Archives for category: Anxiety

We all deal with occasional emotional “stormy weather”. I wish I could really help. I’d hand you an umbrella, or some wet weather gear, if it were, you know, properly weather. Instead, all I can really do is take time to listen. Give you a hug. Hand you a tissue. Frustratedly attempt to assure you it will pass.

…You won’t be letting it go until you’re ready.

Your perspective on the situation is your own, and you may not be ready to own any piece of your circumstances, or recognize any amount of personal accountability – and right now you’re hurting. I see it. My frustration sources with your choices, and your unreadiness to look yourself in the face and understand which of your choices may have contributed (or be contributing) to the situation quite directly. It’s hard to watch. I could tell you that some of this is made up nonsense in your own head, or that some of it actually just doesn’t “matter”, in fact, at all.

…You won’t be believing or accepting anything you aren’t ready for – how could you?

Your suffering is quite real. I wish I could help in a real way. I lack the tools. I’d offer you perspective, a quite moment over a cup of tea, perhaps some words over coffee and a moment to gather your thoughts… but the verbs are all yours, in the moment you choose to bring action to your experience and really do something about… whatever is going on.

I’ve found far too often that my own assumptions, expectations, and attachments, were precisely the thing causing me so much suffering, rather than the circumstances themselves. My very human insistence on attributing a “because” to some action taken by another, or words I’ve read or heard, and making it all exceedingly personal (whether it had any legitimate potential to be so, or not), often causes me much more pain than anything anyone actually did, regardless of their intention. Seriously. We make so much shit up in our heads. Yes, you too.

Then, “the hormone thing”. Yeah. Fucking hell. I get it. It’s hard. Hardest still is seeing how much choice there still is. We get used to “can’t help it” and we get so used to making excuses, apologies, and accepting sympathy, that we entirely overlook our opportunities to behave differently in the face of our hormonal challenges – and most of us could realistically do a lot better. No, I’m not going to take a step back from that, and I’ll point out the choice to do better is available both to those with the hormone challenges, and those who love those who have them. Then, how hard is it, sometimes, to even acknowledge “the hormone thing” at all, in some moment when we feel so righteous about our pain or anger? Everyone can win when we all simply treat each other well. No kidding. It’s about behavior, not emotions. Verbs. Choices.

Do better. You can. No kidding. However stressed and freaked out you are right now, you can choose so much of your experience – including how you deal with it. I need reminders too, sometimes. I’ll finish this, and drop the link in an email to myself with some alarming subject line like “I JUST CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!” all in caps, and tag it and archive it without thinking twice about it, and some future day when maybe I find myself lost in the deep end of emotional bullshit, I’ll go searching for emotional wounds to pick at from my email archives… and instead, find the link to this reminder that I have choices – and that I can do better. 🙂

A lot of the shit we allow to upset us most is of little real consequence. Let it go. Take a breath. Take another one. A proper deep breath. Let it out slowly. Have a cup of tea and just stop for a minute. Maybe take 10 minutes to meditate, or have a calming shower. Go for a walk and sift through your thoughts without judgment. Give yourself quiet time to process things. Get some perspective. Deal with your emotions without taking them personally. Take care of yourself – if you haven’t eaten, have some calories. Drink some water. It will pass.

Feasting on our anger or heartache by ceaselessly venting, again and again, about the same shit, tends to grow it larger in the garden of our hearts. Seriously. We become what we practice. Practice anger, you get good at being angry. Practice tears and tantrums, you get really good at crying and raging. Practice losing your shit and becoming hysterical and wrapped up in yourself, and, no kidding, you get good at that.  Maybe practice letting go of your attachment to your own bullshit, instead? Or practice building calm and emotional resilience? How about practicing contentment? You could even practice communicating your emotions without screaming them at people… I’m just saying, behavior is something we can change through choices and practices. It’s not about emotions, at all. Go right ahead and feel all of the things you are feeling. How are you behaving? It matters. 😉

You’ll most likely be okay, you know? How about right now? Are you okay right now? Start there. Begin again. ❤

I didn’t sleep well. The alarm was an unwelcome interruption of what little sleep I did manage to get. I woke groggy and irritable. Well, shit. It’s a work day, and I’m facing it rather grimly over my morning coffee. It’s only Tuesday. I sigh, and sip my coffee.

Mornings like this one are hard sometimes. Really waking up. Hard. Managing my emotional balance. Hard. Maintaining a pleasant office-appropriate demeanor. Hard. All of it still at the top of my list of shit that needs to get done today. lol

I continue drinking my coffee, and I give some thought to the resources available to me to get through the day, and get all the things done… Well… I’ve got coffee. That’s something. I can start there. The warm cup in my hands is soothing, pleasant, and I savor the sensation. It’s even a good cup of coffee. The environment here is lovely. Quiet. Tidy. Something to look forward to coming back to. I can make it an early night if I choose. I can bring a healthy lunch to the office and practice good self-care, fairly easily. Doing so will insulate my fatigued self from potential missteps through the day.

I wake up, slowly, and as I do, I feel less unprepared for my feeling of fatigue, more able to cope with it. It’s a good beginning. Another cup of coffee, and I will be ready for the drive, too.

I smile. Finish this cup of coffee, and get ready to begin again. 🙂

I started to type a phrase into the text box, and got only as far as the word “next”, and sad numbly for a moment, struck by the observation that it definitely appeared to be spelled quite incorrectly… although… it isn’t. Huh. I sip my coffee, and stare at it awhile, no longer certain where I was going with the thought, at all.

Why am I writing today? I mean… routine, sure. It’s a practice, but… this morning I struggle to connect it with my thoughts or experience, and that, too, strikes me as strange.

I hear the trickle of the aquarium in the background. I’ve been ready to “decommission” it for several weeks now. The livestock are gone (some due to age, some through misadventure – a power outage while I was away – and some re-homed, prepared to drain the tank). I am away to often to care for my aquarium easily, and I am living a life that no longer requires serious masking sounds to ease my anxiety; there is no yelling in the background here, no day-to-day tension between others, or infiltrating my own experience. Those conditions, taken together, result in the aquarium becoming a higher maintenance element of my surroundings than I want to make time for. I chose change instead… then sort of got stalled half way through, because I am also quite human. I haven’t been particularly self-conscious about it – I’ll get to it, perhaps this weekend?

I look around this room, and through the open doorway, into the next. There always seems to be a “next” – a next task, a next project, a next moment, a next weekend… but we are mortal creatures. One day, “next” is also… “last”. I sigh out loud and sip my coffee, committing silently to tidying up and finishing things and putting stuff right and following up on loose ends… all the things. I regularly do. I often still end the day with some “next” thing that I really need to wrap up… the next day.

I smile at myself. This morning, a great many of my “nexts” are about the upcoming weekend, and about my Traveling Partner. We shared a great phone call yesterday, and I came away from it delightedly expecting that he could realistically show up more or less any time at all… maybe even… the next day. Wow. That lifted me up in the most remarkable way!  It also filled my head with shit I now rather urgently want to get done, because I like to be a good hostess, and with the busy weekend ahead, and a possibly imminent visit from my Traveling Partner, things like that one waste basket I overlooked emptying are really standing out to me now. lol I find myself thinking about detailing the bathrooms, and changing the linens, and wondering if the patio door glass is clean, and how long has it been since I dusted? Already I am impatient about the work day ahead. Already I am eager to return home and get to work on the housekeeping. lol

I sip my coffee, think about life and love and wonder “what’s next?” I guess I’ll have to begin again to find out. 🙂

The quality of the sleep I am getting seems good. I’m not waking during the night. I’m getting to bed at an hour that results in no less than 7 hours of sleep, which I seem to be getting. I’m consuming carefully measured quantities of caffeine, and limiting that to early in the day. I mentally run down the list of carefully selected good sleep hygiene practices that I rely on to get the most out of my resting hours…

…Regardless of all that, I am particularly groggy upon waking to the alarm these last couple work days. My body feels rested. My brain feels unready for the new day. I’m doing my best to properly wake up, to be thoughtful, coherent, ready for the day. So far this is more an exercise in effort than any sort of effective achievement.

A moment in the garden on a summer evening.

I sip my coffee and contemplate the summer heat. The garden isn’t as lush as I’d like it to be. Summer heat. I’m often away all weekend. The time taken to water during the week, before work, and again in the evening as the heat slowly begins to fade to cooler night-time temperatures, really makes a difference when I’m not at home to do it on weekends. This past weekend many of the roses bloomed in what seems a rather early second blossoming of loveliness and fragrance. I take a moment to feel grateful to have gotten to see it.

This year, just one flower.

Peeking out from the summer foliage, a single flower blooms on Nozomi, a delicate miniature rose that is a long-time favorite that I’ve had since… 1993? This year she’s only bloomed this once; she is usually among the most prolific bloomers among my roses. I make a mental note to re-pot her this winter.

“Feeling overwhelmed” is an experience fairly common to being human. Seems more common these days, for more people, although I’d begun to experience it much less myself. Starting in November, 2016, it has become, once again, plenty common for me, as well. “It’s all just too much” is the feeling. I give myself a little internal moment of real understanding, because, as feelings go, the most appropriate response to the feeling of “it’s all just too much” is simply “yes, yes it is” followed by “we’ll get through this, together”. A deep breath. A sigh. I move on from the moment; every moment passes.

I think over an interaction with a friend from earlier this week. She was feeling overwhelmed to the point of tears. “It’s all just too much!” A moment of sympathy and support rather quickly became quiet frustration and puzzlement, as it became apparent that she was investing in her feeling of being overwhelmed by building that and growing it, rather than sorting it out and easing her own suffering. Attempts to support and help her weren’t seeming either supportive or helpful, as she quickly interrupted anything helpful, soothing, or perspective-offering, (that could have just as easily been used to calm herself) to reinforce her self-inflicted, home-grown, utterly subjective internal experience with quick contradictions, veering tangents, and distractingly vague exclamations of distress. She quickly shored up her powerfully negative narrative each time I attempted to bring clarity or calm to the shared moment together. So frustrating. Eventually, the time-sensitive nature of schedules and calendars intervened. I went on with my day. She went on with her tears. I am still puzzled at the whole thing; it’s hard to fathom someone not actually accepting the help and support they’ve sought out. I still just don’t get it.

…I don’t have to “get it” – a lot of what is going on just isn’t at all about me. Not my circus. Not my monkeys. That’s not only okay, it’s necessary; I can’t shoulder the burden of all the world’s chaos and damage alone. I manage my piece as skillfully as I am able. I try not to add to the pile. 😉

Still groggy, I check the time. Well, damn. It’s already that time again. I hit that metaphorical reset button, look out the window into a pre-dawn sky that reminds me summer will end, and likely sooner than I expect. It’s a good opportunity to begin again. 🙂

It’s almost routine, these days, to face stress with this internal reminder: breathe, relax, let it go, begin again. Individually, or as a sequence, it has given me the “moment I need” to bounce back from a stressful experience far more quickly than I once could. It’s enough. More than enough. With practice, over time, it has become something I can pretty much count on, rather reliably. Enough to make it especially difficult when it fails me – being human, that’s still a thing, too. 🙂

I am sipping my coffee, relaxing over a few minutes writing, starting my day a little later than typical. I smile thinking about my abrupt wake up call this morning. A literal phone call jerked me from my sleep in the pre-dawn darkness. It rang persistently from the other room. I was in motion before I was awake; a ringing telephone in the darkness is alarming. Distant family, friends, old buddies from military years… emergencies and bad news generally arrive via phone call in the darkness. I realized I was (sort of) awake when I heard my voice out loud answering the phone.

“…Hello…?”

My relief was immediate, and followed the audible relief in my Traveling Partner’s voice. He phoned because I am a creature of such regular habits that variance is noteworthy; he hadn’t yet heard from me, and it was nearly an hour past when I am usually up, and greeting him with a sticker or emoji. My face still hurts from smiling because I matter that much. I had forgotten to alert him that my hours would be different today. The one downside to regular habits (inclusive of habitually explicit clear communication) is that deviation from those routines can be stressful for others when it touches on their experience, too. We put each other at ease. I begin my day 7 minutes earlier than I’d intended – and with a wonderful moment of warmth and caring from my partner. Delightful. 🙂

…Sure, sure, I suppose I could have been irked to be wakened early, when sleep can be so difficult for me, but… no. No need to let something so small swamp the beautiful moment of awareness of how much I matter to this particular human being who also matters so much to me. 🙂 It mattered so much more just hearing his voice first thing.

Suitable for challenges of all sizes: breathe, relax, let it go, begin again. 😉

It’s a lovely morning, suitable for change, and for choices. It is a good day to start down a new path, or to continue to walk a path that is taking you in a direction you are seeking to go. It’s a good day for new beginnings, and for saving the world one moment at a time. It’s a good day to be civil, to be merry, and to celebrate small successes. It’s a good day to lift each other up, to express appreciation, and to share what matters most. It’s a good day to be our best selves. In all cases, of course, there are verbs involved; we have work to do, and choices to make.

Are you ready? It’s a new day. Let’s do better. 🙂