Archives for category: Anxiety
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Remember That One Time…?

November 29, 2013 //
2

Remember that one Thanksgiving, the hard one, the one with the moods and the tantrums, the stress, the hard work, the tense conversations and everyone trying so hard? Me, too. We probably all do – or something very like it.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I’m thankful to see another one come and go. I’m thankful that generally speaking I don’t have a lingering recollection of the challenges of the holidays, only the fun, the recipes, the wonder.  Yesterday will be one of those Thanksgivings.  Long after all reminders of the difficult moments have faded, I’ll still be remembering the delicious turkey, the flavorful potatoes,  the exceptional cranberry sauce, and the look in a toddler’s eyes trying that flavor for the very first time – wide-eyed wonder and awe, and delight.  Years from now I will still remember with fond gratitude how my partner happily took on serving the pie I made earlier in the day, because I was just too tired to handle that one more task.  I’ll remember how my other partner seemed always at the ready with that extra pair of hands someone needed in the moment.  I’ll remember the quiet beauty of the classical music in the background, and the delicious sweetness of the Ipsus we served with dessert. I’ll remember the tasty pork loin brought over for the meal by a dear friend of many years, and his excellent biscuits. I’ll remember how good everything tasted, and how happy I was with the pie crust I hadn’t planned to make from scratch, but did.  I’ll remember how lovely the table looked, how gracious my partners were, how well-behaved the baby was. I’ll remember the affection and the warmth of the holiday meal.

Happily, and in no small part due to my TBI, I’m probably going to forget about my mood swings, hot flashes, headache, aching knee, arthritis pain, the incredible workload, the pace of the day, and the rather extraordinarily ugly tantrum I had in the morning when my PTSD met me in the corridors of hormone hell after I got an unexpected email from an ex.  (Yep. Still very very human. I checked. O_0 )

Unfortunately, my partners probably won’t have the luxury of forgetting the difficult bits. I’m thankful to be so well loved in spite of that.

Tags , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, grief, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships

What It Is, and What It Isn’t

November 25, 2013 //
0

It is a Monday. It isn’t a good or bad day, it’s barely even gotten started.

Yesterday evening I had a moment or two of down-deep grieving.

In one case, I experienced the pain and sorrow of seeing people dear to me behave in completely unacceptable ways, and however understandably so, still not okay.  Lingering concerns ride shotgun with me this morning as I ready myself for the day.

In the other case, the wee fish Wyatt surprised me after work by being dead.  That’s just not ever a fun sort of surprise.  As life lessons go, I would have preferred another day, a different fish, or not at all.  I wept without reservations, and found comfort with my partner, who was near-by reading, and as surprised as I was.  He’d also been enjoying looking in on the new guy now and then and had seen him moving about contentedly earlier in the day.  (Oddly, this bit of grief felt so intense in the moment, and seems to have passed.  To be fair, Wyatt had only been mine for about 5 days.  He hadn’t even left quarantine. )

I took it pretty hard in the moment, tears and a feeling of failure, blaming myself – what did I/didn’t I do?  As my emotions began to ramp up my partner turned up, put his hand on me gently and said ”fish die”.  My whole being paused for just a moment, hearing that.  Well, of course. “Fish die.” Yes, they do. Things that live eventually become something that died. Fish, people, dreams… “Fish die.”  It was simple, true, and an observation in the moment that helped me become grounded and calm.

I’m pretty human. I do have a brain injury, and post-traumatic stress. Keeping an aquarium is new for me, and filled with complex process work – I study the tasks and processes that support life in my aquarium as though there is going to be a final exam at the end of the semester. Of course there is; fish die.  It is my honor and responsibility to create a habitat for my fish that supports life for them, that allows them to thrive, not merely endure.  That sense of responsibility is one I bring to my other relationships, too, a step beyond ‘above all do no damage’.

I did some science-y stuff to ensure I learn what I can from the experience: tested the water, looked for process missteps (found a couple that ought not have proved fatal, but better attention to details would have prevented them nonetheless). I observed the environment closely after the fact and made notes about improvements on the next quarantine, and checked those observations against my thriving community tank to ensure I wasn’t carry errors from one to the other.  I made notes improving process steps for my quarantine tear-down/set up checklist. I took a few deep breaths, and said good-bye to Wyatt.  I cried. I cried like a little girl to find him dead.  Some of life’s curriculum is pretty deep.

Today is an entirely new experience. I woke calm this morning, and curious what the day will hold. I slept well and deeply.  I sit, sipping  my coffee, and considering the struggles we have as beings, some shared, some that feel so solitary.  I contemplate the choices we make, and how easily we can choose and choose again, and rage against the outcome of our own choices, seemingly unaware that if the outcome is repeatable, and predictably follows a specific identifiable choice, then we utterly control that experience, not only through our reactions to it, but through the choices that bring us there.  Don’t want it? Don’t choose it.  Simple enough, generally, however tough we may make the process of making a different choice.

Today I choose compassion. I choose tenderness. I choose kindness. Today I choose to smile; there is a lot to smile about. Today I choose eye-contact and conversation; we all spend far to much time feeling alone. Today I choose to change the world.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships

Reason, Purpose, Value

November 18, 2013 //
1

My day started wonderfully well yesterday. Calm, strong, confidant, I enjoyed the walk to the office. Along the way, I passed the spot where someone else, on their own journey, regularly stacks a number of rocks. They are often tumbled down by someone else, on a very different trajectory in life, and that was the case yesterday morning. It touched me and being moved I stood motionless in consideration.

I really find value and a moment of stillness and calm in that stack of rocks, so carefully balanced. I didn’t question that feeling, simply stood and experienced the moment. Then…

I stacked the rocks.

I stacked the rocks.

A humble offering, a moment of gratitude for the serenity that short pillar of balanced stones has offered me so many mornings. As I walked away, I wondered how long it would remain.

On the other side of an extraordinarily unpleasant stressful day at work, during which I had many opportunities to deploy new tools, practice new skills, and discover depths of strength and character I did not know I had within myself, I walked home. I felt aggravated. I felt disrespected. I felt unappreciated.  My walk was aggressive, fast paced, and my heels struck the ground on every step, rather than seeming to move softly over the surface of my experience. I felt angry to the point of wanting very much to define myself as anger.

Then I got to the pillar of stones I had stacked in the morning, still standing there so still and strong. Hot angry tears held back with such discipline during the day spilled out and coursed down my cheeks. I stood, still. I felt my feelings and really gave them the room they need, instead of trying to steady myself and gently hush my spirit. I’d done what I had to, it was finally time for me. I stood and I wept and I felt the strength of my breath, and the simple power of acknowledging choice and will.

I walked on feeling calmed. I got home and my loving family was there to greet me and the evening was gentle and nurturing. Other challenges were set aside for the moment, and we built instead of destroying. No railing against the unfairness of it all, no hours of dissecting the who and the why of every painful moment. I was content to be home, to be safe, to be valued.  As I drifted off to sleep – which surprisingly enough came with relative ease – I heard the voice of a favorite cartoon character in my head “I learned something today…”

Today, I am strong. I am compassionate. I am open to change. Reason? Purpose? Value? I have them in good quantity, and they are my own to make use of as I will.  Today, I will change the world.

Tags , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, women

The Swing of the Pendulum

November 13, 2013 //
0

I woke crying, at 3:00 am. Not loud frightened sobbing, as from a nightmare, just fat wet tears rolling hot and plentifully down my cheeks. My thoughts were empty, my emotions breaking against the stony silence as I considered them. A year ago, a wake up call like that one would have doomed the day, without question. I’d have fought myself for hours, before turning my emotional weapons of mass destruction on any hapless lover who wandered past with a good morning on their lips.

This morning it felt very natural to reach for new tools as I might reach for a tissue, calmly, practically, and without second guessing their utility. A few good deep breaths, a couple of yoga postures I know calm me pretty easily. I ‘made room’ for my emotions; understanding they are part of my experience, I experienced them.  When anger and resentment began to surge from beneath the sad tears, I made room for them, too.  Without delivering the additional blow to my heart of harsh self-criticism, or icy refusal to be compassionate toward myself, my strong emotions didn’t linger. As they began to dissipate, a clearer sense of discontent developed.  I observed my wiley – and highly skilled – brain attempt to position the feelings as being somehow indicative of something more significant than the moment. It felt okay to say to myself “well, maybe, but it’s 4:00 am, and I’m barely awake – why would I act on a feeling like that now?”

In the night I had somehow managed to travel from calm optimism about today, to a sense of resentment, anger, disappointment, foreboding… and as I observed each emotion develop, break against the calm shore of my observation, and fade, I became aware that some of the emotions didn’t seem the slightest bit connected to any ‘real’ factual experience or circumstance at all, while others did. I was feeling feelings – and feeling feelings about the feelings I was feeling, as well as feeling feelings about feeling feelings about the feelings I was feeling.  I almost laughed out loud in the shower. The moment of bewilderment and humor gave me a precious gift – perspective.

A brief good morning in passing with a dear one was a needed moment of connection with a consciousness not my own. “You’re up early.” “Yeah, since 3. Just woke up, couldn’t go back to sleep.” It was enough. “I’ve had a restless night, too.” He sympathized.  A human moment. A connection. A shared experience.  He went back to bed. I put on earrings. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror I recognized more than my own face – I recognized that for whatever reason, I had awakened feeling lonely. Even that simple shared moment in passing was enough to restore my feeling of connection.  I made a coffee, took time to meditate from a more wholesome place, and sitting down to write the morning finds me calm.  (No, at 3:00 am I did not know this would be the outcome.)

It’s relevant to what I observed last night about my experience. Changes. I am in less of a state of emotional disarray, generally speaking.  I guess that makes 2013 a huge ‘life success’. Funny to wake up in tears and in less than 3 hours be feeling not just calm, but actually pleased to be where I am with myself. lol.  What a nice place to be.

Looking forward to the dawn.

Looking forward to the dawn.

Tags , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights

You Know It Ain’t Easy…

November 6, 2013 //
0

…You know how hard it can be…”  Thanks, John.

This morning sucks more than a little bit. Well, for the moment. It’s nice to have a steady reliable understanding these days that moments are just that – momentary. Thank you, Mr-Therapist, Sir, and thank you Jon Kabat-Zinn, Andy Puddicombe, Russ Harris, Brene Brown and Timber Hawkeye. Thank you thousands of years of meditation, decades of hippies, and one loving partner with more willingness to try than seems human.

This morning still sucks. Welcome to Hormone Hell. Fuck I want to be done with this! I’m tired of feeling frustrated by,  and ashamed of, being female because men who matter to me have their own struggles and challenges with what it is to live with and love women. Thanks, Dad, I definitely owe you one there.

I’m doing my best to ride the wave, allow myself room for my emotions (frustration, hurt, anger, resentment, and just enough yearning for intimacy and closeness to set my teeth on edge because it isn’t easy).  A few good deep breaths sounds easier than it feels. My chest feels tight, and the tears waiting to fall are making me angry – it still feels like a weakness to cry ‘for no reason’. It’s hard to allow myself the self-compassion to understand that ‘reason’ isn’t what drives tears.

My coffee is growing cold. With an interesting measure of spitefulness directed inward, I punish myself by petulantly allowing it, observing that choice with a measure of wonder, and some tiny bit of humor lurking in the background, because it is an empty gesture affecting no one but me.

This is about as close as I get to a good solid rant these days. lol. The breathing thing, as simple as that seems, really helps and just a bit less than 300 words later, I find myself growing calm again. No tantrum today, just some lingering sadness. i feel vaguely as if I am ‘just not what he’s looking for’. What an incredibly ugly feeling to have about someone who loves me so much. This is a morning when I would very much like to tell being female to fuck right off.

I woke in a pretty good mood. I’m regularly frustrated and challenged by how volatile my mood can be. That volatility, at other points in my life, has resulted in some incredibly poor decision-making, and real desperation to find balance and peace, decades of wasted time in therapy that wasn’t effective, years spent on medications of one sort of another intended to ameliorate some particular symptom, even hardcore psych meds – all because hormones on top of PTSD added to a TBI is a difficult experience to manage.  Hell, I’ve had PMS so severe that I was actually a threat to people living with me, other times so severe I actually felt suicidal.  That’s not okay. I sit here trying to make sense of that and I feel my feminist rage rise up inside myself – what about me, Medical Science? I want to make someone listen! Why don’t we matter more?  You’d think as popular for relationships as women are, that someone would give a shit about helping us be well and whole and comfortable in and with our experience as beings. It’s disappointing to me that I’m 50 and there’s still no real progress to speak of in understanding or improving women’s experience of themselves as sexual hormonal beings, or improving our place in the world.

Oh, hey, there’s that rant. I guess I’ve still got it in me. Push the right lever, a pellet pops out. God damn it.

I’m still a student of life, of love, of the world… and it is making a difference in my experience, every day.  Over months it has grown difficult to be provoked to aggression or confrontation, and I rarely trap myself in always/never thinking, or spiraling internal arguments where my hurt feeds the fallacy, which drives the hurt.  It is a pleasant change, and a morning like this affords me a good opportunity to see the changes within.  So, okay, in the process I am human.  I am human.

So are my lovers, and they can only take what they can take.  That seems not only obvious, but reasonable. I’m still sad to be alone right now, and that will pass.  I often choose solitude over difficult interactions, myself, and I understand walking away from tension.  Love is strange stuff.  I take care of me with deep calming breaths, with a few thoughtful words, some mindful observations, and gentle reality checks.  Before more than a few minutes pass, my heart is serene, and my compassion is for my lover.  I still feel a current of sadness tugging at my heart, but now it is for the price he pays, as much as for my own challenges and regrets.  It isn’t easy. Love is so worth all of it – but it isn’t easy.  We choose love.  It isn’t a choice we only make once.  That is the nature of commitment, not simply that it isn’t a one-time choice, but that it is worth choosing again and again.

That latte is definitely cold now. That’s okay.  It’s a small price to find that still calm place in my heart.

Today is a whole new experience. I hope I choose wisely. Today I am kind. Today I love well, and with my whole heart. Today I am compassionate.  Today I will change the world… or…at least my morning. 😀

I have come so far from this place.

I have come so far from this place.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, women, Words
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »