Archives for the month of: August, 2015
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Planning, Experiencing

August 5, 2015 //
1

Waking up was hard again this morning. I don’t know what’s been driving these groggy mornings; they seem associated with deeper sleep, and sleeping through the night. Is the trade-off worth it? Well… perhaps, all but the first hour or two of the morning, when I am finding myself struggling to wake up, to remember medication, to drag myself through yoga, a shower, and making coffee… Once I am really awake, it’s no longer of any concern and doesn’t seem to affect my day. (Damn it – ‘affect’ or ‘effect’??)

I am waiting for water to heat up for coffee – it feels like a long wait. Rationally, I know that the water likely takes approximately the same time to boil each morning – or close enough that I would not be able to tell the difference without some sort of calibrated measuring device. Still, subjectively, from the perspective of a groggy morning, it seems quite forever taking.  I wait and consider the evening shared with my traveling partner, and smile.

We had a great time together: dinner out, and back to my place for some hang out time, and a show. We enjoy each other a great deal, and the time was well-spent. He’ll be away the weekend – we both definitely wanted to get some time together before he went. Thinking of his weekend out-of-town, I suddenly miss him dreadfully – even though I know that A.) his geographical location has not yet changed and B.) if it had, it wouldn’t be different for my experience right now in any practical way. Emotions don’t sign up for classes in logic and reason – they have their own way. It is a wonder to me how deep the connection we share is. I smile recalling his ‘complaint’ that he does not want to be put on a pedestal, that he is ‘just this guy’. I never can quite communicate that I am well aware of his humanity, and although I adore him well beyond any reasonable measure – I’m adoring a man, a human being, flaws and all. That’s okay with me. I know his heart. I’ve never needed him to be more than the man he is – I like that man, enjoy him, and hope to share the journey a good long way.

I smile. Sip my coffee. Let my thoughts move on.

It’s almost 6:00 am these days before the sky looks as it did shortly before 5:00 am, when I moved in here. 76 days of finding my own way – most of them alone, and most of them quite content and comfortable. 76 days of meditation, of writing, of walking, thinking, working, sleeping… 76 days of living, of thriving, and being this woman in the mirror. 76 days of living in a household where 100% of every adult is completely supportive of the health, wellness, and quality of life everyone else in the household, the goals are shared, and everyone is committed to The Big 5 values (respect, consideration, reciprocity, compassion, and openness) and making a commitment of both will and action to treat everyone else well…

What could be more worthy than being the woman I am in the most authentic possible way? There are no others quite like me.

What could be more worthy than being the woman I am in the most authentic possible way? There are no others quite like me.

 

I went on to write considerably more, but recognized that at some point I had begun to write in a detailed way about a prior predictable train wreck of a relationship. Poignant and heartfelt words – but a serious overshare with potential to be hurtful in ways I would not be skillful at identifying. Where break ups have been concerned I have maintained an adult practice of not pouring gasoline on fires, not rubbing salt in wounds, and making every possible effort to continue to practice The Big 5; I avoid venting about prior relationships because it is pointless, ugly, and reduces me to acting on base impulses.  I find that needlessly hurtful, and try to ‘be the good guy’ in a legitimate sincere way. When I face the woman in the mirror I don’t want to have to make excuses for my behavior later, or rationalize how some bit of nastiness ‘is okay because they…’ – because making the excuse doesn’t really excuse the bad act, the poor behavior, or the meanness, and all those things are loaded with potential to diminish me as a human being. This life is my journey, and I’d like to make it a good one. I’d rather continue to be compassionate, to be reasonable, to seek understanding – and to take care of me by not investing further in relationships that are damaging to my mental, emotional, or physical health. No drama required. It’s unnecessary; it is by our behavior that the world knows us, the words are extra.

Where will my path take me?

Where will my path take me?

The weekend ahead has my attention. My traveling partner will be away. The summer weather is forecast to be summer – but not an inconveniently health-threatening inferno. I am geared up to go camping, myself, and having my traveling partner’s car for the weekend I also have more options. Where will the weekend take me? I don’t yet know the answer to that question – but I know I’ll come back with pictures!

Today is a good day to explore the options. Today is a good day to remember that taking shit personally is a choice. Today is a good day to appreciate the things that work. Today is a good day to recognize what isn’t working – and do something else. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

It’s Quite Irrelevant

August 4, 2015 //
2

Morning came sooner than I’d like. I slept poorly. I dozed off again and again, and the sleep I did get was of good quality. I was not able to sleep through the night, and woke regularly. It wasn’t a bad night in any distinct way, it was simply that my sleep was interrupted, incomplete, and insufficient to result in feeling rested this morning. The experience is not relevant to whether I have a good day today. So far, aside from being somewhat groggy, and writing with far more spelling errors than you will ever see, it manages to be a lovely morning in spite of the poor quality sleep.

Cloudy skies that threaten rain without delivering on their promise.

Cloudy skies that threaten rain without delivering on their promise.

I make my coffee with great care, more because I am too groggy not to follow the process quite carefully, than any wonder of mindfulness. I notice, once completed, that the fragrant brew is quite dark. I think to myself “huh, that really is the color of an ‘espresso finish’ “, without noticing in the moment that I am not drinking espresso – just coffee. The coffee is very good this morning; I made a point to get more of that Brazilian roast I enjoyed so much. I am enjoying it every bit as much as I did the first time.

No raccoons on the lawn this morning, no cats stopping by, no possums, no bunnies, and the birds are quiet. It is a quiet morning. It’s probably best that it be such a lovely quiet morning; I am not awake enough to provide any sort of crisis management, or quick decision-making. I’m okay with that. I’ve got my coffee, and plenty of time to wake up.

Sometimes changing my perspective doesn't change my understanding of things...sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn't.

Sometimes changing my perspective doesn’t change my understanding of things…sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t.

I sip my coffee, listening to sounds of morning and thinking ahead to the evening, to the weekend… my traveling partner will be away for the weekend, which is not relevant to anything in this moment but the recollection reminds me of our plans tonight. I smile, anticipating the moment he arrives. I am awake enough to value the deep connection we share. For a brief moment I allow my consciousness to brush past the previously terrifying what-if scenario of ‘what if he didn’t come back from…’. It’s not a pleasant thought to linger on, so I don’t, but as I turn my thoughts to other things, I realize…once I got past the shock of it, the sorrow… I’d be okay. I’d go on with my life, treating myself well, investing in me. I don’t doubt there would be a huge hole in my heart, in my experience, perhaps for always, perhaps not…and there is no loss of affection in the knowledge that I’d be okay – only the loss of the crippling attachment that had built over time. It feels good to let that go. Strong. Safe. Emotionally secure.

It's a metaphor. :-)

It’s a metaphor. 🙂

This morning I have the sense of taking life one slippery rock at a time, crossing a fast-moving creek; there’s a sense of progress, recognition of the distance covered and the journey ahead, and a realization that a missed step, or a fall, needn’t be assumed to be doom. I’d simply begin again. That’s enough.

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Categories Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Walking a Bit Farther

August 3, 2015 //
2

It’s not every evening that I break through something that’s been holding me back. The walk home from work began in the usual way; I left the building, and turned left. It all respects it was a similar summer evening walk home as most have been. At some point, soon after I started, I made a choice to… just walk.

It was not as hot as it has been, and the humidity doesn’t bother me much. I walked along past familiar things, thinking familiar thoughts…and then, I let even those go, too. I just walked, breathing in the heavy summer air.  No cause to rush; I had no plans on the other end, nothing to achieve beyond what I had in that moment along the way, and I felt content to stroll. I passed by a spot where the cooler air of evening-to-come was beginning to gather among the dense vegetation, lifted by whatever sorts of things cause currents of air to move along. The coolness of it brushed my arm before the subtle scent of blackberries, perhaps fallen or crushed under foot, reached my nose. I breathed it all in, almost pausing, reluctant to pass by.

Around the bend, down a hill, along a walk way open to the sun most of the way, with groves of trees here and there, well-spaced and well-mannered, sharing the moment with me as I walked past, through, beneath. Scents of parched pine needles mingle with the lusher, richer scents of the sodden earth of landscaping gone mad; sprinklers, used and over-used, nurturing dense expanses of mown lawn between trees in groups like cliques of high school girls – all of the same sort, gathered quite closely together, saying nothing as I pass. The trees are filled with birds. Some sing their song as I approach, silent while I am too near for comfort, and resuming as I walk away. Others, blue jays, and crows, call to me – setting boundaries, or perhaps sharing news of the weather, insistent, demanding.

There is a buzzing, chirping, peeping din to the left of me as I walk past the shallow lake at the end of the park. The persistent woosh of the cars on my right, somehow similar, but different – less pleasant, and only beginning to fade as I make the left through the park. I forget the sounds of traffic again and again as I walk. I don’t reach for my phone. My thoughts are… not really thoughts. I am walking. Breathing. Listening. I am aware, but not wary. I am alert, but not vigilant. I am content, without self-soothing. I am simply walking.

I turned away from home, as I got close, and walked further than needed, through the park, along other paths. Just walking. Breathing. Listening to the birds, and the frogs, and seeing the clouds shift and change as the sun crosses the sky toward twilight. No pictures. It didn’t seem to be part of the experience. When I did reach home, I felt welcome, comfortable, and…something else. I’m not sure what. Something nice. Something that feels steady, and reliable…like a promise to a friend that I know won’t be broken.

It was easy tonight to make a healthy meal without negotiating with myself, or promising more or better some other time. Easy to tidy up without fighting a child’s impulse to play at the expense of commitments to self. Easy to take care of me. Contentment feels easy. The evening feels easy. All the practicing? Right now all of that feels… easy. Worthwhile. For the moment? Natural. It’s a journey. I guess I’ve walked a bit farther than I had before. Tonight that’s enough. 🙂

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

A Weekend Off – A Week On

August 3, 2015 //
0

It’s Monday morning. I woke with some effort, to the alarm, and still struggle to ‘really wake up’. I slept well and deeply, and woke up only once, and at an unusual hour. At 3:17 am I woke, thinking I heard a noise. The noise was the sound of a front door buzzer pushed twice in rapid succession “bzzzt bzzzt”. It seemed an actual sound, but whatever actually woke me didn’t do so with any ease. I was incredibly groggy and dizzy, and there was nothing at the door – or elsewhere that I noticed – and I returned to sleep so quickly that I wonder now if any of it was real – even the waking up and getting up, parts.

I’m having trouble waking fully and getting my brain online. I am groggy even now – more than an hour after waking. The sky is still quite dark. Dawn has moved later into the morning. I am impatiently waiting for my coffee – which I am having some trouble making with skill, because I am not quite awake. I take my time with it – and successfully stop myself from rubbing my eyes while I am making coffee, avoiding rubbing coffee, coffee grounds, or hot water in my eyes. This morning, that feels like a major success. 🙂

The morning is cool, and I feel the cool air filter in through the open patio door and the vertical blinds. I am drenched in sweat after making coffee and feeling peculiarly overheated. Hormones? Please, no, not today…it is, after all, Monday. I take a deep breath of the cool morning air, and fill my thoughts with the memories of the weekend as I fill my lungs with fresh scents of this summer morning. I took the additional ‘taking care of me’ step of un-syncing my work email over the weekend, and resetting my smart device so that my work email will only sync manually outside of work hours, reducing the likelihood that I will waste precious life-time on work-related matters by reflex or habit during leisure hours. It is powerfully freeing to return to a lifestyle when work is limited to those occasions that it is scheduled for. I needed the break, badly, and don’t easily set those boundaries with myself unaided – which definitely makes setting those boundaries with colleagues challenging. My traveling partner had observed rather firmly quite recently that I was not taking the best care of myself in this area; change was needed.

Yesterday I spent the better part of the morning with my traveling partner, unexpectedly, and to my great delight. It was a lovely treat, although he arrived distressed and agitated. The level of day-to-day drama in his experience at home is much higher than mine, here at Number 27. I did everything I could to support and soothe him, and even though we shared some [perhaps unnecessarily] emotional moments together, I cherish the time with him. He made a point of following through on his commitment to provide me with some technical support (my bluetooth wasn’t working, and my own troubleshooting did not resolve the issue), and in the process uncovered the likely cause; I had peripherals plugged in to USB ports in a sort of willy-nilly random way, primarily intended for cable management, without regard to USB 3 ports, or always-on ports, or what devices need what sorts of ports, and having no particular understanding that those details were important I had created conflicts. I feel a moment of sympathy; it’s probably just as hard on my laptop to be mine, as it is for people to live with me! This morning, though, there is music. (And yesterday evening, too.) 🙂

Change is. Progress happens. We are at a disadvantage if our understanding of the world becomes 'set in stone'.

Change is. Progress happens. We are at a disadvantage if our understanding of the world becomes ‘set in stone’.

We enjoyed coffee together, and conversation, and laughter, once the technical work was finished. It was hard coming to terms with one facet of aging; I am struggling to remain current with technology, now. Poignant and emotional for me, frustrating for my traveling partner; there is no room for crying during technical support. He’s a decently good sport about it, and although somewhat impatient with me, and frustrated by my emotionality, he makes a point of hearing me. That’s enough. I got by on that, and we moved on with the morning. The high point of my afternoon was soaking in a hot bath, listening to Barry White, and talking on the phone with my traveling partner – an experience I could not easily have had the day before (my stereo sounds way better than music played over laptop speakers). 🙂

My point is that the ups and downs don’t have to be tragic, or an unrelenting buzzkill; we’re all people, having our own experience, and it is sometimes an emotional one. How we treat each other – how we treat ourselves – can be accepting and supportive and aware, and emotions pass. The respect we give each other – each having our own experience – and consideration we give each other while we do so, are a big deal; they define our character, and define the love we share. An honest apology, no excuses, goes a long way when we are not at our best. Our loves are not a dumping ground for emotional toxic waste, and when we share hurts, strong emotions, moments of anger, it’s urgently important that we follow-up with consideration, with compassion, with recognition of their difficult experience sharing that moment with us. Being open isn’t solely about sharing who we are, and how we feel – it’s also a willingness to listen deeply, to be present in the moment when our love sets boundaries, or tells us we’ve caused them pain, and accept the consequences of our actions with honor, with respect, and providing reciprocal support. In this, too, there are practices to practice, verbs involved, and room to grow – and incremental change over time can seem so slow…because that other person can matter so much.

I am taking the morning slowly.

I am taking the morning slowly.

It’s a Monday. This one begins, for me, on a foundation of adequate rest, and good self-care. It would be lovely if that were an absolute assurance of a great week, but I know that there are verbs involved, and plenty of decision-making, and opportunities to communicate with clarity and practice good practices that support my needs over time. This morning, waking so slowly, it is as if I have a head start on slowing down, perhaps there is greater potential there than I understand?

Today is a good day to take things one at a time, with consideration, listening deeply, and recognition that each of us is utterly and entirely human. Today is a good day to be aware that the relationships matter more than the challenges. Today is a good day to ask for help when I need it, and accept help when it is offered. Today is a good day for beginnings; a good beginning has all the potential to change the world. [Note: there are verbs involved, and your results may vary.]

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Epsom salts, Free Will, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

The Power in Saying It

August 2, 2015 //
0

Yesterday was awesome. Sure, I woke feeling cross – I shared those feelings, and made a point of really just saying what I had to say about it. I find that trying to just squash down my feelings and ‘get over it’ is a somewhat callous way to treat myself, and not especially effective. Once shared, the feelings passed. Once expressed, the anger diminished. Once revealed, the resentment subsided. Regardless how it may be received, openness about my experience and how it feels to me, keeps me on a path that is genuine, authentic, vulnerable – and more likely to connect me with people who understand me as I am, and enjoy me.

Headed for adventure, letting the day take me where it might is an opportunity to learn to distinguish more clearly between anxiety and excitement.

Letting the day take me where it might is an opportunity to learn to distinguish more clearly between anxiety and excitement.

I went on with my day with great enthusiasm, minimally planned. I embraced unexpected opportunities to do more, live well, and thrive by being present in my experience without struggling with baggage and leftover work bullshit. It was quite lovely. I went out, in spite of expected high temperatures, and enjoyed the morning downtown. I took 5 hours just to buy coffee beans, have a bite of brunch, and visit an antique gallery that specializes in some of the rarities of life that I adore – generally entirely out of reach of any reasonable hope I’ll own any of it, but I enjoy seeing the exotic rugs from far away, the pre-war European porcelains that I love so, and discussing those things with the devoted connoisseur who owns the gallery.

I value things crafted to last a lifetime and grew up around antiques of all sorts; my various break ups over the years have cost me most of the things I acquired during my life. But… my taste has changed in some cases, and I have discovered that the shopping is the better part of experiencing many goods. There’s something of much greater value than having things; talking about something with a person who has both knowledge and passion for the subject. It’s the learning process, and the connection, that I value. These days, I tend to defer to the ‘wealth of selection’ rather than ‘the wealth of quantity’. I choose with care, buy only what I can afford – and only what I have room to use, and to display beautifully. More than that is waste and greed – both in very poor taste, and not sustainable. (The hoarders I have met, whether of things or of money, don’t value what they have – they value the having of it, and in so many cases with no care at all for whether it lasts, is cared for, or used.)

I returned home happy, before the day got too hot, with coffee beans, photographs, memories, anecdotes, experiences – and a lovely rug in colors I favor, that sparks some vague recollection of childhood, as well as reminding me how wonderful it is to treat myself well, and to live my own values and aesthetic day-to-day. I made a point of giving myself a pedicure, so that my toenails would complement the new rug. (Yeah, I totally did. 🙂 )

Beautiful things, selected with care, cherished, and used with great joy are an element of living beautifully, and thriving.

For me, beautiful things, selected with care, cherished, and used with great joy are an element of living beautifully, and thriving.

This morning I relax over my coffee, made with the freshest ground beans, recently roasted, enjoying the chill morning air filling the apartment through the open patio door. A feline neighbor stops by to press her nose to the screen and ask ‘mrow?’, but doesn’t linger for my reply, or stay long enough to be photographed. Song birds share the details of their morning, and I eavesdrop smiling. This particular moment is well beyond ‘contentment’ and I am savoring it without anxiety about whether it might slip away unexpectedly  – of course it will, at some point, because even “this too shall pass”, but it is no cause for concern, right now.

Today is a good day to be. Today is a good day for ‘now’. Today is a good day for smiles, and self-acceptance, and contentment – and if some moment fails me, well, today is also a good day to begin again. 😀

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words
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