gone a few weeks longer, but the decision was made that with failing bowels, and in ability to have her back legs support her as she went to the bathroom, that she was reaching the end and died of old age.

He was so gracious and humble, so kind and generous and it was an absolute pleasure to sit with an old dear friend, even if they are going through hard times, and recognize the effort in the adversity.

Deb was for the most part cognitively still there, and I was trying to understand if it was dementia, or another condition such as Multiple Sclerosis. All I saw though after a quick curiosity as to what she was going through, I found myself seeing beyond the more than visible disease seeing this amazing human, and thrilled to be sitting there talking with her and knowing she was happy to have a cognizant and coherent conversation between the two of us. So we talked normal things, because inside that failing body, is a brilliant former art, art history and architecture teacher in the local high school system.

I mentioned what had happened to their old house in my childhood, in our neighborhood, and Deb was relieved to know that the house for the most part was rebuilt and properly sits back on the property but I think we were both sad to acknowledge that her more English cottage garden of pretty trees at the entrance to the house had been removed in the transformation of the property, by the contractors.

I was called in and sat down to have the conversation about the options. I chose to halt Botox injections, and I figured if a few wrinkles and fine lines show up I don't care, that was added benefit, but it was the severity of stiffness upon injection that happened the first 3–5 days that was getting worse as the toxin numbs and paralyzes neuronal activity in the back, shoulders, head and neck.

What was worse though, after a few years of these treatments, I was starting to notice more and more pronounced effects of untrained muscles and lack of neuromuscular control, especially as the Botox wore off. After months, of my muscles being frozen and paralyzed by the toxin, they had no idea what to do, and I felt like that must be what a toddler thinks about as they go from crawling to walking… what is this motor control thing… except I was noticing the reverse decline, and now hope that it isn't permanent.

With such a sensitivity of understanding, of how things affect me, especially chemical substances, and certain people that mean something to me — which is where therapy gets the insight on that, I spoke with the team and said, after having a seizure for the first time in about 14 years on MLK day, I think I needed to see if things get better with removing the variable. I explained I needed to try to rebuild my neuromuscular control and alleviate the damage already done from too many frozen moments.

The decline in neuromuscular function was affecting speech motor function and starting to have an effect of turning thought into vocalized words and sentences. So I suggested that slowly removing yet another chemical variable was a good idea. So, now I can see if my headaches and migraines can be controlled on the daily 'pant' that I take and the occasional emergency 'pant' for really bad migraines.

So here goes a few months, of tracking, and not only monitoring migraines episodes, but also other biomarkers. The more I can offer for analysis, is better for informed conversation with my care team. I am debating to observe and not change much. And then start in with Alexander Texhnique, Pilates and rebuilding trained muscles for specific purposes.

In monitoring daily headache symptoms and noting migraine episodes, I am monitoring other symptoms — from muscle tension to flaccid muscle that needs to be retrained, and monitoring stress levels that lead to a habit of curling of my shoulders creating a concave and sinking chest that is close enough to a huddled position that it's like I am hugging my self by hugging my knees with such slumped shoulders.

I guess there is some truth to the idea that sometimes you just need a hug, and I guess stressful times call for more gratitude, kindness, consideration, comfort, self-acknowledgement and even being open to hugs — rather than more hate or ridicule that comes from outside sources, but can be more detrimental when I self imposed self-ridicule becomes an internalized way of negativity, that only makes the burden heavier, such as calling them 'stupid errors' on exams and test, instead of saying, hey cool you did a great job on that other skill you were iffy about.

The stress of pressures, timelines, deadlines, not as much self care time, and doing it somehow though lacking confidence the entire way, as I amaze myself by actually holding an A average in the class most difficult for me. I am much more thoughtful and slow when it comes approach these novel ideas, it's not like the fast pace of an expertise thinking capacity. But then again, even the things I do know, I give adequate pondering and thought to.

I was used to my negative attitude as a way too provoke me to keep going until it was perfect, but with Sage years I am not my harshest critic anymore. For the past few years, though depressed, I have been practicing more positive habits, affirmations, gratitude, and giving myself the space for grace and charm, the space to become curious as to strengthening skills and turning grit into lessons in forgiveness and to go back and keep practicing and keep taking breaks when needed.

Doing this, I notice the skills that I am solid on, and acknowledge that I have accomplished something and learned. Then, with that stronger understanding as a foundation to approaching errors, I go back and reflect and see where I had a misunderstanding — to understand where the the mutation happened on copying over the wrong numbers thronging off all calculations, and where things got lost in translation or omitted in translation causing an error — like when making DNA happened, and determined if the error had a noticeable impact was deeply offset, or could be corrected in an appropriate manner.

I lowered my standards to underground, but what I didn't realize was laying dormant underground was this whole grade school training and exceptional confidence, what just keeps growing humble, unnoticed roots, and haven't put out shoots and stems and leaves, as if a vineyard has been burned in a fire, but able to be resilient with the roots that survive and with time and patience for the vines to regrow. That's how I look at my capacity — my esteem and confidence are there, I just have to find ways to regrow what I have almost known innately all along.

In an inactive hibernating mind that has been hibernating likely 4 years now, without being tested or challenged for a long time, added to recovery from years of burn out by drug abuse and the fatiguing depression, I certainly find that I am enjoying taking it slowly.

There is no boasting; I hide in humility and modesty, staying firmly rooted to being humble in anything I do, for I know what it is to lose everything, absolutely everything, come back from the depths of hell, the brink of death, and slowly make progress. I have educated. Conversation with tutors in comprehension and somehow, in having conversation and talking I am able to not only demonstrate comprehension but also solidify it, and my professors took note of my efforts.

My care team said to be careful of stress, and there is bound to be increasing levels of it, as I take classes and read required readings that vastly go against my value system, so it becomes a real pain to broach more literary assignments and the business classes, compared to what I will be thrilled with and calmed by which are the therapeutic courses and equine sciences.

As I left the office, Botox-free, I looked over to where I sat talking with Evan and Deb. I could see she was at peace in a way. She had accepted what she was going through a degenerating illness and Evan was steadfast by her side through it all — a solid example of the essential essence of endearment, love and commitment. There was no boasting, but I could see real love and care between those two. As I have noted since I have know them over the past 30 years

It's moments like these that revive the tired and weary, mutually.

©️Laura Woodyard Jan 28, 2025