Archives for the month of: June, 2015

The apartment didn’t cool off much yesterday. During the night I slept on top of the bed covers until some moment in the wee hours when I realized in my sleep that I felt cold and contentedly pulled the covers over myself. The alarm went off immediately. I flopped over onto my back with a grin in the darkness; it was just more humorous than anything else. Humorous because it was very much a matter of perspective in the first place; the apartment was still quite warm and a bit stuffy. No music this morning, instead I took time before coffee to open the windows, and to carefully replace the spider discouraging fabric in the window channels, blocking the gap in the screens and letting the early morning breeze blow through to cool things down before I leave for work.

A cool shower refreshed me nicely, and the water for my coffee was ready by the time I was dried off and dressed. Yoga and meditation to birdsong and the sound of traffic at the nearby busy street was satisfying and I am not in pain today. One lovely advantage to the hot dry days of summer is that my arthritis is so much less aggravating. I get weeks of very little pain, and reduced need for pain management. I look around my living room contentedly; it reflects who I am. I sip my coffee. I feel relaxed and comfortable.

A commute covers the same ground day after day - a journey takes us somewhere new.

A commute covers the same ground day after day – a journey takes me somewhere new.

I take some moments to consider the number of times I have started down the path of finding real emotional wellness…and the number of times those attempts have been stalled by one circumstance or another, and how my own issues have held me back, and how I have allowed or fostered those failures; sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of loyalty, sometimes because the process of failing, itself, had been mistaken for progress. There has, each time, been this sort of ‘this far and no farther’ moment – and each attempt would begin again, from a starting a point, moving forward to that moment when I would be stalled, or turned back, and the whole thing would repeat some other year, or in the next relationship, or after some terrible moment of despair. It’s been a bit more like ‘commuting’ than a journey many times. This morning, waking in this safe comfortable space, waking and feeling my consciousness begin with contentment from the moment I wake, I see that this has become truly a journey at some point, and I pause to recognize and appreciate how far I have come. There is farther to go. Maybe I really needed to retread some of the progress I have made over the years, and maybe every attempt to find my way through the chaos and damage was utterly necessary for some greater understanding. Maybe I wasn’t ‘ready’. Maybe, as it so often seemed, some person or another in my life at the time was themselves unready for [my] growth and change, or perhaps my wellness was not to their advantage. (People who encourage continued growth with the commitment of my traveling partner are very rare.) I know that none of those things matter having moved beyond those moments, and relationships. The mistake of thinking those things are relevant has often held me back needlessly.

This morning I relax and take care of me without stress or doubt. My coffee is tasty and I am content to let myself wake up in the time it takes to do so gently. My routine this morning lacks rigid order; I take the tasks as they come, and in the order that seems practical in this moment. It’s enough. Hell, it’s more than enough. It’s a lovely morning.

Part of taking care of me happens in the kitchen with wholesome fresh foods, and appropriate portions. In the summer heat, I enjoy a homemade granita, made with much less sugar than commercial frozen treats.

Part of taking care of me happens in the kitchen with wholesome fresh foods, and appropriate portions. In the summer heat, I enjoy a homemade granita, made with much less sugar than commercial frozen treats.

There is time, this morning, for a healthy breakfast (oatmeal with fresh fruit and some nuts sounds good this morning), and study; I’ve returned to my reading list, myself, because the context of my experience has changed significantly, and there is benefit in deeper study of science and practices that are specifically relevant to my experience. I most particularly want to spend time studying ‘listening deeply’ and the communication and mindfulness practices associated with that idea, and what sorts of things I can do to change how my injury disrupts the natural flow of dialogue (I interrupt a lot, and my speech suffers from similar ‘run on sentences’ as I inflict on you here). There’s work to be done! 🙂

My birthday is coming. 52. It’s not a major milestone as birthday goes, but from a personal perspective on progress, I am proud of myself for how far I have come since that bleak December [2012] when I finally stopped ‘commuting’, and began this journey toward real wellness.

Today is a good day for practicing good practices. Today is a good day for critical thought – without being critical or unkind. Today is a good day to enjoy a journey that has taken me this far, and promises to take me much further. Today is a good day to appreciate the many perspectives on my experience.

I woke to a lovely summer morning, and enjoyed the sunrise filtered through the blinds of the front window, and the sounds of birdsong. I woke early, but not so early as to feel like a lack of sleep. I slept well and comfortably and woke with no new insect bites. It makes sense that the insect situation has improved somewhat; I am taking strong measures to ensure I am able to provide myself the best possible self-care: vacuuming every day, removing things from cabinets and replacing them differently (also improving how things are stored, and getting rid of stuff I don’t need in the process). I have stuffed gaps in screens, and around doors and windows with pyrethrum soaked fabric to prevent uninvited visitors (and tomorrow I will ask the management to replace all the screens with new ones that actually fit the windows sufficiently to function as screens). While spiders are busily reproducing in our region, I am also wiping down exposed skin with Deet – even when I know I will be indoors, and yes, even before I go to bed. I am also laundering my linens and changing them on the bed every day. It sounds ludicrous, I’m sure, but spiders don’t prefer spaces that are disturbed frequently, and the tiniest baby ones easily enter the house through gaps in poorly fitted screens – vacuuming every day does a better job of getting rid of those little ones than I could ever do by looking for them. I minimize my risk of additional bites even further, keeping my feet and legs well covered – socks and a tight base layer of wicking fabric, which has been working very well, although when the day gets warm I find myself grumbling. (I’d rather be wearing a sundress and going barefooted.)

I feel basically  moved in, but there is more to do and I use the spider abatement measures to also continue to get more moved in than I already am. I’m hanging paintings, sorting through historical paperwork, reconsidering items in my wardrobe that I just don’t wear, or that no longer fit, and refining storage solutions. It’s wonderful; I am creating order from chaos. 🙂 I am living my life.

I spent yesterday in the company of friends. Over the course of the day I enjoyed hanging out with a friend of many years (almost two decades) that I haven’t been seeing much of for a while. I also spent time with a friend whose association with me is less than a year, and with whom I connect very well. He enjoys some peculiarities of mine that are often seen as limitations or challenges in other relationships, an interesting and delightful experience.

Today I’d been looking forward to seeing my traveling partner, after he indicated he’d really love to see me, and hang out over coffee, and I was feeling less cross with the itching of the spider bites – but plans are not ‘actuals’ until they happen, and he woke up feeling ill. We postponed without hurt feelings or distress, and the day unfolds with chores, laundry, correspondence, and perhaps later if the day is not to hot, I may venture forth into the retail wilderness for a new bathing suit; the community pool opened yesterday, and I’ve lost enough weight that my old bathing suit hung off my body in a most ineffective and unsuitable way. 🙂  It will definitely be hot enough for a dip in the pool to feel quite nice, later today.

A lovely day to walk my own path.

A lovely day to walk my own path.

It’s a lovely summer day. There are choices to be made, most of them quite pleasantly practical. I can choose from chores that need doing, and from the fun things that I enjoy, and numerous nurturing self-care practices, and from the things that fit more on the list of opportunities to explore something new… It’s a pleasant Sunday with no firm agenda, and a good day to mix ‘n match from all the possibilities and enjoy the day gently. That will be enough. 🙂

Another morning, another day. The cool air of morning blows through the apartment cooling things off. I feel less hesitant to open the windows having treated the window screens with pyrethrum, and all the door jams, window frames, carpets, nooks, crannies and anything else that seemed treatable, and potentially spider housing. I did much of it last evening, then went for a walk while the vapor hazard dissipated somewhat. Yes, multiple spider bites itch so much that I chose to suspend my preference to avoid household poisons. Now it is a matter of time, and the bites I already have will stop itching and heal.

This itching isn’t inconsequential; it makes me ferociously cross, and almost mad with distraction. I repeatedly consider cancelling my weekend plans, knowing how hard it will be to focus on anything else but this itching…but I am feeling moody, horny, lonely, and the itching itself would benefit from something that could distract me from it. Connecting with human beings outside the office would do me good – I enjoy solitude, but once it cross over to the dark side (loneliness), it becomes a very different experience.

Actual rejection, or mistreatment, may move me to put distance between myself and another human being – but it doesn’t change the very real human need for social contact that I have. The desire to avoid hurting someone who matters greatly to me may also move me to put some distance between me, and that dear one, if I don’t know another course of action, or lack skill at managing whatever the issue is (in this case, for example, this infernal itching). That’s very different from walking away from poor treatment, though, and now that my traveling partner and I live quite separately, maintaining a ‘long distance connection’ skillfully becomes urgently important to me. I know what my needs are…but I would be a fool to assume I know his, aside from what he has explicitly shared. At this particular time in our lives, our differences seem to be more profound that our common ground. This would seem to require careful expectation setting, clear communication, openness, good-natured acceptance, honesty, frankness, humor…and generous helpings of love and encouragement. We’ve both changed over the years, each picked up some baggage of our own – some shared, some very individual. Words on a page don’t do justice to the complex beauty of love. We seem, for now, to need things we are not able to provide for each other. Love needs what it needs to thrive – and so do I, and so does my traveling partner. We’re both very human.

Sometimes this can feel a very lonely journey; we are not alone. <3 Detail of "Communion" 24" x 36" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic, 2011

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

My traveling partner matters too much to me to treat him poorly by design, or even predictably; I actively avoid behavior and choices that have that outcome. This weekend that seems to suggest postponing plans to hang out would be wise…and still needing human contact, connection, and companionship I chose to keep plans to have brunch with an old friend, and go to the Farmer’s Market later with a friend who is newer in my experience, both far less likely to be hurt by any irritability or distraction on my part. I managed, somehow, to screw up managing my social life such that my traveling partner may have felt hurt or rejected, instead of valued and respected. I find myself, as a result, teetering on the edge of cancelling all my plans – because hurting someone so dear to me is so uncomfortable I would rather inflict that pain on myself, and simply endure the loneliness.  What are the best practices to practice here?  I know one thing – I am staring directly into the heart of one reason I moved into my own place; I have become so attached to my traveling partner that I have difficulty taking care of me, and this continues to stall my progress in therapy (and life) as I fight myself for control of my experience while I simultaneously try to hand it over to someone who loves me so dearly that he doesn’t want that kind of power. These are issues that are in no way about him, as a person, or about love as an experience – they are at the heart of my chaos and damage, constructs that have existed for so long within my messed up programming that I am often unaware of them as they play out again and again to my detriment. At long last, I am standing on the edge of real wellness, but to get there I am going to have to fight some heavy weight demons, without a sidekick, without a hero riding in to save me, without magical weapons, and probably in incredibly shitty conditions. (Oh, hey, cue the spiders!!)

So…I keep turning the puzzle over in my head…how do I best take care of me today? How do I best take care of love? How do I nurture a long distance connection with consideration and gracious acceptance of circumstances, and still treating myself well? What is enough communication? What is too little? We travel the same distance to see each other, when we do; for me that’s 90 minutes on public transportation, for him that’s 30 minutes in the car. When I consider going to see him, the time and distance have little importance to me. He cautions me in a practical way that he isn’t always going to want to spend half an hour driving to see me, when we discuss making plans for regular time together. I need the planning. He needs the flexibility. We are different people. Hell, he pointed out, himself, that I would benefit from spending more time with other friends, getting out into the world more, doing the things I love more – and all that is true. The truth of it has nothing to do with his emotional experience of not being part of it. He is also having his own experience.

Some of the most important questions I ask myself are questions that he asked me first… Mortality being what it is, I experience doubt – and my demons do their happy dance, and my brain turns the immense power it has to create on me directly.  I worry that these precious minutes are lost, and I grieve with my whole heart for what I don’t have right now…but damn…perspective has its moment to shine, too, and I recognize the incredible wonder and joy I have experienced thus far. It’s a journey. Keeping in mind I am making the map as I go, it’s no great surprise that I have doubts, fears, worries, concerns, heartache…and all in equal and reciprocal measure to the capacity I also have for joy, delight, love, wonder, passion, creativity, and all of it leading me on a student’s path through life’s curriculum. It’s a journey. There is distance to travel, and distance to experience. There is a hearty helping of verbs – and I have to choose those wisely and act upon them with my will. My results are absolutely going to vary – and I’m not in it alone, although I am having my own experience.

...with what matters most. "You Always Have My Heart" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow.

…with what matters most.
“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

Today I am taking care of me, and hoping that love can be nurtured across distance and that I can learn to do it skillfully. Taking care of me also means allowing my dear ones their own experience, their own emotions, their own choices – without resistance. Taking care of me requires that I experience my own emotions with self-compassion, respect, and consideration, and make my own choices in the best way I can, myself, that meet my needs over time.  A shared journey is not indentured servitude, bondage, or a sentence – it is a choice, made with love. So…now I need to learn not to punish myself for experiences that are not mine. That’s going to take some practice. Learning to listen deeply is critical, and figuring out how to master some control over my injury is tied for first place.

Why, yes, I think I will, thanks. :-)

Why, yes, I think I will, thanks. 🙂

Today is a good day to practice. Today is a good day to smile in the sunshine and have brunch with a friend. Today is a good day to love from afar and trust that love is, and that loving myself matters, too.

I woke in a good mood this morning, in spite of the challenges last night. I’m definitely settled in enough now to sleep easily and deeply, and through the night. That’s a big win. The worse my sleep is, and the longer I go on less-than-ideal sleep, the more the volatile I am, emotionally, and the less skilled I am at managing the routines and practices that build something I can count on as executive function – and trust me, having a disinhibiting brain injury throws some career curve balls, and the most loving partner will have a surplus of ‘wtf??’ moments with me. Good sleep matters a lot.

This morning I am smiling over my coffee, and the nice note from my traveling partner – he’s very understanding about rescheduling our possible hang out time this weekend. He’s no fool, and recognizes that the furious itching and whatnot of these [probably] spider bites will impact our time together, and not for the better. It feels good to set boundaries for myself more skillfully, and without rancor. It’s these easy moments that I feel his love, even at a distance.

Today the way ahead seems obvious and pleasant.

Today the way ahead seems obvious and pleasant.

I was reading an article that the FDA has approved ‘female Viagra’ for women suffering from low sex drive (who decides their sex drive is low in the first place?), and there have been brief periods in my life when my own rather unfortunately robust sex drive dropped off (usually because the partnership I was in was a sex drive killer emotionally, or because I was on medication that affected it). For me, personally, the issue of sex drive hasn’t been one of a deficit at all. I have a disinhibiting brain injury – trust me, there’s no shortage of sex drive – and on top of that, an early life sexual trauma history that tends to result, as a package, in sufficiently high sex drive to have negatively affected most of my relationships over the course of a lifetime. The big driver in my lifelong lack of monogamy has been my sex drive. Reading the article, I couldn’t help wondering how many women will take this new medication, increase their sex drive, and find themselves faced with partners who don’t want the same amount of sex? There’s this strange myth lurking out there in some corners of the world that women don’t want as much sex as men do… that hasn’t been my experience, at all.

My high drive used to be an easy thing to deal with through my utter lack of monogamy. There was no shortage of willing folk to have some fun with. I’m in a weird place in life, now, with myself…at some point I lost interest in sex that lacks a good connection and authentic desire between willing equals. I can’t (and don’t care to) fake that. Now I’ve got this crazy sex drive, and the bar is set pretty high… It is not easy to imagine wanting to increase my sex drive from this place life. Hell, my sex drive was one of the things the VA used to justify putting me on powerful psych meds that were not actually appropriate for my issues. They didn’t actually reduce my sex drive, either. You know what kills my sex drive? Being treated poorly. lol

One thing I do find encouraging about the existence of a female Viagra, and it’s a pretty big deal; it implies acceptance that women want and need sexual fulfillment, too, and that it’s normal and okay to want more of what feels so good. That’s actually a very big deal in such a sex-negative culture, and a sign of real cultural progress. Now if we could just shift the cultural perceptions that older women, women with physical limitations, and very heavy women don’t want sex, or are not sexual beings, that would be amazing. At almost 52, I want sex as much and with as much fervor as I did in my thirties and forties – and way more than I did in my twenties. lol I not only want more – I’m way better at it. 🙂

Sex makes life sparkle - your results may vary.

Sex makes life sparkle – your results may vary.

It’s Friday, and the weekend is ahead of me. I will perhaps hunt down a wee allen wrench and finish hooking up the stereo. Saturday I will go to brunch with an old friend, and visit the Farmer’s Market. Sunday I’ll get some laundry done, and catch up on correspondence. An ordinary weekend, in an ordinary life; there are verbs involved, and sure – my results vary. 🙂

Tonight started in a most promising way. I had a task in mind; hooking up the stereo. Simple stuff, but it hits a nerve with my post traumatic stress and I felt considerable anxiety about the undertaking, and a dreadful lack of confidence about it. Here’s the thing, though; I know how to do hook up my stereo, and the fear and stress are an illusion left over from a lifetime ago. So, I got home, and got started. Didn’t get it quite finished – it turned out the wee allen wrench for tightening the set screw on the back of the speakers had gone missing. It’s a small thing – I’ll replace it and finish connecting the speakers and be done with it…

…I’m not wired for frustration. Rationally, I knew it wasn’t a big deal – I’ve been contentedly listening to music on my laptop for days. The disappointment and frustration collided at the end of a busy workday. I wasn’t up to the challenge and wept for some time, helpless, immobilized, overwhelmed. It seems inexplicable now, on the other side of it. I had a shower, meditated, did some yoga, had a bite to eat… I’m fine. Frustrated, but even that has dissipated.  You know what hasn’t changed? The ferocious itching of bites that I suspect now of being spider rather than mosquito. I’ve got several large painful welts that itch so fiercely moment to moment that it’s hard to focus on anything else. The one of my foot was most agonizing walking to and from work. Right now the one on my calf feels worst. My mood may be affected by these bites – I am sensitive enough to bee stings to carry a bee sting kit all spring and summer, anywhere I go.

...I still try to get pictures of bees...

…I still try to get pictures of bees…

Practicing good practices doesn’t prevent bug bites (well, there are probably some excellent insect control practices…) – and I don’t know how or how much these bites may be affecting me. (When my traveling partner got a nasty spider bite sometime last year it definitely changed his outlook on the world, and he was much more irritable, generally.) I’m suffering enough with these bites – and they are numerous – that I withdrew an offer to hang out with my traveling partner sometime over the weekend. It doesn’t make sense to allow even one previous minute to be tainted with predictable irritability or suffering when we can save it for another day, and enjoy each other. It was a difficult choice to make – but hanging out Wednesday went sideways pretty easily, and I wouldn’t be surprised to confirm these bites had something to do with my emotional dis-regulation. Another time.

detail of "Emotion and Reason"

We are creatures of both emotion and reason, of both light and darkness.

Tonight, between the frustration with the stereo, and the itching of the bites, and challenges getting my routines down (I think I missed on my hormones…not sure, though, I can’t recall taking them, but I also don’t recall not taking them…) (Did I mention the fucking itching? lol ) I finally just broke.  So sure, I cried some frustrated tears. I do that. I suck at frustration, even now, although I am hopeful that experiences like this will help me improve the way I handle frustration the next time. No humans were harmed in the making of this experience – even me. Really. Frustrating, sure, but even that passed, leaving behind only me. Pretty content, and entirely okay. Yes, it was a choice, and no that doesn’t make it less valued, or less genuine. It isn’t forced, it’s just that there are verbs involved. 🙂

At 2 with Inga

At 2, a very different perspective.

I’m tired. Sleepy, fatigued, and not feeling my best, without actually feeling ill. It’s a lovely evening to meditate – the process of moving has broken so many routines. It’s time to rebuild good habits, practice good practices with consistency and discipline – it’s time to take the very best care of this fragile vessel.