New job, first day, and all of that went well yesterday. My headache was a 12 on a 1 – 10 scale as I headed home, and I did my best not to allow it to vex me. I was grateful it was a Tuesday – by longstanding practice, it is the Anxious Adventurer’s night to cook, which means less work (for me) and tasty tacos (generally).
… Turned out to be less than ideally easy to get to that moment…
My brain was exhausted when I got home, and the headache was kicking my ass. A shower might help, I’d thought, but no, it didn’t. I took additional pain medication and settled into a darkened room to meditate and hopefully ease my pain and maybe recover some cognitive energy to get through the evening on…
My Traveling Partner alerted me that he was facing unexpected difficulties and excessive time required in a project to do with server maintenance on our home network. My many many (hundreds of) gigabytes of images were…so many. Too many. Backups of copies of duplicates of old drive contents and folders of images I didn’t want to lose were carefully saved – and in several cases nested within each other, multiple times by several names – a byproduct of every tense OS upgrade, or computer replacement over time (for decades), and worse still, it was also all partially backed up as zip files from my old Google Photos app or on a cloud storage platform. Fuuuuuuuck. So many copies…of copies.
…Can I please do something with that fucking mess?!...
Yeah. I was annoyed and aggravated and frustrated to tears by the impatience and irritation in the otherwise entirely reasonable request. I’d even been working on it, piecemeal, much of the past year on and off, whenever I had a spare minute, was also thinking about it, and happened to be on my computer… But I hadn’t finished the important part (deleting the old copies) – I was pretty spectacularly busy with working for a living, caregiving an injured partner, running errands and keeping up the housework, and trying to stave off exhaustion as much as I could while managing chronic pain.
In an instant I felt unappreciated and disrespected – and invisible. I cried the entire time I pushed myself through the steps of reviewing each folder, feeling angry and unsupported. I wept frustrated tears while I deleted folder after folder, fingers crossed that I would not delete the sole copy of some image that has lasting value for me. I managed to finish the work needed in about an hour of mostly focused time, distracted only by my own tears and my Traveling Partner’s continued pings, messaging me continuing to explain why finishing this project matters to him in this moment and more generally, and checking on my progress. Unhelpful for me in the moment (trying to focus and work with a headache), but I recognized his desire to feel heard, and to reconnect and resolve painful emotions. I did my best.
… G’damn that fucking headache though, and not one fucking word of sympathy or care from anyone, which caused hurt feelings that lingered for a while in the background. I was silently mired in a very “fuck all of you” sort of place for a little while before I was able to let it go. Humans being human. I’m fairly certain everyone in the house was doing their best, but…as is often the case, it didn’t feel “good enough”. Our results vary, and as human primates we can expect a certain amount of bullshit and drama to be part of the experience. I chose to let small shit stay small and move on from it without doing anything more to address the circumstances directly.
A new day, a new chance to begin again.
Funny thing, this morning none of that mess is important or relevant at all. My tinnitus is loud in my ears, but my headache is an inconsequential 2 on a 1 – 10 scale. My Traveling Partner was awake when I left the house and seemed to be fairly merry as he kissed me goodbye for the day. It was a pleasant parting and I’m eager to return home at the end of the work day without resentment or ire. Resilience for the win. I’ve worked years to get to this place. I’m grateful that a momentary upset no longer sends me spiraling into chaos, futility, and despair that lingers for days or weeks.
I walked the local trail with my thoughts, enjoying the dawn. It’s a new day. It even feels good to have finished a project that had been stalled (and was seriously taking too long). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I can feel the reduction in the chaos in my life, having cleaned up my files. Funny how that works (for me). I’m grateful to my Traveling Partner for taking such skillful care of our network, and for making it clear that my failure to complete a project I’d started more than a year ago was holding up progress. I’m grateful that his own resilience allows him to bounce back from a tense or angry moment, too. I’m grateful that I never fear violence as a potential byproduct of his anger – he’s not that person.
I watch the sunrise contentedly from my halfway point. It’s a new day, a new moment. I’m okay for most values of okay, and there is no anger in my heart. It’s a fresh start – and time to begin again.
I’m sipping my coffee and feeling sort of cross and “stalled”. Just sort of sitting here, not motivated to act, or reflect, or choose, or consider – I’m a bit stuck, honestly. It’s a very human thing. Maybe I didn’t get quite enough restful sleep? Maybe I haven’t actually consumed enough coffee to get my brain going properly? Maybe I’m feeling (understandably) a little lost, or frustrated, or down? One thing I am definitely feeling is that I am dragging myself reluctantly through my experience, at least for the moment. Maybe I need to take a moment and just… cry?
I’ve been a proper adult over this untimely demise of my current job. I’ve been measured. I’ve been resourceful. I’ve been easily able to pivot to tackling the job search related tasks that need to be done now, and plan ahead to those yet to come. I’ve reached out to contacts likely to know someone who knows someone who knows of an opportunity that may be a good one for me. I’ve handled it. You know what I haven’t yet done, though? I haven’t allowed myself to grieve. I’ll miss this job. I’ll miss these colleagues. I’ll miss so many details of this particular routine at this time in my life. I haven’t given in to the hurt, yet. I’ve simply handled business with a clear head and a sense of urgency and commitment. It still hurts, emotionally, to lose this job – and I haven’t yet dealt with that. I’m going to have to, though, otherwise it will burrow into me, fester, and rob me of my will to act. Not helpful.
I’ve got the office alone, and I close the door, put my head down, and let the tears come – they’re right there, waiting. I let the fear and uncertainty wash over me. I let myself feel the hurt. I let the anger and feelings of disappointment and unfairness surface enough to acknowledge them alongside the tears. I go ahead and feel the feelings, and I cry. From experience I know that if I stifle these emotions and don’t provide myself the nurturing and self-care that I need – physically andemotionally – I’ll pretty quickly reach my “stall point”, and just stop functioning properly. I won’t be able to remember errands, tasks, and commitments, I won’t feel like doing anything, and I won’t be able to interact with people comfortably to talk about what I’m looking for out of a new job (because I’ll be mired in the unaddressed pain of losing the old one and too prone to talking the experience of hurting and loss). It’s like any other grief; the way out is through.
The tears pass pretty quickly, for now. There may be other moments, and other tears, with potential to pull me down and stall me if left unaddressed. Funny how embarrassing it feels to yield to a moment of emotion under these circumstances – there’s no reason for that. It’s not anything besides a very human moment of emotion. Emotion is part of who and what we are. I stretch and yawn, and sip my coffee. I’ve got an interview with a talent agency a little later. Later still, I’ll catch up with a friend who may have contract work that will support the short-term need nicely, for some indefinite time – not ideal, but far better than unemployment. I smile – the same friend got me into the contract that eventually developed into this job, that I’m now leaving with such sorrow. I’m grateful. I chuckle to myself over the value in relationships feeling like some “secret life hack” – it really is the people that matter most, and how we interact with them, and the experiences we share.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I do a quick “body scan” and take inventory of myself in this moment. Pain hasn’t been an issue the past day or two, but this morning it’s ferocious, and I have to deal with that, on top of “everything else”. A very human experience. It is often the case that when I am feeling most overwhelmed, or when I am feeling “stalled”, it may be some one small thing that needs my attention so urgently it shuts down everything else until I do give myself the attention I need. Those are generally experiences very much about emotions. When I feel overwhelmed or stalled, I go looking for the feeling that isn’t “being heard”, and give myself a moment to sit with that feeling, deal with it head on, and provide myself with the genuine nurturing from within that I am needing. Self-care. It’s a big deal.
I sigh and drink my coffee in the stillness. The clock ticks on, without any regard for what I may want out of the moment before moving on to the next. It’s already time to begin again – and there’s a lot to do.
Oh, damn – that’s the sound of “the other shoe dropping”. Familiar. Well, hell – that means change, eh? I get a fresh glass of cold brew, take a breath. Honestly, the uncertainty is more stressful than the knowing. Seasons, cycles, and change – it’s just time, again, to begin again. I’d maybe even say “nothing to see here”, but it feels bigger than that from this vantage point, and I’m feeling that moment. I breathe, exhale, relax, and take a deep satisfying drink of icy cold brew. I let thoughts come and go, reflecting on the circumstances a moment longer.
…Doesn’t much matter what the circumstances are, this is a very human experience, and it’s likely we’ve all been through (so many) “shoe-dropping moments” in life. Change is – and we don’t always choose it. I’m okay, for most values of “okay”. It feels good to have my partner in my corner, encouraging and supporting me. This particular bit of change is job-related, and honestly seems rather mundane, considering some of the heinous shit going on in the world right now. I definitely do like things easy, not gonna lie, and it’s disappointing that I won’t be enjoying this role until I eventually retire (because yes, I’ve enjoyed it that much), and I really don’t enjoy the chaos of changing jobs at all. But I also feel more or less okay. Fine with it in the sense that it really is pretty mundane as changes go, and I’ve been through it before. So many times. I smile to myself, thinking about my “professional timeline” and all the many stopping points along the way.
…I would have retired a long time ago, if I could have afforded to do so, but even if I had it would not stop changes from coming, they’d just be other changes…
It’s easy to be angry when change comes. It’s rarely useful (except in the rare circumstance in which the motivational power of anger can be harnessed with a sense of purpose for good use). I sip my coffee content to deal with the change.
I sigh to myself. I’d like to take time to paint. I’ve no shortage of inspiration, but the household feels “crowded with activity”, and I’m often (usually) a participant. That sounds like an excuse, but I do find it difficult to paint productively while also juggling conversation, caregiving, and the day-to-day routine of keeping a household humming along. Then, too, there’s this thing I have been having to deal with all year… my hands. The specific position and grip pressure of my hand and fingers when I am holding a brush or pastel has begun sporadically (and unpredictably) causing me pain in the joints of my thumb. Arthritis? Feels different than that. Tendonitis? Closer, but I really don’t know. I do know the pain is aversive and creates a reluctance to paint at all, sometimes. Disappointing, but real. Between wanting uninterrupted time for doing creative work and finding that hard to get, and the pain that turns up unexpectedly when I do paint, I just … don’t. This, too, will pass. Probably. For now, it’s not the thing that is truly top of mind… I just happened to think about it, just now. A passing thought about something other than work and looking for work.
…I let my mind wander on…
Life’s journey isn’t a reliably easy one. I am even pretty sure, based on my own experiences and observations, that “easy” is more a matter of luck than anything else, and “ease” is not an expected part of the human experience. We’re fortunate when we find a moment of “ease” to rest within, and to enjoy. I sit sipping my coffee, reflecting with gratitude on the many moments of ease and good fortune that have found me, over a lifetime. They aren’t “everything” – life can be fucking hard – but they are something worth cherishing. When hard times come, I don’t look back on the easy times and good times with anger, frustration, resentment, or despair (not any more). I’m far more likely to take a moment, now and then, to appreciate how good I’ve had it, and how often that has been the case, and “fuel up” to endure whatever hardships have (or may) come my way. They’ll pass. Generally things do – good or bad.
I’ll find a new job. Maybe even very quickly (though that isn’t a given, and this is a difficult time for jobseekers, generally). Will it be the amazing experience of “work joy” this one has been? Maybe not. Hell, probably not – such experiences are quite rare (so I hear). Most of my work experience has been some degree of tedium, or aggravation, or pure hell in some environment that feels a like purgatory, watching a clock tick off the hours until the next pay check, while I do my damnedest to produce my best work and to be the best professional I can, hoping for better next time. I work to earn my pay, and use that pay to support my life. In a very real sense, I am converting the finite mortal hours of my life into spendable currency. I reflect on that for some moments, and consider my worth. Each time I find myself in this in between place, I am also… “finding myself“. It is an opportunity to learn and grow. Fill in gaps in my professional qualifications. Understand what I want more than I did at the start of the last job. Understand what I need better than I understood it previously. Look ahead. Plan. Consider new options.
The very first time I was ever “out of work”, it hit me hard. I was pretty young, but I’d had that job, advancing through the ranks, for 15 years. I had literal hysterics over it. I felt as if I had lost my sense of purpose. I did not handle it well at all. I felt really lost. I felt “blown off course”. Then, later, I felt really… spoiled and stupid and foolish, because I had known it was coming, refused to deal with the reality, and done nothing to actually prepare. I pulled myself together, and figured out what resources I had. I moved to a new place on the other side of the country (in a battered used Ford F-150, with all my mechanic’s tools in my toolboxes strapped down carefully in the bed), and I began again. (I make it sound simple, but it was a process, and it was weeks, and the outcome wasn’t ideal.) In the two years that followed, I changed jobs 4 times before I found something that could last (it didn’t). I moved 4 times. I left my first marriage. It was a complicated season of change.
During that two years, I learned something that would be valuable for all the years that followed, and continues to serve me well; jobs end. They are not the totality of our lives, they’re just… jobs. I learned how to handle lay-offs and ends of jobs graciously while I was in construction. The job always ends. Each new job, I’d show up, do the needful, and be sent back to the union hall once the job was over. Job after job. Season after season. Year after year. In the downtime in between, I painted. It was brutally hard work, paid pretty well, provided good medical care, and I had seasonal breaks for leisure (and for physical recovery from the effects of manual labor on this fragile vessel). The most important thing I learned in construction was how to face the end of a job. I haven’t forgotten.
So… here I am sipping my coffee in an office that will soon no longer be a place I come for work. Probably. (I could end up with an employer who seats me here in this co-work space – hard to know, it’s a small world.) I’ve got a few more days. I’ve got options. There are verbs involved. Tasks to deal with. A resume to refresh and “version” for the various industries that hold my interest (and higher than average potential for jobs I’ll do well).
Change is.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. This all feels so… commonplace. I feel fairly “unbothered”, although I also feel a mild amount of annoyance over it; the work I do here has been valued, necessary, and no doubt there will be consequences if those tasks are not assumed by someone, but that’s not my concern, now. No, the annoyance is simply that I really liked this particular job, company, and team, and was figuring on staying in this role until I leave the workforce (probably at 70). It is what it is. It’s not “personal”. I smile to myself, grateful to have had the chance to really enjoy the work I do for awhile. That’s been rare. I’ve often been employed doing things I’m really good at, and don’t enjoy at all. Less than ideal, but quite practical and commonplace. I feel a pang of disappointment and… grief? It passes quickly. The future is unwritten, and the menu of life’s Strange Diner is vast and filled with things I’ve yet to try. The trick is to choose wisely, eh?
The sun rises beyond the window. I arrived before dawn. It’ll be a warm summer day, and sunny, later. The morning is mild and pleasant. The air in the neighborhood around the office is filled with the scent of garden flowers. It’s a lovely time to get a walk in before the heat of the day. The need for self-care does not diminish when change comes (quite the contrary, it intensifies). I think a walk sounds like just the thing. It’s a good time to begin. Again.
How long can you sit on hold before you feel angry? Once that point comes, when the person on the other end finally gets to your conversation, how do you feel? How do you behave? What is that experience like for you? Okay… and what is that experience like for them?
…It is a Wednesday afternoon, and a busy work day. I’m on hold as I write this…
…I’m scheduling – or trying to – an important appointment for my Traveling Partner. I’ve been on hold for awhile now (22+ minutes), following our initial exploration of available dates/times. When the Scheduler returns to the call, she’s identified an available care provider in a good timeslot, on a day we can make work. I’m grateful. Is it aggravating to wait on hold for 23 minutes to complete this task? I guess, sure, (especially considering the dreadful hold music). On the other hand, not being a dick about it and just doing the needful in a pleasant (and accepting) way resulted in a better outcome – the appointment is made, and it fits in with other scheduled plans, and isn’t at some ridiculously inconvenient time, and the person on the phone was happily willing to help me (likely in part because I wasn’t penalizing that person for the circumstances). That’s as nearly ideal as scheduling an appointment can get, is it not? Why bother being angry over it? The time it took? The fact that it was necessary at all? That seems both ridiculous and petty. (Things take the time they take.)
…Patience is sometimes easier said than done, I know…
So many healthcare providers are trying to meet too much need with too few resources. Raising patient costs doesn’t close the gap created by too few doctors, nurses, technicians, specialists, or administrative and domestic staff needed to meet the need for care in a community. Anywhere. Lashing out at someone whose job is to be helpful is not the shortest path to the desired outcome, for sure. So, I generally try to do better than that when I have to be on the phone with someone (in spite of my dislike of being on the phone, generally).
…Or in slow checkout lines…
…Or queued for some event…
…Or trying to find parking in a busy area…
…Or when I’m frustrated by something but having to also deal with another human being about something else altogether unrelated…
…Or when I’m feeling anxious and other unrelated shit seems to be going wrong “for no reason”…
I guess I’m saying that when we make room to feel our feelings, then also make a committed (mindful)(self-aware)(disciplined) effort to also behave in accordance with our understanding of our “best self”, and treat others with kindness and patience, and take steps to manage the potential volatility of our emotional experience of the moment, everything that flows from that skillfully managed moment turns out better than it would have if we’d lashed out angrily, gone to pieces, or punished the people around us for the experience we are having. Long sentence, but it is what I was hoping to communicate as a single idea. It takes practice. I know my own results vary – so I am assuming yours likely will as well. Still, we do become what we practice.
…When I practice patience, I become more patient, in a broader variety of interactions…
I took those notes while I waited on hold. I made the appointment, and moved on with my day with very little aggravation. Turned out to be a pleasant afternoon. I woke up this morning, a little early, head kind of stuffy, but generally merry and feeling okay. It’s a new day. A new opportunity to practice the practices that create a good life and healthy interactions with the people in my life. A new cup of coffee.
Ah, but how to “practice” such things could be a question, eh? I’ve got good and bad news – and it’s the same news – the “how to” is “easy”, inasmuch as it is not complicated, but it is also quite “hard”, because there is a measure of trial and error, repetition, studious self-reflection, and failures that precede new attempts, involved in practicing such things. The tl;dr is that I’ve simply got to do the thing I wish to practice in the fashion I’d like to see myself handle such things – and if I fall short, I’ve got to recognize that, acknowledge it, accept it (and any consequences), understand that failure, and keep working on it – through all the unsuccessful well-meaning attempts, and the likely lack of consistant positive reinforcement from others (because, of course, they are having their own experience). Doing better than my current best is reliably always a “work in progress”, and it’s a process of incremental change over time, which can be somewhat unsatisfying. If you change what you practice though, change itself is inevitable.
We have so many opportunities to do better. We also have a bunch of opportunities to do worse – to escalate interactions that start going wrong, to inflame emotions beyond what is appropriate, to create conflict where none existed, to hurt each other when we could be lifting each other up. We have choices. Making an effort to choose wisely in each interaction, each day, is itself a choice. What are you really going for? Where does your path lead? How do you want to be remembered?
Sometimes it’s hard to wait in line (or, to wait at all) – but the payoff is the thing we’re waiting for, the wait time itself is largely irrelevant. Sometimes it’s hard to be patient in the face of silly questions or constant interruptions when we’re trying to get something done – but the quality of those interactions are often far more important in our lives that the thing we’re focused on doing. Sometimes it’s hard to listen considerately while someone is talking – even though we asked the question being answered, and wanted the information. These are all moments that could use our best self (and more practice). I sip my coffee and think about the many times I’ve made shit so much worse than it had to be. Being entirely human, I’m likely to do that again in the future at some point – but that isn’t going to stop me from doing my best each day to be the best version of the woman in the mirror I can imagine, with what I know now. I’ll simply keep practicing. We become what we practice.
Stick with the basics – it’s a great place to start.
Make it as difficult as you want, I guess. Complicate things as much as you think you must. Telling yourself it “wasn’t your fault” or that you “couldn’t help it” when things go awry doesn’t change the fact that you had (and made) choices. I personally think it is generally a poor choice to willfully make shit worse than it has to be. It’s worthwhile to practice doing better than that. I think back to the abrupt and very final end of my second long-term relationship (and one that felt, at that time, truly committed and “forever”) – it was over circumstances that spiraled around “making things worse”, until the last thread of my affection was stretched to a breaking point, and suddenly snapped. In mere hours I went from needing to “take a minute” to calm myself, to wanting to have “a couple days alone” to think things over, to “we’re done, I’m out of here”. It probably didn’t have to go like that, but it definitely did – and it was a choice. I sit reflecting on that for some minutes, and comparing that to the way my Traveling Partner and I typically work things out together (it’s very different, and I am grateful for the effort we both put into talking and listening).
“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details, 2012
Choosing not to make things worse is both a choice and also a practice (if you make it one). I look out into the cloudy sky and think about emotional storms, and emotional choices, and how significant emotion is in this human experience. We are creatures of both emotion and reason, and we tend to lead with emotion, and respond to emotion before reason ever joins the conversation. That’s not a character flaw, it’s what we are. Our emotional intelligence is probably pretty critical to our success (and survival), overall (depending on how you define success, sure; my definition includes a reliable feeling of well-being and contentment).
…When I practice calm, I become a calmer person across a broader variety of experiences…
Developing one’s emotional intelligence is not as easy as saying it is an important detail. I get it. We don’t typically include such things in K-12 education (when it is most needed) in a structured informative way. Few of us grow up in families with even one emotionally intelligent adult in the household, based on my limited experience and casual observation. We don’t put much time (and probably no funding) into developing tools that can be shared with people who are seeking to do this work themselves. Like a lot of things, it’s complicated by various hidden agendas and resource limitations. When I began down this path, myself, the help I needed was sometimes not easy to find. I was fortunate to find a good therapist whose expertise was a good fit for my needs (and fortunate to be able to afford it at the time I needed it most). My reading list has some items specific to emotional intelligence (although we don’t all learn through reading). It is unfortunate that some of the best work on the topic is sometimes a bit of a slog to get through, requiring what feels like “real work”. (If I were pressed to make specific recommendations, I’d probably point to Buddha’s Brain, and Emotional Intimacy for the studious, and The Four Agreements for those looking for a quick introduction with illuminating allegories.)
…You’ll have to walk your own path, and do your own work, this is not a negotiable detail…
It’s a journey with a lot of stairs to climb…
I sit with my coffee and my thoughts awhile longer. How did I even get to this place, this morning? Oh, right, reflecting on the importance of being patient (and pleasant) while on hold trying to make an appointment for my beloved. I chuckle to myself, aware how valuable those skills are in so many day-to-day interactions. My results vary. I keep practicing. I glance at the time – it’s already time to begin again.
I woke with an old advertising slogan in my head from the 1950’s (that’s how “sticky” some of them can really be!) – “the pause that refreshes”. It’s a source of amusement for me, sometimes, how easily “repurposed” such slogans can be. This one does not immediately call to mind, for me, the originally intended beverage. Instead, this slogan reminds me that a pause before committing to action or decision-making can give me time to more carefully consider the moment. A pause can give me real rest in the midst of stress or turmoil. A pause can allow me to “reset” a difficult moment. Taking a moment to pause can allow me to pull myself back into the present moment, and to act more mindfully, with greater self-awareness. A pause can be a needed moment of self-care on a busy day.
This morning I had no idea what to write about, and earlier thoughts that seem cogent or meaningful in some share-worthy way had slipped away on the drive home from the trailhead. I took a moment to pause and reflect for a time. Handy. Here I am. 😀
It’ll be another hot day, today. My more-than-typical-for-a-summer-morning pain hints that the weather may cool off, and there may be rain coming. Suspecting my pain to be potentially misleading me with such correlations, I check the forecast. There it is – a chance of rain, two days out. Huh. I grumble a bit to myself. Pain is no super-power, and I’d rather just look at the forecast now and then than have to deal with the pain I’m in. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This human experience isn’t always a comfortable one. There are moments to embrace, and there are also moments to endure; I don’t get to choose the moment, only my reaction to it, and the steps I take to deal with it. Sometimes a pause helps me sort things out.
I sit for a moment, sipping water. It’ll be a hot day, and I’ll be out in that later on, driving to an appointment. I’m grateful to feel chilly in the AC, for now, as I sit with my thoughts. I make my choices. I walk my path. Sometimes it helps to pause and consider my options, before I begin again.