Archives for category: Anxiety

I checked the weather while I dressed. Looked like more of the same mild autumn weather we’ve been having. I stifled excessive feelings of merriment before it turned into whistling or song, to avoid waking my Traveling Partner. I woke feeling pretty good.

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

I grabbed terrible coffee on my way up the highway, not intentionally, it’s how things went is all. I got used to it, I guess. I must have; I kept drinking it. There’s something to learn there about the critical importance of being aware that one’s prized adaptability may undermine necessary self-care. I ponder that as I drive, still drinking this terrible coffee. (It’s not bad meaning tainted in some way, it’s simply poorly made, of poor quality beans, and stored in an air pot that likely doesn’t get cleaned thoroughly between uses.) Industrial. Still a learning opportunity worth contemplating.

At the trailhead I’m surprised to see the ground wet from recent rain. It’s cooler, too, and my cozy fleecy shirt doesn’t feel like potentially too much, at all, the way it did when I dressed. I forgot to put on a fleece or my cardigan. Didn’t seem necessary at the time. I shrug it off; I’ll warm up as I walk.

…

Now I’m sitting, half crouching, in the photographer’s blind on the marsh. It was closer than the parking lot when the rain started. It’s not yet daybreak, and rushing down the marsh trail slick with mud, in the rain, in the darkness, didn’t seem like a good idea at all. So, I slowed down, and thought better of it, choosing the shelter of the blind until the rain passes. In some distant oak, I hear the sound of a bird of prey calling into the night with a dissatisfied sounding screech at regular intervals. I hear an owl hooting. I listen to the rain drumming on the roof of the blind. I prop open one of the “windows” and sit looking out over the marsh toward the east, listening to the rain fall. I’m in no hurry.

Yesterday was strange, strained, and difficult, but ended well. I’ll leave it there and let myself move on. Today is new. I’ll do my best. I slept well, and mostly without dreaming, which was a nice relief. Lately my sleep has been unsettled, filled with disturbing images and fragments of painful memories. It was nice to wake gently this morning. I’m pretty well done with the headcold I was fighting all week. I sigh quietly to myself thinking about the housekeeping I’m behind on. Vacuuming and laundry today, I guess. Maybe some time in the studio if my energy holds up. I remind myself of errands – a pharmacy stop, and some returns to drop off, feeling prematurely pleased to remember them without a reminder.

I think about my beloved Traveling Partner sleeping at home. I hope he’s sleeping well and deeply, and wakes to a new day with a smile. We might not have chosen each other as long term partners if circumstances had been different (or if we’d known in advance how deeply complicated this could be), but we did, and it works in an intense, passionate, and also really peculiar way. We “get” each other, love each other deeply, and choose each other again and again. It’s not any sort of testimony to being “easy”, but “easy” doesn’t appear anywhere in the contract. Worth it? Yes, definitely. Sometimes it’s still a lot of work and demands more growth from me than I think I can achieve… but here we are. I’m okay with it. I don’t doubt I am loved and safe.

… He’s more able to vex me than anyone else...

I sit smiling, thinking about my beloved. I’m very fortunate. I feel an acute and unexpected pang of intense loneliness and separation, just being here, while he is there. How strange that I adore this one human being so intensely. No, it isn’t always easy… I am loved, truly, and that’s what matters most. The loving.

Daybreak comes to the marsh. The rain stops. No colorful sunrise this morning, just cloudy sky and occasional streaks of blue showing through. I sit thinking how easily we allow a moment – particularly a painful or angry moment – to take us over and turn us into someone we don’t recognize. Being human, and doing a skillful job of it, is not effortless. It’s got more than a reasonable number of frustrating bullshit moments to deal with or endure. There’s going to be a lot to apologize for in one human life. I sigh, momentarily feeling the full weight of a lifetime of mistakes and failures and… humanity. Sometimes it’s hard.

I get to my feet as I exit the blind. I grab the edge of the plywood roof as I stand, to avoid slipping in the mud. The rain has stopped. Sometimes life is hard. Love, too. Sometimes I have to begin again. I smile as I gaze out over the marsh. I’m okay with that. I get started down the path a step at a time, watching fog deepening in the low places with some surprise. It’s as good a beginning as any.

I could see the moon rising as I left the house this morning. It is presently a thin crescent, seeming to cup Jupiter in an unearthly embrace. It is rising in the eastern night sky. I try to get a picture from the trailhead parking lot.

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

Honestly, if I were using AI, the picture might have turned out a little sharper. 😆 It wouldn’t really be the picture I took, then, would it?

The crescent moon and Jupiter in the night sky.

Tuesday. I sigh to myself, grateful to face another day, in spite of my background irritation over the state of the world more generally.

…Rape is in the news again. How many times do we have to go over this shit? Damn. The ignorance and malice are astonishing and it’s hard to believe it just keeps coming up. I’m sure a lack of education plays a role in some sexual assaults, but I feel similarly certain that in most of them the perpetrator is very much aware of the terrible nature of their crimes.

I frown to myself in the darkness and sigh quietly. Some wounds don’t heal easily. (Or well, or… maybe ever. Yeah, it’s rough every time this shit comes up all over again.)

…A man or a bear?..

I have the trail to myself. There’s nothing much to fear alone out here. One individual man approaching would be enough to make me wary and put me on high alert, scanning for escape routes, weapons, and potential threats. Rape rarely seems to have any consequences for the rapist, even in the 21st century. It reliably has consequences for the survivor. That lost trust is a big one.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a mild autumn morning. I’m in a ridiculous amount of pain today. It makes me cross and gloomy. I’d very much prefer to just go back to bed, but it’s a work day, and I’m halfway down this trail…

… Shit. I forgot my radio, my water bottle, the returns that need to be dropped off, and also? I’ve used up my last tissue and I feel like I may be coming down with a cold. Right. “Okay, Tuesday, you’ve had your fun,” I think to myself.

Can we each simply commit to not being fucking vile today? I blow out my breath impatiently. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed (by life, by work), and overextended. Acknowledging the feeling is a necessary step towards resolving it, but doesn’t make doing something about it any easier, and I’m pretty certain it’s largely (if unintentionally) self inflicted.

I had a choice opportunity to relax at home, quietly, alone, last night and I fucked it all up by tackling some needful tasks that became hours of working. By the time my Traveling Partner had returned, I’d gotten a few useful things done, but hadn’t relaxed at all. My dreams during the night were filled with… more work. Passwords that hadn’t saved. Spreadsheets with strange errors I’d never seen before. Presentations that were openly mocked and files that wouldn’t open. I was glad to wake to a new day, even if it is a fucking Tuesday.

… The weekend feels so far away, in both directions…

I watch the moon continue her climb. It’s almost daybreak, almost time to begin again.

I arrived at the trailhead. Not my usual, but I come here now and then on weekends. It was still dark when I arrived. There was a sketchy looking white van already parked in the parking lot, tucked back among the shadows. This area is day use only, and it’s strange to see another vehicle here when I arrive.

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

I park and grab my cane and my headlamp, and start down the trail. I’d only gone a short distance when I heard a sound that turned my blood to ice water in my veins. It was a hoarse sort of screaming. Cougar? Here? I’m not certain, but it’s definitely not a friendly or welcoming sound. It is clearly a warning. There’s too much legitimate potential for danger; I immediately turn back and quickly make my way back to the car. There are safer trails to walk before dawn.

I watch the sunrise begin in my rearview, bold hues of orange diffused in soft white fog banks, until I reach the trailhead of a familiar suburban trail nearer to home. It feels safe. No sketchy battered white van with the logo on the side faded and partially scuffed off and darkened windows. No sounds of a cougar screaming in the darkness, making her way to the riverbank. No threats at all. Just the soft woosh of the nearby HVAC atop the buildings here.

I walk thinking about safety, threat assessment, and what it means to live in a world surrounded by legitimate threats against one’s safety or survival. More than the momentary terror of a cougar on a trail, or the vague anxiety provoked by an unknown van parked in the shadows, I mean the real practical imminent threats that are part of human conflict (Palestine, Ukraine, Iran, others). Drones. Bombs. Bullets. “Is there anyone down range?” I silently ask myself, recalling so many visits to the firing range. (Is there anyone left who is not “down range” in these troubling times?) It’s not rare for whole nations of noncombatants to live in mortal terror, which seems pretty fucking horrible and entirely unnecessary.

… It’s easy to change my mind about a trail, the choices are less clear for people whose actual homes and communities are threatened by violence…

Hey, Humanity, I’m loving the whole “Earth” thing, and the flora and fauna are amazing. Great stuff. I’ve just got some notes… Let’s see, oh, right. Stop fucking killing each other! Fucking hell. The waste and expense are ridiculous, and compounded by lost resources. Can we not?

We could do better. I sigh to myself as I get to my halfway point. There is mist filling all the lowland places. Dense fog in spots near various rivers. I breathe, exhale, and relax. No bombs falling here. I am grateful. I hope it lasts. I yawn and watch a fat raccoon and her youngsters waddle quickly past me, across the trail, and down into the trees along the creek bank.

The morning is off to a weird start. I stretch, and sigh, and get ready to begin again.

Where does our path lead?

I’m okay, for most values of “okay”. It’ll have to do. It’s honestly not worth the effort to bitch about anything going on with me. Mundane stuff. How are you? I care and I’m curious. (Comment if you wish.)

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

I’m sitting at the halfway point on this hike, and probably life as well (if I’m lucky enough to be around to see 120-ish). I have felt as though I’ve been living life “at the halfway point” for awhile now, 15-20 years maybe. It has been a time of struggle, change, healing, and growth. I’ve made some good friends in this time, I’ve probably lost more.

…There’s never a guarantee that life’s scale would balance for me as an unremarkable individual human primate, one of many…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cycle is a simple one. My day begins. I do my best. I survive the experience. I sleep, wake, and begin again. And again. And again. Eventually, the sands of time will run out on this one mortal experience. I’ve no idea what’s after that – no one has come back to say. I sit with that thought awhile. Uncertainty. Impermanence. Change. Big ideas that seem smaller under the black night sky. Doesn’t matter. My time. My thoughts.

I meditate. Enjoy the mild autumn morning. Watch for daybreak. Write a few words. I’d rather be setting up my easel for another piece, but it’s a work day. I think ahead to the weekend. Soon.

This is one of those mornings that feels almost like a throwaway moment, “nothing to see here”, as if it were a rerun, and not because I have a routine. It’s more that the moment is unremarkable, which is true in all but one way; the very ordinariness itself. The gentle mundanity is so spectacularly strange feeling to me sometimes, I find it remarkable. Very little of my life has been gently ordinary. I don’t really know whether (or quite how) to enjoy it. I wonder how many such moments I have undermined with unnecessary drama or emotional bullshit in the past simply because I didn’t know how to deal with the ordinary?

I sigh to myself and notice the trees seem more obvious, silhouetted against the sky, than they did moments ago. Daybreak soon, I suppose. Another sigh. I get to my feet and stretch, looking down the path. It’s only a moment. I begin again.

Okay so, yeah, I’m having a lot of bad dreams lately. Even when they aren’t “nightmares”, they’re often deeply unpleasant.

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

I woke this morning, grateful for the bright light of my silent alarm; better than the dream I was having. Hell, I’m not surprised by the bad dreams – have you seen the state of the world? The shameless exploitative corporate greed? The thoroughly corrupt government? The war in Ukraine? The genocides? Oh yeah, more than one of those going on, it isn’t limited to Palestine. How can human beings be so incredibly vile?

I’m struggling to maintain perspective, I admit it. I feel disappointed (in humanity, generally) and I feel betrayed on an unreasonable personal level. I was stationed in Germany when the Berlin Wall came down. It was such a proud moment for humanity and I felt such hope for the world. I sigh quietly as I walk the dark trail with my dark thoughts.

I get to my halfway point and stop. I just stand there in the dark awhile, after turning off my headlamp, letting my eyes adjust, watching the stars. After a handful of uncounted minutes gazing into the eternal darkness of the vast night sky, I sit down and cry awhile. I don’t fight the tears. No shame. No guilt. Only emotions I can’t quite process without allowing for the grief. Grieving is powerful stuff and difficult to control or limit or reason with, and now and then I am flooded with tears over what we have all lost – all those lives, all the wasted potential, all the hurting and the sorrow.

…We could do better…

I was once a soldier in an army. I have been to war. I have looked directly into the eyes of my enemy and found that he was every bit as human as I am myself. No one walks away unchanged. We live with the consequences of our actions,  that’s just real. I sigh to myself. I’m grateful to have gotten out alive. I’m grateful to see another sunrise. I’m grateful to have my Traveling Partner’s warm, loving embrace when the weight of the world threatens to pull me down into the depths of madness and grief (and even when he’s dealing with his own shit, he is there for me).

Being human is hard. Being the best human being the resources and experience available permit a person to be is harder still, and it for sure feels like a lot of people aren’t even trying.

I’m grateful for this solitary time to just get shit right in my head before a new day begins. Most days this is the only solitude I have. The rest of my day is interacting with people at work, and out in the world, some days so continuously that by the time I get home to my beloved I have nothing left to give. That seems thoroughly unfair, to the two of us. I embrace the little bit of “me time” life permits me to have and try not to bitch about it not feeling like enough. …At least I don’t also have children.

My beloved pings me. We converse a bit. The clock ticks on. My head aches ferociously and slow tears fall for a moment and stop. At 14 I once felt very similarly, I think, sort of lost, and frustrated-angry-sad. I dealt with it by packing a small bag with everything I thought I would need (it wasn’t), and I walked away. (It would be weeks before I turned up and ultimately went back, but that’s a story for another time.) I hadn’t yet learned that we cannot escape who we are so easily. I’d hug her if I could and assure her it gets better…then wonder if I should also tell her it’s going to get so much worse, first?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The world is a pretty chaotic and sometimes grotesquely frightening place, but right here? Right now? This moment? It’s fine. A woman on a hiking trail looking at the stars. It is peaceful and beautiful. I make room to enjoy this moment as it is. A lifetime is built on moments; it important to savor the pleasant ones, whatever the circumstances.

The mild almost warm morning wraps me gently. The first hints of daybreak begin to develop. I watch the sky quietly. I think about these mortal lives and the place we hold in the cosmos. We are so tiny, so fragile and finite – how is it these moments feel so important? I sit with my thoughts until it is time to begin again.