Archives for category: Anxiety

The clear night sky sprinkled with stars has given way to pink streaks of clouds across a pale blue sky. I sit at my halfway point on this trail watching the sun rise.

Each sunrise is the promise of a new day.

My anxiety commandeered my dreams at some point during the night. My Traveling Partner somehow breeched the fragile boundary between reality and dreams, calling me back from The Nightmare City with a question. I don’t remember the question, and I’m not sure whether he actually woke me (or, if he did, why). I got up briefly to pee and went back to sleep. I woke gently, without anxiety, and the morning has been pleasant and otherwise routine.

The morning felt quite mild, initially, but as I sit on a favorite fence rail, I begin to feel the autumn chill. I’m grateful for this sweater, and the fleece I threw on over it at the last minute, as I got out of the car in the darkness. I sit enjoying the sunrise, and the sky turns from pink stripes to streaks of thin white clouds and blue skies. It’s a lovely morning. I’m taking my time with it.

My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning greeting and asks about my plans. He’s enjoying his morning, too. I mention an errand I plan to take care of before I return home – having completely forgotten it no longer needs to be done. He gently reminds me. I laugh heartily, out loud – it’s the sort of thing that could frustrate me to tears under some circumstances. This morning it’s harmless, inconsequential, and amusing, and I consider the difference in perspective that allows it to be funny, this time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s been a lovely weekend, filled with loving moments and good fortune, and these stand out from the moments of stress that also occurred. It’s nice to feel so positive, and to have developed an outlook on life that allows me to bounce back from stress so much more easily than any younger version of me knew how to do. If I could, I’d go back in time and share what I have learned with that younger me. Instead, I share that here, with you.

…We become what we practice…

A small sparkling highlight this weekend was stopping for groceries yesterday morning; the Checker returned my keys to me! I’d misplaced them days ago, and hadn’t found them. I had resigned myself to the likelihood that they were lost. She had carefully held on to them, waiting to see me again on an upcoming weekend. Having them returned to me gives me a feeling of hope that probably exceeds the moment, and I’m okay with that. Feeling hopeful is far better than feeling that everything is pointless or futile.

Such a small thing.

There’s an entire new day ahead. It’s a Sunday, and most of the day will be housework and chores and getting ready for a new week – and I’ll be doing things from a hopeful perspective, and spending time in the company of my Traveling Partner. Sounds like a good way to spend time.

I look down the trail. Several small groups of people approach, some distance away on the other side of the meadow. I get to my feet – it’s time to begin again.

I slept through the night, waking to the artificial sunrise of my silent alarm. I dressed and left the house in the usual way. I arrived at the trailhead before daybreak, put on my boots, grabbed my cane, and began the trek down the trail.

I walk and breathe, my mind a mostly barren place, nothing really amounting to actually thought going on. I just walked.

… Strange morning…

My Traveling Partner pings me. No “good morning” greeting or inquiry about my state of being. Instead I get a hurt reminder that I had said I would pick up a package waiting in the mailbox. I’d forgotten, distracted by a moment of discord shortly after I got home yesterday. Shit. For the time being (and it is a recent change) we’ve only got one key to the mailbox, and picking up the mail now requires a return home to grab the key, or the foresight to take it on the way out the door. A suprisingly complicated change, once brain damage is accounted for. I sigh to myself. I do my best to do everything that needs to be done… Seems always just out of reach.

I’m now at my halfway point feeling aggravated, disappointed with myself, and fairly disinterested in interacting with “the world”… And it’s a fucking work day. Great. I ignore the slow tears dripping down my face. For the moment I have no patience with this very human experience. My Traveling Partner is having a difficult morning, himself. I do what I can to be supportive, compassionate, and kind. Maybe one of us will turn our morning around and have a good day?

I breathe, exhale, and… Well, I try to relax. I persist with trying to meditate, trying to let go of my irritability, trying to simply breathe and be… Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. How fucking hard does this shit have to be?!

Daybreak comes. I look down the trail and get to my feet. It isn’t all lovely mornings, big smiles, and beautiful sunrises. This is a very human experience, and sometimes there’s real work involved, and however “successful” the outcomes seem to be, the moment may still be quite unsatisfying or unpleasant. It is what it is. Another reason to begin again… and it’s time. I’ll do my best.

I managed to sleep a little later this morning. I arrived at the trailhead at daybreak, a smudgy dirty looking faint orange streak along the horizon hints at sunrise coming soon. No point waiting. I trade shoes for boots, and grab my cane and my headlamp and step onto the trail.

The shallow bowl of the marshy meadow lowlands is filled with a dense mist. When I reach it, the mist envelopes me. Peculiarly, the mist is only about 4 feet deep, and I can’t see the ground I am walking in any detail. My headlamp is worse than useless, and I turn it off, letting it hang from my neck like some sort of awkward ornament. I keep walking, watching the sky lighten, listening to the quiet sounds of the meadow and marsh around me. I hear traffic on the nearby highway. The Tualatin river flows through here, forming one boundary of the park. I don’t hear it flowing by, deep and murky. The air is still and a bit chilly. I’m grateful to be wearing my fleece this morning.

I eventually reach my halfway point and stop for a bit, to meditate and write and reflect on life and the world.

Halfway on a misty morning.

I sit thinking about freedom. I’m not sure why it’s on my mind. Perhaps because, for the first time in my own lifetime, the United States is being lead by someone who appears to think freedom of speech is somehow defined by what he wants to hear, personally. So much to find distasteful and disturbing by the very idea. It’s a good time to buy books on subjects this administration finds objectionable – and to read them – we are realistically at risk of seeing them pulled from bookstores and libraries “for our own good”, “for the children”, or because they have been deemed unacceptable for some reason, by some narrow special interest group. I’m not kidding. No exaggeration, I am deeply concerned about our intellectual freedom.

…When the cold war ended, I felt so hopeful about the world…

I’d love to see truth become more popular. I dislike the media hype machine, and the pursuit of likes, clicks, and views produces some awful results, not the least of which is poor quality writing and reporting that may lack any factual basis. Maybe the move to undermine free speech will result in legislation that requires truth in reporting? That would be hilarious – and might serve us well, in the long run.

I sigh quietly by myself watching the mist spread slowly, obscuring the view. I reflect on the mist as a metaphor, dense, obscuring my view, hiding obstacles on my path, clammy and chilly and clinging to me as I move through it, but lacking real substance, and incapable of impeding my movement. It has no power that I don’t give it. That’s important to understand.

I’m just saying, read the books you see being restricted, withheld from libraries and institutions, or hear those in power seeking to dismiss or “cancel”. Those books wouldn’t be a big deal, if they didn’t say something worth hearing.

“Woke” isn’t an insult. It’s a term used to indicate that a person recognizes institutional and systemic injustices, most commonly those with a racial basis, but also gender (misogyny is still a real problem), and disability. Commandeering the term to use as an insult dilutes and undermines its value – but only if we allow that.

“DEI”… When did we decide that being a melting pot of cultures and ideas is a bad thing? That’s diversity. Can you explain how “equity” is a problem? Don’t you, yourself, want equitable treatment in the workplace, and in the world? “Inclusion” seems an unlikely villain – do you not want your children to be included by their peers, in games, in events, in life? Where is the problem?

“Woke” people, seeing the injustices and inequity in our institutions and systems of power and governance, moved to make changes – and DEI as a movement was born. The greatest impact was likely felt in the workplace, initially. Codes of conduct changed to be more fair, more focused on consistent and equitable treatment in hiring. People who had been prevented from advancing, in spite of their qualifications, began to get ahead in life. These changes for the better began to spread. Life began to get better for so many people!

… We’ve lost momentum because a handful of vocal shitheads are mad that they can no longer rest on their privilege (whether that’s to do with being male, white, Christian, affluent, or connected is irrelevant), and now have to put in a bit more work to get ahead. Now, here we are…

How are those “guaranteed” freedoms working out for you?

I sigh to myself. Human primates can be so g’damned stupid – and greedy. That’s likely what most of this is actually about. Greed – and power. So gross. The worst.

A rose blooming in my garden.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let all of the bitterness and disappointment go. I can only do so much. I speak my mind fearlessly. I vote. I served my country ethically and with honor (at least as I understood it at that time).

…I remind myself to reach out to former comrades at arms, some of them are no doubt struggling with this bullshit much as I am, and there is solace in sharing and a feeling of safe haven in community…

The sunrise has come and it is a new day filled with promise. I’m hoping to spend it enjoying my Traveling Partner’s good company. It was a very busy week at work, and he has missed me. I’m planning to try a new recipe, later, and maybe fit in some “me time” later this weekend. Long weekend – I’ve taken Monday off for the equinox. Maybe I’ll take my camera or my pastels up the Nestucca River Byway and enjoy some solitary creative time?

The meadow is still covered in mist, as though someone rolled out cotton batting over the whole thing. I smile to myself, grateful for the lovely moment of solitude and rest from the busy week behind me. Sunlight illuminates the tops of the oaks. It’s already time to begin again.

I’m just saying, it’s a short distance from anger, resentment, and thoughts of paybacks to becoming the person you despise for the same characteristics you’ve adopted over time, as your anger and hate ate away at your good heart, good values, and sense of self. We can’t correct the injustices we see in the world by becoming less just, ourselves. We can’t force the world to be a kinder more compassionate place through violence. Worth thinking about, isn’t it? I mean, generally speaking, there is value in self-reflection, self-awareness, and becoming the person we most want to be through willful practice of those qualities we value most highly, isn’t there?

… I’m not telling you what to do, just pointing out that you are making choices (we all are)…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a week of cool nights and warm afternoons. In the morning, I wear my fleece. In the afternoons, I remove layers and enjoy bare arms and the sun on my back. The darkness on the trail before dawn requires my headlamp. The walk after work from the university library to the parking nearby is lit brightly by summer sunshine. It is time for the season to change (here), and I feel it everywhere. Fall is coming.

The trail is dry under my feet, and the night sky is dark. I get about half way, and it’s still quite dark. I turn off my headlamp and sit quietly, gazing into the night sky, scattered with stars, the thin crescent moon rising in the east. I enjoy the quiet.

“A season for change,” I say to myself, softly. Aren’t they all, though? Change is. I sit awhile listening to the zing and buzz of my tinnitus, and the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, like a ticking clock. I remember a time when even the recollection of a ticking clock (and definitely the sound of one) could immediately transform me into a seething quivering wreck, breathless with anxiety, and keep me from sleeping. Not now. Now a ticking clock is only a ticking clock. Oh, surely, a ticking clock is also a useful metaphor, a reminder that time passes, that moments are individual and precious, and time itself finite… but it no longer has the power to keep me awake at night or cause an internal solitary war of nerves. We made it up, that ticking clock, and it need not hold power over us.

… Let the clock tick. It will, regardless. Be here, now, in this present moment. Let change happen. Embrace it, and make each change another milestone on your journey. Better to grab each moment of joy and savor it before it passes, than to fight circumstances we do not control.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I’ve got time. The day begins quite early, this morning, and this lovely moment, now, is mine to enjoy. “Nothing to see here.” True. I’m just one woman, alone in the darkness, waiting for daybreak, enjoying the quiet, alone. Where will this day take me? To my desk and to work, and later to return home. It’s not fancy or extraordinary or particularly interesting as moments go, but it is a lovely quiet one (aside from my tinnitus, which is very loud this morning). It’s enough to see another sunrise. I sit waiting for the inevitable changes.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Later, I’ll begin again, and face new, other, changes.

It is a new day. Daybreak comes, revealing the trail I walked to get to this place, and the trail ahead that I will follow next. The map is not the world. The trail is not the journey. The plan is not the experience. The choice is not the outcome. The whole of our lifetime is not any one moment we live. It is a worthy endeavor to live each moment fully present, to find out where our path truly leads… but it isn’t as easy as wanting to. There is effort and will involved. Choices. Action.

I smile, watching the sun rise on this new day.

Ask the questions. Do the verbs.

I slept in. I got to the trailhead after daybreak. No colorful sunrise, the morning is misty and gray, and a little chilly. Fog obscures the meadow on the other side of the highway, as I park.

Not much of a view this morning.

I head down the trail contentedly, feeling rested and ready for the day ahead. It is the weekend. I walk with my thoughts, and the sounds of distant traffic and geese on the marsh. The meadow is brown and waiting for the autumn rain to come.

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on a nearby fence rail looking out over meadow and marsh, enjoying the stillness and the misty morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking time for meditation and reflection, and making room for a moment of gratitude. There’s real joy (for me) in the simple pleasure of a moment of contentment and quiet. I savor it. The world being the place it presently is, it doesn’t do to waste a moment of contentment and joy by overlooking it.

I’ve got a project today, that fits into the needs of hearth and home, and also the garden. I am planning to tidy the garden shed, which is crowded with this and that, and no longer the convenient solution it was intended to be. I won’t need to work around the oppressive summer heat, it is a cool day, making me glad I delayed this project a couple weekends. I may even be looking forward to it.

Perspective on a moment.

From my pleasant vantage point, I sit with my thoughts a little while, reflecting on the day ahead. I feel fortunate to enjoy such moments. Grateful. I breathe the morning air deeply, filling my lungs with fresh air, and my heart with fond appreciation and gratitude. The mist begins to thicken and envelope me. I watch the trees around me beginning to fade into the mist with child-like wonder. As the mist becomes a proper dense fog, the sounds of distant traffic are muffled and begin to be lost in the din of my tinnitus.

Grocery shopping, first, then my project and time spent hanging out with my Traveling Partner. Tomorrow, all the usual housekeeping stuff, preparing for a new week. My anxiety about being laid off, and then of being in a new job, has died away completely. Things feel pretty routine and ordinary. It’s a good feeling.

I sigh contentedly, and get ready to begin again.