Take those good days by the horns

Reflecting on a comment Pando made about having a good day, and I know that it is quite common for us to make a statement as to the quality of our day, so I felt like writing a post about embracing those good days. Sometimes, we can have a split day, good one half and rotten the other. At other times, the day might be checkered with periods of wellness and moments of misery. I had a gloriously good day yesterday, then sat on the bed to prepare to sleep at about ten o’clock and everything went bankrupt. I had a foul night full of anguish and disquiet. I have come to realise though, that our good days are worth sucking the marrow out of.

It doesn’t matter how you take your good days, whistle, sing, hum, dance, jig, clean, smile, laugh, crack a witticism or two, play a prank, or just bask. These are the precious days we know are not perennial by any means. These are the days our brains are weirdly in sync, and the outside world of problems can wait while we enjoy the nectar of neuroplasticity. We know it isn’t going to last, we know all too well that at some point we’ll be feeling sorry for ourselves. When times are rough, it is pleasant and comforting to remember back, whether it be an hour or a week ago, to those good moments when everything felt just dandy.

When I am in pain and disquiet, I keep my spirits up as best I can, so that I am not robbed of my sense of self, but when I’m feeling good, I am happy to be the town clown. In one year, I have 365 lifespans each year, that means that from when I wake up to when I fall asleep, I’m enmeshed in wrangling a whole profusion of symptoms and feelings that can range from the slightly odd to the downright apprehensive. That’s why those little gems of congeniality are worth having a gold dance to when they are unearthed.

Once upon a time, I could have fun at the drop of a hat, but I didn’t. Now, I don’t have that choice, I have to grasp it when it comes and squeeze as much fun out of it as possible.


@Rups A very good read as always and it is absolutely spot on in my opinion.

When we could do things we often didn’t. Now we have to embrace every moment because as you say they aren’t as abundant as we would like.

Hope your good days reappear in abundance.


Thnx @Rups

Another topic that I suspect speaks for many . It certainly embraces many themes that I can relate to :slight_smile:

There is one that I have discovered has been misdescribed given how I know understand it and that is where you say…

If you have a read of NeuroPlasticity as the ENEMY! You will see that NP is not nectar IMHO… more the water that is the carrier for the flavourings of an acid vinegar or a wine or even an eau de vie. Or perhaps it is the friction that both provides the motive force for our feet to walk but is also the reason we need lubricants

2¢ Ciao


Ugh Simon :sweat_smile:, but that completely throws off my alliteration, I suppose “eau de vie of neuroplasticity” sounds alright. I guess then, take nectar in the true sense of its Greek meaning, that the gods were seen as being capable of benevolence and callousness, and that ambrosia was neither good nor bad, it was just the elixir of life.


@SimonInEdinburgh and @Rups

Taking the feelings too far! The first post made me think of the gratitude we have for those good days, hours, moments, that we might have taken for granted in the past, but so appreciate now.

The elixors are just bringing me back to the rough spots. I now wish I had not read the rest, even though what you are saying is true. Trying to stay in my own good place before I try to sleep.

I must say when I finally nod off, I never want to wake up again. My dreams are either pleasant, funny or at least entertaining. I spend a lot of time in my sleep with people who have long passed away, or in situations that make me laugh. Last night must have been about forgetting things…had to return home after traveling 800 miles because I forgot my medicine, forgot to return a VHS tape to the video store, forgot where the bathroom was at work, and to dress appropriately as I found myself wearing cut off jean shorts to an administrative job, forgot directions to where I was going, and how to brake the car, so I ran into flood waters, and that woke me. Funniest part was in my office building, there was a store. I bought brand new white stiletto heels. Was walking out through grass when a couple girls threatened to beat me up because I stepped on a sock one had stolen from the store but dropped. I asked her why she wanted to fight with me. She said I ruined the sock and she was going to take back all the things she stole for a refund and I ruined the sock with my heels. I told her I had been through so much there was no way she could hurt me and showed her my scars. Then she and her friend invited me to a party!

I could not make this stuff up. Anyway, thank you for reminding me to be grateful for the good stuff, and trudge on through the not so great. Like the girl, I doubt much can really hurt me now. I will get through it (and end it with a party).


Dreams DeAnne ! As kids we use to love breakfasts as my mum would relate crazy amusing dreams like yours. For the last three years mine have been a puzzling mix but nothing disturbing. In the early days some were so original and clear I could have sold them to Hollywood script writers, now bog standard and run of the mill.


I keep a dream diary for that very reason. I’ve always had, mostly, intriguing and entertaining dreams. I tend to spend about half an hour in the morning ruminating over them, and it is also a good memory workout. There’s a brilliant song by Roy Orbison that I like called In The Real World … “If only we could always live in dreams …”


Is it possible, our bodies have had a tremendous shock. A nightmare perhaps in one sense. Something so scary it surpasses any dream. We don’t want to remember recent events in dreams and so we rewind to a much safer place.

A bit like memories of being kids. For the most part all good. Hot summers. Big snowfalls, building our own cresta run using a sack filled with snow and hoping you had enough snow left in the bag before you crossed the frozen fallen apples.

Or has the stroke, somehow, made access to old memories possible.

I don’t think I have had a nightmare since my stroke. I wish the dreams I have had could be stored so I could watch them again.