Archives for category: Brain Injury

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about a question. “How do I actually change my perspective?” The colleague who asked the question wasn’t being flippant or obtuse, and the context was work we were doing together. Sincere question. I was stalled for a moment, because for me the answer is ludicrously practical; make a literal change in the angle of view, or distance from which something is observed, or… I think you get it? Something as simple as standing on a chair to see something a different way, or looking out a different window to capture a different view… right?

Looking out one window of the office, onto a city I’ve known for 42 years.

We continued the conversation as we walked to the break area for coffee. We looked out other windows, still talking about how to shift perspective, metaphorically and for real.

Maybe it’s only been 22 years? Depends on what years “count”, doesn’t it?

Different window, different views… same city. So, different perspectives on this one place. Handy to have a real-life demonstration available. Lovely morning for it. We get pretty easily locked into a point of view, or some very specific limited understanding of the world or our circumstances based on our perspective. Being able to shift our perspective and “see things another way” really matters for things like communicating with others, being compassionate, and effective problem-solving that presents an inclusive solution to a problem that affects many different groups. We’re not a homogenous mass of flesh all of one mind; we’re individuals.

There are so many ways to look at something.

I sip my coffee and consider my perspective – then and now. Even those differences can provide new perspective. I certainly don’t see the world quite the same way I did when I was a woman in my 20s, 30s, or 40s. Time passed. I experienced more of what the world had to offer, and learned and grew through my experiences and decision-making. It doesn’t take standing on a chair, or looking out a 10th floor window, to take advantage of this mortal lifetime to reflect on changes in perspective. It’s hard not to change one’s perspective. How much effort do people have to put into to clinging to a poor understanding of an event, or a mistaken assumption, or limited perspective to “stand still” and “never change”?

It may be as easy as a chair or looking out a different window, or asking a new question of the person in the mirror. Change is. Our perspective easily shifts with our changes – if we allow it, and take notice. The trickier bit, I guess, is constructively changing our perspective to give us a “better angle of view” on something we don’t necessarily experience or understand from our own circumstances.

I think on it for a while, sipping my coffee on a rainy chilly winter morning. Would my thoughts be different on a summer day?

My eye falls on my to-do list. I smile; I’ve worked the list down to just one or two inconsequential tasks, and an errand. Not bad. It won’t stay that way; I’m always adding to it and working it. It’s just a list of reminders to change something. My coffee is cold now, and I could use a manicure. It’s far too early in the morning to get a manicure; it goes onto the list. That’s how it works. LOL

…I could use another cup of coffee. It must be time to begin again.

This morning’s commute was certainly… something. I left early and beat almost all the traffic. Easy commute, eh? Well… no. Life is still handing out lessons. LOL

I pulled into the drive-through of the local branded coffee vendor before heading out of town. Oh. Shit. I left enough earlier that they aren’t even open yet (although it must have been pretty close … all their lights were on, including the menu board). Okay, no problem, I head on up the road figuring I’d stop at the next one.

…Also closed. No problem…? I guess I’ll try the next one… I mean, there are various coffee places every couple of miles on this route – how hard can it be to get a cup of coffee on the way to work? 😀 It’ll continue to get later as I drive, so… sooner or later, everyone will be open, right? Right…

…Also closed…

…Also closed…

Fucking hell. I feel myself start to get frustrated as I try one more time (with a promise to myself to just give up on this bullshit and pour a cup at work)…

Coffee. Mmmmm. Finally. So good.

…the fuck is up with this parking lot flow, though? … g’damn… am I lost now?? For fucks sake.

…It takes me a minute to get turned around the correct direction in their weird parking lot (which is shared with two fast food places with interlaced drive-throughs)…

Finally heading up the road to the office. Traffic still pleasantly light, and I make good time getting to the city. The city is dark and quiet and I quickly get to my usual parking location. “Lot Full”. Are you kidding me?? I can’t tell from the signage if this is really the situation…or if they just “aren’t open yet”… I look behind me figuring I’ll back out and park elsewhere… but now there’s truck behind me, and a car behind him… fuuuuuuuuck.

…Eventually, we get it sorted out. One of the vehicles behind me pulls to the side (he clearly plans to wait for… something?), and the other backs out. I back out too. The other guy pulls back in next to the ticket machine, and starts his wait. lol I circle the block and go to the next closest parking lot near the office. It’s unfamiliar to me and I feel a bit “thrown off” by my crap-tacular timing this morning. It is what it is. Knowing my limitations as I do, I snap a picture of the location of my parked car, and another outside the door to the elevator – these will help me find my car when I inevitably forget (at the end of a busy work day) where the hell I parked.

I’m a block further from the office than usual, as I walk down the sidewalk. I’m not stressed about that – it’s just a few extra steps – but the morning has been a weird one so far. Still is. There is not a single soul visible anywhere (which is a bit strange even at this early hour). The city is spooky quiet, hushed, muted, and I feel apprehensively as if there are invisible watchers behind every window.

It’s fine. I’m fine. Just a weird morning. My timing is so far off it seems to color my entire experience.

As I walk past the entrance of my usual parking lot I see the vehicle door is now open. (Omfg… for real? I was basically 5 minutes early, and just too impatient to wait?? Fucking hell… This day, though.) I laugh at myself and keep on walking. (No, I am not going back to the car to repark it; that version of me doesn’t really exist now. Mostly.)

I badge into the office… and the elevator drops me on the wrong floor. 0_o

I forgot my half-finished coffee in the car.

I grab a can of iced coffee (“nitro cold brew”) from the break room refrigerator, set up my workstation…

…and begin again.

It’s the 10th of January. Not fancy as days on a calendar go, nothing splendid like the first of a new year, still… a good a day as any to make a change for the better, isn’t it? There’s an entire day ahead, suitable for making changes. Pick something, do the thing, see the result, refine the practice, and repeat. Easy. 😉

I woke this morning from an interrupted night’s sleep. The artificial “sunrise” of my alarm seemed to come too soon, and too brightly (although I opened my eyes just as it came on, and it comes on quite dim, so… perception vs reality can be quite subjective). I had the sense that I’d been awake, or awakened, often during the night. I felt groggy as I rose, showered, and dressed. I made it out the door without waking my Traveling Partner, or so it seemed. I know he also had a restless night. He woke me twice to tell me he was sleeping poorly, and managed to keep me “on alert” (without intending to, I’m sure) by fussing and swearing in the other room because he was having a rough night. At some point he must have returned to bed, because that’s where he was when I woke, and seemed to be sound asleep. I found myself more pleased that he was sleeping than I had been annoyed to be awakened, myself, and grateful to get out the door quickly and quietly to head to the co-work space.

I love working from home. The practical reality of it is, though, that sometimes in the early morning hours when my partner would like to be sleeping it can be a poor fit. The local co-work space works as a pleasant compromise without the tedious, time-consuming, and risky commute into the city. That’d be a miserable way to spend 15 hours every week if I had to do it daily. I sip my coffee feeling fortunate to have so many options, and the freedom to choose from them. So, here I sit in an office, sipping coffee. I’d rather be home…but only if that reliably meant enjoying my morning over my coffee at home comfortably without stress or fussing over whatever, and dealing with stress because one or the other of us had a bad night. I like “easy”. Like… a lot.

I remove a couple paragraphs. I lost the thread of my thoughts. I sip my coffee thoughtfully.

Winter mornings are not well-suited to early morning camera walks. The sun rises so much later in the morning that it encroaches on the start of my typical work day. Instead of waking to the earliest hint of daybreak sometime around 04:30 or 05:00, I wake to my artificial sunrise well before dawn. With this in mind I’m thinking about making my everyday practice to head directly to the co-work space every morning that I don’t go into the city (not just Tuesdays and Thursdays), and just let that be what it is until the dawn comes earlier, allowing me to grab my camera and hit the trails around and about first thing, before work. Once the sun is rising around 06:30 or earlier once again, I can go back to my happy practice of hitting the trail first thing with my camera, then returning home to get my work day started there after I know my partner is awake. This works really well most of the year.

I reflect on how nice it is that we support each other with such care, generally. Seems nice. Oh, we do struggle and fuss at each other over some fairly petty bullshit. We’ve got communication challenges because cPTSD is messy and my TBI is… challenging. We’re human. I get irked with him. He gets irked with me. That’s just real. Frustration and bullshit and baggage are parts of the human experience. We’re pretty fucking human. Sometimes it is easier to love each other from a bit of a distance. LOL

This morning I miss him. I reflect more on what works than on what doesn’t. I’m grateful for the love we share. Could I do better? Yes. Could he? Yes. Do we both need more practice? Yup. I smile thinking of him fondly without overlooking the practical realities of loving him. Love doesn’t need me to tell myself pretty lies or to whitewash my lived experience. Love is no happily ever after fairytale. It’s also not a tragedy. Love is love. Part of living life. It’s complicated and messy and sometimes needs more from me than I feel I have to give. My results vary.

I just keep practicing.

It’s time to begin again.

Sipping my coffee and feeling a tad sluggish and disengaged this morning. I am contemplating all the many things I think want to do, experience, or change. From this vantage point of “feeling disengaged”, it suddenly seems quite overwhelming to want to both “be very good at my work” and also “improve my fitness and emotional wellness”. Fuuuuuck… there are a lot of verbs wrapped up in those two things, and my list is longer than those! Suddenly I just want to walk on a beach somewhere – hot or cold – and just be. I feel… exhausted. Makes no sense. I’m resting, aren’t I? My sleep is okay, isn’t it? I sigh out loud in this quiet place where my day has started.

…I check my fitness tracker for data, instead of relying on impressions and emotions…

Over the past month I’ve averaged 7 hours or so of sleep per night, and the change in medication has resulted in the sleep I get being much more restful. That’s good news. Looking closer I also see that there are a couple noteworthy outliers – nights that I slept more than 9 hours. When I eliminate those (3 nights), the average amount of sleep I’m actually getting is only 6 hours. Endurable but not ideal (for me personally). Okay, so maybe I really am tired. No point taking fatigue personally.

I find myself imagining driving some great distance and parking alongside a sunny meadow on a quiet lane and napping in my car. lol To be “nowhere doing nothing” sounds incredibly enticing right now.

…I find myself “in this place” kind of a lot…

I take a breath. I grab a bottle of water. I stretch. I think about fitness and emotional wellness – maintaining my health sort of allows everything else to fall into place more easily, and keeps challenges feeling quite manageable, generally. The changes to my medication have done a lot of reduce my anxiety and improve my energy and the quality of my rest. What am I missing? Exercise? I’m getting more of that too – and it feels good. A healthy diet? Definitely eating a more healthy diet, and it shows. I’m even drinking more water. So… what’s missing?

Cognitive rest matters more than I sometimes think about. Not just sleep, but actually giving my brain sufficient “down time” to process buffered information, and to rest/recharge/rebuild – and I’m pretty bad about making sure I get enough of that sort of rest. The new medications help, but I go from the cognitive busy-ness of a work day to the cognitive busy-ness of hearing about everything going on in the shop for my Traveling Partner, and then pump additional information into my head through my eye balls on top of that. Day after day, night after night – and I’m doing it without quite enough sleep. It’s too much, and it’s that simple. This need for (and lack of) cognitive rest is the primary driver of most of my trips out to the coast, my camping trips, and my time out on some trail with my camera. I’m just seeking internal quiet.

Giving myself a few minutes in the morning to really think about what I need to thrive, and listen to the woman in the mirror, goes a long way to meet the need for stillness… but it’s not “a cure”. This morning, I get to the end of my “me time” with a yawn, and a third cup of coffee.

It’s time to begin again.

Here we are, a new year. Today is my first day back to work after the New Year’s holiday. I sip my coffee and wonder what sort of year this one might be…

The weekend was filled with year-end sorts of things, including the massive journal-disposal project that I’ve been mulling over for a long time, and honestly didn’t expect to sit down, start, and finish so… “soon” isn’t the right word. “Unexpectedly” also missed the mark. I just… I guess I’m glad it is behind me. Surprised I pulled it off, perhaps. 🙂 After wandering through many hundreds of thousands of words across something like 15,000 pages, I’m glad to be done with it and free from the storage and “document security” headaches that went along with keeping those journals all these years. There were some worthy observations of life in those pages, for sure, and some beautiful, poignant, or insightful turns of phrase, and I’m glad I took a look back. Those details were sparse compared to the tedium, the tantrums, the madness, and the committing-to-paper of details that generally do best lived-in-the-moment and not written down for later review. I mean… damn I was angry a lot. Bitter. Disappointed. Frustrated. Lusty. Struggling. Did I mention the lustiness? Yeah… I could have made a career writing pornography, I’m sure. LOL

…In some sense the hardest part about letting go of these journals and the years of writing was discovering that I already had

It was interesting to see the change in my writing at the point at which my Traveling Partner and I had gotten together. Before we were lovers we were friends, and it was at that point I also began tapering off the various psych meds I was on at that time, (in part due to his encouragement and fueled by his astonishment at what I was taking and at what dosages). I really couldn’t write easily (or paint) on those meds; my creativity was severely impaired. To get that back, I had to go off the meds I was on (and it would be until very recently that I stayed wholly off all those medications, generally). My partner was very supportive of my painting and writing and my wellness.

At my most heavily medicated, I wrote very little.

My Traveling Partner and I had met many many years earlier – we resumed our friendship when we reconnected, working for the same employer in 2009, but didn’t start hanging out until early in 2010. By March that year we were nearly inseparable friends, jovially sharing our commute on public transit each day.

I was tapering off the psych meds, and both my writing and my painting were becoming a bigger part of my experience.

In October, after we each/both broke things off with other relationships, we moved in together. By May 2011 we’d gotten married. My writing exploded in an environment in which I felt emotionally safe to just write, to just fucking be. It wasn’t always comfortable; there were times when my Traveling Partner would actually choose to leave rather than be around me while I was writing or painting. There was so much “bottled up inside me” that finally “had a voice”. It was an intensely creative period.

2011 used a lot of pages!

When I think back on that time, and I think specifically about how much my current partnership has both inspired and supported me creatively… I’m astonished, and filled with love and gratitude. My Traveling Partner, as much as any one person ever could claim to be, has been my muse. My inspiration. My day-to-day “driving force” – for change, for momentum, for growth and progress, for continuing to begin again. Love makes it all matter so very much. He is also more uniquely capable than any one other human being of hurting my feelings in an instant, moving my heart, pissing me off, and being part of my journey. Fuck I love this guy. I could say more… but I think I’ve said it all at some point… I mean, just based on the amount I’d already written down since we got together…

My partner’s presence felt in every volume. Inspired by love.

I’m not sure…, but it could be that this post is sort of a love letter to a human being who played an important part in freeing me to truly work on becoming the woman I most want to be… finally. That can’t be an easy part to play in this messy life of mine.

If I could have easily done just one additional thing with all those journals it would have been to run the entirety of the content through some sort of algorithm that could reduce it down to just the unique observations – removing the duplicates, the mad spirals, and the redundancy, leaving behind only the things I said, wrote, and observed, each just the once. I wonder how much would actually be left? What wisdom have I gained (and lost) over time? I sip my coffee and think about that… and the way redirecting my writing to this space, this practice, has improved the quality of my writing. (It’s easy to see, having taken the opportunity to compare those volumes to these posts more or less “side by side”.)

I actually “write more” these days. It’s not always obvious; no clutter to measure by. lol I’m also much happier – and it was clear flipping through those pages that the deeply conflicted, traumatized, chronically unhappy woman I once was has been transformed over time. I still have challenges. I still have work to do. I’ve still got an eye on my mental health – and probably always will. I’m also doing pretty splendidly most of the time, by most measures. It’s a good place to be, and I’m grateful to my partner for sharing this journey with me. He’s a hell of a good “traveling companion” for a trip like this. lol I gotta remember to say thank you. 😀

In the meantime, I suppose I’ll just begin again… again. 😀 I wonder where this path leads…