Archives for category: Anxiety
A mossy wall; a tiny world all it's own.

A mossy wall; a tiny world all its own.

Here it is, already Tuesday. I feel vaguely annoyed with myself that life got my attention with such a firm grip that I simply haven’t taken time to write about it, too busy living it.  I’ve been immersed in experiences of a variety of sorts, some definitely share-worthy, some definitely too personal to make that attempt.  So…pictures and words, and a handful of observations…some without the context that would render them fully meaningful, but perhaps the words themselves have value.

I rode on the train with a young woman on Friday. She was headed somewhere unfamiliar and asked about the stop.  She was strikingly beautiful – always difficult for a woman her age (not older than 14).  Unexpectedly, she complimented my eyes, although rather shyly.  I stayed open to the possibility of connecting with this interesting young stranger, and we conversed as we traveled.  She shared her challenges with ‘the mean girls’, from whom she had heard how ugly she is.  I assured her that my experience was that ‘the mean girls’ are no more secure in themselves that she herself feels, and that the greater likelihood for many of them is that they will blossom at a young age, treat themselves poorly, settle for less than their dreams out of fear and insecurity, and slowly fade away into mediocrity. lol. She seemed reassured that she wasn’t alone, rather than pleased that any ill might befall even these who treat her so ill.  A very pleasant young woman, and I’m glad I met her. I hope she does well in life.

I ‘had a moment’ the other day, and really needed to connect with some very special women in my life. I took time to email them, reaching out as though we could just sit down for coffee – I miss that closeness with old friends; so many are so far away.  The first email I got back was rich and warm and long… and felt like we were ‘just hanging out’ talking. Wow. How is it that a few words between friends can have that power? I have so much to learn. I have hurt so many people who are dear to me.  50 seems a good age to be a better person than I have been.

A favorite rose is already blooming…still? Have I already shared?  I have, I see. Not that I think there is a real limit on the number of times a rose is lovely. 🙂

'Baby Love' in bloom

‘Baby Love’ in bloom

The sunny days in the garden over the weekend didn’t do enough to distract me from things on my mind.  I’m having a hard time ‘finding my way’ on a couple of things very dear to me…and one of them will require skillful confrontation to address, resolve, improve, or act on… so… rather than that big big bummer to deal with, I took lovely pictures of the sunny garden.

Even in real life, some flowers are 'magenta'.

Even in real life, some flowers are ‘magenta’.

Some of the pictures are quite mundane – I’m an artist, but I don’t consider myself so with a camera. lol

Some blue flowers.

Some blue flowers.

…it isn’t as if there’s some huge crisis happening around me (aside from the usual this-n-that we all struggle with)…still…lovely flowers, sunny days, wholesome young women, friendly strangers…any distraction is enough some days.

More purple than blue, still flowers.

More purple than blue, still flowers.

I have things on my mind that are important to me.  Hard to communicate the urgency or magnitude sometimes…at least to people who ‘matter’ to me.  Why is that?  I so want the easiest communication to be with those I love, those who are significant, those who ‘have a place’ in my life…it so isn’t.  I meditate…and sometimes find myself holding my breath, struggling to ‘figure it out’ instead of just taking a moment to be.  I’m already learning – and it seems solid and true like the surface of a rock or a table or the embrace of a trusted friend – it is being that makes the difference for me.  I can think anything.  When I take time to still my mind, breathe, just ‘take it all in’ and ‘let it all go’ – I find myself.

Future blueberries...very promising.

Future blueberries…very promising.

 

The first rose of spring has opened in my garden. It is just 48 days until my 50th birthday, and for some unclear reason 50 feels rather like ‘the middle of life’ – although I am hopeful about living well past the century mark. A beginning, a middle…and an end; I am wearing a long-favored, old black sweater, and I am considering today to be it’s ‘last day’…

'Baby Love' is the first rose to bloom in my garden this spring.

‘Baby Love’ is the first rose to bloom in my garden this spring.

My old black sweater is an ordinary enough black sweater, of mixed synthetic fibers, soft and worn and comfy, with rather mundane cable stitch down the front, and quite large.  I bought it some 15 years ago, during a career change, and a point in my life when I was heavier than I am now. A lot heavier. This is a size ‘3X’ sweater.  It’s huge on me now, mostly pretty shapeless, and not particularly flattering. I’ve never cared about that – it has also been reliably comfortable, effortless to care for, and predictably rather invisible, in the sense that wearing it allowed me to fade into the background at a point in my life where anxiety and unpredictable temperament so ruled my experience that I appreciated having a way to hide from the world in plain sight.  Now, though, life feels very different and I am less inclined to hide. I also feel…healthy, beautiful, and alive – and I’m ready to say good-bye to being so wounded and afraid of the world that only being wrapped in a comfy old black sweater feels safe and warm.  Hugs are better. lol.

 
A sweater is only a sweater, after all… it isn’t a time capsule of memories and events associated with the wearing of the sweater, it isn’t the embodiment of who I am, or who I was, and it isn’t a cherished object of sentimental value clasped relentlessly by possessive withered hands frightened to let go for fear of losing beloved memories to the passage of time. (I may have once thought it was…)  It’s just a sweater: too old, too worn, too big.  It doesn’t fit me anymore.

 
I still like sweaters. I still like black sweaters. I even still like this sweater… but it is time to move on. Time to let go of some things that are not helpful to hang on to. Time to let go of things that get in the way of better things.  Time to accept and encourage and nurture change.  It is time for a new black sweater; sexy, fun, soft…and perhaps in a ‘slightly darker black’?

 
…Or perhaps not black at all.  In 48 days I shall be 50, and I’m clearly not a little girl, anymore. Some of it has been rough, but I think it will be fine if I stop wearing black…beginnings, middles, ends…this is what 50 looks like through my eyes, reflected in my mirror, considered in the context of my experience.

...on the other hand... approaching 50: my right hand, my right mind.

…on the other hand… approaching 50: my right hand, my right mind.

 

Weird day, mostly made up of hormones, pain, and many less than delightful elements of my experience of life as a female person. I feel fatigued and stupid (you should see the typos). I feel like I am disconnected from my loved ones, and irritable.

“Does the mindfulness stuff help?” No, fuck no it doesn’t…well, not if by ‘help’I mean ‘makes it all better’. But I kept at it…simple breathing exercises in awareness, simply observing my experience, rather than analyzing it, and accepting my experience, and letting it be ok that it isn’t always ‘easy’.

I want more. There are other questions, and things I need to learn to talk about. There is so much to learn, and in spite of a lifetime of experience that tells me I am not in this alone, sometimes I feel very alone, anyway.

Tonight I guess I get to practice mindfulness, and compassion for myself as I withstand repeated hormonal attacks on my balance, by my own brain; every doubt, every instant of insecurity or fear, amplified and enhanced for no imaginable benefit.  I feel half mad with it every time.  Today has been no exception…except…it’s going to be fine, and I know that, and this is just a bad bit that will pass in a couple days.  That fairly comfortable, sustained, awareness is new.

More meditation, later sleep. I am pretty sure that third quad latte was a poor choice. I am tired, though, and I hurt; sleep will come, maybe soon, and tomorrow will be a new experience.

The words are not the experience...

The words are not the experience…

Strange weekend. Days of exploration, love, and practicing new things, of connecting with some more than others, of feeling distant pain (because sharing the burden is part of our human experience), of feeling pain close up (and finding myself no more able to help than I can when it is far away).  Mindful words and deeds when I could; practicing every day, but finding that however diligently I practice, the hormones will occasionally have their say – loudly. Still human. I checked.

An odd tangent… Since I was quite young, I’ve had a ‘theme song’ – a bit of tune that lingers in my head, sometimes playing in the background of my thoughts as I have my experience, often unnoticed, sometimes whistled or hummed. Care to guess? It’s a bit on the comical side… the theme music from ‘Dragnet‘ (the TV show). lol. No kidding. 😀  I think, this weekend, it changed.  It didn’t change to what I expected, though. I’d have bet on a simple Dave Matthews song, pure of heart, and strong, and great to sing out loud… ‘Dancing Nancies‘? ‘Gaucho‘? ‘Mercy‘? No, it isn’t any of those. lol.  Turns out it is ‘Lighten Up, Francis‘, a Puscifer track.  I’m not sure what to make of that, but it fits, and it feels right.

It is an amazing journey, but I am not sure what my destination will be.

It is an amazing journey, but I am not sure what my destination will be.

The morning was…different.  I slept well enough, I suppose, waking ahead of the alarm clock by many minutes, heart pounding, with an odd pain in my chest. Stress? Nightmares? Nothing I remembered on waking, nothing that launched into my consciousness when I had flipped on the light. I took my time and woke slowly and let a few deep calming breaths have time to gently sooth me before the physical feelings could morph into emotions of panic or dread.  The morning started well, but began to slide sideways very early, with the rising of my partners ahead of their usual routines, each for their own reasons.  All good; I enjoy the morning with my loved ones…but the morning seemed stressed and strange, and I did something new for myself to continue to enjoy the morning – I left for work early. lol. It just seemed the better choice today; enjoy a leisurely walk to the office, taking my time, and a new route, and giving my loved ones their own time and space to make of their day what they would.  It was nice to choose, to feel the choice as ‘well chosen’, to continue to enjoy my own experience with no strain or weirdness, and to feel confident that we’d all make our own way and do our best with things.

The walk this morning was lovely. No phone. No camera. No anxiety. I turned all that off.  I walked and listened to birds, smelled flowers, heard sounds of all sorts, and felt the soft spring air chill my skin with dawn’s drizzle (it wasn’t enough to call it ‘rain’).  I felt the snugness and heard the ‘shff-shff’ of new jeans as I walked; I’m down another size, and it feels good to be closer to my goal.  I have eager hopes that this evening will be sweet and calm, filled with laughter and kind words; it may not go that way, and I’ve no firm expectations on it, but it’s so nice to feel hopeful and eager, rather than anxious and nauseated from stress, which for many years I would have considered a better than average state of being.

I count the weekend as a good one, small stresses notwithstanding, and I am not deterred from continuing to practice mindfulness in life, even where emotions like grief, anger, or frustration are concerned.  I’m certainly pleased with the results of applying mindfulness to my hormonal experience…that felt like a win, for sure. One thing I really yearn for is the ability to share what I’m learning more easily with those I love when they are having their own challenges…alas, “I am only an egg.”  Maybe someday…

Tulips and the weight of yesterday's rain.

Tulips and the weight of yesterday’s rain.

I’m having a lovely morning. I hope you are as well. Life is difficult in spots, complicated, rich in experience, emotion, and change.  Friends are performing heroic acts of compassion, distant family members reach out to share personal tragedies and joys, everyone living their ‘now’ the best that they can in the moment they make their choices, generally, and the flow of events around us contributes to the fun, to the novelty, to the stress, to the joy, to the immutable truth of change, itself. I watch, feel, and experience my life.  PMS joins the party this week, and so far I’m ok and still feeling pretty balanced generally, a little irritated with small stuff now and again, but in a far more manageable way than even a few months ago.

New strong rose canes reaching for the sun.

New strong rose canes reaching for the sun.

…But I don’t want to mislead anyone. Genuineness and openness are very important to me.  I know other people struggle, and one or two people struggling with their own things may read my enthusiasm for the value of pursuing mindfulness and find themselves disappointed to get a different result.  I’m not an expert, nor am I ‘right’ about the hows or whys of managing PTSD, anxiety, my hormones, my life, love… no, seriously. Meditation is serving me well on a number of levels. I want to rave about it, and how extraordinary it is in my own experience… I woke this morning wondering if that’s ‘fair’ without ‘full disclosure’? Then I saw a meme on Facebook this morning, posted by a friend… a caution against being too open, a reminder that only a few of our nearest and dearest actually care, and pointing out that most people just want something to gossip about…the message is ‘protect yourself’, the sentiment is suspicion and fear.  My reaction was self-doubt…

The vinca waits for her moment, doubt is unnecessary.

The vinca waits for her moment, doubt is unnecessary.

I like candor. I like being genuine. I like sharing the reality of the journey I am on, and my own significant truth about where my potholes on life’s highway  have turned up.  I don’t actually want to contribute to creating a culture of suspicion and fear, of secrets, of secret police, of guilt, of doubt, of insecurity…of fraud.

My imperfect garden; Just Joey struggling.

My imperfect garden; Just Joey struggling.

I figure some disclosure about other details on my journey may be due, because it isn’t just a book or two, some meditation, and some mindfulness practices picked up at a cocktail party that find me in the place I am.  It isn’t fair to have you think so.  I’m actually also in therapy (again), and my therapist bases our work on ACT  (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy).  I’m finding huge value in a book  I’m reading at his recommendation, and I do a considerable amount of additional reading on my own on mindfulness, in general, and cultural practices in that area, relevant to a number of cultures and religions.  Yes, I’m in a lot of physical pain most days, and yes, the mindfulness practices and meditation really help in that area, inasmuch as my experience of enduring pain seems less challenging or difficult, and the pain medication I do take feels more effective.  Yes, I do take some pain medication, and yes, of the Rx sort, although I am able to keep the dosage low, and also stay away from the really hard core varieties.  Yes, my hormones give me major grief, and it’s gotten quite unpredictable.  I manage those pretty well lately with mindfulness practices, regular leisurely soaks in epsom salt baths, and herbal teas (my favorite being a blend of valerian,  chamomile, st John’s wort, and lemon balm, that my grandmother taught me many years ago, and soon they will all come from my garden, which ‘feels right’ to me).  I don’t know why things are getting better.  Some of the things I am doing are not new for me…resulting in my strong inclination to attribute my recent progress and quality of life improvements to the things that are new – the mindfulness practices, and the more consistent meditation practice.

Things I am doing now; reading, like listening, does require an open mind.;

Things I am doing now; reading, like listening, requires an open mind.

I had tried a number of treatment modalities since I was 18, and have seen several therapists of several sorts from several disciplines.  I’ve spent much of my adult life pleading for someone to ‘please help me!’, largely without finding success, or even lasting peace and balance. I’ve also given Big Pharm their turn with my poor broken brain, and they also applied their recipe for fail sauce, and again I found no balance, no peace.  Religion had it’s innings.  ‘Counseling’ had a turn.  The self-help industry also had its way with me a time or two…or several.  Friends, and loved ones, got to give amateur hour a go at it, with no greater or lesser success.  I long ago reached the ‘I’ll do anything to stop hurting’ place, frankly.

Mindfulness...something so simple...so profound.

Mindfulness…something so simple…so profound.

So, here I am making jokes about ‘the hippies being right all along’, because it’s hard not to laugh to see that I am finding peace and balance exactly where so many hippie-sort of friends suggested gently that it might be found – within myself – if only I would take a few deep breaths, and be ‘in the moment’ to experience it.  😀   It’s hard, too, to have read so much, to have traveled, to have experienced some of the world, and not be just a tad frustrated with myself for disregarding knowledge and practices that have provided balance and peace for thousands of years to uncountable people, until I was finally so deep in despair that I was able to let go of my baggage – and my pride – and be open to something new, that is actually something quite old.  It’s tempting to say ‘nothing else has worked, so this must be it’, but I am rational, and understand that perhaps it is more about many things I am doing, how I am doing them, or perhaps that I am simply ready now and wasn’t ready sooner.

I’m sure not discouraging anyone from being mindful, from practicing meditation, or from treating themselves and their loved ones truly well – I think those are all wonderful, necessary, things for a good quality of life.  I am saying, there is more to me than meets the eye, and I’m not uncomfortable sharing that. 😀

It’s a quiet morning, a beautiful day, and if you need me…I’ll be in the garden. 😀

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