A Full Moon Setting

September 26, 2026 //
0

The full moon high over head greeted me as I left the house. It seemed auspicious at the time. I was wrong about that.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

The full moon followed me up the highway. There was no traffic at all. It was peaceful and I traveled up the road to the trailhead feeling secure and unbothered. The day seemed promising from the outset. (It’s looking like I am wrong about that, too.)

Beautiful full moon, though.

I remind myself not to conflate a moment with the day. I breathe, exhale, and relax – well, I do my best with that. It isn’t enough. I keep at it, feeling like I’m walking a slack line over a pit of anxiety and despair – and I can see it seething and roiling beneath me. Falling seems inevitable, but I keep working at being calm, centered, focused on what is, and this moment here, now. I undermine my capacity to support those dear to me, if I yield to the darkness within, but pulling myself from the mire once I’m in it is…hard. Best to avoid going there, if I can.

… But if I can’t, what then, though..?

The moon setting over the marsh.

I walk with my thoughts, after a few minutes of conversation with my beloved. Walking in the moonlight is a beautiful experience with the full moon a luminous pearl in the night sky, sinking toward the horizon. I’m not enjoying it much this morning. It’s not a permanent condition, I’m just human (so is he).

My beloved woke injured, in pain, and feeling alone. I listened (read) while he talked (texted). I don’t have solutions to offer. (And I can’t be his therapist.) All I have to offer is a caring heart and a willingness to listen. (Any attempts to soothe or encourage have seemed actually offensive, so I’ve given up on that; he’ll let me know when he wants that sort of help. He’s made it clear my suggestions are unwelcome right now.) I do my best. It is recognizably inadequate. None of this is “about me”; my beloved is going through some shit. I’m trying to be a good partner.

The moon setting on a foggy morning.

Daybreak comes. It’s foggy, which I didn’t expect. I sit in the fog, quietly. I feel hesitant to turn my attention to myself, my own experience, my own needs… I breathe deeply and exhale slowly. Chilly morning. My breath shows and mingles with the fog. One mortal human primate alone on a foggy marsh at dawn… such a small detail in a much bigger world. I meditate awhile, hoping to regain my cheerfulness and perspective. I have more to offer when I feel okay, myself.

Me? How am I doing? Meh. I’m okay. Any gains I may have made from taking a break for a few days are blown. Between my own physical pain, and the stress of circumstances, and being the vessel into which my Traveling Partner pours his pain and stress and anger, I’m already nearing exhaustion and questioning my existence. It sucks to be so near to the edge of the mire.

… I worry that I’ll crack under the weight of it all…

… Maybe I should take my stress, my anxiety, and my helplessness into the studio and shape the words I can’t find, as color? Maybe the feeling of soft pastels between my fingers will fix my broken bits or soothe my hurts? I sigh to myself. Maybe it would help to work things out in the studio… for me. Won’t do my beloved Traveling Partner any good at all. Fuck. I’m not even certain having me around has real value right now.

… The tears fall slowly, ignored…

My Traveling Partner pings me an apology, and gently encourages me to find something else to do today. At least, that’s how it sounds to me. Okay, well shit, I can accommodate that pretty easily. I’m halfway to nearly everything that interests me locally. I find myself wishing I’d thrown my RC car or my paint boxes in the car as I left the house, but we don’t know what we don’t know. I send a message to the Chaotic Comic – maybe she feels like hanging out, today?

Fuck this aching ankle and this painful knee. Fuck this arthritic back, and this damaged spine. Fuck this headache, and all the other headaches, too. And fuck brain damage, besides. I sigh to myself with little enthusiasm for the day ahead. I’ll figure it out – I’ve got quite a toolbox after so many years of therapy (and living life). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I set down my baggage, and reflect on impermanence, non-attachment, and how difficult it feels to do better today than yesterday, some mornings.

… but what to do with the day, now? It’s a big world, and the menu in the Strange Diner is vast…

…. The path ahead is familiar, the way out is through… and I can begin again. (So can you.)

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women

Working While Triggered

September 25, 2026 //
0

Sometimes it happens. A sound. A weird shadow. A scent. Something “brings it all back”, and I find myself triggered. Again. This is always unpleasant. When I’m at work, and my time is not my own, it’s beyond unpleasant, and worse than “not ideal”, by far. It has career limiting potential.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

…When a colleague leaves work abruptly for no obvious reason, dropping everything to make haste for the exit, it’s the kind and compassionate option to assume positive intent, and to understand that we all go through some shit…

Well, I haven’t left work (abruptly or otherwise), I guess maybe that’s a win? But I’m sitting here shaking uncontrollably, as if shivering from the cold (it’s not cold in this library, and I have a fleece on). Back to back messages from my Traveling Partner, followed by a phone call (while I was already on a work call) – an emergency? I mean, for some values of “emergency” I guess. No one was bleeding. No one was at risk of imminent death. Nothing was on fire. Being triggered does not ask those kinds of questions or set those kind of limits. My beloved brought his stress to the person he felt could most likely resolve it – totally makes sense. Unfortunately, the details, and the emotional load, were such that I also became triggered.

…Now I’m dealing with my shit. At work. No one needs this. I definitely don’t need this. (I’m sure he didn’t either.) So… now what? My personal demons are taking great delight with the circumstances as I sit here shaking. My headache tears through the left side of my face as the tension causes whatever causes my occipital neuralgia to flare up. I feel my clenched jaw being… clenched. Fucking hell.

No seriously – now what? Now-fucking-what, b1tches?! (Inappropriate. I can do better.)

I take a breath, and exhale slowly. I take another. I keep breathing. Exhaling. Relaxing – or at least trying to. I pull my posture more upright. I stand and stretch – still taking those deep cleansing breaths. I let work fall by the wayside for a moment – well, for 10 minutes, with a timer. I don’t think about it piling up. I don’t think about who may be waiting for a question they need an answer to. I just breath. Stretch. Let my mind wander a bit.

…Type a few words…

It’s not a perfect solution. It doesn’t always resolve the panic of being triggered – but it beats nothing at all. I dig around in my purse; this calls for prescription strength anxiety relief. I take a moment to appreciate how rare that really is these days…

…And then I begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, loneliness, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Yesterdays

September 25, 2026 //
0

One very useful thing about yesterday is that it is reliably in the past. We can let that go, when we’re ready to.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I look down the path, back the way I came. The trees along the path, a strip that runs along a creek bank, are tossing about wildly. My choice of “halfway point” seems potentially regrettable, given the violent winds. I look down the path in the other direction, and contemplate the rainy hours in the forecast, ahead. I’m not wearing, nor did I bring, my rain poncho – another potentially poor choice. I sigh to myself, wondering what will come of it.

There’s a weather alert this morning; high winds. Yep. I see that with my limited human eyesight. The wind is definitely blowing quite ferociously. The trees near me are swaying. From somewhere nearby I hear the kind of cracking noises that suggest one or more of these trees may be felled by the wind. The sound makes me uneasy.  This seems reasonable.

… I somehow manage to doze off briefly, sitting here, upright, wind-buffeted, phone in hand. I wake with a start when my head begins to pull me forward as I nod off. Am I tired? I’m not certain of that, but my sleep has been interrupted and of poor quality for a few nights now. The lack of deep restful sleep since I returned home from the coast is already wearing me down. I’ll feel better after some coffee, I reassure myself. The wind keeps blowing, without comment.

“Seeing Red”, 2026

I sit awhile listening to the trees creaking and groaning as they sway in the wind. The work day yesterday was …fine. Predictably busy. The evening after work was mostly a whirlwind of errands, followed by a serious failure to connect with my beloved Traveling Partner in a meaningful way. The evening fell apart in a cascade of misunderstood remarks, hurt feelings, and not feeling heard. I went to bed early with minimal attention to self-care. At that point I just wanted to be alone with my pain and irritation, feeling peculiarly invisible, and having nothing leftover to deal with any of that.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

…At some point my beloved stepped quietly to the side of the bed in the darkness, and touched me softly. He tenderly stroked my cheek with a favorite soft plush toy, a tiny kitten, and placed it near me.

Sometimes this can feel a very lonely journey; we are not alone. ❤ Detail of “Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic, 2011

Later, when he woke me because it sounded like maybe I wasn’t breathing comfortably, the little stuffed kitten was still in my hand. He said something about my fist being clenched around the hose of my CPAP mask. I mumbled something and got up to pee without ever really waking up, and taking an allergy pill as I went back to bed. It wasn’t surprising that I might have been struggling with breathing easily (and it wasn’t allergies); my clenched fist had covered all the little holes that help with exhalation. I do wonder a bit what I might have been dreaming about.

This morning I feel okay. Yesterday is in the past. I linger on the memory of my Traveling Partner’s tenderness.

The rain begins to fall. I wrap my fleece tightly around me, zipped up, and pull the hood over my hair. It’s no rain poncho, though.

…I get to my feet and head back to the car, quickly, taking a shortcut through the vineyard, by way of the agricultural road, to the parking lot…

I am not quite soaked when I reach the car, and I’m grateful for the towel in my gear bin, and my other hoodie, clean and dry. I towel my hair dry in the car, and change into the dry hoodie.  I’m glad it’s Friday. I’m glad I was prepared for the rain, in spite of being too stupid this morning to wear (or bring along) my rain poncho. I’ve managed to avoid most discomfort. My jeans are wet, but not so much that I’m in misery, and they should dry pretty quickly. I blot them with dry sections of towel, rather ineffectively, and without concern. I listen to the wind and rain, feeling the car rock, as I warm up. I’m okay for nearly all values of okay. It’s enough.

Weather changes. Storms blow in, and blow over. Very little in life is permanent – or personal. The world can be a callous and indifferent place. We have these few precious mortal moments, and each other. I listen to the rain awhile longer, reflecting on life and love, and feeling grateful that nightmares fade so quickly..

Every moment of growth is as a rainbow in a stormy sky; a promise of better things.

…A few more quiet minutes listening to the rain, then I’ll begin again…

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words

One Step, First

September 24, 2026 //
0

I’m groggy and out of sorts this morning. First day back to work, a lot to catch up on, short week. I’m not eager to get on with all of that.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I started down the trail in darkness, a nearly full moon peeking from the clouds now and then. It is a little chillier than it has been, and drifts of fallen leaves have begun to pile up in spots. Definitely autumn, now. I’m grateful for the choice of cozy sweater and a warm fleece.

One step after another, I made my way down the trail in the dark. It feels so easy some mornings. This morning, walking this trail feels easier than returning to work, but it is less than ideally easy, generally. I take it one step at a time. I remind myself to be grateful that I walk at all ( I refuse to allow pain or discomfort to be the whole experience). I keep walking. One step at a time.

… Progress feels slow today. I keep going, anyway…

Eventually, I reach my halfway point on this morning’s walk. I stop. I sit for a little while, just listening, and breathing, and sensing the world around me. I meditate, quietly, here in the darkness. Daybreak is still an hour away (maybe more). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I observe the painful left ankle. I wonder, again, what the hell is up with this right knee? My left shoulder feels like someone tried to pull my arm off with a twisting motion. It is sore and uncomfortable. Neck. Back. The weird shooting pain that runs from my hip down my leg and disappearing before it reaches my knee. The headache? Not a concern, yet, which is quite nice, so I focus on that awhile, until I am distracted by my tinnitus. None of this feels at all “unusual”; this is simply part of my experience.

…Pain and pain management are ordinary details in a lot of lives, not just mine (not just yours). Be kind to people; you don’t know what they’re going through.

Work? Right. There’s that, too. Fuck. I yawn, then break out in a fit of sneezing. I’m grateful for the packet of tissues in my pocket. Handy. I sigh to myself, acknowledging how little enthusiasm for the day ahead I really have. I’d rather go back to sleep. That’s not an available option, today.

I get to my feet slowly, with care. The trailhead feels far, this morning. Another sigh. I’m being ridiculous; it is the same distance it always is, and the pain I’m in is also pretty typical. I stretch and look down the path. The first hints of the sky beginning to lighten slowly appear. The night sky is now more of a deep charcoal hue, not truly darkness. I hear that clock ticking in the background. It’s time to begin, again.

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Ripples, Reflections, and Waves

September 23, 2026 //
0

My homecoming was lovely, although I arrived in what turned out to be the middle of my Traveling Partner’s work day. I did my best to stay out of that, and to respect his work day.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m still thinking over experiences and lessons learned from my coastal getaway. Sometimes the processing takes more time than the lived experience. The thoughts come in waves, glimmering with the reflected light of many little fragments and impressions, the way the afternoon sunshine sparkles on the rippled surface of the sea.

It’s a metaphor.

There’s time for all that. I yawn as the sunrise begins to develop color. I drink in the autumn air on the edge of the marsh. A little chime goes off on my phone, reminding me to take morning meds. I stupidly attempt this simple feat without water, and choke on a tiny dry tablet that wants to stick dangerously near my airway. I cough several times, hard, and get relief, but now there’s a spot in my throat that just feels wrong, somehow. Annoying.

Like a moment on fire.

As I sit watching the sky, it lights up in hues of pink, magenta, lavender, and raspberry. So beautiful! No picture would really do this justice, and if I painted it just as it is, I feel certain it would be criticized for lack of realism. It’s quite fantastic and splendid, and I feel fortunate to see it. Wow.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about the day ahead. He has appointments. I have an errand to run. Later, we’ll catch up with each other at home. He proposes we do something together. I agree that sounds nice. No idea what that will mean when we get there… but I’m looking forward to it. It’s easy to forget that today is a work day. I’m glad I took it off, instead of immediately diving back into work!

I sit with my thoughts and this beautiful sunrise. Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, women, Words
« Older Entries