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Another Sunrise

August 8, 2026 //
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I haven’t slept much. I got up as planned, and it definitely felt too early. Vertigo (mild) and a headache (about average) greeted me as I opened my eyes. I dressed and left the house making a point to grab my respirator on the way out; air quality has been unpredictable and often hazardous. I check the AQI before I go.

… I am grateful to see another sunrise…

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I get to the trailhead at the nature park as the gate grinds open. It’s daybreak and there is a dense white mist in the low places. The horizon is an irritated dirty orange, hazy and unhealthy looking. There are several active wildfires to the east, unsurprising given the color of the sunrise.

The morning feels cool, in spite of being rather warm, relatively speaking. Nice morning for walking. I get to my halfway point pretty quickly this morning, after setting a brisk pace and staying focused on the walking.

Perspective matters. (Oaks on a dry grassy meadow slope.)

I’m so tired. I never went soundly back to sleep after I had gotten up to pee, last night. Various noises (and sometimes my Traveling Partner) woke me again and again, each time just as I was settling into a deeper sleep. It was a difficult night. My beloved seemed to be asleep as I left the house. It’s hard to be sure. I hope so. After a night like that, he definitely needs some sleep. I’m grateful that it is Saturday. Maybe I can grab a nap later?

Sleep difficulties are vexing. I’ve had a difficult relationship with sleep all my life. Nightmares. Sleep paralysis. Somnambulance. Exploding head dreams. Night terrors. Insomnia. Circadian rhythm disturbances from shift work. Sleep aversion. My problematic relationship with sleep began when I was a toddler and continues into the present, although far less severe now.

I can thank my Traveling Partner for a large part of my improved relationship with sleep. During our first year living together, he observed that if I could reduce my anxiety about being awake, I would at least be able to find some way to make use of the time, possibly even enjoy it. He was right. Removing the anxiety and frustration made the wakefulness itself inconsequential, and from there I learned to (mostly) make some gentle use of wakeful hours during the night. At some point there was less wakefulness, though I still have occasional difficult or sleepless nights. I no longer take them so personally. My sleep hygiene has improved, too. All of it matters.

I stretch and yawn. The stretch feels good. The sun continues to rise. A new day. Promising – but aren’t they all?

I sigh to myself. The difficult night makes my mind fuzzy. Housework and painting maybe? I thought maybe driving my RC car would be fun, but it’s going to be another very hot day, and if the AQI increases in the afternoon, as it did yesterday, maybe Sunday would be better? I don’t know. I’m glad I’m already done with doing Amazon returns for my beloved. I’d surely mix them up operating under this amount of bleary-eyed fatigue, today. Housework would be a more productive use of my time, today. I don’t know.

… I remind myself to get coffee beans…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I can slow down and let the day unfold gently on its own terms. That works too. I look down the trail, the brown meadow grasses turned to gold by the rising sun. It’s a beautiful time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Life is Defined by Decisions

August 2, 2026 //
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Walking with my thoughts at daybreak. I have a Benjamin Tod song stuck in my head. The refrain is direct and deeply meaningful for me.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Life is defined by decisions
You may burn bridges you ain’t got time to mend
You’re too old to be in this condition
You’re too young for the lord to take in

Real. Life is defined by our decisions, or at least shaped by them significantly. We are shaped by circumstances. Shaped by trauma. Shaped by our decisions. When I give it too much thought I begin to feel the mighty fist of fate squeezing and molding me with as little regard for me individually as a toddler with Play-Doh. Here I am.

Yesterday was “defined by” decisions, for sure. A lot of words come to mind, but I still have a lot to consider and process and put into future decisions. Verbs.

My beloved reads my writing (almost every day). One of the most delightful things about my Traveling Partner reading my writing is that I feel very “seen” – visible. Understood. When I make some point very well, he takes a moment to let me know and sometimes shares my writing. It’s something I appreciate.

One of the most uncomfortable things about my Traveling Partner reading my writing is that I am very visible; he sees where I am falling short on good self-care, and when I let some critical practice fall by the wayside. He points out hypocrisy. He calls me on my bullshit. When I’m struggling with something I’ve dealt with before, he observes the pattern and redirects my attention to some previous bit of writing with which I can support myself and get back on track. This too I appreciate – but it is uncomfortable as hell. I’m grateful. We don’t grow from comfortable experiences.

…If I were a better person, perhaps I would find a more gracious approach to accepting his support. I sigh to myself. I can be a resentful defensive asshole about feedback sometimes. I can do better. I’ll practice…

Our conversations yesterday were powerful, raw, deeply meaningful, heartfelt, frank, and vulnerable. I’m not going to call it a good time – but it was needed and I feel more deeply connected with my partner as a result. That’s good stuff. The discomfort doesn’t last. The feeling of connection can, if I feed it some verbs.

The sun lights the treetops, looking a bit like autumn.

The morning is cloudy. It feels like it may actually rain. After I finish my walk, it’s another day of laundry, and chores and housekeeping. My pain feels pretty well managed. I’ll work on keeping it that way.

… Life is defined by decisions…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m still more questions than answers. Still a student of life, practicing practices, doing my best, and taking this journey without a map one step at a time. Incremental change over time really does add up, but it is a slow process, and we definitely can’t expect the promise of future progress to satisfy every circumstance. It is what it is (which is to say slow and uncomfortable, but worth the effort).

I smile thinking about enjoying a cup of coffee with my beloved before I set off for my walk this morning. Vulnerable is hard. Connected is supremely beautiful. These experiences are related; connection requires vulnerability. I am good at neither of these. I sigh to myself at the admission. Okay, now that I’ve said it, where does that leave me? Standing on the edge a beginning, I guess.

Summer meadow flowers

I sit watching a new day begin. It’s time isn’t it? We create a lot of our experience. Our lives are defined by our decisions. Choose wisely. Do the verbs. The clock is ticking. Fuck it all up? Well, shit, learn something and begin again. Learn what matters most. Decide who you most want to be. Do those verbs. Didn’t work out? Do something different. Incremental change over time will continue to shape and define you. It’s a process.

I sit awhile longer reflecting on the progress I’ve seen my partner make in the lifetime we’ve spent together. He’s certainly playing the game on advanced settings. We’ve traveled a long and difficult journey together. It is an adventure I hope to continue all of my mortal days (and whatever may be beyond them).

It’s time to begin. Again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Hazy Sky

July 31, 2026 //
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I walk with my thoughts. The sky is hazy from distant wildfires. The western United States burns (somewhere) every year now. I don’t recall that being a thing at all when I was a kid. I think about the likelihood that we’ve broken our planet, and whether there is any hope. Gloomy thoughts.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

The weekend stretches ahead of me shrouded by a fog of uncertainty. I have no specific plans. I’d like to paint, but there’s quite a lot of housekeeping that wants doing. I feel tired, vexed, and generally annoyed with… Something. I don’t know. Probably biochemical bullshit,  nothing more. Feelings. Sand in my metaphorical oyster. Another work day and then… something else. I don’t know. I don’t even know what is bothering me or what might resolve it – but, hey, at least I’m aware that there’s something here I don’t know and which isn’t a certainty. That’s something, I guess.

… Embracing uncertainty is helpful, there is always uncertainty…

My back aches. I grief myself over “whining about it”, though I haven’t actually said words aloud. Well… Okay, there’s this, here, a handful of words. I remind myself that I chose this. I chose to live, not die. I chose the uncertain outcome of potential injury over the certain outcome of being stabbed and beaten to death in my apartment. My injuries were serious. Life changing. I am, however, quite alive. So far, I have even survived myself, and the ebb and flow of circumstances. So… there’s that.

I watch the haze on the western horizon become pearly pink, and developing a gradient fading into pale orange and then blue overhead. I sit at my halfway point – on this trail, and possibly in life (depending on genetics, lifestyle, and quality of medical care over time). I sift through my thoughts looking for fragments of optimism to stitch together into a properly good mood. I’m not finding much, but I keep looking.

“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details

One cannot rationally argue with emotions. They have their own purpose, and their own way. Arguing about how another person feels is completely pointless; people feel how they feel. What I do find, at least for me personally, is that it is possible to gently interrogate my emotions to determine what may be causing the feeling. This morning it seems rather likely that my mood is heavily influenced by the physical aftermath of a really heavy conversation with my Traveling Partner last night, and not really about this moment here at all. (Messed up chemistry from the strong emotions themselves, mostly, and dehydration from crying, feelings of uncertainty and sorrow that linger; human stuff.) So… self-care and self-reflection are on the menu today. (Shouldn’t they be part of every day?) I sigh to myself. Doing the work to build a healthy relationship is challenging, and more so perhaps between partners who both endure chronic pain, and both have PTSD. Worth the effort and the tears, it’s just hard sometimes.

…I think about what works, what doesn’t, and how annoying it is that it can be so difficult to be certain which is which…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I reflect on this mortal life and the clock that never stops ticking. I think about what matters most. The sun rises on a new day, and new opportunities to be the woman I most want to be… and I think about beginnings.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Chaos and Heartbreak

July 27, 2026 //
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Emotions are messy. I could probably just stop there. We all have emotions. We all understand how easily our emotions, or the emotions of others we interact with, can complicate things. Hardly worth mentioning, I guess.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

My morning is off to a difficult start. My emotions are in the way. I’m sitting by the side of the trail crying and feeling very much in doubt that the journey I have shared with my beloved Traveling Partner has many more miles in it and my heart aches from the weight of it. The tears make my eyes burn and blur my vision. I can’t see the trail.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

The details frustrate both of us. It’s nothing to do with any sort of lack of affection. Nothing to do with violence. But it’s a vexing persistent problem for us and I’m frustrated and overcome with a feeling of futility.

…So I’m sitting by this trail crying…

He calls. We try to talk. It goes poorly; I’m trapped in my emotions. Angry. Hurt. Frustrated. Overwhelmed. Sad. He hangs up abruptly. Calls back. The clock on my phone mocks me; the minutes left to pull myself together for a new work day are running out. Panic begins to set in. PTSD rears its head. Now I’m fighting that too.

… The alarm for my morning medications goes off. I take them without delay to avoid forgetting and making things much worse later…

He calls again. I’m failing us. I’m choked up with uncontrolled emotions. My voice is hoarse. I’m congested from crying. I’m still panicked about being presentable for another work day. I can hear him trying to connect with me, trying to be calm and de-escalate the conversation, reduce the heat, reduce the drama, get to a place for calm conversation and connection. I’m struggling to breathe, choked by sobbing. I feel far away, in a waking nightmare of my own.

… This shit is hard. Too hard? Very human. Is love enough? Maybe it isn’t? Maybe it is. I don’t know. Right now I don’t feel like I’m enough. I feel defeated. Low…

I take a breath. I take another. I try to anchor myself in this moment. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning. My head aches. Work emails begin pinging me. Fuck. There are after work errands to remember, a trip to the pharmacy… something else? Check the mail. Another breath. My sinuses are completely congested now, from crying. Crappy start to the day. No peace. I open a new pack of tissues, feeling peculiarly disconnected. I remind myself that “the way out is through”, and re-engage my emotions. The tears begin again. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Breathe. Exhale. Repeat. I guess the “relax” bit will come later. I hope.

I am filled with despair. I remind myself it will pass. Moments reliably do. I don’t know what is down the path ahead, but I guess I keep walking. We become what we practice. I didn’t do so well this morning. I remind myself rather halfheartedly to be kind to myself. To be kind to him.

My beloved reaches out seeking to reconnect and anchor to more positive details in our shared experience.

…I remind myself to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

A Recurring Dream

July 24, 2026 //
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I have this recurring dream, it turns up now and then, neither a nightmare nor pleasant, nor even hinting at illumination. It’s just a dream, but it haunts me and has since the very first time I heard the adhan in the desert.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

For some time, (weeks? months? years.) I’ve dreamt that I am walking barefooted across hot desert sand. It is dawn. I walk between rows of ancient stone columns. I hear the call to prayer, at first faintly, becoming louder, as I walk. I feel a breeze against my body. Walking takes effort. I walk towards the sound. I feel tears dripping down my face. I keep walking, east, towards the rising sun. As I crest a hill or dune or reach the edge of something, the light of day spills over into a valley spreading out below me. There are bodies everywhere. There is blood, so much blood. I stand there feeling betrayed and forsaken, hearing the adhan wailing across the desert, bereft. Mournful. The call to prayer goes on, reaching across the desert, across the world… but no one comes. I weep, and see that my hands are covered in blood.

I generally wake at that point, drenched in sweat, hands slick with it, eyes stinging with tears. It’s been years now. I was in the desert when I first had this dream. I woke from it, actually hearing the adhan in the distance. It seemed to call to me, personally.

… How is that not a nightmare, you may wonder. I promise you my nightmares are worse. This dream feels more poignant and deeply sorrowful than frightening…

Last night I woke during the night, from my dream of hearing the adhan as I walk through the desert. No tears, just a deep and abiding sorrow and the weight of collective guilt. I exhaled slowly, letting it go, before returning to sleep. This morning I woke to the soft sound of my Traveling Partner’s voice, a far more comfortable way to wake up. I dressed and began my day, but in my memory that call to prayer lingers, along with the guilt.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The sun begins to rise on a new day, pearly pink with hints of orange, pale and pretty. A new day. I walk as the sun rises. The trail is firm beneath my feet. The breeze smells of mown grass and summer flowers. The only sound I hear is my tinnitus. I’m here, now. No bombs, drones, or flyovers, here. Sadly, that isn’t true everywhere.

I sigh to myself and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, grief, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, War and News of War, Words
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