Living one 10 Minute Increment at a time

Today’s almost-daily dispatch comes to you from my comfy recliner in my living room, looking out on my seasonal, very peek-a-boo view of the Pacific Ocean.

I am balancing my loyal Chromebook on my lap while my Xbox controller lies precariously on the right armrest and my trusty digital timer to the left. Eventually, both will go crashing to the floor, bust off their battery covers, and send the batteries scattering under the couch.

Ask me how I know?

One of the perks of being semi-retired and semi-eccentric is that I get to live life on my terms. That includes making the very real decision to go off of my Tier 1 ADHD medication. This was not a choice made lightly; there were several factors that led me to this crossroads.

First: I do not have health insurance, because… ‘Murica.

I am one of those individuals who earns just a smidge too much from investment income to qualify for Washington Apple Health, yet I don’t earn enough to pay for a private policy out of pocket. Out of sheer necessity, I’ve learned that paying for doctor’s appointments and prescriptions via cash is actually the most cost-efficient route for someone like me. That reality fuels the rest of my decision-making.

Second: Japan does not look favorably on certain medications—ADHD stimulants, for instance. Right now, I am spending about two weeks, once or twice a year, in Otaru. As my circumstances allow, I hope to reside for a month or longer at our home in Japan.

You know what does not come in quantities beyond 30 days?

Tier 1 ADHD prescription medication.

So what’s a girl to do?

In true neurospicy fashion, I discovered that during my first trip to Japan, I forgot to take my meds for the majority of the trip. I was out of my routine, definitely out of my norm, and embracing everything those two short weeks had to offer my honey and me.

We had purchased two homes, sight unseen, country never visited, and were propelled from just two middle-aged Gen Xers disenchanted with the future of the United States to International Real Estate Moguls. Ok, not really, but I do love a flair for the dramatic.

We did, in fact, become property managers to our (first?) rental and a holiday home/potential second full-time residence. I was on a euphoric high that required no stimulants to maintain. I was also learning to navigate a country that thrives on order, structure, and process—where everything just seems to make sense, even to a first-time international non-Japanese speaker like me.

As a side note, I am known in my family as “Cartoon Baby,” specifically the one from the old Tom and Jerry shorts who wanders through construction sites on steel beams while everyone else panics. When my honey came into our lives, my youngest said, “Phew, now you get to look after Cartoon Baby.” She had taken it upon herself to be the ever-present guardian as I careened through life oblivious to the perils at hand.

But I digress.

Cartoon Baby was navigating the streets of Otaru and Sapporo with ease. She was engaged in conversations via Google Translate, making purchases and limited small talk with clerks and restaurant staff, and making her way via taxis, trains, and buses.

All the while, unmedicated.

Back home in the US, I live and die by timers, lists, reminders, and the gentle assistance of my family. I often freeze with analysis paralysis and get frustrated at my perceived inability to function “normally.” My word aphasia is more prominent in vocal speech, yet my words flow on the page.

It’s a strange irony: in a country where I don’t speak the language, I felt understood by the sheer logic of my surroundings. Back here, where I speak the language perfectly, I often find myself searching for the “subtitles” to my own life.

Perhaps that is why I finally found the courage to start this blog. It’s my way of stepping out onto that steel beam, Chromebook in hand, trusting that the words will catch me even when the focus won’t. I’m learning that “raw dogging” life doesn’t mean doing it perfectly—it just means doing it as I am, one ten-minute increment at a time.

If you have read this far, I am grateful that you hear my voice. Even the parts that stutter