Archives for category: Anxiety

I woke to the sound of rain this morning. I also woke to the sound of rain a number of times during the night, briefly, returning to sleep quickly – since there is nothing about the sound of rain that is at all alarming for me. When I last woke, realizing the downpour might have consequences for driving later, my fretfulness about driving in torrential rain – which does cause me some anxiety – prevented me from returning to sleep.

It’s been a strange morning. I started the morning anticipating a fun morning fixing Barbie dolls with some neighborhood girls of Barbie doll age, while sipping tea with their mothers. It seems a very ordinary sort of thing to me, a remnant of a past I grew up with that no longer exists in many places – one in which neighbors know each other, talk in passing, and care. It fits in here in this little community; we help each other out now and then, talk to each other, share how things are going. (I am not the person I was at 25, or at 40 – I wonder sometimes if these simple moments of connection would have had the same value for me then?) It matters to me that Maribel and Anna, down a few doors, have colds today. It matters to their Mother that they not share them with me, or the other older ladies in the community. Simple consideration, simple courtesy, simply neighbors. These things don’t really have a season, you know? They can be done all year. It starts with being present, with being aware, with taking an interest – it starts with smiles and greetings. It doesn’t have to end at all.

The change in my plans slows my morning down quite a lot, and I take time on a variety of small tidying up sorts of chores to make my traveling partner’s time hanging out on Giftmas Eve and Giftmas Day more comfortable. People with allergies are often challenged by apartment conditions that don’t trouble most folks – like ancient abused carpet potentially releasing allergens into the air with every new footstep. Vacuuming, damp dusting, and taking care with details like little corners and covered surfaces. all matter greatly and improve an allergic loved one’s experience. Totally worth a bit of extra time and effort – anything that improves his comfort prolongs my own joy in sharing his company. 🙂 (Verbs again, and always – what we want routinely requires our action.)  This is also not some aggressive agitated drive to reach ‘perfection’ – the love is in the intent, the will, and the effort made. That my lover’s comfort matters to me such that I take action is the important piece of the puzzle. There’s no score or report card, or financial gain, or praise expected – or criticism; it’s not about removing all the allergens from the world, it’s about saying ‘I love you’.

Be love.

Be love.

Slowing the morning down offers more value than extra time to tidy up; I am less anxious about driving in the rain, later. Slowing things down is often a game-changer with my anxiety. A great many things that cause me anxiety are worsened if there is also a sense of immediacy or urgency also associated with them. Slowing things down reduces any sense of urgency by making whatever it is less imminent. There’s a missing step – and it’s an important one; I don’t use that additional time on growing and nurturing the feeling of anxiety. Once basic planning and healthy expectation-setting is managed, I simply move on to other things. “Simply” – it gets easier with practice, it’s not ‘effortless’, it’s just not complicated. 🙂

Today is a good day to practice good practices, and a good day to share them. Today is a good day to say good morning to a neighbor in passing, and to smile at strangers. Today is a good day to recognize how human we each are, each having our own experience, each on our own journey – still so very human that we easily overlook how similar our experiences may actually be…and if we don’t share, we won’t know. Today is a good day to step outside my comfort zone, and be a welcoming presence in my world. Today is a good day to be love. 🙂

It is a quiet morning. I slept in, and managed to do so in spite of a ringing phone next to my bed, left turned up from the night before. I woke minutes before my exhausted, distressed traveling partner arrived at my door. At this point there is little about my leisurely morning that differs from many other leisurely mornings; I have my coffee, and this safe and quiet place, and I am writing.

There are differences; each day, each moment, each experience differ subtly one from another, however similar in most regards. Today, some differences are small (I spent the morning writing notes on holiday cards, checking addresses, and getting them into the mail – as usual, at the last possible minute). Other differences are more significant; my traveling partner is sleeping in the other room, exhausted but feeling safe and able to sleep in this quiet space. I am ‘standing watch’, quietly writing and drinking my coffee. We care for each other in the face of any challenges the world throws our way, and today he earnestly needs to rest, to give in to sleep, until he wakes rested and able to reason clearly. My vigil affects the content of my thoughts and the emotional tone of the morning. I take time for me, too, ensuring I don’t inherit my partner’s stress (which could potentially render me less able to be rational and supportive). Quiet mornings are excellent for meditation. Meditation is excellent for maintaining perspective and balance in the face of stress.

Today balance is important, most particularly that balance between honest recognition of difficult circumstances in a relationship, and not over-stepping the boundaries as friend, lover, and partner by dictating decision-making in a ‘you need to…’ or ‘you have to…’ sort of way; there’s no win in doing so. The outcome of telling a loved one what he or she ‘must do’ about a problematic relationship is rarely anything other than later stress and agita over the outcome, whatever the decision-making may have been. So, I do my best to simply love my partner well, and listen deeply, and answer only the questions asked, and to do so honestly but without attempting to persuade or influence – to ‘be here’ for my partner, without making demands on his decision-making, whatever my own opinion may be. I sometimes feel as if I am holding a very detailed map… pointing at the map… and saying ‘you see where this is going?’, but it is truly not for me to make decisions about a relationship I am not part of, or to plan the route on a journey that is not mine.

I pause for a moment of compassion for the Other in the equation, feeling complicated emotions myself – a soup that includes concern, sadness, frustration, anger, and a very real helplessness. I have no power to improve things in any way, and no words to share that could change how many verbs are involved, how many choices are being made – or not made – or to ease the suffering, so much of which is self-inflicted. I take a few deep breaths, and think back on other years, other relationships, my own challenges, and as I exhale I let it all go. This one isn’t about me.

Storm-tossed, damaged, emotionally flooded - there is still a chance to begin again.

Storm-tossed, damaged, emotionally flooded – there is still a chance to begin again.

Today is a good day to practice those practices associated with listening deeply, with non-judgment, with acceptance and compassion. Today is a good day to practice those practices associated with not taking someone else’s experience personally; we are each having our own experience, truly. Today is a good day to avoid diving in to ‘fix’ something that isn’t mine, and that I haven’t been asked to fix. Today is good day to ‘be here’ for a friend, a lover, a partner – and to understand that sometimes just being here is enough.

The night is cracked open by the sound of sirens in the neighborhood. Someone is having a difficult evening. They’re not alone. There are other people alone or struggling in the night, frightened, angry, sad humans out there in the early darkness of winter. Dark times seem darker when it is also cold.

I had been writing when my traveling partner called, most recently. We spent most of the day together, many hours hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. After he left, I got first one call, then another… trying times over there, and I am worried for him. The sounds of sirens now, nearer by, keep pulling me back to older moments than those, threatening to mix the new and the old, or stitch them together. I save my draft. All those wasted words; too personal for publication, at least in this moment, now… But, it’s still this moment, now, and only this one. I breathe deeply, calmly, and watch a demon fall. “You have no power over me, now.” I whisper silently, with considerable satisfaction and a feeling of strength. (No doubt this too will require some practice, and there will be verbs involved.)

I am okay right now, aside from being concerned about my partner. It’s hard to watch him being mistreated. I don’t much feel like writing, and can’t do much to provide real assistance beyond offering a welcoming safe haven from any storm, a warm and accepting embrace, and my engaged presence. I will likely spend the evening with the phone near at hand, in case of an emergency call, and hope that ‘things blow over’, or that love will prevail.

 

I left work smiling yesterday. It was a bit later than I had planned to end the day, and twilight had already settled in. The flooding from recent heavy rain has receded, and I took a chance on walking through the park. Some of the trails and walkways are covered in mud or debris, and there are occasional puddles. The signs warning of high water levels and flooded trails are still in place. I found the walk so satisfying I continued on past the point at which I generally turn up the walk headed to my apartment. I finally reached Number 27 in a round about way, an hour or so after I left the office. It was lovely to listen to the sounds of life around me, walking, thinking about love, breathing the chill night air and feeling contentment in each breath spreading to my finger tips as if it exists in the very air I breath. I reached my cozy apartment feeling quite tired, and generally merry.

There isn’t anything more to this, really. It was a lovely evening for a walk in the park. Some practices speak for themselves.

Some moments are enough, just as they are.

Some moments are enough, just as they are.

What a peculiar day. It’s nearly at an end. I began it well enough, waking from a very restful night, having slept in. I woke in very little pain. All very promising as beginnings go. Somehow, something just… wasn’t. It was strange. I sat a long while. Not exactly meditating. Not exactly daydreaming. No music. No coffee. I even ended up chatting with my traveling partner for some time before I ever had coffee.

I did have coffee, eventually. I shook off my ennui enough for that. The rain continues to fall. I enjoy the sound of it. I took my coffee on the couch, and just sat for some longish time, then a distracting email message reminded me of a practical task that needed to be handled. Once that was done, I found myself feeling grateful to my traveling partner for his help on all sorts of practical things I tend to muddle up because of my injury…which got me thinking about gratitude generally, and people who were ‘there for me’ long ago, at various points when I earnestly needed help… I thought, too, about who I am now, how I feel about those things now, and whether or not I also felt I had ‘said thank you’, shown my appreciation, or taken an opportunity to return the gesture at some other point. Am I the woman I most want to be?

I found myself enjoying some time on writing notes for holiday cards and letters to far away old friends, and thinking about how very precious our connections to each other really are. Time well spent.

I spent the afternoon wrapping up other practical details of life, after the nasty weather deterred me from driving in holiday traffic. Marveling at how people can be such dicks to each other, in the abstract is one thing – wasting part of the weekend being pummeled by it just didn’t seem the right choice today. I realized at that point that I might not be where I thought I was within myself. I got things done and headed home, thinking about the recent South Park episode (s19e10 PC Principal Final Justice) and wondering if the scenes of imminent family gun violence might have messed with my head more than I realized at the time. I later made an observation to my traveling partner that it might become a favorite episode, having done something amazing I had never been able to do for myself; it trivialized the threat of violence at the hands of a loved one in a comedic [for me] way – it rendered some of my chaos and damage harmless – a cartoon. That’s powerful. But… in that initial moment, the panic just at the edges of my consciousness was very real, and although it didn’t take me over, it is part of my experience.

Welcome in my own experience.

Welcome home.

At this point, I’m past all that. I took care of me with great tenderness and compassion. I’ve gone through some things, over the years. They’re behind me now. I did a load of laundry, had some dinner, and made a fire in the fireplace – the first since I moved in. It’s a lovely quiet evening, no music, no video, just the sound of the crackling fire, and the rain. It’s enough, and I am okay right now.