Archives for category: Allegories

I’m sitting at the trailhead listening to the rain drumming on the moon roof of the car. I can see clear skies here and there in spite of the rain and the predawn darkness, so I’m expecting this to be a passing shower and hope to wait it out before I hit the trail. I enjoy the sound of it, and for the moment I can imagine life without my tinnitus.

The drive this morning was delightful. There was no traffic. I don’t mean to say there were very few cars on the road, which is generally quite pleasant. It was better than that. I had the highway entirely to myself, aside from one car going in the opposite direction. The soaking rain storms in the night left the highway glistening. Autumn leaves clung damply where they fell. A sliver of moon peeked from between pearly puffs of clouds scattered across the night sky. It was quite wonderful. Still is, as I sit here waiting for a break in the rain and enough light to safely walk the trail. Even now, there’s very little traffic passing by on the nearby highway, and no one else here in the parking lot of the nature park. Lovely quiet solitary moment, and I sit within it, joyful and at ease.

… For a few joyful moments my background stress recedes to nothing and I am truly content, joyful, and calm…

I haven’t been sleeping well. Last night was unexceptional in that regard. It’s a combination of work stress (very busy time), life stress (my Traveling Partner is going through a lot and it requires much from me to support everything he needs), and election stress. I admit it, I’m really struggling with that last one. I so earnestly want to believe that we’re smart enough and have learned enough, not to put a treasonous, dishonest, mentally impaired, lying, misogynist, rapist, fraudster back into the oval office, and that surely – if nothing else – Americans don’t hate women enough to put us through that? But I honestly don’t know. Is misogyny still so prevalent that we’ll use any excuse to avoid electing a highly competent woman – even if it means putting the nation in the hands of an old man so clearly in the throes of serious mental decline? Scary. So very very scary. It’s actually wrecking my sleep, I am that worried about it.

I sigh. I’m so grateful for this quiet moment of real joy dropped unexpectedly into this stressful time. I really need all the joy I can find right now. The smallest moment of delight is worthy of my attention.

I sit with my thoughts. I am thinking about love, and how much it matters to me. I am thinking about my Traveling Partner, frustrated by the slow progress of his recovery, and wondering how I can be more encouraging, a better partner, and what other things I could do to be helpful. Recovering from an injury and surgery is hard, and demands a lot. I sometimes worry I’m failing to do my part to foster a hope-filled and uplifting environment in which recovery feels inevitable. I’d definitely like him to have that feeling. Caregiving is complicated and I still have so much to learn.

… I find so much joy in this relationship. I’m glad we’re “sharing the journey”…

The rain stops, then starts. It’s still quite early. I smile to myself. I’m okay right now. This is a delightful moment. I accept it as it is, and savor the experience. It’s enough, at least for now. Later, I’ll walk the trail, and run some errands on my way home… And begin again.

It’s a rainy Saturday morning. Autumn. The rain isn’t a surprise, the very mild almost warm temperature is. This morning I’m overdressed, with too many layers, anticipating a colder morning on the trail.

Waiting for the sun, and a break in the rain.

My Traveling Partner was explicitly clear he wanted time enough to sleep-in undisturbed this morning, so I’ll take my time on the trail, maybe go farther, and go to the store on my way home. Maybe I’ll stop for a coffee and sit watching passersby passing by, for a little while? The morning is my own to enjoy at my leisure and I’m very much okay with that after a very busy work week that left me feeling thoroughly overwhelmed by cognitive fatigue and quite fragile by the end of it.

When I arrived home last night, I didn’t even make an attempt to mask my excessive fatigue, I just stated rather matter-of-factly that I was going to “go meditate and cry awhile” before hanging out. My partner was careful, considerate, and kind to me. We enjoyed a pleasant evening with the Anxious Adventurer, listening to music and watching videos, after I’d provided myself with the necessary self-care.

New day, new challenges – only, generally speaking, they’re mostly the same challenges I tend to have: physical limitations that need to accounted for, pain that must be managed, emotions to experience and process, and these finite mortal hours. Today my headache is an absolute motherfucker, but I do my best to avoid letting it become my whole world. So far so good. I’m facing more than expected fatigue on less than hoped for rest. All things considered, it’s a pretty ordinary rainy autumn Saturday. My coffee is good. Right now that’s enough. I sit listening to the rain fall and thinking about “the distance between”…

…The distance between “then” and “now”, and how very different life is, than I once expected it to be.

… The distance between what I thought I wanted out of life before I’d lived enough of to know what I might want, and what I want out of life now.

… The distance between moments, how short that really is, and how far it can sometimes seem to be.

…The distance between loving hearts that sometimes develops, though love endures, and what it takes to get closer.

…The distance between two strangers, however close they stand together.

… The distance between now and the fucking election, which I’d very much like to be over with, already.

… The distance between the money and resources available and the things I want to do with those.

… The distance between where I am, and where I’d like to be.

…The distance between where I find myself on this ball of rock and mud and sorrow, and where my dearest friends are.

…The distance between where I am sitting, on this quiet trailhead, and where the bombs are falling instead of raindrops.

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts, listening to the rain fall, and waiting for the sun. There won’t be much of a sunrise this morning, but I’ve got this quiet moment, this good cup of coffee, and there are no bombs falling, here. I let my mind wander, grateful for the life I am fortunate to live, and the love I am fortunate to experience. I sit grateful for a partnership that supports my wellness and gives me freedom to enjoy quiet solitary hours. I’ve got a lot to be grateful for.  I sit with that thought, until it’s time to begin again.

My timing is off this morning. I reached the trailhead too late to get a walk in before work. Disappointing. It’s a cold morning. I can walk later, over my lunch break, I guess. Where did the time even go, I wonder? I feel as if perhaps I’ve simply been moving slower, or didn’t account for needing to stop to put gas in the car. Something. Or maybe something else.

I’m mildly amused with myself and also a bit aggravated. I feel as though I am “distracted”, but as a state of being rather than a momentary condition. I don’t know what to do about it. My thoughts bounce and jitter, scraps and fragments, incomplete and inconsequential. It doesn’t bode well for the work day ahead.

I think about the weekend, instead. I’d like to paint. No studio. No room for it right now; my Traveling Partner has his new watchmaker’s lathe and it’s assorted parts and tools spread out on the dining table, being patiently cleaned up, assembled, and put to various uses for the first time. It’s a fascinating and delightful vintage tool, and I’m tickled to see it. No resentment over it, at all, but there is no room on that table for spreading out pastels and art supplies for work of a very different sort, and I seriously doubt any good would come of getting the delicate machine works of the lathe dusted with various pigments. lol I sit quietly thinking about where else I could go, and regretting that I don’t yet have a proper plein air setup ready. Last time I thought about it, I thought to myself “soon enough”… And clearly I was incorrect. lol

I sigh quietly and feel a pang of sorrow. I’d laugh about this with my Dear Friend and commiserate over the many untimely inconveniences of life, but she’s gone now. G’damn that sucks. Tears fill my eyes and I snarl at them dismissively.

At my last therapy visit, my therapist calmly noted that I “don’t really need therapy at this point”, and that I am “simply very sensitive and feel things very deeply”. He pointed out that I have the tools I need to handle most circumstances, and that although I have PTSD to deal with, it’s less a matter of acute mental illness and more an assortment of manageable concerns that are part of living my life. While it feels good to hear that, I guess, it’s also frustrating in the way any “disability” can be. It feels limiting and a bit “unfair”. He’s very correct about one thing that sticks with me; paying to see him and talk for an hour can’t replace the joy and connection of time spent with a dear friend.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I remind myself to reach out to old friends and stay caught up and connected.

…I remind myself to begin again, while there’s time.

I’m sitting with my thoughts, quietly (aside from the ringing in my ears). It is a foggy autumn morning, and a heavy mist clings moodily to the low places and along the creeks and rivers. The morning is a cold one, the coldest so far this season. I am mildly annoyed with myself; I am not dressed for the weather. I laid out my clothes last night based on assumptions of milder temperatures without checking the weather forecast, which was foolish.

… Reality does not care what we believe…

I’m sort of “all up in my head” this morning. By itself, absent any context, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and I am fortunate to enjoy my own company. In this quiet early morning time, I often find myself in this mental place, blending introspection and self reflection.

Words, defined.

I sit considering those definitions for some minutes. I’m not sure I agree 100% with attempting to sort them out as “internal” vs “external”. They’re both processes of the mind, which seems to me makes them both very much internal processes. Meaning matters. I wonder for a little while whether it’s worth making the attempt to define them more clearly, before realizing it’s a distraction from my actual thoughts.

Rumination is very different from either introspection or self-reflection, and it’s a difference that matters quite a lot. Rumination is getting mired in negative thinking and negative self-talk. It’s a problem to be avoided as much as possible. Rumination is a poor practice.

Having sorted all that out rather pointlessly, I let my thoughts move on. I’m mostly sitting here on this rock at my halfway point thinking about what a long and sometimes tedious journey it’s been to get to this place, over time. The ongoing fight to build, achieve, and sustain good mental health has been (often still is)…hard. I’m not sure I’d call my results wholly successful, some days.

My Traveling Partner pings me. He’s concerned about a birthday gift I purchased for him potentially having been a poor choice of vendor. He shares the reviews. I see his point and agree to cancel the order in favor of a more reputable vendor. My thoughts are completely scattered now, like autumn leaves. I’m frustrated by that. I’m frustrated by the recurring feeling that I don’t get “first dibs” on my own consciousness – or so it often seems. I sigh and save my writing for another time, and finish my walk in the predawn autumn darkness.

… I can begin again, later…

I woke up feeling mostly okay-ish, but by the time I was in the car and heading towards another work day I was feeling pretty crabby. I found myself feeling rather foolishly resentful, not about anything specific, just the expected basics of a typical adult life weighing me down.

The whole “working for a living” thing is actually a serious buzz kill most days, not gonna lie. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m grateful; I’ve got a good job, it pays for what we need, and I like the work I do – but I sure wouldn’t be bored to be able to live on my own terms, and I definitely don’t mind not working. I actually quite like having my time be my own.

… There are so many books yet to read, so many moments of inspiration to paint, trails to hike, conversations to have with interesting people, and so much love to enjoy…

I sigh quietly. I’m mostly resigned to it at this point (I have yearned for retirement since I was 18, but lacked the tools, knowledge, and foresight to make that a reality at the time, and here I am). Still gets to me some mornings, on my way to work.

I get to the trailhead. It’s dark, but I’m walking anyway. I lace up my boots and exchange a few messages with my Traveling Partner, surprised that he’s already up. I’m glad he exists in my world.  To be clear, none of my resentment about working is directed toward him, or about him at all; it’s 100% about the culture and the weird expectations of what counts as “productive” in our society. I frankly have better shit to do with my finite mortal lifetime and my conscious waking hours than putting them in servitude to someone else’s profit, but here we are, eh? If I want those drab green squares of paper and positive numbers on my balance sheet, I’ve got to sell my life an hour at a time.

I shrug off my annoyance. It’s a spooky foggy autumn morning. The fog clings to the marsh. It’s chilly – definitely autumn – and I’m grateful for this warm fleece. I pull my scarf and gloves out of my gear box in the back of the car. They smell vaguely of summer. I wrap the scarf around my neck grateful for the extra warmth and that I am so well prepared. I grab my cane and my headlamp and hit “save”. It’s time to get going. This trail isn’t going to walk itself. I’m fortunate to have this time to enjoy, walking with my thoughts on an autumn morning.

… When I get back to the car, I’ll begin again.