Archives for category: Anxiety

I’m sipping water, and getting my boots on, preparing for the morning hike. It’s a gray cloudy morning, cooler than originally forecasted. I’m okay with that, but as I dig through my gear bin in the back of the car for my fleece, I wonder if I should have worn a sweater?

A new day, full of potential.

I step down the trail contentedly. Later this morning I’ll meet with a former colleague (who is also a friend) to discuss a job offer. I’m grateful for the opportunity, and feel fortunate that it is coming so soon…but, in practical terms, it’s not 100% of everything I was hoping for. It’s not a bad offer. It’s not in any way unreasonable. It is in every way an excellent offer and one that should meet all my practical needs and even get me ahead a bit, although perhaps more slowly than I’d ideally like. The salary is a small step back (very small). Here’s the thing though; it’s still quite outstanding. I’m not even bitching, and I expect to accept… I’m just saying it’s an imperfect world and circumstances don’t always go along with our plans, dreams, or expectations. That’s just real.

I’m grateful for the practical wisdom of my Traveling Partner. I likely wouldn’t be where I am without having had the benefit of his insights, wise counsel, and thoughtful perspective. I’ll head to this meeting later able to act from a position of strength. Feels good.

… Funny thing about this perception of “taking a small step back” – in some ways it is an illusion. This illusion is built on the foundation of my expectations and assumptions (about the world, about my worth, about the economy, about the job market, about “have to” vs “want to”…) and mostly isn’t at all relevant to my success in life or my decision making process, until I make it relevant by clinging to those (potentially wildly unrealistic) expectations and assumptions.  Quite a few folks leaving college with their freshly printed degrees fall into this trap.

… There are no shortcuts, not really, and you will have to do the work required, yourself. Your results may vary…

I get to the halfway point on my hike still thinking about jobs, the value of a human life, and the obstacles we place in our own way, time and again, in the form of expectations or assumptions. I remember, when I was first beginning to think seriously about my adult future and what that might look like, I seriously expected to build a career somewhere that would begin when I left high school and end when I eventually retired, well-prepared for leisure living until the eventual end of my life. I didn’t actually see many examples of that scenario playing out in my life among the adults around me, it was merely what I expected, not really knowing how much the world was already changing. TV shows I watched at the time definitely pictured a very different world than I would find when I reached adulthood. lol

I have had friends and associates who invested a lot of time and emotional energy into bitching bitterly about the world not being what they felt was promised (been there myself), but there aren’t any guarantees offered. No assurances regarding what the future may hold, at least none with legitimate practical value. We experience the journey we create through our choices, and framed by our perspective on things. We don’t know what we don’t know. We walk our own path, paved with our own choices. (And let’s not overlook that actual monsters in our midst whose laser focus on personal gain to the clear predictable detriment to those around them do also exist.) There’s an enormous amount of luck involved, and it’s hard to argue otherwise. Our results vary, as do our circumstances. Messy. It’s probably a poor choice to lock oneself into one very specific unique potential experience and snarl at the world that nothing else will do. That’s a very limiting approach to take. There are other options.

Success is not a given. The future is not written, and most of us are just making things up as we go. That’s okay; the journey is the destination, and the success of it is determined by the quality of the lived experience in a wholly subjective way. I can choose whether to accept or decline a job offer. I am the one who will fill the role and have the experience; I define the success. For me, the big wins are to live well, choose wisely, and enjoy the journey.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the sky continue to lighten as dawn becomes a new day. I got started early, and there’s no hurry. I sit thoughtfully in this quiet summer meadow, reminding myself to make notes about various benefits and such other details as will matter, beyond salary. The details matter.

A little brown bird stops on an oak branch very near me and chirps loudly before singing a little scrap of her song. I am pulled back to this “now” moment right here, suddenly aware that I may as well be behind a fucking desk already; I’m not fully “present”, here, now. I laugh and the little bird looks at me quizzically. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I pay attention to the softness of the morning air, and the scents of summer. A doe with two fawns, already losing their spots, ambles by unconcerned about me, here on this log. Overhead a layer of low dense gray clouds slowly drifts westward. The air smells like it might rain.

I get to my feet, and brush bits of bark and grass from my jeans. It’s time to walk on, to embrace a new experience filled with new potential. The map is not the world. The plan is not the experience. The brochure is not a guarantee, and the advertising is not the truth. Hmph. It’s easy to say what an experience is not. In more positive terms what is it, though? I chuckle to myself as I pick up my cane and look down the trail. What is it? It’s time to begin again.

I’m waiting for the sun. Daylight will arrive, I’ll walk this local trail, then it’s job search activities, appointments, and errands. I’m grateful that planning and task management are among my skills; the fatigue of what I’m presently going through finally caught up with me yesterday. (I even snapped at my Traveling Partner in a misdirected moment of frustration and cognitive overload.)

There’s nothing noteworthy about a human primate feeling emotional or overwhelmed by stress, or distracted by competing priorities. Hell, there’s nothing noteworthy about having to manage stress, or needing to reinforce good self-care practices. It’s not even noteworthy that I finally reached the tipping point between purposeful action, and disabling fatigue. Just happens to be that I got there yesterday.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I needed the deeply restful sleep I got last night. Today feels a little less overwhelming. I sit waiting for the sun, drinking water, and thinking about a recent conversation with a friend (who is also a former colleague). I may not be out of work very long, which is reassuring. I’ve even gotten a couple of “lucky breaks” this week that serve to reduce my stress quite a lot. I’m more okay than not, just very human and enduring a stressful circumstance.

I watch the sky lighten to a dishwater gray. The hills to the west are hazy from smoke of distant wildfires. A walk will feel good. I remind myself again how critical good self-care is, especially right now. I’m fatigued from managing stress, and I’m in pain from my arthritis. The physical discomfort piles on with the background stress, and in spite of a good night’s sleep and good self-care, I feel rundown and quite exhausted. Hilarious that I see more physical work as something to re-energize me. It probably will, though, for some little while. Eventually there has to be a reckoning and I wonder what else I can do to help myself through this?

I can almost hear my Traveling Partner’s voice reminding me, “don’t forget to breathe”, and realize I was indeed holding my breathe. I exhale, and breathe deeply. The summer air is sweet and floral with the scents of summer flowers and mown grasses. It is a pretty morning, pleasantly cool, and very quiet.

Nice morning to walk with my thoughts.

I lace up my boots and grab my cane. The beautiful summer morning calls me to come walk and enjoy the moment. I’m grateful to be reminded that I don’t have to hustle frantically from task to task and moment to moment. Better to take things one by one, to be truly present, and really enjoy things as they are. This won’t last, and overloading myself with self-imposed stress and nonsensically strict obligations is just silly. Life is best lived, savored, and enjoyed!

I smile and sigh to myself, and stretch. I look down the trail and think about it as a metaphor for forward momentum and progress, and this journey that is life. It’s time to walk on. Time to begin. Again.

It is a strange gray morning, and a little cooler out at the trailhead than it has been. I’ve got my headlamp handy but I’m much earlier than I’d planned and I decide to wait for a bit of light before I hit the trail. Daybreak is imminent.

I sigh quietly and drink water. It’ll be another hot day, in spite of the deceptively cool morning, and staying hydrated is the healthy self-care choice. After my walk, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment, planned months ago. I’m grateful it occurs before my employer-provided insurance runs out. No work today. It is the first day following being laid off. I breathe, exhale, relax, and wait for the sun.

It feels a little strange, at least for now, to have this time to myself, without a work day constraining my time. I sit with my thoughts watching the sky begin to lighten, alert for the trail to become sufficiently visible to walk safely in the dim light between daybreak and the busy-ness of a new day. There are things to do, and I feel calm and purposeful, but also… strangely displaced. We put way too much emphasis on our professional experiences as adults, I think, and are easily mislead into seeing those as somehow more important than who we are, how we feel, and all the many experiences that make up a human lifetime. Work is just work. We do it to exchange enough of our precious limited mortal time for the cash to be able to afford all the truly important things. Home. Family. Friends. Enjoying a walk on a quiet summer morning.

… But I do feel the absence of work, this morning, and I have a sense of the ticking clock in the background…

I lace up my boots, grab my cane, and step out onto the trail. This feels like a pause in the routine I’ve come to know. I observe the inclination to cling to the routine, and make a point to let that go. I walk on. There will be a new routine. It will develop naturally out of my actions each day and become comfortable over time. Until then, of course, there’s some uncertainty and discomfort – which means there is also an opportunity to grow, and become more the woman that I want most to be than I am now.

Dawn on the trail.

A soft rain begins to fall as I reach my halfway point. The overhang of oak branches at the edge of the trail is enough to shelter me, but it’s really only a sprinkle anyway, and I don’t mind a few raindrops on my face as I walk. I take a few minutes for meditation and to write. I think about my now-former colleagues and wonder if they miss my cheery “good morning” in the team Slack channel today?

…Am I remembered? Such a human concern, to wonder if we are missed once we’re gone. I wonder what my legacy will be, and how quickly I will become just a name on some policy document or customer record? I already miss professional friendships formed over shared work. The people matter most, and I am not surprised that the only details I linger over now are the memories of jokes and deep conversations, shared photos, and tales of vacation and travel swapped among friends. That seems appropriate.

I smile to myself and look down the trail, listening to the rain on the leaves over head. I’m okay. Sure, I feel a little displaced and strange, but it will pass. Dwelling on vague feelings of disappointment, or letting myself become mired in fear or doubt isn’t helpful (not at all). It’s enough to feel the feelings, acknowledge their fundamental humanity, and let them go. We make choices, even about our emotions. Making the wisest choices we can is a good practice.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I am fine, for most values of “fine”, and there’s nothing especially “wrong” right now at all. For now it is a waiting game. I’ve got something promising identified that looks likely to become the next job. It’s tempting to coast and just enjoy the waiting for some time, but that’s a poor strategy in an uncertain world. I focus on planned tasks, activities, and necessary milestones and set aside optimistic wishful thinking. It is a good time for practical thinking and careful consideration.

Stray raindrops spatter my bare arms as I sit perched on a fallen trunk under this big oak. Hints of something like a sunrise peek through gray clouds, revealing distant hues of pink and pale blue far above the rain clouds. I’m grateful for the rain. The air smells fresh and clean, the scent of petrichor rising from the ground fills my senses, and my heart feels lifted and light.

… I think about my former teammates beginning the day, and facing their own uncertainties, and silently wish them well. We’re each walking our own path, having our own experience. It’s sometimes difficult to see down the path ahead while we walk it. The way isn’t always clear. The choices are not always obvious. We do our best, based on what we know, and most of the people around us do too. I remind myself to be kind – we rarely know what other people are going through.

I sigh again and peer into the sky. Still raining, but it’s already time to begin again.

I am sipping my coffee on a warmer than average morning, grateful to have ice for iced coffee. Grateful to have coffee. Grateful to be as fortunate as I am. I am drinking this coffee and reflecting on how “lucky” I’ve been over the course of a lifetime, so far.

Meditation over coffee… like a sunrise in my thoughts.

I’ve survived a lot in this life: childhood sexual abuse, rape, domestic violence, head trauma, brain damage, military sexual trauma, poverty, homelessness, anxiety, upheaval, and despair… and illness, and injury, and poor decision-making. It’s been much. I did survive, though, and I’m here, now, and generally speaking I’m okay, for nearly all values of “okay”, and life is good. Even the insecurity of being unemployed, presently (well, as of later today) doesn’t sway my impression that I’m fortunate, and have been rather lucky my entire life. You may find it surprising that I see myself as “lucky”, but let’s face it – I’ve survived a fair few things and find myself here, now, with a good attitude about life, and feeling positive and hopeful, generally, and alive. My childhood was difficult – but I did make it to adulthood. My early adult decision-making was spectacularly poor – but I did survive those decisions and their consequences, and moved on to better things, and found greater wisdom, eventually. Considering that I managed to get past all that before I had a “complete set of tools”, I think I was lucky indeed. Things could have been much worse.

…At no point was surviving all that I’ve been through a given; more than once I could have died…

It was luck and happenstance that brought my Traveling Partner and I together, late in 2010. I still had a head full of chaos and damage, my hormones were wrecking my life daily, and I was awash in unresolved trauma, and mired in misery. How lucky was I that my beloved saw past that to the woman I could become? In 2013, on the edge of making an irrevocable decision about living life, I found a therapist who was actually able to help me – a massive stroke of good luck, and I am enduringly grateful. In 2015, I chose to step away from damaging drama and ended an unhealthy relationship that was undermining my emotional wellness, and I chose to live alone for a time. Though my relationship with my Traveling Partner remained important to me throughout the time that I lived alone (no “break up” or separation, we were simply living apart, still deeply in love, but working in different places), it was a healing time that allowed me to “grow up” quite a lot in ways I’d never managed before. I’m grateful (and fortunate) to have a partnership that could withstand that bit of distance for a time, even supporting and encouraging me. Lucky. It’s not just those years that I’ve known my Traveling Partner, either. Year after year. Address after address. Job after job. Friendships. Acqaintances. Experiences. I’ve been damned lucky in this very human lifetime of chaos, and trauma, and change. I try not to overlook my good fortune and privilege. No one actually “pulls themselves up by their bootstraps” and makes it entirely on their own. Choices matter. Relationships matter. Luck matters.

We don’t “win the game” solely through the cards we’re dealt, nor even how we play the hand. Luck matters. Happenstance. Circumstances. Coincidence. The actions of others. Good fortune and good friendships matter. What we do with what we’ve got matters – but so does how we perceive it all, and how we understand it. We create a large measure of our own experience, moment by moment, in our own heads. How we view the hand we’re dealt, and the options we are able to recognize, have a lot to do with our perspective on life.

Don’t forget to dance, when you feel moved by the music

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts and start my morning with gratitude. It’s a warm morning and the air quality continues to worsen as the wildfires to the east continue to burn. I’m grateful (and lucky) that they aren’t much closer. My Traveling Partner pointed out the poor air quality as I left for the last day at this job, in this office, and suggested I take my walk later on, in some large retail space with air conditioning and filtration, rather than tax my lungs with the dirtier air outside. I feel loved that he thinks of such things and affirm that I’ll take his advice. I’m grateful for the consideration of my colleagues, as we wind down this work together; I feel hopeful, not despairing. I feel supported and considered, not fearful and in shock. I am grateful to be comfortable and self-assured in this chaotic space between jobs; I’ve been here before, and I know it’ll be okay. I’ve been lucky in the past, and I’m grateful to have the positive perspective to rest on while I get something new lined up.

“Fortune favors the bold” – it’s worth noting that to a degree we each make our own luck. It doesn’t do much to just sit around “feeling positive” – there are verbs involved. There is work to be done. There are skills to hone, and resources to assess and to organize. Chillaxing on the couch playing Hello Kitty Island Adventure won’t get me a new job (probably)(most likely)(that’d be a remarkable amount of luck!), so I’ve still got to get on with things. Set a plan. Take steps. Act. Begin again in the face of every failure, every rejection, every “no”. I don’t fit everywhere, in every role – but I do fit somewhere. I’m fortunate to have developed so many highly transferrable skills in a lifetime. Sometimes I make fit happen. Sometimes I stumble into it. Sometimes it may be handed to me. Sometimes I work for it over many days with much careful decision-making. Luck happens along the way.

This morning I feel less tense than I have been feeling, mostly because it is “the day”. The last day – and there are steps that could not be taken before this day had come. I’m ready, though; I’ve got a plan and I feel lucky, and grateful.

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin. The path ahead is waiting.

In spite of the heat I spent some time in the garden yesterday (before it got too hot, in the cooler morning hours). I happily watered and weeded, and reflected on the chaos that has arisen over weeks of hot weather, busy work days, and other shit that just had to get done. Time is a limited resource, and so is the energy I’ve got available to get things done with.

I found myself doing what I tend to do when I observe chaos creeping further into my day-to-day experience; I made a list. I took some notes. I contemplated the varying levels of urgency and the considerations driving that.

The chaos in my garden.

There are peas dry on the vines ready to harvest for next year’s planting. There are carrots ready to harvest, and favorite salad greens that bolted in the heat (may as well harvest those seeds, too). The deer were haphazard with their “helpful” pruning of tomatoes, but I’ve still got a few tomatoes ripening, hidden in the greenery. Thirsty roses want deeper watering, and need a bit of pruning. There is so much weeding to do. Work had gotten busy, and I had gotten tired with other every day tasks on top of that, and I fell behind on several of the things the garden needs to thrive and be beautiful and productive. Our choices have consequences. Now I’m faced with those; I put my attention on work (for a job that I won’t be doing any longer) and let the garden go a bit wild, and the weeds remind me that my own choices allowed them to thrive.

I’m neither mad nor frustrated. The garden manages to be lovely regardless, and I enjoy my time spent there, even on a muggy summer morning before the heat of the day sets in. There are roses blooming at the edge of the lawn (at least one of which does not know the meaning of “winter” and will likely bloom all year) and it delights me to pause along the walk to see them there in the sunshine, drops of water glittering on the edges of colorful petals after morning watering.

“Baby Love”, blooming in the summer heat.

I spent the day contentedly creating order from chaos. I find it a useful practice for reducing background anxiety and stress. Chaos in my environment tends to result in chaos in my thinking. Tidying things up, clearing out clutter, and working down a list of tasks that need doing has proven to be a really good practice for managing my stress and anxiety. When those tasks are specific to supporting my own needs as an individual, it also feels like self-care. Conveniently enough, there nearly always seems to be something to do that meets those needs. lol Laundry. Dishes. Hanging up the various pairs of earrings that have managed to find some random resting place here or there in the house. Putting books away. Filing paperwork that has stacked, waiting to be filed. Dusting. Pulling weeds in the garden and from the flower beds as I pass by on my way to some other task or destination. It quickly becomes a form of meditation, when I stay engaged with the task and present in the moment, and don’t allow myself to “wander off” in my own head.

All along the way, task by task, hour by hour, there are moments of wonder, delight, and beauty that turn up to be savored and enjoyed. A colorful display of flowers. A lingering romantic hug with my Traveling Partner. A beautiful blue sky. I make a point of really enjoying these (and so much more) whenever they occur. Another sweet way to reduce stress and anxiety; really being present for moments of joy and beauty and savoring them. It matters so much to allow myself to be delighted, even for an instant.

A colorful display of flowers in the summer sun, at the grocery store.

I am never too busy to enjoy something beautiful. (I find myself wondering when I’ll next be in the city… maybe I can work in a trip to the art museum?)

Change can feel so incredibly chaotic. The loss of familiar routines feels disruptive. Managing the stress and the anxiety that can come with change can feel overwhelming – until I break things down into smaller pieces, and create order from the chaos one task at a time. Breathe, exhale, relax – like any practice, there are steps, and I’ve got to do the work myself to experience the results (otherwise, we’re just having a conversation about it, eh?).

I sip my coffee as the sun rises. I won’t be watching that from this office window much longer… Change is. Jobs end. We are mortal creatures, and however tightly we cling to some experience, or person, or moment, we will face the reality of impermanence sooner or later. The plan is not the experience. The map is not the world. Reality will be what it is without regard to our thoughts or feelings about it. Practicing non-attachment has tended to make me more practical about change – and chaos, and I no longer take such things so personally. I’ll take a new breath, and I’ll begin again. Really, what else is there to do?

For now, I sit with the quiet, and this good cup of coffee, and I look over what needs to get done today. I make a plan. I smile when the thought of my beloved Traveling Partner crosses my mind for no particular reason; he is a steady presence in my life whether we’re in the same room or not, and I am grateful to be so loved and supported. I reach out to a friend via email wondering if they have time to get together for a coffee sometime soon? It’s the relationships that matter most, in work and in life.

A hazy dawn, a row of birds gathered on a powerline.

I sigh to myself, feeling this contentment and practicality like a firm foundation beneath my feet. I’m okay right now, for nearly all values of okay, and that’s enough. The future is unwritten, and I can’t see where this path leads… but this feels like a good place to begin, again.