Archives for category: anhedonia
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Mornings

December 22, 2025 //
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I woke too early, but there was no going back to sleep. I’m feeling generally some better, after being ill almost a week now. By afternoon I’m likely to be thinking I feel much better, but another morning will come around, and I’ll be feeling much worse… again. That’s how it’s been so far with this sickness. I feel worse first thing, better later with considerable self-care. I sigh to myself which sets off a coughing fit.

I am better, enough to walk a mile or so of this trail on this chilly, damp morning, if slowly. It is winter now, and a mild one so far, which seems fortunate. I welcome the rain. I’m glad the days aren’t freezing cold. I sip hot coffee and wait for daybreak. It is a work day, but I’m on half days this week, if I can keep up with the workload on those minimal hours. I’ll be off on Wednesday and Thursday for the Giftmas holiday.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The weekend was restful, mostly focused on whatever housekeeping essentials I could do, and on getting well. At this point,  I definitely have some regrets about traveling for work in December. It seems like a pretty stupid idea looking back, but at the time it seemed… fine. The plan is not the experience. I remind myself of errands I’ve agreed to run today, later. My thoughts are fragmented and chaotic, each cough or sneeze becoming a distraction. I will do my best with the day ahead of me.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, waiting for the sun. There is no hurry. There is only this moment. I let that be enough.

My stuffy sinuses and foggy head distract me from noticing an actual fog developing over minutes, seeming to well up from the nearby creek bed, and gathering in the vineyard, before beginning to obscure the trail. It happens quickly, and now it is quite a foggy winter morning, though not a particularly cold one, just foggy and damp. Low hanging storm clouds on the western horizon are a luminous pale faintly orange-y glow, lit by the lights of neighborhoods below, with nearby trees silhouetted darkly against that strangely bright sky. I sip my still-hot coffee, contentedly. Sure, I’m sick, but it could be worse.

Above the clouds, the sky is clear and starry. I sit gazing on one particular bright star in the northern sky, wondering what it is. A quick lookup suggests it may be Capella, which is not ideally useful information; I know nothing about any star by that name. Having a name for it, then, barely amounts to knowledge at all! I chuckle to myself. One human being human, nothing to see here. I sigh and get ready to begin again; this trail isn’t going to walk itself, and this is as good a time to begin (again) as any.

…I wrap my scarf around my neck and step out of the car…

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Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter, Words

Taking Care

December 17, 2025 //
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Tedium warning: this is mostly me bitching about being sick.

I ended the day yesterday feeling unwell, with a nagging irritated tickle in the back of my throat. ‘Tis the season, indeed. This won’t be the first time I’m sick near Giftmas. A lot of people are down with something, a cold, the flu, RSV, strep, measles, and yeah, COVID. Hell, norovirus is going around, too. It’s likely that the more we expose ourselves to people who are ill, or contagious, as we shop, and interact, the greater the chance of becoming sick. (This is especially true as the percentage of the population that is effectively vaccinated continues to decline – for fucks’ sake y’all, get your fucking shots.)

… Take care of yourself…

I woke during the night to a power outage. My CPAP machine shut off, which woke me. It took a moment to recognize that the deep unrelenting darkness was a power outage. I got up and called to report it, and dropped a note in the family chat. My Traveling Partner woke, as I was trying to remember where the small backup power supply for my CPAP machine was, and he retrieved it from wherever it was and gave it to me. I went back to bed. I sleep a lot when I’m ill.

The power came back at 05:00. I woke to all the lights in the house blazing – that’s the result when power is restored after an interruption. I got up and began turning them off, and went back to bed, again, after leaving my boss a note that I’m sick and taking the day.

… Take care of yourself…

I woke later, thinking maybe I felt better, only I was also feeling crazy overheated, and as soon as I sat up, I started coughing. I dressed and quickly left. No point waking everyone else with my coughing, and the fresh cool air outside was calling me. I got to the nearby trail I favor. Trees down all over. Access is blocked. Workers are putting up caution tape. I’m not actually well enough for trail walking anyway, I just didn’t want to start the morning coughing my fucking head off and waking the whole house with it. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and sort of fell back on long habit. I’m okay with that. The cooler outside air feels refreshing.

After the storm, the damage is done and the clean up begins.

I picked up a hot coffee on my way to the trail. It’s soothing on my throat. I take my medication and cold remedies for my symptoms. It’s not a particularly cold morning, and I’m comfortable for most values of “comfort”. I use up two entire packs of travel tissues, while I sip my coffee and marvel at the blue sky overhead. “This too will pass,” I mutter softly, eyeing the heavy gray storm clouds approaching on the horizon. This stupid cold or whatever is already moving into my chest. A coughing fit catches me by surprise and for a moment I struggle to breathe. ‘Tis the season. I chuckle to myself, in spite of the unpleasantness of being ill. I think about the work I’m definitely not getting done today. The plan is not the experience. I sigh and let that go.  I’ve got to “put my own oxygen mask on first” and take care of myself.

Ah, the holiday season! We stress ourselves out trying to create more delight from fewer resources, hustle and grind through year-end sprints and work that finally just has to be completed, and the resulting fatigue makes us more vulnerable to whatever passing pathogen happens to settle in to set up housekeeping in these fragile mortal meat sacks. I guess I’m saying…

… Take care of yourself…

… and happy holidays? 😆

I’ll finish this coffee, then return home and go back to bed. What was I even thinking leaving the house in the first place?! Today, I’ll just take care of myself. Tomorrow, I’ll begin again.

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Categories anhedonia, autumn, breathe, Free Will, health, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, The Art of Being, winter, women, Words

Lust for Life

December 14, 2025 //
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I woke with a song in my head, and a lingering recollection of strange dreams, rich with layers of meaning, hinting at the importance of living life, rather than merely enduring it or haplessly existing while someone else calls the shots.

… Thanks, Iggy Pop, you definitely know some things about living life…

Choose. It’s your life, live it. Don’t just stand there, do something. It is your path to choose, your journey to make, your destination to select, and your success to define your own way. You have a lot of power to create change. There are, of course, verbs involved. Go where you will in life, no one else will do the work for you… but don’t let that stop you from making the journey.

I reach the trailhead before daybreak and sit with my thoughts awhile. The Giftmas holiday season is, at least for me, a fairly introspective time. I think about where I am, where I’m going, how I’ll get there. I think about my relationships: personal, professional, familial, and now, in the 21st century, even the parasocial experiences that may shape my thinking.

Daybreak comes.

This morning I wait for the sun. Why not? It’s a choice that also serves to improve my Traveling Partner’s experience; he’ll maybe get to sleep in a bit.

When the sunrise begins, with streaks of magenta in a cloudy sky, I stretch and grab my cane to get started down the trail. No rain this morning, but the ground is soggy, and I see that the farm fields on the other side of the highway are becoming a shallow seasonal lake (which it does every year, once the rains come). It is a favorite resting spot of migrating geese and ducks.

It is a new day, and a new chance to begin again.

When I reach my halfway point, the sun is up, hidden behind heavy gray clouds. It was lovely to see the colorful sunrise. I sit on a fence rail at the edge of the marsh, listening and watching, breathing and being. Sometimes that’s enough. A “lust for life” doesn’t require an Iggy Pop level of energy (in my opinion), it’s more about will, and choice, and presence. It’s about being – and becoming. Living life is an active process with so many options and opportunities to choose that we may feel inclined to narrow them down somehow, even telling ourselves we have “no other choice”. That’s rarely true.

I sigh to myself, then correct my posture, and inhale the morning air more deeply, filling my lungs with it, as I fill my heart with this finite, precious, unrepeatable moment. I exhale slowly, letting go of everything that is not here, now, in this moment in which I’m existing. I repeat this exercise several times, feeling lighter, and free of baggage (which I admit, I visualize as having set down on the ground in a pile nearby). I hear geese calling, and see huge flocks taking to the air as groups, filling the sky overhead as they pass. They also have a path to follow. I find myself wondering if they have choices?

Tis the season. A season of migrating birds overhead, and queues in retail spaces. It is a season of sharing and of celebration, for many. For some it is a season of hardship, struggle, and grief. Sometimes tempers are short, and people impatient with each other, but also so very kind and willing to help. Human primates are complicated. I sit thinking about how to be the best person I can, with what I know now. I have more, better, tools and a clearer idea of who I am and who I want to become over the course of this mortal lifetime. I catch myself wondering what might be “next”, just as the rain begins to fall.

Fat cold raindrops spatter my glasses. There’s no cover nearby and I didn’t wear my rain poncho. Choices. Consequences. I get to my feet. I look down the trail toward my next destination. Some shopping. Laundry. Wrap some holiday gifts. Get ready for a new work week. Sure, it’s pretty routine ordinary stuff, but there is room to fit joy in there, and love, and even optimism. Choices. Choose wisely.

I head down the trail. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Start, Stop, Begin Again

December 1, 2025 //
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Sometimes things feel harder than they seem they should. Misinformation everywhere. The practical details of life getting more costly every week, every month. Paychecks don’t keep up with that unless you happen to be among the very affluent (and then it’s less that the paycheck keeps up than maybe you don’t need to notice the minutiae or count the pennies). (Remember pennies?) Balancing the load takes up a lot of mental bandwidth, even for folks who are very organized and pretty prepared. It’s exhausting.

…It’s okay to admit it when you’re tired…

My head aches. My arthritis pain is actually making me feel ill. I’m distracted from one priority task by the next ostensibly higher priority task. Subjectively, I feel like I “used to be better at juggling all of this”, but I’m not sure that’s literally true. I suspect I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed by the lingering artifacts of chaos that arrived ahead of me (to this job) or which defy attempts to bring order (the chaos and damage in my own head), or perhaps I am succumbing to the stress of watching the decline of democracy, in spite of my attempt to avoid spending potentially productive time on that bullshit. (It’s not bullshit because it isn’t real, it’s bullshit because it doesn’t need to be this way, and we somehow chose this shit in spite of being told what was coming if we did.)

I’m tired. Not because I’m working my ass off on some construction job site, or laboring on a factory floor, or in a fulfillment warehouse, or on my feet all day. Brain tired. Soul tired. It’s feeling too much like a hamster wheel, some days, and too little like living.

…This too will pass…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take a moment to scrounge in my handbag for another dose of Rx pain management, only to discover I’ve already taken that, and I’m already “maxed out” for a work day. Well, shit. I sigh to myself, finish the watered-down dregs of my morning coffee, knowing I’ll likely regret that later tonight. I pull myself upright, and pause to offer someone a compliment for work well done. I find giving others sincere encouragement or expressing gratitude for some task or service someone has provided often distracts me from the pain I’m in. Certainly it’s a better reaction to pain than sobbing or throwing a tantrum. I’d happily just sit somewhere gazing out a window, letting my mind empty itself of concerns, and even thoughts. Parking this fragile vessel and leaving her to idle for awhile would feel pretty good, but… I don’t have time.

…The clock is ticking…

It helps to have a break, and I’m glad I took one. It’s not enough, but it will do for the moment. I imagine the stern look on the face of the woman in the mirror, right now, she knows I could do a better job of taking care of myself than I often do. I make her a promise I probably won’t keep, and hope that she understands. It has to be enough… it’s the best I can do right now. Isn’t it?

…”No. Do better.” I imagine her answering, “You matter. You can at least take a proper fucking break…”

I sigh again, and get up from my desk to take a proper break. The sun is shining. I go outside and get some fresh air, and watch the squirrels play for a few minutes, and stretch. It’s chilly but not cold. The sunshine feels good. Now I feel ready to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War

One Foot In Front Of The Other

November 5, 2025 //
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In spite of taking some weekend time to properly relax and rest, and in spite of sleeping decently well lately, and in spite of having some help and rearranging things to reduce my day-to-day workload, I’m tired. Not the physical fatigue of effort exerted, instead it is the consuming, distracting, encroaching loss of will and focus that comes from “too much for too long” and I really need a break from… everything. It’s dumb. I feel as if I am literally fatigued by living life. I’ve got to do a better job of self-care, before I face legitimate burnout.

…Seems like there is always another chore to do, or another errand to run…

I start the morning already tired, already feeling “over it”, and the work day hasn’t even started. It’s raining at the trailhead, and I’m in pain before I even start my walk. I’m going to walk, anyway, it is a favorite self-care practice, and it is in the very nature of a practice to be practiced. I sigh to myself, feeling annoyed by everything but the solitude, and start down the path, one step at a time.

Eventually, I reach my halfway point. As I stop, the rain stops too. My rain poncho, which has been flapping against my legs as I walk, or wrapping annoyingly around me in the wind, becomes something to be grateful for; it’s keeping me dry, sitting here on this very wet bench. My sour mood is sweetened a bit by the moment of sincere gratitude. I sit with that feeling for s little while. It’s better than being cranky, by far.

The morning is still dark, and I persist in yearning for a weekend that is still days away. It’s time to plan the Thanksgiving dinner. Time to figure out the holidays generally. Life feels ludicrously busy. No wonder I’m tired. I rarely give my mind enough rest. I breathe, exhale, and relax. These quiet moments in the mornings are so necessary to my mental health overall – but they are not enough to prevent me from exhausting myself over time. I need to do a better job of setting boundaries, and pacing myself – and asking for (and accepting) help.

…It is proving to be quite difficult to adjust from full-time caregiving back to a more evenly balanced partnership, even though it’s timely, appropriate, and necessary…

I sit listening to the rain sprinkling the leaves that still cling to the trees, and spattering my poncho. I enjoy the delicate not quite random percussion. I breathe the rain-fresh autumn air. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning, so I don’t hear much in the predawn quiet, besides the zing and buzz of tinnitus, the pattering of raindrops, and my breathing. As if to call me a liar (or to expand my perspective), an HVAC system somewhere nearby comes on, and adds its tones to the background noise. I chuckle to myself; it’s definitely not personal. It’s just noise.

Daybreak comes. It is a gray rainy morning under a soggy overcast sky. A deer startles me walking past. I didn’t see her approach. I twitch, startled. My movement startles her in turn, and she gives a little jump then runs off to the side, into the trees. As she disappears, I see that she was not alone, and wonder how long I sat quietly, surrounded by the herd (three does, four fawns, and a stately buck with branching antlers), before they began to walk on. Do they recognize me? (“Mama, that weird creature is back.” “Don’t get to close to that thing, you don’t know where it’s been.”) I wonder if they mind the rain?

I don’t much feel like getting on with the day, really, but there are chores, and errands, and work to be done, and all these damned practices aren’t going to practice themselves. I laugh at my eagerness to do nothing at all…or maybe to paint… either way, now is not that time. The weekend ahead is a long one (for me), for the Veterans Day holiday. I’m looking forward to that. Right now though, it’s time to begin again, and I get to my feet to head on down the path ahead, one foot ahead of the other, a step at a time. (That’s how progress is made, after all.)

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Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being
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