Archives for category: Brain Injury

Tomorrow I go back to work. That isn’t today. Today, however, is a good day to prepare, to make myself ready, to review plans and expectations, to jot down questions, to plot a new commute with care, and plan out new routines that take into account my return to the workforce, as well as the likelihood that I’ll be seeing a great deal more of my traveling partner as the weather turns from festival summer to fireside fall.

The end of a chilly rainy autumn day.

Yesterday ended well, although chilly.

Who am I? It seems a day for such questions. Rainy. Mild. More yellow and amber tones in the leaves of the trees on the far side of the park than there were yesterday. Evidence of time passing, and of seasons changing. I feel transformed, myself, and able to face the prospect of working with quite a bit more contentment, and in much less day-to-day pain, even with the chill of autumn approaching. Has it really meant so much to take this time to care for myself, to live on my own terms, to follow my own agenda? Just six months? Worth it. Totally worth it. I’ll even be taking understandings gained and this perspective on the healing power of leisure into the workplace with me; I’ve learned a lot that has value to long-term workforce management strategies. Am I this person, this analyst-manager, this workforce management professional, this corporate employee? Is this who I am? No. Not really. I am not my work.

I look around the studio, very tidy – even projects in progress are cleaned up, for now, and put neatly aside. I’ll have a guest for some days, soon. Is this who I am? Hostess? Family member, local matriarch, devoted servant of home and hearth? Or am I the artist who has so accommodatingly set everything aside to welcome friends in need, lovers in distress, a traveler returning home, or family visiting from afar? Am I the frustrated citizen, attempting to dot i’s, cross t’s, and jump through hoops of paperwork on fire to comply with some requirement or another? Am I the disabled veteran, committed to my wellness, frustrated by “the system”, still doing what I can to meet my own needs over time, through diet, exercise, and careful management of my health? Am I the woman on the meditation cushion in the window, content, calm, relaxed? (Occasionally distracted with childlike delight to see a squirrel dart past, or a woodpecker stop at the suet feeder, sending both bird and feeder spinning crazily, to my great amusement.)

Who am I? Am I all these – or none? When I cling to some singular potentially defining quality, like my appearance, or an attitude, or a characteristic, or some detail singled out, change becomes such a frightening destructive force, with the potential to rob me of who I am. “Who am I?” is a question that quite honestly used to terrify me – not because I didn’t have a sense of self, but because I didn’t know what “the right answer” was, and that, by itself, was quite terrifying. Follow that with finding myself unclear on precisely what is required to prove the answer. Yep. Terrifying to feel so… unidentified.

There is no “right” answer. There may be quite a few… not “wrong” exactly… “incorrect”? Inaccurate. There may be quite a few inaccurate answers. I take time to consider the difference between “accurate” and “honest”. Truthful fits in there, somewhere, too. I’m not sure that accuracy in the details that describe this being of light wrapped in this fragile vessel made of meat actually answers the question “who am I?” at all well.

It’s a pleasant enough autumn morning, on the edge of a major life change. It seems a good time to give a moment of thought and consideration to the woman in the mirror. It doesn’t have to be fancy, or deep, or complicated; I’ll pick out work clothes for tomorrow at some point later, and likely find myself contemplating the woman in the mirror, who she has become, where she is headed, and how she hopes to share herself in this new context. That’s enough for now. 🙂

A cloudy autumn day suitable for hiking. A good day to walk on; the journey isn't about the destination.

Today begins well, a cloudy autumn day suitable for hiking. The season is changing.

Today is a good day to consider the journey. Today is a good day to walk on. Change is. Perhaps it’s just the season for it? 🙂

No witty words today. No observations of particular note. No emotional salve. No imagery. Today, I practice. I haven’t yet found my social security card, which I didn’t realize I’d misplaced until I happened on it some weeks ago. It was conveniently already in a place “that makes sense”, where I “couldn’t possibly lose it”, and which I had already forgotten, previously. It wasn’t my best decision-making to leave it in that location trusting that I wouldn’t forget it, yet again.

It's just a bit of paper.

Well, damn… Where did I put that?

This morning I am made entirely of human, and the practicing with be all of those that help me ‘keep myself together’ in the face of potentially an entire day of small frustrations while I hunt down this worthless 2″ x 3″ piece of paper no one gives two shits about until it’s time to fill out an I-9 for employment. I’m somewhat amused to live in a state without reciprocity between the DMV and Social Security Administration, because I’d have been able to order a replacement online to be mailed to me if they did, and I’m mostly pretty done with being angry about it; amusement is what’s left over.  Suffice it to say my in-person visit with the SSA was not ideally successful; I feel victorious over my issues to struggle with public tears on the phone with my traveling partner and nothing worse.

It's just a piece of paper. It is not "who I am".

It’s just a piece of paper. It is not “who I am”.

So. The practicing. Today I’ll both look for the card (again), and maintain positive self-soothing practices hoping to keep my experience of frustration very minimal. That sounds so… easy…

I can't help think there's got to be a better way... it's the number that matters.

I think there’s got to be a better way… it’s the number that matters. (Hello? 21st century? Can we get an upgrade here, please?)

“Easy” doesn’t describe my experience of frustration very often. Frustration is my kryptonite. My results may vary. There are a quantity of verbs involved. Taking care of the woman in the mirror such that she is efficient, focused, committed – but not a frantic madwoman tearing the house apart enraged or hysterical – is one of the more major challenges I deal with when faced with frustration. That’d be quite the tight-rope act 3-4 years ago, or more. Today it feels like an exam. A test. Well… sure, okay. I’m being tested. Good test results may rely on good general self-care… it’s at least somewhere to start. So. Coffee. Yoga. Meditation. A nutritious balanced breakfast between 200-350 calories. Exercise. And the cherry on top; time spent considering how very often I do find things, lost things, misplaced things, things that have been moved in a thoughtless moment. I find things. It’s here somewhere. 🙂

Helpfully, it's quite unique in appearance.

Helpfully, it’s quite unique in appearance.

Sometimes the practices I need most turn out to have benefits I didn’t consider before. For me, the opposite of frustration is not “gratification”, it is “emotional ease”. The last time I misplaced something dear to me, that remained lost, unfound, perhaps “gone forever”, I lost myself in hysterics for hours and felt low and rather lost, myself, for many days. I grieved. It seems excessive, generally, for lost stuff. Today is a good day to treat myself better than that. 🙂

It's just a bit of paper.

It’s just a bit of paper.

Somewhere in my mind’s eye, I imagine an orderly school room of children, a teach or test proctor at the front… “Pencils up! And begin.” Today is a good day to begin again. It’s enough.

He’s gone, now. Like a dust-devil on the open desert; approaching from a distance, I had an idea my traveling partner would likely head my way at some point, and probably need to stop by for this or that, but no clear expectation of timing. While that’s not my own preference for managing details, I am content to enjoy him when I can. He suggests, by phone, at some point yesterday, he’d be by right about… whenever he’s here, really, and that’s what I heard, regardless of what it was he said, which I no longer recall.  I only knew he’d come, at some point, and I’d feel his arms around me for a moment, before – just as with that allegorical dust-devil – he’s quite gone again. I find myself smiling this morning, grateful for love’s moments, unconcerned over love’s lack of commitment to efficient scheduling. 🙂

the twilight of dawn

Letting go of attachment takes practice. I’m still practicing.

His planning shifted with the day. He would be here… He might not make it… He definitely wouldn’t make it that day, but would make time the next… Then, quite late… “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in about 8 minutes.” No argument from me, and no stress. Oh, sure, this level spontaneity isn’t so much my thing, but being bitchy about it tends to degrade the general quality of our experience together in the moment, and he is aware that I like a bit of planning, some structure, all that – if he could offer it in that moment, he would have, because when he can, he does.

develops

Embracing impermanence requires practice. I’m still practicing. 

Life is not a freight train on rails following a set, fixed, known path, with a clear schedule to which it adheres, not even “generally”. Why would love be constrained by a timetable when life herself can’t get her shit together enough to make and follow a workable plan, day-to-day?! LOL Planning and having a fairly clear idea of the day and week ahead, those are my wants, needs,  and inclinations, and it absolutely makes sense to me that I tend to organize my time in a fairly firm way. Other people find less value in the routine and predictable, and seek greater spontaneity in their adventures. I’m learning to let go and avoid suffering in life when plans fall through, or reality refuses to comply with my expectations, which are very often upended by life, by love, by circumstance, by whim, by opportunity, by choice, by chance… Life is far more important than the schedule with which someone tries to regulate and manage it. 😀

the sun rises

I begin again. A lot. 

Damn, I do miss him, though, already. That’s okay, too. The whirlwind moments of his brief visit were shared in the company of friends, dear to us both. He was here! His gear was quickly, rather sloppily assembled (also not my preference, and it had been planned differently lol). Conversation happening, his gear still ends up packed, somehow. Much fun was had in those brief moments together. Laughter. Hugs. Friendship. Warmth. Love. Tenderness. Kindness. Adulting. I’m still lingering on those precious moments, because I have learned they are by far more important and more worthy of savoring than the poignant quiet moment at the end of the day, alone in the darkness. Here I sit, with my coffee and my quiet smile, content and wrapped in love. 🙂

Mmmm... Life is good.

Mmmm… Life is good.

We become what we practice. There are verbs involved. 🙂

Swim or float. Dance or run away. Choose or be swept away by chance, and change. Things do change. It amuses me that one of life’s constants is change, itself.

I woke early, feeling I’d ‘overslept’, but only because I’m resetting my internal clock to wake more precisely at 5 am daily, in preparation for returning to the work force. (Why is it a “work force“, exactly?) Unsure what woke me, I rose, did my ‘oh crap I’m so stiff’ yoga sequence, then made my way toward coffee. I smile, mindful that my routines are at risk of breaking with my traveling partner staying over. It’s on me to manage my self-care, and ensure I stay on track with fitness tasks, and meditation. It is a comfortable awareness where once it felt only frustrating. I keep practicing. So many things are about the experience of a practice, more than any end result, that I’ve gotten much more skilled at not being invested in a particular outcome, which seems also quite comfortable now.

I think I’m saying I recognize I’m fit to return to work, by my own understanding of my self, on my own terms. 🙂 It’s a welcome observation.

My smile rests comfortably on my face; I smile a lot these days, genuine, natural, unforced. It feels good. Smiles feel good; if the facial expression I’m holding in place doesn’t feel good, it’s probably not smiling, however many teeth I may be showing. lol

Change is a real thing, though, and sweeps in as a storm as often as it creeps  in slowly like the tide. Either way, it’s fairly unavoidable. I expected this would be quite a solitary week. It is a week spent in the company of friends, and with my traveling partner. I expected I probably would not see my traveling partner for many days, from last Thursday, to next Tuesday sometime, but here’s he, now, having his morning coffee…and there’s some chance we’ll dine together after I am off work my first day back, next Monday. Not all the changes thrown my way are of consequence, some are quite wonderful and pleasant, some have nothing whatever to do with me, rippling over my experience like the waves of some pebble tossed into still water. Change is, I have no say in that. I’m learning to swim. Learning to dance. Learning to choose to be changed along the way, with a calm heart, and wide-eyed with wonder.

Each time for the first time, each moment the only moment.  ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

Each time for the first time, each moment the only moment. ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

It’s a lovely morning on the fading edge of summer. The days grow shorter, and cooler. The nights are becoming longer, and chilly. I begin the days in darkness now, watching the sunrise as I write is far more rare; it hasn’t yet begun, and I am almost finished here, this morning. The wheel turns.

My partner’s voice resonates with warmth and love (or simply because his deeper male voice sounds so to my ears) when he steps into the studio for a word or two. A welcome interruption… I’m nearly finished here, and the day is getting started. There’s a life to live, and a world to explore! There will probably be changes… where I am an ‘agent of chaos’ in my own life, my traveling partner is as often an ‘agent of change’, through his adventurous spirit and spontaneity. Change is. It’s far easier to surrender to the inevitability of change, and to grow, than to resist it – and to grow in some other direction, with considerably less comfort. LOL 😉

IMAG8161

 

It could be that some of my challenges will be part of my experience for as long as I’m experiencing things. It sucks more than a little bit to dwell on that, so I move on with my thinking as quickly as I can, but without cruelty or dismissiveness. I am human, after all. This morning I woke, and quickly found myself reduced to tears…over… nothing. Nothing whatsoever that has any substance in this moment, I mean. Emotions. Dreams? Maybe.

"The Nightmare City" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas w/glow

“The Nightmare City” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas w/glow

I woke feeling angry with my traveling partner, which is odd; one of my challenges is feeling safe about, and comfortably expressing, anger in my closest relationships. (It’s baggage that isn’t about my traveling partner, but he’s had to endure me lugging it around all this time.) I woke feeling angry that in our first years married, illness held him back from doing a lot of cool things; we stayed home, a lot. Now he’s well, and feeling fully himself, and he lives a busy life of adventure, going, doing, experiencing new things… and we no longer live together, and these are not our shared experiences. The anger I woke with quickly threatened to become a tantrum, a storm of unrelenting strong emotion knocking me off-balance with hurt feelings, and regrets. The anger became grief and sadness as soon as I let myself feel my feelings with compassion, and recognized the simultaneous feelings of resentment, sadness, and insecurity. My heart cried out “what do we have that is ours?” and I couldn’t answer it – not because there is nothing with which to answer, but because I can’t easily find the answer (through tears, through heartache, through the fog of just waking up, before my coffee…) without considerable thought. I let the tears come; it would be a genuinely sad thing to share nothing with one’s lover, and were that the case, there would be no failure in these honest tears.

It's okay to put some of that down, for now.

It’s okay to put some of that down, for now.

Later, I sip my coffee aware of the authentic feelings at the root of my difficult waking moments. I’m deeply in love with this particular human being I call my traveling partner, and at least for now we live very separate lives. Sometimes that is a painful experience. Sometimes it holds some relief that this human being so dear to me doesn’t have to struggle under the weight of my chaos and damage full-time. Right now, in this moment, I just miss him and find myself wondering rather hormonally what value I have… (Fuck you, Menopause, I’m supposed to be past having to deal with hormonal bullshit!) It’s rather foolish. It’s very human.

Love matters most.

Love matters most.

Seasons change. Over the long summer I’ve come to miss him greatly, after enjoying living with him through the winter. I’m eager to enjoy the autumn and winter months together, celebrating holidays, enjoying the company of friends… but… there is something real here that may want my attention, and getting past the tears I’m aware that most his “go” and “do” activities in the past 2 years have developed in other relationships than ours. We spend very little time together; he’s busy elsewhere. (It’s quite possible the time we do spend together fully meets his needs. I’m not sure I’m ready to ask that question…) I woke up hurting over it and wondering what value “we” have for him. It’s not something to stew over – that’s a fast track to misery. I’ll just ask when I see him again, and he will tell me, and then I’ll know. I’ll be back to work soon… there won’t be time for fussing about how little time we spend together, then; there won’t be time left in the days for it. The time we spend together will be limited to the time we have.

My calendar is very full for the next several days. Appointments. Brunch with a friend over the weekend. Friday night with the guys from my previous work team. My last week of leisure will probably be filled with “getting ready to go back to work” activities. It’s not likely that these will be days filled with sadness or passing emotional storms, there’s too much to do, and life to be lived. I feel some regret that my traveling partner wasn’t available to enjoy more of this time away from work with me… but it was time I took for me, as it was, and it has been well-spent on healing, growing, and practicing good self-care. Worthy endeavors, good outcomes. (So, hey, Brain, stop being such a bitch to me, please?)

A gray dawn greeted me so gently I barely noticed it had become day time while I wrote. I’m not crying now, or even sad really. I’m sipping my coffee, listening to music, and feeling a contented smile tug at the corners of my mouth. I think about other friends. Other loves. Other moments of great joy – or great sorrow. Impermanence is a very real thing, and change is, too. I smile thinking about my traveling partner’s good times to come, and his journey here and there. I’m already eager to hear about it – and he hasn’t even departed. lol He’ll take approximately no pictures at all, but my imagination will fill in all the details in the telling. 🙂

Today I don’t opt into loneliness, and once my tears have dried it’s another lovely morning, heading into another day of living a life built mostly on contentment (and bits and pieces of chaos and damage). Today is a good day to begin again. 🙂