Bad Dreams, But…

September 29, 2026 //
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Okay so, yeah, I’m having a lot of bad dreams lately. Even when they aren’t “nightmares”, they’re often deeply unpleasant.

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

I woke this morning, grateful for the bright light of my silent alarm; better than the dream I was having. Hell, I’m not surprised by the bad dreams – have you seen the state of the world? The shameless exploitative corporate greed? The thoroughly corrupt government? The war in Ukraine? The genocides? Oh yeah, more than one of those going on, it isn’t limited to Palestine. How can human beings be so incredibly vile?

I’m struggling to maintain perspective, I admit it. I feel disappointed (in humanity, generally) and I feel betrayed on an unreasonable personal level. I was stationed in Germany when the Berlin Wall came down. It was such a proud moment for humanity and I felt such hope for the world. I sigh quietly as I walk the dark trail with my dark thoughts.

I get to my halfway point and stop. I just stand there in the dark awhile, after turning off my headlamp, letting my eyes adjust, watching the stars. After a handful of uncounted minutes gazing into the eternal darkness of the vast night sky, I sit down and cry awhile. I don’t fight the tears. No shame. No guilt. Only emotions I can’t quite process without allowing for the grief. Grieving is powerful stuff and difficult to control or limit or reason with, and now and then I am flooded with tears over what we have all lost – all those lives, all the wasted potential, all the hurting and the sorrow.

…We could do better…

I was once a soldier in an army. I have been to war. I have looked directly into the eyes of my enemy and found that he was every bit as human as I am myself. No one walks away unchanged. We live with the consequences of our actions,  that’s just real. I sigh to myself. I’m grateful to have gotten out alive. I’m grateful to see another sunrise. I’m grateful to have my Traveling Partner’s warm, loving embrace when the weight of the world threatens to pull me down into the depths of madness and grief (and even when he’s dealing with his own shit, he is there for me).

Being human is hard. Being the best human being the resources and experience available permit a person to be is harder still, and it for sure feels like a lot of people aren’t even trying.

I’m grateful for this solitary time to just get shit right in my head before a new day begins. Most days this is the only solitude I have. The rest of my day is interacting with people at work, and out in the world, some days so continuously that by the time I get home to my beloved I have nothing left to give. That seems thoroughly unfair, to the two of us. I embrace the little bit of “me time” life permits me to have and try not to bitch about it not feeling like enough. …At least I don’t also have children.

My beloved pings me. We converse a bit. The clock ticks on. My head aches ferociously and slow tears fall for a moment and stop. At 14 I once felt very similarly, I think, sort of lost, and frustrated-angry-sad. I dealt with it by packing a small bag with everything I thought I would need (it wasn’t), and I walked away. (It would be weeks before I turned up and ultimately went back, but that’s a story for another time.) I hadn’t yet learned that we cannot escape who we are so easily. I’d hug her if I could and assure her it gets better…then wonder if I should also tell her it’s going to get so much worse, first?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The world is a pretty chaotic and sometimes grotesquely frightening place, but right here? Right now? This moment? It’s fine. A woman on a hiking trail looking at the stars. It is peaceful and beautiful. I make room to enjoy this moment as it is. A lifetime is built on moments; it important to savor the pleasant ones, whatever the circumstances.

The mild almost warm morning wraps me gently. The first hints of daybreak begin to develop. I watch the sky quietly. I think about these mortal lives and the place we hold in the cosmos. We are so tiny, so fragile and finite – how is it these moments feel so important? I sit with my thoughts until it is time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Keeping It Real

September 28, 2026 //
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Just saying, I have bad days, too…

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

… Some days I don’t sleep well and I really feel it. Sometimes chronic pain is more than I feel like I can manage. Sometimes love isn’t a merry playground. Sometimes I burn dinner, or stub my toe, or get my stupid hair brush tangled in my damned hair before I’m quite awake in the morning.

… Some days it just feels like a lot to deal with, this whole “being human” thing, and it’s definitely not “fair“. Some days it just fucking sucks from end to end for no obvious reason…or at least it feels that way in the moment.

I put my head down on my desk, where I’m co-working, and I just start crying. It’s nothing particular, I’m just feeling the weight of the world and circumstances, and very much wishing my resilience wasn’t born of endless effort and constant practice.

It’ll pass, I know that. It’s only a moment. A very human moment to be sure, but it’s still only a moment. I sniffle back the last few tears and use my last tissue to dry my eyes and blow my nose. I still have hours of work ahead of me, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, grief, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Sometimes It’s Complicated

September 28, 2026 //
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Morning. Another one. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to see another sunrise. Life gets complicated sometimes, though, and it is a lot to take. It’s rarely “all on me”, or even about me (in many cases it’s nothing to do with me at all).

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

It’s not even daybreak yet. It’s quite dark on the trail this morning – clear starry sky, the full moon overhead.  I walk down the familiar trail with a measure of confidence, the bobbing circle of light ahead of me from my headlamp is plenty to see by. I walk with my thoughts, enjoying these moments of peace and quiet reflection; they may be the only such moments in a busy complicated day.

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on the nearby bench.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Chilly morning. I’m grateful for the warm sweater and cozy cardigan I threw on over it. I can see my breath this morning. Fall. The potential beauty of the morning is thrown off by concern for my Traveling Partner. I find myself wondering whether I should call out from work to take care of him today? For the moment my own pain takes a back seat in my awareness. I breathe deeply, and exhale slowly, working to stave off my stress before it can become a panic attack. My partner needs me to be capable and to provide care. I remind myself that I did it for two years, and I can resume doing so capably, now, when my beloved needs me.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Sometimes shit gets complicated. That’s just life. We all go through shit, and it is sometimes the worst we’ve ever been through. Resilience is built over time, but it can sure feel like it can be used up in an instant.

I sigh to myself feeling restless, and for a moment a little trapped and hopeless. I remind myself that change is, and very few moments last. Most things are pretty impermanent, actually, so I take another breath, exhale again, and do my best to relax. I’ll keep practicing.

Still not daybreak yet, but there is the faintest hint of something more deep dark blue than utterly black about the sky. A new day. I keep working to quell my panic (an inner voice snarls at me, “no one has time for this weak ass shit, knock it off”). Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Repeat as needed. I struggle to get comfortable with myself this morning. My mind refuses to settle down or focus, like hearing a fire alarm I know is a test, and still feeling it is urgently necessary to leave the building. This is absolutely not a test – it’s life. Sometimes it’s complicated.

I sigh to myself and hope I get through the day with my perspective intact, and able to provide any caregiving my partner needs. I stupidly look at my watch in the dark. Pointless. I do know it’s time to begin again… I get to my feet and turn to head on down the trail and back to the car.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, 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

Spooky Quiet

September 27, 2026 //
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I set off down the trail in the darkness. There’s a full moon shining through the trees, and the trail is muddy, which I did not expect.

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

A full moon, a quiet morning.

My Traveling Partner is up early. He pings me several times. Conversation. I set expectations that the trail is muddy and lacks good stopping points where it follows the river. I still struggle not to respond to every message (from him, specifically) immediately. He returns with his own expectation setting; this is my problem to solve. He says he was hoping I’d stop responding to everything immediately and let him drink his coffee. 😆 Fucking hell, we’re an interesting pair. I turn off my ringer and continue walking.

… It’s definitely an improvement to give my full attention to the moment I’m in, and the trail I am on…

The moon sinks below the trees, and the darkness is …darker. It is spooky quiet on the trail this morning. There was one other vehicle at the trailhead this morning. Somewhere along the trail here is another person. I am alert and a little wary. I slip on a slick bit of mud and fallen leaves and stop for a moment to let my heartbeat slow back down to something more normal. That was scary.

I reach my halfway point still in darkness. No river picture this morning, not yet. It isn’t even daybreak yet. I sit thinking about my difficulty with disregarding that unique notification sound that means my Traveling Partner and no one else. There are times when it is hazardous or problematic in some way, to be texting. Sometimes it is important to hold focus on the task I am engaged with. Sometimes I may be having a conversation with a human being standing in front of me, or just juggling packages awkwardly. My beloved is such a high priority in my life, I forget everything else and grab my phone immediately when I hear that notification.  This does need to be corrected (he’s right about that); it affects my safety, and he is no longer needing continuous care (barely ever needs help).

… Turning notifications off temporarily does work (very well), but sometimes I forget to turn them back on (very human)…

It’s not as if I don’t check my phone often enough when I can. This is fine. It isn’t worth stress. It doesn’t need a more complicated solution than turning off my ringer when I’m hiking, driving, or in a meeting. 😂

I sit with my thoughts in the dark. Now is a good time to check messages; I’m sitting still. 😆 A new message from my Traveling Partner assuring me he’s not mad and wanting to clarify that. A flurry of loving cute stickers follow. I like the stickers, they reinforce the message in a loving way. I find myself nodding and smiling. Sometimes communication is hard. This morning it’s easier.

Daybreak finally comes to this forested hollow on the riverbank. The trees around me take on a strange lacey appearance, silhouetted against the paler blue-gray of the dawn sky. It still feels quite dark. The call of an owl somewhere nearby seems to agree. I hear footsteps (and a dog?) coming down the slope of the trail, just beyond the next bend, and draw back into the shadows reflexively.

I hear a male voice. He becomes visible as he comes around the bend, just a guy and his dog, leashed. I relax a bit, and I’ve forgotten I am camouflaged by the shadows. He’s almost even with me when the wind changes and his dog alerts on my presence and gives a woof and halts. I’ve clearly startled the crap out of this guy, because he exclaims “Oh fuck! You startled the crap out of me there!” “I’m sorry I startled you,” I reply, “and good morning! How are trail conditions further on?”, I ask, hoping to make things feel more normal once more. He relaxes. “Don’t mind Cody here, he’s friendly,” he says, “trail’s okay, a little muddy.” I thank him and he continues on his way with a wave.

I sit awhile longer, watching the sky turn blue, and the trees green and gold, and hues of autumn, as daylight comes. I’ll give the sunrise a little time to light the trail, before I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5

A Full Moon Setting

September 26, 2026 //
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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.)

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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
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