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Timing and Context

October 26, 2014 //
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I woke too early for a Sunday morning, and by that I mean, I’d have liked to sleep a bit longer, but I am awake. I woke with a sense of urgency, and a heart full of troubling emotions. The urgency turned out to be easily addressed by indoor plumbing; being human remains a very biological experience.

Have a flower

Living things, living.

The remaining emotions seem, even now, a hodge-podge of weirdness on the blue end of the emotional spectrum, and some anxiety thrown in there for added ‘fun’. When I faced the emotions head-on, with compassion for my experience, they mostly receded into the background. This is consistent with my experience of emotions that are not specifically tied to actual here-and-now events or experiences. So, I woke with linger emotions from dreams, perhaps, or simply with some built-in chemical cocktail coursing through my blood stream that my brain interprets as ’emotions’, but may not be. Last but certainly not most rare, I could be misinterpreting what I am feeling; anxiety and excitement have a lot of chemistry in common, and I am going on a date with my traveling partner today – very exciting, indeed. 🙂

Taking inventory of the experience I’m having right now, I feel rather breathless, as though it is actually difficult to take a deep breath; my diaphragm feels very tight and deep cleansing breaths require both focus and effort. I’m in pain, but less than has been so common recently, still, my back feels still and my muscles send me clear indications that the positions I took during the night may not have been ideal for later comfort; shoulder and neck pain in my muscles give that away. The snap and pop of joints that don’t hurt reminds me to be gentle with myself, to slow down, and to move with purpose; I’m still losing weight, and there’s some slack in joints, tendons, and connective tissue that puts me at risk of easy injury.

I’m still finding this breathless, rather anxious-feeling core, unmitigated by yoga or meditation. I take another deep breath and relax, feeling the ebb and flow of it. Although I did read “The Giver” before bed last night (perhaps not ideal nighttime reading for someone with sleep and nightmare challenges, honestly), my own dreams were not filled with it, they were filled with love and lust and sex and life…considering it in this now moment, the feeling of ‘anxiety’ and breathlessness suddenly spikes. Oh. I get it now. It’s the sex thing. lol. Damn it. Being 51, and post-menopause, has done not one thing to reduce my sex drive, or my interest in sex, or curb the maddening libido that is one of life’s gifts to me, if anything it seems more pronounced than ever – and now I needn’t worry about pregnancy. Younger me, back in the distance time of my 20s, would be so thrilled! lol. I mostly find the din of urgent sexual desire to be an impediment to contentment, because there really isn’t much chance at fulfilling the seething need; it’s too much to ask of another person, there are a lot of other things going on, and we all have so much to do… I love the feeling of being aroused, eager, excited, even yearning for sexual contact and satisfaction is largely a very positive and life-affirming experience…but I also have to take time out to work for living, get some things done around the house, take care of me… and my partner is  human, too, with his own needs, desires, limits, workload, time and lack of time, energy and lack of energy… in short; everyone at this party is human.  I have spent most of my adulthood feeling like my sexual needs are not needs that can actually be met in any sustained way, you’d think by now I’d be used to it. lol

A much younger me, a bubblebath, and possibly contemplating similar challenges at a different time in life.

A much younger me, a bubblebath, and possibly contemplating similar challenges at a different time in life.

51 is a funny time of life to be this horny, too. It seems unexpected to some people, as though there is some magic shut-off switch at 49, and sex tends to be a less comfortable subject once the conversation isn’t also about people 18-40-something. lol. That, however, is not my baggage. 😉  What is my baggage is learning to comfortably manage unmet needs; unaddressed these emotions potentially lurk in the background waiting to hijack my experience with some unexpected tantrum or moment of generalized pissed-off-ed-ness that can really mess up a lovely day. As ideal as it would be, sex itself is not always the solution available. This particular conundrum is still in the ‘more about questions than answers’ stage, too. So.

Autumn leaves, rainfall, green grass... there's got to be a metaphor here, somewhere.

Autumn leaves, rainfall, green grass… there’s got to be a metaphor here, somewhere.

Today is a beautiful day to be so fortunate as to feel excited to be alive. Today is a good day to be able to feel profoundly excited by my partner, such that just living alongside him day after day is this exciting. Today is a good day to be human, to be a being of emotion and sensation. Today is a good day to feel and to love. Today is a good day to practice willfully treating others well, regardless of my emotional state. Today is a good day to respect my own experience, with love and kindness, and recognize I am not alone. Today is a good day to be human; every piece of the puzzle rich with meaning, and potential for growth. Today is a good to enjoy the moment, and appreciate my great capacity to love. Today is a good day to change the world.

 

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, women

Autumn Rain, Autumn Morning

October 14, 2014 //
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The heavy clouds last night as I walked home were a pretty sure indicator there would be a little rain in the night, or this morning; that didn’t take a degree in meteorology, for sure.

"Dress appropriately"

“Dress appropriately”

This morning I woke filled with anxiety; I put it to rest with meditation before I went any further with my day. I don’t have a lot of words in my head, this morning, and the sensations of anxiety continue to come and go, connected to nothing obvious, and without identifiable direct cause. I no longer ‘worry’ about that when it comes up; the worrying itself feeds the anxiety, not the resolution of it.

I am eager to head into the rainy morning. There are so many sorts of rain to enjoy. The aquarium trickling quietly in the background masks the sound of rain beyond my window, and stepping out into the morning will be like opening a present; the anticipation, the excitement, and then – what it is. My generally at home partner gives me a good-bye hug before heading to work, herself. My traveling partner and I enjoyed a brief moment, before he opted to return to sleep; it’s very early, still.  I hear doors open, doors close… I have learned, too, not to build stories about my life or the world on the sounds of doors, drawers, cupboards, and footsteps. That, too, helps me manage my anxiety. I used to find myself utterly caught up in the stories I built around all the sounds I could hear in the background, beyond a closed door, in another room, around a corner out of view. To those sounds I would add whatever I could hear of voices, generally just mood, or tone, without words; the narrative I created for myself could drive days of tension, anxiety, fearfulness, insecurity, despondency, agitation… it rarely found its way to building a narrative of love, joy, connectedness, intimacy, or delight. I’m learning to create more positive implicit memory, and in so doing, I am learning to undermine anxiety. It’s powerful.

Simple pleasures, savored, matter so much.

Simple pleasures, savored, matter so much.

Little things, like taking a real break from the work day, stepping outside into the trees for a moment with a friend, to share the discovery of a honey bee hive high up in a tree, and enjoying the late autumn breezes and sunshine, can change the mood of an entire day, or experience, for me. (Your results may vary. Caution: results require more effort than they appear to. Apply verbs liberally.) Little things, like celebrating a fairly silly holiday, in a wholesome and whole-hearted way, and connecting to a larger shared experience in my community has value too. Happy Halloween! What’s it really about for you? For me, Halloween is a strange sort of holiday. In modern times, mostly about costumes, and parties and… what? Is there something more sacred to it? There doesn’t generally seem to be. Hell, mostly it isn’t even scary, however much horror films seem to feature in the festivities. I consider Halloween a sort of cultural ‘whistling in the dark’… perhaps more folks should dress as cops and congressmen? lol

What it is.

What it is. 

So…another day, more to learn, more opportunities to demonstrate good intentions, and make good choices, more chances to communicate clearly, and show someone kindness. Today is a good day for all that and more. Today is a good day to encourage someone in a genuine way, and to give more praise than criticism. Today is a good day to look our limitations in the face and say “you’re not my supervisor!”

Today is a good day to walk in the rain.

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress

This One’s Harder

October 10, 2014 //
3

[Warning: potentially emotive writing about anxiety, and kind of a lot of bitching.]

Some lovely autumn flowers in the landscaping; each positive moment and experience matters so much.

Some lovely autumn flowers in the landscaping; each positive moment and experience matters so much.

I woke already feeling stressed this morning. Work-anxiety. That annoys me more than a lot of things, because I already have challenges feeling ‘invested’ in the job at hand. I like my job, actually. I’m good at it, and it is work that generally appeals to me in a low stress environment. It’s so not worth taking on stress, though. Why? Because it’s someone else’s agenda. Someone else’s profits. Employment supports my logistical needs in life, that’s really it from my perspective. I’ve been emotionally ‘ready to retire’ for a long while. I have my own life that I’d like to enjoy. I have enough things I enjoy and want to do to fill my 24 hour mortal days, already. Every hour I give up to employment is actively resented on some level, and recognized as robbing me of precious time to live my life; fortunately I don’t dwell in that experience. Very few people truly get paid well enough to be a fair exchange for their precious mortal lifetime, fewer still seem aware of that.

This morning I woke with a headache – not quite migraine, but heading that direction – and woke from troubled dreams of treadmills. I’d get off one, get onto another, and always with some implicit promise that eventually I could just stand still for a moment… and that moment just wasn’t on the horizon. There were more treadmills. It wasn’t a nightmare, but I woke feeling fatigued, and with this headache, and “filled with tears” that promptly spilled over as soon as I sat up, as if gravity had something to do with crying.

I must have created a disturbance in the force this morning; I woke my traveling partner without making a sound. I like hugs in the morning, and reassurance and support always feel good. I have mad respect for a human being who will cozy up to the mess I am this morning and get that close. That’s love right there. When I admitted it seems to be “just” work stress, he looked into my eyes with love and said firmly “You know that means you need to slow down, right?” I love that he checked to make sure I do understand that. I love being able to feel good about that moment and not feel slighted that he asked, and able to recognize his love and concern that I take care of myself well – even at work. I could walk away from any job, any time, and he’d be there supporting my decision to do so without reservations – or, without any that would become obvious to me. Sitting in the dark stillness of pre-dawn morning, it is a nice departure from the anxiety of the moment to take time to consider what a good partnership I’ve got with him, and how well he supports me, every step of this very complicated journey. It’s nice to count on that, it’s amazing that I can; it’s a rare being that will offer anything they can do to help – at 4:30 am, having been wakened from a sound sleep by the sense of someone else’s stress – no strings.

Love, as wonderful as it is, and as plentiful, just doesn’t fix some things. I’ve got to address the work stress – and preferably in a positive way that takes care of my needs over time. This morning was a poorly matched battle between my lack of desire to be ‘gainfully employed’ at all, and my  desire to do the job in front of me well. I’d rather sleep in. I could sit in front a keyboard for my own purposes for as many hours of the day as I currently hand over to someone else in return for money. Those same hours could be spent having sex, painting, walking in the forest, out with my camera, reading a great book – or writing one. I mean, seriously? What has my effort at work actually contributed to my experience of life, generally, besides stress and some cash? I wonder, just now, if the experience would be different for someone really into money… It’s “a good job”. I’m skilled at it. There is a climate controlled office to work in, with windows that have decent views. There’s a well-stocked break area. There are, truly, many positives – as employment goes. I’d really just like it understood that I’m not a fan of having to be employed in the first place. I’m willing to admit that. Like so many people, adulthood comes with some handful of financial and logistical obligations that are only eased by money. Dollars and cents. Cold hard cash. A signature on a check. A swipe of a card. Dollar by dollar, my life force, and my time, are exchanged for money. This morning the exchange rate doesn’t seem adequate; time is precious.

...An unexpected shift in perspective...

…An unexpected shift in perspective…

Wow. 800 words of bitching about having to work. Suddenly that seems callous, knowing how many people are without, and would happily exchange many hours of their lives for the cash to pay the bills, and feed their families. My perspective shifts and my brain takes advantage to level me with a new attack; how could I be so ungrateful? How could I be so insensitive? How is it that I don’t have more appreciation for my good fortune when so many others are struggling? Tears. Nausea. This fucking headache. Stress sucks.

I actually woke much earlier than 4:30 am. It was around 1:30 am, then again around 3:00 am. Each time I meditated, and let my breathing calm and soothe me, and found my way back to restless sleep. Stress is a killer, and persistent about continued and prolonged attacks on my contentment and balance. By 4:00 am I couldn’t argue with it any more and got up. The meditation helps; I’m not having a screaming tantrum, blaming the world or my lovers for the state I’m in, or torturing myself emotionally over feeling stressed, or struggling not to cry. The tears come and go. I continue to focus on my breathing and practicing what I have learned about Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction, mindfulness in general, emotional intimacy, treating myself well, and most recently the new practices around ‘taking in the good’ to hard-wire happiness by improving the positive tendencies in my implicit memory. Yep. There’s science, real science, in growth and change. As I consider each practice I’ve learned over the past (almost) two years, my blood pressure drops, and I start feeling calm and content. Still have the headache, but the tears have stopped, and my typing doesn’t sound so… agitated. Practice doesn’t make perfect, but it sure has the potential to change my experience.

What will today offer? What will I choose? Where will the journey take me?

What will today offer? What will I choose? Where will the journey take me?

There’s so much ‘human’ to this experience this morning… yours, too, maybe. We’re each having our own experience. Today, let’s make it a good one, and choose to take care of ourselves with great kindness and compassion. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights

An Insecure Fiction

October 9, 2014 //
0

I have moments of insecurity and doubt. They creep up on me unexpectedly, sometimes, and take me by surprise with the intensity of the anxiety riding shot-gun with those feelings. It seems a very human thing to doubt, now and then, to be a bit fearful in the moment, caught momentarily between what I think is, and what I think was or may soon be, and what I expect; I don’t even have to touch reality in my ‘now’ for even a moment…in fact, if I want to feel insecure, filled with self-doubt and anxious, being aware and present in the moment is not the way to go.  I would be surprised to hear that anyone wants to feel filled with self-doubt and insecurity. It’s really not very pleasant, and it seeps into ones experience insidiously.

I had a strange dream, and herein lies the fiction mentioned in the title, because my dream didn’t happen, isn’t likely to happen, and isn’t happening now. In the dream, I woke late, very late, and on the day of An Important Meeting. I grabbed my presentation notes – which was a sheaf of delicate and colorful papers, disorganized in my hurry. I rushed to the office, and abruptly entered the main conference room thinking I was on time – it was filled with people I didn’t recognize, who were obviously interrupted by my entry. I quick sat in the only open chair. Listening to the discussion, I suddenly broke into a cold sweat; this didn’t sound at all familiar, and I didn’t recognize anyone, and the agenda wasn’t what I had prepared for. Worse, it was all being done on technology I’d never seen before – and there I was with paper! I felt obsolete and incredibly insecure. Embarrassed. Out of place. I stood to excuse myself – I was obviously in the wrong meeting. As I politely made my excuses to back out quietly, the meeting moderator said, with a strange look at me, then around the room, “Is someone else presenting your material, then? You’re up.”

Thankfully I woke with nothing more than a pounding heart and a definite feeling of relief that it was only a dream.

Most of my own moments of insecurity and self-doubt are caused by my own thinking. I don’t know what else to say about that. I can choose other thoughts – and I can choose other actions. If I take an action that causes me insecurity solely because it is novel, the underlying need is different, I think, than if the cause of my insecurity is something less tangible…something someone said, or my own feelings about something I said – or may have said – or thought I said. We can and do choose our thoughts. (I’m certainly skilled at saying things that could have benefited from being left alone, but that sort of social faux pas is not terminal, and rarely injurious beyond being discomfiting.)

This morning, waking feeling insecure, anxious, and filled with self-doubt, I chose to think differently. I took time to meditate. I took time to acknowledge that I’m generally doing my best and do practice good practices with an intention of non-harm. I am loved, and capable of loving. This moment right here is a lovely one, and there is no reason to fear it. Within minutes, my heart stopped pounding, and I feel calm and content. I never could ‘pretend away’ anxiety when I suffered with it most. I couldn’t wish it away; it was right there in my consciousness, unavoidable, and looming over every moment. I kept trying to ‘make it go away’ by focusing on it. Doesn’t work – or didn’t for me. It’s a subtle thing, to be open to my own feelings these days, even of anxiety, self-doubt, or insecurity, and make room for them in my very human experience, with compassion for me – from me. Not ‘boo hoo I’m so anxious’, more like… “I feel anxious and it’s unpleasant right now” with a couple deep cleansing breaths, and a few moments of stillness to let it pass, and welcome something else. Meditation has resulted in my anxiety being more like weather than climate. I’m grateful.

I feel moved to write more, but I genuinely don’t have more to say about this, right now. Hot coffee beckons, the morning begins to unfold, and I face the day. I’m eager to get to the office, and that’s more about the people than the work…which gets my attention because I’m very aware I am not taking enough time to cultivate those relationships right now – hell, I’m not even taking enough time for me. I consider that with a certain grim resolve; my traveling partner had already called that out as ‘you’re working too hard’. I awaken to the understanding that he didn’t mean that I am processing to many tasks in too little time during a work shift. He had recognized that I am not taking time for me, not treating myself well, and potentially risking progress and health. Got it. I see it now.

Another sunrise, another new day, another opportunity to savor the moment in front of me.

Another sunrise, another new day, another opportunity to savor the moment in front of me.

Today is a good day to slow down and take things a bit at a time. Today is a good day to savor the moment. Today is a good day for eye contact, jokes, and smiles between strangers. Today is a good day to cherish people who matter, and enjoy work that I love on my own terms. Today is a good day to be professional, without lacking humanity. Today is an excellent day to be human. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships

An Rx for OPD

October 3, 2014 //
2

Are you or a loved one suffering from symptoms of OPD? Arguing with fictions? Stressed out when nothing’s wrong? Experiencing feelings of insecurity, fearfulness, and sorrow in the proximity of someone afflicted by OPD? Is your conversation dominated by OPD? After being exposed, do you find yourself picking at the wounds and making them worse, or carrying the disorder to others and exposing them to contagion?

More contagious than Ebola, OPD has ruined more lives than cigarette smoking, and may be a risk factor for stroke,  and heart attacks. OPD is often associated with depression, anxiety, mood swings, and anger-related disorders.

Fortunately, there’s a cure. There is hope. You can be free of OPD! The treatment program is simple, and low-cost, and nearly 100% effective… Let it go. Walk away. Don’t engage. Take care of you. Seriously.

Can't see the forest for the trees? Perspective is a nice thing to have; today I am contemplating a long-standing personal challenge.

Can’t see the forest for the trees? Perspective is a nice thing to have; today I am contemplating a long-standing personal challenge.

I’m feeling a bit playful this morning in spite of OPD – and if you are not familiar with the term, I’ll break it down: Other People’s Drama. You know the stuff; there I am, standing on the sidelines of a discussion that somehow goes wrong, I can see how it plays out almost in slow motion, I watch the people engaging someone deeply afflicted with OPD continue to face emotional attacks, story telling, and game-playing, while  friends and loved ones try desperately to help, to derail that train, to find a better outcome… that’s how it goes for me, anyway. The problem is, day after day of it wears me down, and one day I find I’m knee-deep in emotional games and bullshit, or allowing myself to be baited unexpectedly, and wondering where I went wrong.

People delivering that experience to their friends and loved ones sometimes have no honest awareness of the damage they are doing to their relationships or themselves; it’s the behavior they learned in the context of their experience growing up. Others are aware of it, relish it, dive into it with earnest resolve to catalyze and control the world around them with emotion. Doesn’t matter too much where on that spectrum someone falls; the outcome for those daring enough to love them is quite similar: stress, fearfulness, insecurity, anger, depression, chaos, confusion, frustration – and quite possibly a sense of ever-present risk of having a fucking stroke. I probably walk around looking astonished or annoyed much of the time, just wading through the OPD and wondering ‘what the fuck, seriously?’.  I sometimes feel fortunate when I’m not in the line of fire, just observing OPD symptoms ‘in the wild’ between beings with whom I have no interaction; it’s no less uncomfortable, frankly, and still seems completely inappropriate, unnecessary, and counter to anything loving or compassionate, but the emotional WMD (weapons of mass destruction) are not directed at me, or even towards me. Make no mistake, it’s not ‘fortunate’  to be surrounded by OPD, or sucked into it, or victimized by it, or even to stand next to it, or read about it in the news. OPD is waiting in the wings to be classified as a mental health issue, once someone sufficiently credentialed can give it a catchy name, and a profitable treatment. Yes, it sucks that much. Yes, I see people who are emotionally abusive to others – particularly loved ones – as mentally ill. Some people find humor in it, from a distance, some people find it titillating when it is celebrities. I find it… distasteful. Uncomfortable. Hostile. Disrespectful. Lacking in compassion for self or others. I could go on. That, too, seems unnecessary.  It’s enough to say that in a mathematical set of all things made of love, I would not find OPD therein.

Human primates are emotional creatures. We’re very fancy monkeys, but peel away the layers of education, technology, and civility and what remains is pretty consistent with apes and simians in the wild. We can do better; we have reason and choices, free will and opportunities for willful change and willful growth. There are verbs involved, and a commitment to making better choices. This morning I face myself in the mirror in an honest way, and I ask a new question…”What does it take to become metaphorically teflon-coated, vaccinated against OPD, and is the wiser choice to recognize when I’ve simply had enough?” We are each having our own experience. There are some experiences I don’t care to have – and I have the choice not to accept them. I can change my own behavior, my own actions, my choices… what does taking care of me, and meeting my own needs over time require of me, as an adult woman with considerable experience?

Today is a new day. My coffee is hot and tasty, and I slept well and deeply, waking refreshed and content with myself. In spite of the topic, and this morning’s content, I am myself in a very good place. I am saddened by how often I have chosen, on other days, to become mired in someone else’s experience. This morning, I smile and think “Not my circus, not my monkeys.” This morning I meditate on love, gratitude, and making good choices.

If you are someone who feeds on drama, loves to foster drama, and invests emotionally in turmoil and confrontation, please at least consider that we don’t all thrive on that, or feed on it, and we don’t all find it pleasant, desirable, routine, or necessary. If you could take a moment to consider… but… isn’t that part of the issue in the first place? I guess you’ll find your own way. You, too are having your own experience, and it’s yours; you can build it of whatever stuff you value, yourself. Those are your choices, not mine.  I’ll just be right over here… choosing something different and enjoying my experience.

Days end. Days begin. Where will you take yourself on your journey today? What will you choose for yourself?

Days end. Days begin. Where will you take yourself on your journey today? What will you choose for yourself?

Today is a good day to treat myself and others well. Today is a good day to be kind. Today is a good day for compassion. Today is a good day to love. Today is a good day to be the change I wish to see in the world, and to welcome the best of who I can be with open arms and no reservations. Today, every day, every moment, love is what matters; choosing it is still a choice, and there is still a verb involved.

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5
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