Archives for category: Anxiety

Life never let’s up with its curriculum; there is always more to learn, more to understand, more understandings to topple under the weight of new knowledge, and there is always change.

Every choice we make brings some moment of change. This morning I am ‘on call’ at work…does it change my experience of Saturday? Maybe. How much of any perceived change is truly due to ‘being on call’? How much may be due to the limits I, myself, set in some arbitrary way, based on my own assumptions? What is choice? I’ve been studying this, lately, in a deep and I hope meaningful way.  (Books are powerful, I am currently reading Emotional Intimacy, which delightfully enough is not at all ‘self-help-y’ and is very ‘science-y’.)

Relationship drama, every day life, and my commitment to ‘being a student of life’ put my focus on limits and boundaries this morning. For the sake of easy discussion, let’s go with a shared understanding that a ‘boundary’ is something we set, willfully, based on our understanding of our needs and values? Let’s also agree, then, that a ‘limit’ is something we have the understanding is imposed upon us by our physical world, our resources, or our perception of the boundaries placed by another? So, simply put, we set boundaries, and we face limits. Easy enough for our purposes, yes?  I watch the aquarium waking up for the day, and contemplate limits and boundaries. I set boundaries for their fishy lives by placing them in a glass container from which they can not escape, surrounded as they are by impenetrable walls, because I do not care to have water everywhere and fish flopping about unpredictably and dying in the open air. For them, those glass walls are the limits of their world, beyond which they can see, but can’t venture forth. So, limits and boundaries have a relationship in some instances. I find this worth contemplating.

How we define ourselves, and what we accept as our limitations, changes what we can choose.

How we define ourselves, and what we accept as our limitations, changes what we can choose.

I don’t see much to argue with if I apply these observations to relationships in my life. I have my boundaries, and all my friends, family, loves, lovers, and associates of all sorts, have theirs as well. How firmly any one of us insists on them varies. I find that I have limits and limitations in life, and I don’t know anyone personally who doesn’t. Something about the finite nature of things, and entropy, perhaps. When I set boundaries, they become someone else’s limits – but we are also limited by circumstances, resources – and choices. Strangely, I’ve begun to learn, it is my choices that are often the biggest hurdle I face when I look at my life through the filter of ‘my limits’. More of those limits are self-imposed than I understood, and often in a peculiarly arbitrary way. I choose to understand that ‘I can’t’ do or have something, or go someplace, or enjoy some experience – and later, on closer examination, I can see where I chose to place those limits on myself, and often based on erroneous assumptions, or worse still, as a bold act of self-sabotage. Choice embodies change – and freedom, and wide open vistas of opportunity.

As a fun exercise, take something you regularly deny yourself on the basis of “I can’t…” and just for the sake of some intellectual fun, rephrase it as “I can ___, if I ____.”  What would it really take? “I can’t be president” becomes “I can be president, if I run for office and am elected.” Wow. Just that simple. By now you’ve notice that I omitted the ‘because’ statement that is the heart and soul of self-imposed limits. “I can’t become president because I’m a woman and we’re just not ready for that as a nation.” is pretty damned disheartening, and at a glance can’t be easily overcome.  I could stop right there, and so often in life I have.  Frankly, this is an uphill battle I fight daily, these days.  Those self-imposed limits have no actual substance. They aren’t ‘real’ in the sense that the laws of physics seem real. They are not provably ‘true’ – they are only as ‘true’ as I accept them to be.  Defying those limits through force of will works for some people; great moral, political, and emotional battles have been fought and won through force of will alone. It’s a hard fight, and even emotional wars have casualties. Perhaps there is some gentler opportunity in simply changing our operating assumptions about life, about ourselves, about our choices? I’m just saying it is worth thinking about.

Why are so many people ready to place extraordinary limits on themselves through unsupported assumptions? Is it simply emotionally easier to say that “I can’t, because…” than it is to say “I won’t”?  “I can’t” means I don’t have to be accountable for my values, my boundaries, or my choices – it isn’t my fault! ‘Will’ doesn’t work that way, and I am learning what a crippling effect it has on my will to undercut myself again and again with “I can’t” when “I won’t” is more honest and true to my values, and boundaries. Allowing myself those “I won’t” moments also pushes me to examine why. That has to be pretty important if I’m going about throwing my will around!

Every day life these days pushes my limits, questions my choices, challenges my understanding of my boundaries, and insists that I understand, redefine, and use my will in a deliberate and adult way; accountable for my actions, and choices, and prepared to speak to my choices rationally.  I have some difficult choices ahead of me. Somehow, a quiet Saturday morning, a good latte, and watching the fish swim makes it all seem so much clearer; it really is about limits, boundaries, and choices. I am ready to understand the difference between ‘willful’ and ‘disagreeable’, and I am ready to change my world.

No pictures today. I wish I could photograph the sounds of the song birds outside my window happily aware of being safe from the cat (mostly because of the rain), and enjoying the morning. Perhaps they are commenting, too, on the shitty service around here? I need to refill the feeders today. The rain falls. I sip my coffee, catch up on my email, eye my plan for the day and the gray rainy skies.

On a morning like this, the tragedies in the news reflected in the dismay of FB friends seem farther away from the moment I am in, right here, right now; this is a precious moment of chill and calm and peace. Something more than a quiet morning, or an extra day off. I’ve no reason to celebrate the existence of presidents, really, so… I celebrate the morning.

A good night’s sleep matters so much. Starting my day with what has become a stabilizing routine of meditation-yoga-meditation, generally followed by coffee, and email or a few minutes of writing, feels very natural and unforced. The day that follows a morning like this may not always be without challenges, or without stress, but whatever challenges and stress I do find myself facing are more easily managed. It’s lovely and feels rather grown up.  Progress. Growth. Change. It actually does ‘work’ to change ones practices to support desired experiences. When life sucks and experiences all feel pretty bleak, undesirable, challenging, stressful, frustrating, disappointing, and lacking in fulfillment or satisfaction, it can be incredibly hard to believe that our choices and practices have so much to say about it. I’m convinced.

So…back to the birdsong, back to the morning. I hope you find every reason to enjoy the day, to grab your moment and make the most of it, and to practice what feels good to you and builds a good foundation for the future you desire. I’m sure going to! 🙂  Today I will change the world.

I’m just bitching. (Nothing to see here, folks, let’s move it along…)

We can choose to be dismayed by circumstances, mired in our mud, or we choose differently.

We can choose to be dismayed by circumstances, mired in our mud, or we can choose differently.

The ‘hormone thing’ is one of those maddening bits of human existence I could do without, on an emotional level. Thankfully, the variation in my day-to-day balance is both less significant in severity, and less common these days. Long overdue, I say. I’ve had my fill of having my existence linked in some vague and irrefutable way to reproductive potential. I’m ready to move on to just being a person, with will of my own, and a level of every day balance that is at least somewhat predictable.

I still find a lot of opportunity to resent the fuck out of the lack of medical progress in the area of women’s health and well-being with regard to sex, sexuality, hormonal cycling, and reproduction. You may not agree – I mean, so many fewer women die in childbirth than once-upon-a-time, right? And…The Pill, people, we have The Pill. Sure, sure, we do. Good stuff. I wouldn’t reject those advances as being undesirable or unworthy of high regard; they are game changers for women. Still…we’re talking about medical science.  Are you aware that there is no ‘test’ for menopause? None. No scientific, clinically validated, reliable test that determines conclusively when a woman has reached menopause. Oh wait… there is this ‘state of the art’ gem: “When it’s been a year since your last period, and you are ‘older’ than typical child-bearing age, it’s ‘menopause’. (If you are ‘too young’ for menopause, don’t forget to see your doctor if you miss your period for a year.)”  Yep. That’s it. State of the art medical science and diagnostics in action. Welcome to Hormone Hell, we have your reservation on file.

Those years after a woman ‘loses her goddamned mind’ and is finally accepted to be ‘menopausal’ are an interesting buffet of being insulted, ignored, over-medicated, referred for mental health care, infantilized, resented, feared, and dismissed. It all sucks very much, from the first time a physician tut-tuts those very first concerns that ‘something isn’t right’ to the moment a physician much younger than you are insists that ‘you’re really much too young’ to be experiencing peri-menopausal phenomena – at 45.  By 50, most doctors will grudgingly admit that perhaps you’re not insane and may actually be accurately reporting your experience, and may be closing in on menopause. Did I mention it sucks?

Hilarity really ensues, for me, when a lovely, educated, fit physician in her early 30s states with considerable self-assurance that ‘most women’ don’t have any real difficulties with their hormones, and more likely need mental health care – because she has not had any issues herself.  Yep, that’s a real winner with me. lol. Another fan favorite is when women who have finally gotten to the other side somehow magically rewrite history such that their recollection of their own experience is that ‘it really wasn’t a big deal’ and they ‘barely noticed at all’. I like that one best when they deliver it sweetly in the presence of family members who actually recall how bat-shit crazy the bitch was for nearly a decade; the facial expressions are priceless, and sometimes people snort their beverages, and shoot them out their nose.

I’m ready to be done. I don’t really enjoy the new challenges (vaginal dryness – it’s a real thing, ladies, and it’s likely going to result in at least one or two tearful rounds of ‘but I did feel like it, I don’t know why…’ before everyone settles down and moves on to the next issue), and the reduction in moments of hormonal tantrums and flare-ups of temper sometimes doesn’t make up for the hot flashes, the sleeplessness, or the chronic uncertainty about when/if there’s going to be gross quantities of unexpected bleeding.

It’s gotten to be almost routine, now. I have some mild, barely noticeable shift in hormones, and the ripple effect on my experience is so subtle it is almost undetectable…until I find myself frustrated by something small, or losing my train of thought in mid-sentence. 5 years ago it was more about ‘please, can’t you give me some sympathy, or some help?’  Now, I find myself more likely – like this morning – to be feeling something more ‘damn it, I wish this were finished, this has got to be hard on him.’ Who knew I’d find some value in this process, or a way to apply these experiences to personal growth and perspective? I sure didn’t.

I was once a woman in my 20s, pretty cocky about how comfortable my hormone balance felt for me. I had little sympathy for other women; I didn’t have cramps, so how bad could theirs be? Later I was a woman in my 30s facing doctor after doctor assuring me I was wrong about my experience, and being given medication for things that probably don’t need a pharmaceutical solution as much as they need support, understanding, and education. I was definitely headed for ‘bat-shit crazy’ at that point. I’m not so cocky now. lol. I hope that I don’t get to the other side and magically lose all recollection of how tough some of this has been.

My latte is cold. I’m bored with bitching. My head aches. I feel cross and disconnected, and struggle to make simple decisions real-time without dithering a bit. My conversational flow is impeded by my emotional experience.  If you’re also vacationing in Hormone Hell, I’m just down the hall – you have my sympathy, and you’re not any crazier than you choose to be, although there are unavoidably moments when that isn’t clear. 🙂 If you no longer vacation in Hormone Hell, nice going, and I hope the scenery is extraordinary wherever you find yourself now; have a great time! If you don’t know what the hell I’m on about, because you just haven’t gotten there yet… your time will come. Trust me. (And don’t be a dick, seriously.) 😉  If you are riding shotgun with someone vacationing in Hormone Hell, I want more than anything to offer reassurance, to give you support, to say there’s a light at the end of the tunnel… and if you are the sort who does sympathize and support your hormonal partner(s) to thank you for that… but… damn. There aren’t really any words to bridge that divide. What reassurance could I offer? ‘Next month may be better’? ‘It’ll all be over, eventually’? I guess ‘thank you for hanging in there, and trying to understand how hard this might be’ is about the best I can do.

There is an airplane in this picture. It's a metaphor.

There is an airplane in this picture. It’s a metaphor.

I slept poorly. I woke several times, restless and fearful, then later, angry. I struggled with nightmares. I felt too hot, sometimes, others too cold. I woke at 3:20 am, utterly awake, with ancient rage riding shotgun, feeling raw and emotionally volatile. I fussed restlessly through seemingly endless minutes of ‘trying’ to meditate. It didn’t feel effective, or worthwhile, and I gave up when my frustration with myself began to exceed the intensity of the emotions I woke with. I’ve come far enough along this path to recognize, and accept, that I might have a better experience, sooner, were I to choose to commit to the moment, and allow myself to begin to calm, truly, through meditation. There’s a verb there. I know it.

I’m not exactly best friends with my anger. Hell, I don’t think Anger and I can even have a civil discussion over coffee, just yet. My head aches from resisting it. My Anger launches a salvo of nerd quotes relevant to futility at me, from within. Oh yeah. Thanks, Brain. I wasn’t amused by “Resistance is Futile”, and frankly the material just got stale from there. This is a challenging emotional precipice for me. Teetering between the potential for unexpected rage, and unexpected tears…just waiting for someone to come along and flip that coin.

Did I mention the headache?

Which comes first, the drama or the fucked up sleep? Does it matter? One pushes the other, turn them around and the effect is quite the same; one pushing the other. Bitter damaged angry bits of self fight for a voice. Humor and cynicism occasionally pull into the lead with some comic relief. Take every tortured Super Hero, ever, portrayed as screaming, twisted, going through some powerful change… this morning it feels like that on the inside; some ferocious moment of tremendous growth and progress, imminent, painful, resisted…only to see the Hero, in the end, yield to their true nature. God damn it, when do I yield? When do I declare myself victorious in the face of my vanquished demons? When is ‘enough’? Who am I, and am I worthy?

Where the hell do all these tears come from?

I was not going to write this morning. I finished a favorite book… it was still brutally early when I had. I tried writing a tender email to the partner I lean on most for emotional support…words upon words, so many… when I found myself observing, in text, that the words themselves seemed ineffective, superfluous, and not actually helpful, I tried again. I eventually just scrapped the attempt. What would be the point? Communication? Of what? With what goal? I ‘officially let it go’…but here I am. Struggling with myself before dawn.

Let’s look at this again… I woke early, from a restless uncomfortable night. I have the luxury of spending much of that time in meditation, and some of it reading for pleasure. It’s quiet time, invested in me. My latte is exceptional this morning, and aside from the headache, my body feels pretty okay today – not much pain. I have a high-speed internet connection, and a warm secure place to live. My family is safe at home, sleeping, and the world (near by) is quiet. I have time and space to write, and the respect of my partners who know that I need it.

“Gratitude is the opposite of Anger.” Timber Hawkeye (among others)

I’m grateful the winter snow has mostly melted away, although the beauty of it was also quite wonderful. I’m grateful to have good coffee in the morning, and hot running water. I’m grateful that I can count on the good company of friends, and that I have a job I love. I’m grateful for so many opportunities to grow, and become the woman I most want to be. I’m grateful that I can recognize choice, and opportunities. I’m grateful for language, both spoken and written. I’m grateful for Love, and that wonderful quality it has to overlook bullshit.

I’m tired. It was a challenging, distressful night. This headache hasn’t let up, yet, but it likely will. For now, I’ve gotten past the anger I woke with, and that feels very good – and I still have time to settle down and meditate. The day is just beginning, and I yield to the moment, and all the possibilities it holds.

One small crocus getting a head start on spring.

One small crocus getting a head start on spring.

It has been a lovely quiet Sunday. I’m enjoying it without reservations and finding it satisfying and tranquil. There have been opportunities to make choices that could take me in a very different direction. Choices and verbs. We have will, we have intentions, we make choices, we act… Or we don’t actually act, then wonder why our will is ineffective, our intentions lack value, and our choices don’t take us where we expected or hoped they would. There is no arguing with a verb.

The air plant on my desk at work, a metaphor for thriving under difficult circumstances. :-)

The air plant on my desk at work, a metaphor for thriving under difficult circumstances. 

 

Thinking about that, this morning, I wondered what I would say to myself, if I’d asked me ever so long ago, what I could be doing differently…to be ‘happy’? If I could have written myself a note, sent it back a couple of years, a few, or even decades, what would I have suggested I do, or change, to get here sooner? Something like this, maybe?

  • Please take care of you. I’d say more, but in the end the choices and will are yours.
  • Please also consider others, not because they do or don’t deserve that from you, and not out of obligation. Please consider others as a mark of your own good character, and because it has every day value in your experience.
  • Please be kind. Kindness isn’t weak, kindness isn’t costly, and however cynical you’ve grown over the years, you’re likely able to see that ‘kind’ feels better than ‘callous’ or ‘cruel’, so what harm is there in being kind? The harm in callousness and cruelty is easy to spot.
  • Please take a moment to pause in stillness and consider how unlikely it is just to have this one precious moment…
  • Please do your best. It’s not about competition, there’s no winner’s circle at the end of life, and the person most damaged by a half-assed effort on your part will generally be you. Your best may not be ‘good enough’ by someone else’s standard. It may not set records, or net huge bonuses or cash windfalls. Your best may not achieve all you hoped to achieve. Your best may not be what you expected it to be. Your best, though, is every bit of all that you can do…and that is enough. Always enough. There’s still a verb implied there… and… the bad news is that you don’t fool yourself if you do less than  your best, while insisting to someone else that you did do your best. Maybe there will be times when your very best effort turns out to be the humble admission that you didn’t do your best, when you could have, when it mattered, when someone is counting on you? Are you that strong? (Please, do your best.)
  • I’m not ‘telling you what to do’. It’s not about that. I’m learning some wonderful things about living a rich and pleasant experience, and it feels good – and I really want to share that.  It has taken so long to get this far. It’s been hard, more than ‘sometimes’. I’ve failed a lot. I expect to fail plenty more – I learn pretty fast that way, myself.  I’m pretty sure that more than one friend made some of these suggestions to me, along the way, and I wasn’t ready to hear them.  I am grateful that when I found myself ready, the words and ideas and experiences that have helped me find my way in the darkness were still there. So. I’m passing them along. In case you are ready. 
  • Good luck with your journey; there is no map, drink plenty of water.

So hey… Thank you for reading. Thank you for writing.  Thank you for being. Good luck with your journey.