Archives for category: Anxiety

I planned. I prepared. I packed the car before I left for work, eagerly contemplating getting out of the office “early” (I’d already worked more than 40 hours this week, before Thursday event started, and part of that on my weekend, it wasn’t going to be “leaving early” any more than my “extra” day off tomorrow is really “time off”; I was just fucking done). Looked pretty good from the vantage point of beginning the work day – at 5:30 am.

1:00 pm came and went. Pretty much every minute of the day had, at that point, be spent fighting one small work-fire or another – for other people – and data entry.  A fucking mountain of it. I’m not actually complaining about that; it’s part of the job, and I am both skillful and fast. It’s annoying to be offered “help” with it, and spend still more time fixing mistakes – and the more fatigued I am from the extended work hours week after draining week, more and more of the mistakes I have been fixing have been my own. So human. I’m convinced everyone I work with is pretty spectacular, and working to the absolute limit of their ability, generally. I fight back tears of frustration so much more often than people realize.

2:00 pm came and went. I missed a ping from my Traveling Partner, asking if I’d left the office yet. He’s eager to see me and spend time together. I message back that I should be done soon.

3:00 pm came and went – more things break. More things to fix. More questions asked. More questions answered. Support this thing. Find that data. Finish this task, then that one. Swamped by low-priority non-negotiable workload, the minutes… are hard. I’m… so done. I’m aggravated by the long hours I end up choosing to work because the work needs to be done. No back up. Team of one. I have a few snarling “fuck this shit” moments, feeling, in the absence of immediate direct stimulus to the contrary, unappreciated. Here’s the thing, though; I’m very much appreciated, and valued. I even recognize that. In the moment, it’s still hard to feel overworked. It’s hard to have to choose self over profession – more often than I want it to be. I matter more. …But…but… money is a shortcut to quality of life. Fucking hell. Some days I feel so trapped.

As 4:00 pm approached, I started wrapping things up, even while recognizing there was more I could do. Of course there is. Always. Very few people work for organizations that understand structured managed workload based on organized routines and interdependent orders of operation. Most organizations just race at break-neck speed from crisis to crisis, reacting – regardless of how well or poorly they plan. I shrug thinking back on the day. It’s a business approach that keeps me employed. I manage chaos. I gently and firmly seek to impose order on chaos. Chaos won today. I don’t really feel like talking about work. lol

I finally got out of the office. Into the car. Couldn’t get myself to start the car. Stared at my phone awhile feeling… distant. Cut off. Confused. Irritated. Overwhelmed. I just wanted someone to help me figure out what to do next… which, considering I just left work, seems odd to me now; I tend to be so purposeful. I called my partner. No answer.

I called my partner. No answer.

I called my partner. No answer.

Fuck! I feel… left behind? “Ignored”? (Way to take it personally, when I know I’m… what exactly? Shit. What the hell?)

I called my partner. No answer.

I start the car and start driving… a direction. A quiet observant voice in the back of my thoughts suggestions I am not actually in any shape to be driving. I try to process that thought. It’s hard.

Where am I going?

The phone rings in the car. I click the phone button sort of… habitually. I don’t feel present. It’s my Traveling partner. Just the sound of his voice… I start crying like a little kid. I want to say that the whole day has been mean to me. I want to cry because nobody likes me (so emotional, so not a real thing – just feelings). I’m trembling all over and notice that I feel cold. We talk. He says words. I heard sounds. I hear emotion. His soft tender tone. “Take care of yourself…” I hear him encouraging me. I feel soothed. He suggests my blood sugar may be low. He’s probably right; I realize when he mentions it that I haven’t really taken the time I need to care for myself today, at all.

The phone call ends and I feel energized, cheerful, recharged… and my blood sugar is still low. And I’m still mired in rush hour traffic. And there’s no where good to stop. My frustration surges again. Tears spill over…

…Where am I going? I’ve ended up on the freeway, a small salad later, and I am apparently headed south for the weekend at a decent clip, thinking… okay, I can do this, this is fine…

Brake lights. So many brake lights for so far ahead. We sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. Creep forward. Sit. Creep. Sit. Creep. Sit. The guy ahead of me is reading a newspaper with the overhead light in his car on. Creep forward. I figure maybe I should get off the highway, and take a rural route, and slowly move over just in time for the exit I want.

As I come around the curve of the ramp, I start noticing more how noise sensitive I also am. I’m also pretty nearly blinded by all the high intensity headlights that are so popular now; no divider, nothing to stop assholes with their high beams on from really fucking up my vision completely. Aging sucks ass. Fuck. I can’t see well enough to drive safely, I’m feeling reactive and noise sensitive – this shit isn’t about work at all, and it is very much about self-care. I turn left instead of right. Even though I’d been on the road at that point for almost 90 minutes, I was far closer to home than to the freeway headed south. lol I don’t even feel frustrated by the long drive home; I’m relieved to be out of the traffic.

My Traveling Partner catches up with me on the phone later. We agree that doing my usual early morning drive just makes sense. No one has hurt feelings over it. I mean, we miss each other, and yeah, I’ll admit I was crying for some minutes once I admitted to myself that I was not going to make the drive tonight – just pure disappointment and longing for the company of this human being I love so much. I’ve been home a little while. Car’s already packed. Some healthy calories later, a couple big glasses of water, an appropriate amount of cannabis for the need of the moment, and some unmeasured time meditating, I realize I didn’t write – again this morning. The sudden blast of resentment that blows through my consciousness catches me by surprise – without surprising me. I get it; it’s time to take back my time. 😉

It’s time to begin again.

I guess, being so close to Halloween, I can’t really bitch too much about a good scare… but… I sure wasted some precious writing time having a wee freak out. lol

I sat down this morning with my coffee, a bit groggy, still waking up… A small white-ish spider scurried from under my laptop and raced along the edge to the desk and disappeared. Ick. Not a fan, really. I don’t suffer from arachnophobia any more, but I also definitely do not want spiders in my immediate personal space, or… on me. Ick. Nope. All the nope.

I was keeping half a wary eye out for that spider to come back. This was not sufficient to prepare me for Spider-geddon, at all. Oh yeah. It was… extra. Definitely more than enough spiders, when that one wee white-ish spider zipping along became what seemed like fucking dozens of wee spiders spilling out from the keyboard tray, just behind/under my actual damned keyboard. No. Nonononononononono. Not any of this. At all. Fucking hell. ICK. Fuck no.

…It wasn’t Spider-geddon because there were spiders and I object to that. No, not really. It was Spider-geddon because of all the murders that immediately ensued as I began my campaign of death against them. Yeah. Straight up. Killed mostly all of them, and wiped their ancestral home from existence. I left no survivors – or so I told myself with grim satisfaction. Yikes.

My morning is interrupted. One last panicked shiver runs up my spine as I wash my hands, after also re-applying a barrier spray where needed. Autumn in Oregon. Showers of spiders. Avalanches of spiders. Corners, crevasses, and dark spaces filled with spiders. So not okay. Stay off my desk, damn.

Weekend project? I’m definitely tidying up my fucking desk!

It’s time to begin again. 😀

Notice how I did not say “here’s the thing, though”…? Yeah, I can’t be sure, generally, if some noteworthy notable notion, or thought, or moment is the totality of such things, which would warrant the use of a firm and defining “the”… but… still… here I sit, with words, moments, notions, things, and thoughts… some of which may be worth sharing.  😀

I feel pretty good about finding that comfortable. It took a while to get here. I used to crave certainty, firmness, and a clear dichotomy to feel comfortable with my place in the world. It was not only limiting, it was bullshit. lol I’m glad I’m generally free of it.

There were verbs involved. This is a journey. I have made – and continue to make – choices. Some choices are less obvious than others. Some are less effort than others. Some are less profound than others, as changes go. Some are more of all of that, and then some.

Choose.

Don’t sit there being miserable, filled with frustrated rage, stalled, wounded, or oppressed. Choose something different… and yeah, maybe even if that means walking away from everything you have chosen before, to choose differently, with greater wisdom, with more self-reflection, with greater awareness, and more commitment to the person you most want to be.

I did not say any of this is easy… but…

…Maybe you need to hear this…? You did not “ruin everything”. You are not “a complete fuck up”. You are not “the reason all of this went wrong”. You are neither master of the universe nor the single cause of all the world’s ills. You just aren’t. You aren’t that significant, actually. Neither are you unimportant. You matter. You just aren’t to blame for every fucking thing. Ever. Let that shit go? If nothing else changes, today, in this moment, you can choose to let  that shit go…

…and begin again. ❤

I am sipping my coffee in a state of contentment and feeling generally okay after an entire day of rest, following the recreational weekend. It’s worth it to take time to get adequately rested. So often, I enjoy a great time, let that occasion undermine my self-care, and move on to a new work week, and interacting with people, without “getting caught up”, and really caring for myself. It’s a poor choice to take that approach.

How much Monday misery is fully and wholly a byproduct of enthusiastic weekend endeavors? Probably quite a lot of it, and I suspect that Monday’s reputation for being a shitty day of the week is caused more by hangovers of various sorts, than by any actual day-of-week-related flaw. (Don’t even start with me about how you “don’t get hangovers”; the science suggests otherwise, and if you don’t like the word, don’t use the word, but for fuck’s sake don’t bullshit yourself about needed after-care!)

I’m sitting here grateful to be more aware of such things than I was when I was in my 20s – my quality of life could have been so much better, and there could have been so much less fucking drama! “Self-care” was not in my vocabulary.

I smile, and sip my coffee. Yeah… I don’t even try to go off the coffee. I recognize the irony. I don’t avert my eyes from the lessons I learn about addiction, generally, and good self-care, just because this particular intoxicant is legal. The legality of any given intoxicant has not one thing to do with whether it is effective, or what effects it actually has, or whether there is a hangover. Words are not experiences. Experiences exist independent of the words we use to describe them.

Take care of yourselves out there in the world, Party People! It’s Monday. Tomorrow is “terrible Tuesday”, too, and intoxicants vary widely in both effect, and duration of effect. If you’re working, you may not be at your best. That annoying argument? Probably a byproduct of your chemistry – you’re usually so much more reasonable, and measured in your responses. That flare up of bad temper? Yeah, excessive is a good word for that – it’s worth reminding yourself that you’re probably prone to being a bit over-reactive right now. You could do better. Are you drinking enough water? Have you had nutritionally dense healthy calories? Have you gotten the rest you need? You don’t need to dissolve into a private emo nightmare of drama and woe – you can practice good self-care, and heighten your self-awareness. Being more considerate of yourself (and, let’s be frank, of others) may ease some of the (literal) headaches of a (hungover) Monday… I’m just saying; you have choices. 😉 Your results may vary, but you can choose how to deal with that, too. 🙂

…Adulting takes so much practice. Have you “already completely fucked this day up”? Just begin again. ❤

This is about my relationship with money. For some of us, talk about money, personal finances generally, or how we deal with money is more intimate than any discussion of sex. So. Here’s your trigger warning; this is me going on about money. You can stop right here, and not take another step, not read another word. I respect that. Take care of yourself. 🙂 Enjoy your Friday.

Sometimes basic self-care is really really basic.

Is how I handle money a matter of basic self-care? I suspect maybe it is… We’ve all been in that place, a bit tense with it, looking at a plan or a budget, looking at the resources available, measuring and cutting things to fit… feeling the relief in that moment when it is clear that there are resources, and also a plan, and that the one fits the other… with just enough left to be sure there is enough, at all (or those far more stressful times, when there just isn’t). It’s so easy to ride that wave of relief to a shore of imagined certainty and security. No one really wants to focus on one important detail that is a bit of a buzz kill; that plan has to be executed. There are verbs involved. Choices. Effort.

Hint: it isn’t the effort that is the tricky bit, generally, it’s the choices.

This morning I am looking at my budget. It’s a payday morning. I’ve got my coffee. It’s what I do. I don’t go anywhere or spend anything (nothing. at. all.) until I’ve reviewed the budget, the pay, the resources overall, my calendar (which handily includes all the recurring bills on the dates they hit my bank account, as well as things I want to do)(calendars are super cool right now, I hear, 😉 )… and I walk myself through the upcoming days and debts, making doubly sure that I can pay my bills, meet my obligations, and handle my commitments – before I spend a dime on anything that wasn’t already planned. I’d love to say this is as easy as it sounds. It isn’t. There’s quite a bit of work and practice involved.

I maintain this particular practice because “the money thing” is hard for me. Which part? Mostly matching the plan (budget) to the reality (choices, actions, deviations from the plan). I forget things kind of a lot. This is a particularly noteworthy risk because symptomatically, I also have some executive function impairments that hit me right in the impulse control. These things do not play well together in the finances. I enjoy living well*, and have modest resources – a lack of impulse control is a major impediment to good quality of life given limited resources. So. Each payday I sit down and review it all again. It’s a good time to reality-check my expectations. I sometimes find myself reconsidering future plans from this perspective, as I count off the bills against the budget, and note that perhaps I am over-extending myself (time or money).

This used to be one of the scariest things I “had to do” each payday. I tried to do it without having to be present, or think about it at all. Now it is routine, comfortable, and fairly encouraging to be able to see that I’m okay, or that some brief tough time in life is improving, or the less-than-ideal timing of some large expenditure is no longer a concern. I feel more “safe” with my life; I have clearer picture of what I can get done with my resources. I’m not averting my eyes. It doesn’t work that way, anyway.

Important observation; my choices these days are very different than they once were. If I don’t have the funds, I don’t do the things. Bills come first. “Fun stuff” and adventures are all down the list somewhere later, after quality of life needs are met. It’s not easy, and I’m not lecturing; when we don’t have enough resources in life, we make the choices that we think save us. We “do what we have to do” – as we understand it. (Often leading to poorer outcomes because we don’t necessarily choose wisely.) We don’t really have an easy time of holding collateral damage in our thoughts while we make the choices that cause it. We just don’t easily consider the “down stream effects” of our choices very well (thus the whole notion of effects that happen down stream of where we stand; because we have a fucking history of polluting our waterways that become someone else’s drinking water!), because considering those outcomes forces us to be willful and consciously deliberate about causing it. I don’t have any solutions, I’m just noting that, generally, we’ve got this limitation as creatures. I had to make profound changes in my thinking and behavior to more appropriately manage my finances, meet my obligations, and live an acceptably good quality of life. It’s sometimes still really hard to make the necessary choices. I’m not super human. I’m definitely not wealthy. I’m just practicing, and learning. It’s still hard. I still need practice. 🙂 That gets easier – and so worth it.

This is going to be one of those more difficult times, when the choices I make definitely affect my real-time experience and quality of life; I’m right on the edge of bouncing back from recently over-extending myself somewhat, right to the edge of my available resources. This is challenging; every choice in this pay period matters a great deal, and rather a bit more than any choices made in pay periods when I’m definitely in the black, with adequate resources to just go, and be, and do. Right now, each choice really matters and there can be no fucking about playfully or wastefully. I… am not good at this. 🙂 That’s why my bills are on autopay, (some are also paid a month in advance) and I keep a decent balance in my accounts, and don’t let things fall behind; I’m not as skilled at managing things check-to-check, and the ups and downs fuck with my emotional balance, which causes me stress, which fatigues me and messes with my sleep, which impairs my executive function further over time, which reduces my ability to make good choices, which causes me stress, which… Yeah. It’s a cycle. Breaking that cycle was a huge turning point for me. (Big props to my Traveling Partner for all the emotional support and coaching on managing my finances!) Treading too closely to getting back on that treadmill is fraught with risk, and very uncomfortable. Also kind of scary. Stress. The stress of it colors other things, and I have been feeling my anxiety trying to pull me back to a bad place.

It’s still ‘about’ contentment and sufficiency.

…Then, this morning, I sat down, quite routinely, with the budget, with the banking, and started going down the list, reviewing the calendar… and my stress dissipated. Limited resources are nothing new. The resources are always limited. Always. The time we have available to us is always limited. 100% of definitely always limited; we are mortal creatures. This life is not about a grind. It’s about an experience. A journey. I have limited resources, limited time, and still have so many things in life to enjoy, to attempt, to savor, to experience for the first time or again… planning is not about restrictions on any of that; planning lets me cram more life into that limited lifetime, and do so sufficiently skillfully to avoid exceeding my resources. It’s lets me “pace myself” so that self-care is handled as routine and high priority, too. It lets me identify and set priorities. The plan just has to connect to the lived reality – and that takes choices.

So many choices. I like saying “yes!” to life! Nonetheless, sometimes there’s got to be a “no” involved, now and then; those resources remain finite, limited, and don’t “stretch to fit” in any real sense. This is going to be a pay period more about saying “no” than about saying “yes”, and living the planning very closely. That’s just real. This morning? I’m not even upset or stressed by that. The “plan B” options look every bit as sufficient, practical, and enjoyable as plan A. There’s just no room for “yes!” levels of spontaneity in this one. That has to be okay, too. 🙂 That’s how it works.

I finish my coffee. It’s still quite early. Time to get started on the planned weekend ahead. There are some verbs involved; the choices are already made. 🙂 I only need to begin.

Each day dawns, entirely new, filled with potential and choices.

* Just a note about what I mean by “living well”; I mean living a quality of life that is sustainably comfortable, adequate, sufficient for my own needs, characterized generally by contentment, which allows me to pay my bills and also do things I enjoy without over-extending myself, or putting my future good quality of life at risk. I do not mean spending money lavishly on branded luxury goods, flashy brag-worthy baubles, or throwing cash around like candy corn at Halloween, or being a hard-balling big-spender. (With my resources, that’s not affordable, or sustainable, and with my temperament, it’s not desirable.)