Archives for the month of: August, 2017

My First Homecoming

August 5, 2017 //

I took my first trip away from the new house this week. I departed on Thursday, plans in disarray, leaving from a point on the map that wasn’t what I planned, running additional errands “on the way” at the request of my Traveling Partner, resenting the heat of the day, and feeling excited, fussy, and a bit irritable.

It got worse before it got better. The first 33 miles I drove, the traffic was terrible. The first 9 miles of the freeway portion of the drive crept by at an abysmal not-quite-10-miles-per-hour. I was tired from days without good sleep. I was irritable in the heat and frustrated by the lack of good visibility with the car loaded to the roof with gear. I was more than a little stressed out by driving all that equipment so far, while I was so tired. My foot was aching. I had a terrible headache, and my self-care had been fairly poorly handled and thoroughly compromised for days because my planning had been so completely undermined, I didn’t have time for what needed to be done. It was pretty shitty.

Every mile of highway took me closer to my Traveling Partner, and farther from thinking about my headache, or the traffic, or the cargo, or the time, or really anything else besides getting to see him and reconnect and chill together.

We had a lovely visit. It was quite nice to be a guest in his home. It was … beyond words, really, the deeply connected time we got to spend together met so many needs. 🙂 We slept together, and that, too, was a rare and special treat. It didn’t much matter how little really restful sleep I got, I spent the night cuddling with my Traveling Partner as he slept, feeling his heartbeat, listening to him breathe. I dozed on and off, and certainly got enough rest to enjoy the day that would follow. He had to work for a couple hours. I used that time to get caught up with the woman in the mirror, and check out how my old home town has grown (I went to high school there… that’s the house I lived in, it’s changed a lot… that’s where my grandfather’s office was…), meditate, and also made a run to the grocery store for my Traveling Partner.

The plan, when I arrived, was that I’d stay both Thursday and Friday night, and go out into the forest late Friday afternoon, help set up a music event, and sometime much later be around to see my Traveling Partner perform, listen to a lot of great DJs doing their thing, and then… sometime in the late afternoon on Saturday, I would return home. By the time my Traveling Partner got home from work, it was beginning to dawn on me that actually, if I followed that plan, I was going to be pushing myself up the highway late on a Saturday afternoon, on even less sleep, tired, noise-sensitive, and in pain… arriving home to face dishes in the sink (because of my rushed departure on Thursday), unprepared for the next work week, and having no time to recover before diving back into another week of working for a living before I could really take that time I need…

The more I thought that over, the less I liked it. Sure, I’d like to see my Traveling Partner perform, that would be amazing and awesome, but I’m equally certain that neither he nor I benefits from me doing so on terms that reduce my quality of life, or contribute to poor health and wellness! He’d crashed for a nap after work to prepare for the long night ahead. When he got up I let him know I was thinking about heading back a little early… He didn’t seem surprised, and was very much okay with that, himself, although we were both immediately overcome with that sad feeling that comes of being attached, and also choosing to part, however briefly. He understands my needs.

So… I came home. The drive back was as uneventful and smooth as the drive down had been fraught with peculiar stress. I made good time, and delighted myself to note that my estimated arrival time from the perspective of planning the drive was within 5 minutes of my actual arrival time. I pause in this moment, right now, and give myself time to really appreciate that feeling again.

It was still daylight when I got home. The house was comfortably cool in the summer heat of late afternoon. The squirrel was on the deck rail, and didn’t run when I opened the curtains to the deck and saw him there. There were really one 1 bowl and 2 coffee cups in the sink, and the first sound I heard after I returned home was the sound of my own merry laughter. I’d even gotten home in time to communicate my safe arrival to my Traveling Partner before he was out of touch for the night. It felt good to come home. I feel welcome here.

I feel welcome in my life.

The day stretches ahead of me. There’s quite a bit to do. Some of it is the everyday sort of stuff that lands on weekend days most of the time: housekeeping, laundry, gardening. Other stuff on my to do list lingers from the move. There are still boxes to unpack. Shelves to organize. Things to do to make this space more usably obviously my own. There’s the woman in the mirror, too, she needs a few things out of the day, herself: meditation, some time in the garden, yoga, good moment-to-moment decision-making, a bit of fun (Farmer’s Market?), and all the love and affection I can provide to her. Rest. She also needs rest, and good self-care.

The sun is up. My coffee is finished. The fresh breezes of early morning have filled the house with the scents of forest and summer flowers. My thoughts are filled with love. What a pleasant moment on which to begin the day. 🙂

Tags are you going my way?, be love, breathe, choose wisely, Crush, emotional self sufficiency, going the distance, good self-care, how far would you drive for love?, I am my own cartographer, listening deeply, love, love and lovers, love me do, meditation, mindful loving, mindfulness for beginners, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, Summer Breeze, summer love, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?, you might die trying

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

This is Not a Drill!

August 3, 2017 //

It’s also not a long blog post.

All my planning wound up completely and utterly upended for this week – and the weekend to come. Yep. I struggle with that, sometimes moment by moment. When the first domino began to topple, my sleep went to hell. I can’t blame the heat; I have AC. Last night I went to bed quite early, and quite tired, figuring I’d “sleep in” by getting a head start…

…About 90 minutes after I fell asleep my Traveling Partner called. Once he was aware he’d woken me, he ended the call, I went back to sleep.

…Some 90 minutes after that, the door bell rang. And rang again. I got up to answer it. It was a… “wrong number” is not the right expression, but it was that situation; a stranger looking for the address next door.

…I woke early. No kidding. I could not fucking believe that shit. Stupid brain. I need more sleep.

I woke, stumbled groggily through my routine holding focus on the upcoming long drive. 250 miles. It’s “not that bad”, but the weather is hot, and the car is crammed to capacity with gear. One part of my planning that still finds me biting my nails is the part where I planned to leave from work – it’s a work day. Now the car is full of equipment…and the office is in a poor choice of neighborhood for street parking. Seriously? How much more of my planning could go wrong here?? I don’t even want to leave the car parked in my own driveway, right now!

Shit. I sip my coffee pensively feeling simultaneously annoyed and fussy, but also pleased and amused to get to use the word “pensively” in a sentence. My life. lol What to do about this journey remains a question. Take the calculated risk of parking the car as it is at the office for 4 hours or so… or take a car service to work, and then again back home, and then leave from the house?

There’s little time left to decide – and I just noticed I have not yet packed anything at all for me. I am annoyed with myself most of all for the way my self-care has completely gone to hell over some changes in a plan that I could have anticipated could not possibly hold up under the dynamic influences of feral friends and spontaneous loved ones. I knew there was little chance my planning would – or could – be respected. That I need that structure for emotional comfort and to help maintain my equilibrium and sense of order in my life (which helps manage my symptoms) isn’t even a blip on the radar of most of my friends – we are each having our own experience. I’m fortunate that generally, day-to-day, it isn’t obvious that I have mental health challenges to deal with, or a brain injury with effects that require day-to-day support and management. I guess I shouldn’t bitch about the occasional bit of upheaval or turmoil. (I’m still going to. I’m very human.)

I’ve missed the window of opportunity to do anything but drive to work. Well then. Fuck. Okay.

It’s time to go.

It’s time to begin again. 🙂

Tags ACT, be love, begin again, breathe, emotional self sufficiency, experience, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, love and lovers, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness matters, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?, would you drive 5 hours to spend 1 hour in the arms of love?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Pop Quiz!

August 2, 2017 //

Test time, Wanderer of Paths, Taker of Journeys! Life fairly screamed it my ears yesterday when my Traveling Partner reached out to me to find out if I’d found out that the original planning for the weekend had fallen through. Would I still be able to…? The exchange happened while I was also juggling a coworker’s fairly urgent question, a high priority deliverable that was due the day before, and trying to get set up for the day. The timing was inconvenient, and I managed (rather easily, actually) not to lose my shit over it. It was a lot to handle at once, and I’m not good at that (at all).

After working out new details, a new plan, making new arrangements, setting adjusted timing… the day moved on in a rather ordinary, if very busy, way. At the end of the day, I drove to pick up a friend, to pick up some gear that my Traveling Partner needs – since I’m going down to visit, anyway… Hey, look at me – I’m a roadie! lol Eventually, the car is loaded up with all of the things from a list I happily thought to request, and I’ve returned my friend home, and started driving back to my place… long day. Already later than bed time when I finally step across the threshold, and realize the car needs to be in the garage tonight, or needs to be unloaded. Fuck. So. I head to the garage, move a bunch of stuff around, put the car into the garage for the first and possibly only time and call it a night… wait, no… Shit. What about getting to work tomorrow? I’ve been relying on the car to happily avoid the blasting summer heat. That’s not going to work; I don’t feel comfortable leaving the car with the gear loaded into it parked in the neighborhood where the office is. It would be unattended, in an area known for car break-ins. Shit. Fuck. Damn it. All the swears.

So this morning, the alarm clock drags me groggily from less than 5 hours of sleep. I need to do better tonight; it’s a long drive tomorrow. I feel a deep down snarl sort of half-formed swirling around in my consciousness. I dislike having my plans upended so firmly, and being faced with “choices” that feel forced on me. I’ll ride the bus today, leave the car in the garage… short evening. Hot bus ride home. Bit of a walk on the sore foot, in the heat, to get home. It’s not at all what I’d planned for myself this week by way of “self-care”, and I’m sort of quietly seething about it, with no outlet. I meant to wash the car last night – ended up spending the evening making pick up on a car load of gear. Now the car is loaded… still needs to be washed before the trip. I’d meant to get the oil changed. I haven’t the time now. I feel tension and anxiety competing for attention with my basically good mood quietly not interfering.

I begin again a number of times this morning. I pause to breathe. I’m eager to see my Traveling Partner, and getting to do so makes all the rest worthwhile. I haven’t yet figured out how I am also supposed to have (find, make, take…) the time to take care of myself…? It’s like an elaborate practical joke where the punchline is “you weren’t paying attention to the road because you’re exhausted and freaked out – and now you’re dead!!” (Which is what most of my nightmares last night were about, actually.) I guess it is progress that at least I am actually thinking about caring for myself well, even if my actual results vary rather substantially from that goal, this week.

I sip my coffee and chuckle to myself, “damn, this better be a good fucking visit!” and laugh quietly out loud in the stillness of morning. Of course, it will be. 🙂

I look at the time. Fuck, I’ve probably missed that early bus I’d intended to take… so… freak out? Or… don’t give a fuck? I’ll probably land somewhere in between, biting my nails on the way to work, arriving in plenty of time. At any rate… I guess I’ll be giving beginning again another shot this morning. lol My results vary. It’s not unexpected. I’m having my own experience. 🙂

Tags ACT, be love, begin again, breathe, choose wisely, do all of the things, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, love, love and lovers, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness matters, p.s. I love you, perspective, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, there are verbs involved, what matters most?

Categories anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, loneliness, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Figuring It Out

August 1, 2017 //

The morning is gentle on my waking consciousness. I’m glad of that. The headache pounding away at my forebrain when I woke has dissipated. I’m glad of that as well. I notice, at the same time I notice my half-finished coffee has fully gone cold, I never opened the blinds (or the window) here in the studio when I opened up the windows to let in the fresh morning breezes. It strikes me as odd, until I also notice my latent noise sensitivity is quite a presence, in fact, and recognize that I had simply not opened the window, to dull the sound of the morning commuter traffic, which I definitely don’t care to hear.

Who am I today? Am I headache-y? Am I well-rested and merry? Am I irritable? I’m not actually certain. I may be all of those things at some point today. Right now, in spite of a leisurely shower, a good yoga sequence, and the fresh forested breezes on a summer morning, I remain rather groggy, somewhat irritable, and annoyed by my stuffy sinuses (which may have been the cause of the headache I’d awakened with). The more I focus on this experience, the more it intensifies, and the more irritable I become. Interesting. Sometimes mindfulness brings uncomfortable experiences into sharper focus.

I breathe. Relax. Pull my posture more comfortably erect as I sit at my desk. My eyes close, and without giving it further thought, my hands rest, quite still, on the edge of my keyboard. I breathe. Relax. My eyes closed. Feeling this space, this moment. My shoulders sink down until they are no longer crammed up against my damned ears. The sound of the traffic blends with my tinnitus. I breathe. Relax. Time passes.

Some time later, some 30 or so minutes, actually, my eyes open. I’m smiling. I needed that moment, I suppose. Just some meditation time, right where I sat, no further fuss or bother. Nothing to disturb me. I feel better than I did. More comfortably aware of the commonplace discomforts that are a thing. I am a mortal creature. This fragile vessel is not always an entirely comfortable thing. lol

The house is nicely cool now. It is sometime past day break. I still have time to water the container garden, do the dishes, make my bed – all the things I like to come home to at the end of the work day. It’s just me, right? So… I gotta do the things. 🙂 That’s pretty much how adulthood works generally; if I want a result, I must do the things. Shopping around for other human beings to do the things on my behalf isn’t nearly as efficient. Partnerships are not a form of indentured servitude, or long-term service, and I’d far rather count on mine for shared experiences I truly cannot have solo in life… sex, shared laughter, intimacy, exchanges of touch and emotion… all stuff I really love, too. How nice to share it! Not to imply that reciprocity with the housekeeping and whatnot isn’t valued – in my relationships it is both valued and required. Everybody eats? Drinks water, coffee, tea, whatever? Everybody showers? Sits on the furniture? Then everyone works to keep the place nice. It’s sort of obvious and non-negotiable. 😀

It’s still early. A good time to begin on the housekeeping. A good time to begin again, living and being, and becoming the person I most want to be.

Tags a fair share of the housekeeping, ACT, an agent of chaos comes in from the cold, be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, choose wisely, consideration, creating order from chaos, doing my part, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, helping around the house, I am my own cartographer, living beautifully, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, Reciprocity, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being

My First Homecoming

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This is Not a Drill!

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Pop Quiz!

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Figuring It Out

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