Archives for category: Anxiety

In games, life, and yeah, even self-care… my results vary. Practicing various practices isn’t about practicing as much as it is about improving. It’s about results. Lacking skill in one area or another is definitely going to mean I need more practice. lol Sometimes it’s just necessary to keep at it until I “git gud“. My results still vary. The journey is the destination. There’s no map. No “report card”. No one else to prove something to.

…Even with self-care, sometimes I just don’t “have what it takes” – yet. I need more practice (or better or different practices). I am sitting here reflecting on that, and drinking water on a hot summer day, from inside a cool air-conditioned office, looking down from the 7th floor to the sun lit city below me. My recent work trip to Palm Springs lingers in my thoughts. I spent a lot of time with my colleagues. More people (and time) than I typically spend on such things in a many weeks. Hell, I don’t spend a fraction of that amount of time (more than 40 hours by far) with even my dearest friends over the course of the average year. In fact, although we live together and spend the vast majority of our waking hours together, I don’t spend that much time with my own beloved Traveling Partner! Wtf. I am seriously “all peopled out” at this point. I’m craving actual solitude. It is affecting my mood.

…I was so close to getting some of that after we bought the truck, but it was a bit early for solo camping in nearby forest places at that point, and so my partner only managed to leave me to my own devices for a few hours, a couple times…

So I’m sitting here, thinking my thoughts, drinking my water, and wondering if I should be planning a bit of a solo getaway, and feeling like a jerk for it because I know my partner has probably had about enough of being alone, as far as what he may need out of my comings and goings. This is a challenge I rather suck at figuring out. So, I sit and think on it a bit, and then a bit more even than that…

…still thinking it over…

…What do I want out of such an adventure? Ease? Solitude? Trails to hike? Sunsets to photograph? Distance from other people – yeah, that one is for sure on my “must haves” list. lol Should I be planning to “go coastal”? Should I be planning to camp? How much time do I really need? Does that vary based on how much (feeling of) distance I can actually get? July has just one weekend open at this point during which none of my colleagues would be out of the office… convenient… I decide to request the time, and continue to think about what to do with it.

I finish off my water, and prepare to begin again.

…I am sitting in the airport, in Oakland, waiting on the second leg of a flight to a destination away from the peace and safety of home. I miss my Traveling Partner already, after a wonderfully playful romantic weekend of love and deep connection. Seems weird to leave at all…

…It’s a “work thing”. I could potentially resent the rather poor timing, but feeling so thoroughly infused with love through and through, I suppose there’s no “good time” to be away. lol

My point is, though, simply that I am away. My writing is likely to be fairly irregular… I do expect to write. Prolonged interactions with people are exceedingly stressful for me, and I won’t easily be able to control and limit these. A learning opportunity. Plenty to practice.

This trip has me focused on listening more than I talk… wish me luck! I expect my results may vary… 😉

Memorial Day is sometimes a hard one (for me). The days leading up to it this year were particularly difficult, though I don’t really have a reason why. I’ve lost a few folks over the years. That will never not be true in my life; once we lose the first one, it’s all “more” from there. Spent some time over the weekend reflecting on those losses, and those people. I spent the time with my Traveling Partner, and it was a very healing time we managed to share. I’m grateful.

Losses are hard. We feel our own pain most (and worst, generally). Running from it doesn’t change it – the way out is through. The challenge is not getting stalled in the momentary misery of grief.

The weekend was summery, and fairly mild. We got out among the trees. I got out into the garden. We drove beautiful miles and shared deep conversations. I needed that. We both did, I guess, and we’re better for it.

I’m sipping my morning coffee a bit surprised at how poorly I slept last night after a couple days of extraordinarily good sleep, deep and restful… last night my anxiety flared up with the recollection that today is a work day. Silly, but real. I woke numerous times to double-check that my “sunrise alarm” was actually set. It was. Every time I checked. lol It remains true that a few days of healing and emotionally gentle and nourishing time don’t “fix” anxiety. It comes and goes. My results vary. This morning I got up and managed to start the day without taking it personally or escalating it beyond the obvious; it’s disordered, and there is no reason to feed it and give it more energy.

I smile when I think about the weekend, and my Traveling Partner. Good times.

…Time to begin again…

Change is. Taking some quiet time really mattered. Helped a lot.

Memorial Day weekend.

I’ll take weekend and try to s I rt myself out and soothe myself. Garden. Maybe paint. Get some trail time.

There are still verbs involved. My results still vary. I’ll keep practicing. Maybe get some sleep.

I’ll begin again.

How am I still so fragile? After all this time? Tears come and go. At this point, after days of it, I’m not even sure why. Post-menopause, it “shouldn’t be” hormones… but… I keep fucking about trying to “fix shit” with my body as I age, so… I don’t know. Anything I take to remedy some ailment or condition has potential to fuck with my body’s systems and my emotional balance, so… yeah. I just know the world is too much for me. Just… all of it.

…I keep finding myself weeping and in real emotional pain… but why, for fucks’ sake, why??

…I mean… I guess it’s enough that the world is this messy strange violent circus of nightmares, with an ever-increasing body count. That, by itself, is worth weeping over. I just can’t sustain doing all the fucking crying, by myself. It would make more sense to stop the killing, wouldn’t it? I drink more of this bottle of water sitting next to me. Tears = drink more water. A lot more.

…I have the strange slightly hilarious thought that maybe the water drinking itself is causing the tears somehow. That’s ridiculous, it’s just a passing notion.

My sleep is chronically disturbed and restless, this isn’t new, it’s just… yeah… chronic.

Ping…ping…ping…ping… work pings on my consciousness. My Traveling Partner pings me eager to iron out details for this or that, or share something cool. Ping. Scam calls. Ping. Another email. Ping. An announcement in a Slack thread at work. Ping. A walk-up co-work colleague with a question. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Everyone, everything, seems to want a piece of my attention, or a moment of my time. I feel overwhelmed, but it’s all quite ordinary. There’s nothing to see here.

A long time ago, in another life, a 14 year old me, feeling something similar, packed a small bag, and lacking any notable experience of the world, just sort of … walked away from her home, her family, and her life, headed… nowhere. Away. I didn’t have a plan exactly… I was “going to Florida”. Why? A rock star I was crushing on lived there, and… I don’t know. I thought I needed a destination? I was fortunate; I survived the adventure to return home to commonplace misery. I survived to see adulthood, to go on to survive domestic violence, military service, warfare, trauma… you know, life. I’m almost 60 now. Still holding on.

…Shit… is this about that? I don’t feel any obvious angst over turning 60, specifically, it’s more… the issues hang on right along with me. How much further does this journey go? How many more verbs are there? G’damn it – when can I relax and just fucking be?? I’m so tired…

…Why do I feel so trapped?… Why does this all feel so fucking pointless??

…I’ve got tools. I’ve got verbs. Choices. This isn’t “hopeless”… just hard.

…I’ve just got to begin again. Again.