Archives for category: Anxiety
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Closure

August 15, 2023 //
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I am sipping my coffee between calls with recruiters interested in me for one role or another. I am feeling relaxed, hopeful, and positive, but with a nagging hint of lingering anger at my former manager (over the lay-off itself and the bullshit she attempted to use to give that any sort of acceptable context that could make her “not the bad guy here”).

I’d like to let go of that anger; it’s not productive or helpful.

Over the past 11 days, I must have composed dozens of emails in my head, seeking to “have my say” or in some way exact a feeling of “closure” about being laid off. Usually this occurs in some quiet moment when I could definitely be spending my time more joyfully, but somehow find myself picking at this minor hurt nonetheless. Honestly, over a lifetime I’ve for sure survived far worse. Being laid off, in general, and this manager specifically don’t deserve another moment of my attention at this point, and certainly don’t rate being irked to the point of unhappiness at all. Yes, it was a good job, with a good company that has a good culture… but… I continue to feel more relieved than dismayed; my manager was a fucking nightmare to work with (in spite of being a generally pleasant person to interact with socially) and in less than six months it was already coloring the experience. “Unfit to lead” puts it mildly. Tales for another time, perhaps.

I sip my coffee and breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t work for her anymore. 😀

When I find myself struggling to let go of some circumstance, event, or conversation (it’s a very human thing), it’s often the result of feeling as if something “important” has been left unsaid, or some task left uncompleted. I’m looking for “closure”.

It’s pretty human to seek closure when something falls apart. Often that’s our very human ego seeking to make ourselves properly the good guy in our own narrative, other times we’re seeking a missing apology or for someone who hurt us to “make it right” – and if that’s not going to be available, to at least exact some explicit acknowledgement of the harm done. Let’s get super real about that; we don’t always get to have closure, at all, especially if we’re insistent on the person who actually wronged us being an active participant in getting that closure. (People don’t like being accountable for the wrongs they do and the harm they cause.) Sometimes it’s helpful to have the conversation, make the attempt, and see what comes of it… other times not so much. Sometimes seeking closure just tangles us up with whatever caused our trauma in the first place, and does more damage without real benefit. Why do that?

What do to about wanting closure…?

I sip my coffee (iced this morning, mostly gone at this point and quite watered down by melted ice). I notice the small puddle of condensation that has formed on the desk around the bottom of the cup, and mop it up with a couple tissues. “Cleaning up my mess” feels like a relevant metaphor…

What would “closure” get me, in these circumstances? What am I really looking for that it feels like I’m going without? Am I wanting a “last word”? Am I hoping to change that manager’s thinking in some way? Am I feeling that human urge to “be right” – and be recognized as such? Am I just wanting to say “I saw what you did there, you didn’t get away with anything.” or “That was a dick move.”? What would the point be? What am I hoping to gain? Am I just having a private tantrum or working through the emotions of hurt and grief? I’m not sure, but I definitely won’t be attempting to act on my feelings until I answer these questions for myself in a way that feels clear and settled. (I’m not a fan of hasty decision-making, lashing out, or burning bridges, and avoid doing those things where I can.) So… in my head, I write the email sharing my thoughts – each time recognizing where my words fail me, or identifying some internal need I can entirely meet for myself without ever hitting send on an email I might later regret. The mental exercise has more value than sending the email. What I think I want to say has already changed a number of times, in some cases because my thinking has already “matured”, or new information has come to light. Sometimes I just find “better words” or a clearer way to communicate my point(s), which is a very useful means of understanding myself more deeply.

…Sometimes, I just want to hurt her because she hurt me. That’s also very human, but it’s a lot more “tit-for-tat” and petty than I prefer to be, personally. I choose a different path.

…Perspective is helpful, and I often gain perspective through self-reflection…

Other circumstances, other needs for closure; for many years my yearning for “closure” (and some kind of apology) kept me distant from my father. Many years. Decades. I can’t say I regret the distance, I got quite a lot of healing from that… but I was definitely taken by surprise when closure developed on its own, through circumstances I didn’t anticipate. I wasn’t just surprised to get closure – I was surprised that I still felt a need for it after so many years. Stranger still, now and then I find myself still yearning for closure as if I’d never had any… trauma leaves lasting damage and closure doesn’t work the way we’d like it to; it’s not magic, it doesn’t “fix everything”, and it doesn’t erase past events. It’s worth understanding (and accepting) that.

…But what to do about wanting closure…?

It’s actually possible (not easy, just possible) to give ourselves closure, absent any involvement by the person(s) who hurt us. No kidding. It’s even quite effective. (Closure – and its partner “forgiveness” – isn’t about that other person at all; it’s about us, ourselves, and how we feel.) There are verbs involved, and yeah, your results may vary, but… it’s do-able. It’s also a practice; it’s not a one-off task that one can check off a to-do list once completed. (Note: this is my practice for achieving some closure when none is offered or readily available, and should not be considered the opinion of an expert, or any sort of guarantee of success – no science behind it, no peer-review, just one woman’s approach to getting closure. It’s worked pretty well for me.)

There are some steps. (These tend to “make it look easy” due to over-simplification, but should give you an idea of how I approach it.)

  1. Understand the actual hurt I’m feeling (try to get the heart of it, in the simplest possible terms)
  2. Sort out what I want that I think will ease that hurt in some way (if anything; keep it real)
  3. Practice non-attachment, compassion, and self-compassion
  4. Look for perspective and alternate understandings of the circumstances that may provide more context (without gaslighting myself, but mindful that I can be mistaken, or lacking “all the information”)
  5. Role play the conversation as realistically as feasible (or write the letter or email – do not send!) – do it more than once, as often as needed, until it feels “said”. (Don’t get mired in this step!)
  6. Reflect on how the event that hurt me has affected me (and why), and what I can learn from it
  7. Have I grown from this hurt? How? Can I grow further? How?
  8. Give myself credit for enduring/surviving/getting over it – and for any subsequent growth or success that may have come from it.
  9. Let it go. Let them go. Walk on.
  10. See number 3, and keep practicing.

It’s not a perfect process, but it’s a useful starting point. See, the thing about closure is that it isn’t really something someone else gives us – it’s something we create, or accept, for ourselves. We have the control. We have the power. We have the words.

…We can begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, turning 60, women

Layers and Feedback Loops

August 13, 2023 //
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I’m working on my second coffee, sipping on it even though it has gone cold. I’ve got a wicked headache today. Worse than usual, and tightly focused in a very specific location. It’s annoying. My Traveling Partner and his son are hanging out, watching videos, talking about life.

At some point, the ambient level of anxiety in the room (and, honestly, I really object to even having that be “a thing” at all) begins to increase. My Traveling Partner’s comments become more stressed moment-by-moment, as though he is on the edge of having an argument with someone, though there is nothing to argue with; he’s making sound and reasonable points relevant to the content we’re watching. His son is quiet… that kind of quiet that suggests a very busy mind held back by firm hands. He seems… “glum” and also… intent, focused on something going on in his inner world, and perhaps only half listening. My partner exclaims something about his anxiety, and the video itself potentially driving that. He turns it off. His son speaks up in the affirmative – him, too. For once, none of this is about me, or my issues, or my anxiety – but I see it, and I “get it”. Realizing the enormous potential for this whole mess to worsen notably if my own anxiety were also to be triggered (which it easily could be by my partner’s expressed stress), I take my coffee into the studio to give room for them to sort shit out, and avoid being triggered myself. Nothing confrontational, just taking care of myself, and doing what I can to support a healthy environment by not adding to the mess.

So here I am. This quiet somewhat chilly room. The tap-a-tap-a-tap of fingers on the keyboard. This cold cup of coffee. This headache.

I have an anxiety disorder. Having a moment, episode, or experience of anxiety doesn’t make someone “disordered” – just human. My own anxiety rises to the level of “disordered” because of the potential for extremes in that emotional experience, the difficulty I have managing or resolving it, and the ridiculous way it can linger unresolved just making shit worse for days or weeks or months, even wrecking relationships, and jobs. It’s pretty serious. I’ve also taken many years of therapy to work on it, and take medication to help manage the worst of it day-to-day.

I’ve learned to accept the physical chemistry of anxiety as a very separate thing from any lived event that may trigger an emotional experience of anxiety; the chemistry and the emotional experience often need to be managed or supported quite differently. It took fucking years to get a grip on how best to handle my own anxiety, and I’ve got some good tools in my toolkit these days…but they aren’t “one size fits all”. (Hell, they don’t even always work for me!) As much as I’d love to say “just do this thing and it’ll all be fine”, I’m very much aware that what works for me (and my results vary) may not work for you at all. I share the journey, and the practices, because something may be helpful, even if only once in a serendipitous moment of inspiration. I hope any of it offers you healthy perspective, or even potentially an observation or practice that you can use to make sense of your own bullshit and baggage in a way that allows you to move forward on your journey to become the person you most want to be.

…Why do I even care, at all…?

Honestly? Layers and feedback loops. If I’m anxious around other people who struggle with anxiety, it seems likely that the potential for shared anxiety to creep in and escalate will increase. My anxiety feeding someone else’s anxiety, and increasing anxiety someone else is feeding potentially triggering (or exacerbating) mine sounds like (is) a really terrible experience that can lead to confusing or problematic interactions. Then too, just dealing with my own anxiety while aware of my partner’s, his son’s, the world’s… the layers of anxiety just make for a shitty emotional experience characterized by some very uncomfortable sensations and thought spirals. No thank you. So. I try to be helpful and share what works for me because anxiety is a wholly shitty experience for everyone.

So, I think it over. Talk to my partner. Take a kind and helpful approach as much as possible with everyone here in this moment. Share my thoughts and experiences, make a potentially (I hope) useful suggestion or two, and hope for the best – while also working my ass off to avoid taking any scrap of this “personally”, because it just isn’t. It’s simply very human.

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011
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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Healthy Living, inspiration, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Still and (approximately) Always

August 9, 2023 //
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Still and always practicing. Sometimes I get it “right”. Sometimes I fail myself (or someone else). Sometimes I am proud of the woman I am right now. Sometimes I fall short of being the woman I most want to be. I need more practice. 🙂

I’m sipping a delicious hot coffee, a freebie from the local chain vendor of caffeinated beverages (one of many that accumulated over the past not-quite-a-year of weekly commutes to the city). Handy. Yes, I saved them up over time without using them, figuring there might be some time when it would be nice to enjoy one, but perhaps excessively costly, for… reasons. Here I am, with reasons. LOL It’s a pleasant quiet morning. The slow dawn revealed a cloudy start to the day. The day started easily, and I had slept well through the night, waking feeling quite rested. My Traveling Partner pinged me a kiss emoji over SMS on my way to the solitude of a morning walk, and some time in the co-work space handling job search tasks. A good beginning to a new day, indeed. 😀

A different day, a different beginning; it’s not really about the cup of coffee, how it’s made, or where it came from – it’s about the moment.

My Traveling Partner and I had a moment of conflict “recently” (I have the sense that it was this week, but… I honestly don’t recall when, at this point, and it entirely blew over, and was, it seemed, more a byproduct of stress over lingering sleep challenges than anything else), and in the midst of taking turns saying things to each other that were needlessly unkind, he mocked the very thing(s) that I rely on to persist in putting one foot in front of the other day-after-day and which I use to heal ancient pain, and grow as a person, and yeah, also even use to treat him well, and with kindness and compassion. Ouch. My feelings were incredibly hurt. I was astonished and appalled. I was… enraged. I was saddened. (I mean, for real though? Damn, dude. Way to be hurtful.)

Here’s the thing, though… On reflection, I am sensitive to the idea – the very true truth – that “hurt people hurt people”. I know this first hand, from within the context of my own experience. Meaning to say that people who have been emotionally wounded over time do lash out, and they do inflict new/further damage on people around them, often those they love, and that damage is often targeted, using uniquely personal information that has the greatest potential to inflict pain, taken from the most intimate shared moments. Messy and unpleasant. Also… not actually “personal”. It just feels that way. It is an expression of the pain of the person delivering the injury, more than anything explicitly to do with the person they are lashing out at in that moment. Hurt and anger are strange like that. It feels personal to the recipient, mostly because as creatures we’re prone to taking shit personally, not so much because it really is.

…I get it, though… I work through a lot of my personal bullshit and baggage right here. Out in the open. Honest and real and raw and… also aspirational. I seek to do better. I don’t always hit the mark. I set goals for myself. I don’t always achieve them. I acknowledge where I’ve failed or fallen short. I pick myself up and walk on. I am practicing. Day after day, I show up, and I practice the practices that I hope will, over time, result in my becoming the woman (the person) I most want to be. I’m not there yet. I’ll point out two things that seem obvious to me, but maybe aren’t so obvious… 1. I practice because I’m human, and I’m “not there yet”; I need the practice! 2. “The woman I most want to be”… may not be the woman anyone else wants to see me become. With just those two things in mind, there’s more than enough within these blog posts to fill any argument with insults and barbed remarks to fuel any heated moment. Taking them personally would only set me up for disappointment, a feeling of chronic inadequacy, a sense of utter failure, and a quick slide into despair… defeating the point of being here, now, in the first place. “Don’t drink the poison.“

Instead of attacking him for attacking me over such personal things, or for seeking to undermine my progress (it’s highly unlikely he was looking at his words through that lens at all), I let those words simply land in the space between us unaddressed beyond the basic point that he was feeling hurt, mistreated, and provoked, and was frustrated by his lack of sleep. I did my best to focus on the need actually being expressed, and not so much on the shitty way he was expressing it in the moment. He’s very human. I “filed it away” for later reflection, and here I find myself, reflecting. It’s a nice morning for it. I’m in a good place. We’re in a good place with each other. I know I need more practice. That’s not new information. What’s useful to reflect on is where we are with each other, and how I can make use of what I’ve heard my partner say to me to become a better partner, and friend, myself.

Any misstep can become a beautiful gesture of love, if we’re willing to be vulnerable about our failures.

I think about the lawn my Traveling Partner recently put in. It’s gorgeous. In the process of preparing the ground for the new sod, my partner inadvertently damaged one of the roses. He didn’t hide that, or ignore it, or try to excuse the error, or blame someone/something else; he simply pointed it out, with some regret. He also took that moment to transform the mistake into something beautiful; he carefully cut the roses and put the blossoms in a wee vase on the table where I would see them. So cute. The little vase of flowers meant so much more to me than the unplanned cutting of a stray cane or two on a rose that is already pretty well-established. Just saying; we’re human. We make mistakes. We fuck shit up. It’s how we handle that and the outcome, and how we support and seek to heal each other as human beings that matters most. 🙂

I sip my coffee. It’s a good morning.

So… yeah. I’m a work in progress for sure. lol The journey is the destination. I am my own cartographer, and this trip has no map. I do my best, and I can fearlessly state that my results vary, and sometimes my best definitely does not feel “good enough”. It’s necessary to begin again. Often. All of that is more than “okay” – it’s the nature of the experience. Growth and incremental change over time are not instant. There are verbs involved.

I breathe. Exhale. Relax. It’s a beautiful morning to practice practices, and to put in the effort to become the woman I most want to be. With that in mind, it’s time to begin again. 😀

When it feels like it’s all stairs, it’s nice to have someone sharing the journey.
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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being, turning 60

Progress!

August 6, 2023 //
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Wow. Real progress with the sleep machine, after a week using it. I mean… I still wake up a couple times a night for no obvious reason (this is not new for me), find myself feeling… something… and I sit up for a moment, take the mask off, breathe freely (awake), readjust the mask and return to a comfortable sleeping position. The first couple of nights, that didn’t necessarily mean going back to actual sleep, and my sleep was pretty light. Last night, though, I actually got a couple hours of legit deep sleep. I woke feeling really rested. It’s nice.

Honestly, it’s not like I woke up more often or for any longer period of time than I ever do, it’s just that it’s a bit of a production to remember the mask, sit up, untangle the air hose, reach the machine, find the button, turn it off, release the mask straps, pull the mask off and set it carefully aside such that I can easily put it back on in the dark. LOL So much more involved than “wake up, sit up for a minute, go back to sleep”. It’s just taking some practice to get it down to basics I can comfortable manage without really waking all the way up.

…Difficult tasks get easier the more I repeat them. Complex tasks feel simpler with more practice. Discomfort eases with exposure over time. Incremental change is a real thing, and when I successfully balance these observations with practicing non-attachment (to an outcome)(when I can), the result is… a different experience. 😀 It’s not quite a rule book, or a how-to guide, just saying; if we keep doing something, it gets easier to do it at all. (Which does also suggest we should maybe choose with some care what sorts of things we commonly do…) We become what we practice.

…What are you practicing?..

It’s a quiet Sunday morning. I’m sipping this first, quite excellent, cup of coffee and thinking about the work week ahead. Oh, sure, I’m not presently “gainfully employed” by some entity sending me a regular paycheck, but there are steps to take to return to that state of being, and putting structure and focus on that is usually (I find) quite helpful (for me). So, in a sense, the tasks associated with looking for work become the job. It’s also a good time to give my Traveling Partner a hand with his business for a time. I’m handy and available, at least for awhile. Conveniently enough, it’s also (coincidentally) timed such that my step-son is visiting, and I won’t be taken down by fatigue day-to-day, just working – which means I’ll reliably have the energy to cook healthy meals and enjoy activities. 😀 I’m pretty excited about that. Stir fries, pasta dinners, maybe even – heat permitting – some baking – it sounds like fun, because I won’t be exhausted all the time.

I’ve always loved libraries.

Yesterday, on a whim, I went to the library. Yep. The actual municipal public library in my town. It’s quite a nice one. I went because I have it in mind that I’ll need an occasional “work from…” location that isn’t home. The local co-work space is closing. It’s been an excellent (and very handy) convenience, but as is often the case with small businesses in small towns, the demand apparently wasn’t high enough to keep it going. I checked out the library with that in mind. Wi-Fi? Yep. (Even encouragement to use it in the form of a notice that it is available 24/7 and “park in our parking lot and use our Wi-Fi any time!”) The operating hours of our library are limited; 10:00am to 7:00pm most days, and libraries are notoriously “quiet spaces” as well…so… not ideal for busy work days crammed with meetings, but absolutely fantastic for any days when job search activities need quiet, focus, and few distractions. There’s even a wee closet of a closed space for precisely that sort of thing (to include, in the case of this wee space, interview calls and meetings). Nice.

I sat quietly in several locations of the library getting the feel of it… would I enjoy working in this space? Sure. Suits me. The only serious limitations are the lack of morning hours (I can adjust to that) and… no coffee. I mean 100% “no coffee”. No food or drink in the the library. Period. So… yeah, I’ll certainly have to plan around that. LOL What a great spot for doing training and such, though! I’ve got a couple certifications to finish up, and that kind of thing is much easier for me to do in a quiet place without distractions. 😀 I know my Traveling Partner enjoys having some space to focus and think without me taking up space, sometimes, too.

I sip my coffee smiling. My Traveling Partner comes in and massages my neck a bit. I feel loved. We exchange pleasantries and smiles and he leaves me to my writing. It’s a lovely morning. A relaxed Sunday.

The lack of panic and stress over being out of work is helpful. It’s harder to do the job search stuff really skillfully while also juggling panic, desperation, worry, sadness, or becoming consumed by terrifying what-if scenarios of consequences that have not yet come to pass (and probably won’t). All of that is wasted emotional energy. I’m fortunate to have a partnership that supports me emotionally, and a partner who does not himself panic when I am between jobs. We shift gears a bit, take a careful approach to the change in resources, and continue to enjoy life. There’s work to be done, and it gets done without giving up weekends, pleasure, or good vibes. The good vibes matter. Enjoying life matters. 🙂

In the garden it’s time to harvest seeds and herbs to dry for winter months. I have time for it.

I think about dinner for later… pasta with some kind of luscious sauce of ripe summer tomatoes? Maybe some sausage in that sauce? Sounds pretty yummy. I double-check my grocery list; I’ll need to pick up a couple things. (I smile, reminded that whole fresh produce is fairly inexpensive, compared to packaged prepared convenience items, and the same circumstances that make me so careful about spending money on groceries also somehow tend to improve our quality of life, by “limiting” us to whole foods prepared at home.)

It’s a pleasant summer morning. There’s plenty to do and to enjoy – and it’s already time to begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being

Another Restless Night

July 29, 2023 //
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I slept poorly last night. Restless dreams, wakefulness, and frequently having to get up to pee, along with being in pain, made for a difficult night. My Traveling Partner woke up in a shitty mood, in pain, and cross with me as his default approach. Not my favorite way to start a day. I dressed and headed out as soon as I woke. “Later” will be soon enough to return home, hopefully some time after my partner has had his coffee, done some yoga and stretching, and taken whatever he can to manage his pain and allergies.

I’m sitting on a fence rail next to a marshy expanse of still water favored by all manner of water birds. There is seasonality to the view. I enjoy this quiet place, although on weekends it is often crowded with bird-watchers and camera nerds. It’s a nice place for perspective.

God damn, it would suck if this otherwise beautiful relationship were to fail over our inability to sleep in the same place. I think about that briefly. Tears well up, and I brush them away. We’re not there yet and there are still things to try. My sleep study got moved up from mid-August to… tomorrow. I’m not exactly excited, just hoping something helpful comes of it.

A woman and child walk past me. I hear the child ask “Mommy, why does that lady look sad?”, and the woman’s kind careful reply “Sometimes being a grown up is hard honey. It makes Mommy sad sometimes, too.” For real, Lady, you’re so right. Sorry, Kiddo, it’s not always easy.

I sit quietly awhile. No plan. Just stillness. I check the hours for the pharmacy near home in order to time my return such that I can pick something up for my Traveling Partner. I try to do enough sweet things, kind things, helpful things to offset the unpleasantness of our shared challenges. It’s not “enough”, but it is at least something. I find myself making a silent promise to refrain from talking about my own pain, and fatigue, and stress, and anxiety… Hoping to be more easily able to make room for my partner to feel heard, even if I can’t do much about it. Again, it’s not everything, it’s just something.

… I have to trust that after 13 years together he does understand that I am chronically struggling with pain, myself, and that he has the affection for me and the emotional intelligence to hold space for that awareness day-to-day, in spite of his own pain and fatigue. That’s hard sometimes. It can be a very “fuck your pain, what about mine?!” kind of world sometimes. I think I can do better… But how best to do better without being a dick to myself and undermining my own emotional wellness? It’s a puzzle.

… Sometimes being a grown up is hard, and it makes me sad…

I think about a dear friend tearing up a bit as we discussed age, aging, and the inevitable loneliness of feeling “cast aside”. Fucking hell, that is some real shit. Sometimes being grown up is hard. I watch a small flock of birds take flight, appearing to chase a larger bird. They don’t pay me any attention at all. I’m not part of their experience.

We’re each walking our own path. No map. Sometimes we get lucky on the journey and have some companionship along the way for some distance. It’s not a given that we will, and ultimately we’re in this alone, regardless how or whether we surround ourselves with people or creatures. These are individual journeys. Nonetheless, we’re also all in it together. It’s a puzzle. I remind myself to try to be kind. Always.

It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being
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