Archives for category: Brain Injury
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14…33…50.

May 29, 2013 //
2

It’s just 14 days to my 50th birthday, now. It feels ‘imminent’. Life is rich and filled with experiences, with connections, with opportunities, with emotion, and with growth. It’s quite wonderful…wonder filled…and the smallest things seem large, or important, or memorable. Things I might have overlooked quite easily at other points in my life. Small things stand out, meaningful, and cherished. I am learning appreciation…and gratitude. I am learning to recognize the affection of others, and to welcome it – even embracing a more genuine (and rather extroverted) experience of myself that finds me with a lingering smile and joy in my relationships with others.

Today, a lot of that joy in my experience is represented in a fun moment with friends – who happen, also, to be colleagues. A funny moment of solidarity and shared experience in #33 Starry Blue, which we are all wearing today. I do love glittery nail polish, and sharing the fun of it with friends is … fun, and sweet, and delightful, and… connected. 🙂

What are connections made of?

What are connections made of?

I used to shy away from connections…fearful…awkward…inept…confusing my own fears and insecurities with a dislike of ‘my fellow man’…confusing my love of safety in solitude with introversion, and running from what I didn’t understand about life and love and connecting, rather than exploring what frightened me so much.  I’m definitely not the woman I was at 14… or 33… am I ready to be the woman I am at 50?

There’s so much I am learning; I don’t know how to share most of it, or even how to determine whether sharing it is a thing that matters. Perhaps simply ‘being’ is enough? I know that I am grateful to have so many wonderful friends, and in spite of my doubts and hormones and the chaos and wreckage in my heart and my head, this is a wonderful life to share with them, and to enjoy, myself.

I wonder what the second half holds?

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, women, Words

Rocks In My…

May 28, 2013 //
4

…I bet I already know how you finished that phrase, if you speak American English as a native. lol. Actually, I have rocks in my thoughts, so perhaps you aren’t far off? 🙂  I’m 15 days from my birthday…my new aquarium is standing in its place, ready to be leak tested, and waiting a final equipment check.  Yesterday I delighted my senses with a visit to a nearby landscaping business for some choice rocks for the decor. (Yes, I am the sort of being who finds searching great piles of river rock for just the right ones quite entertaining and satisfying.)   My experience is one of ‘creating a world’. lol. Grand of me, I know, but it is the sort of imagination I have, and really the metaphors while I also ‘work on me’ are endless and wonderful.

...a box of rocks.

…a box of rocks.

The box of rocks is exciting on its own, but it also got me thinking about aphorisms, homilies, figures of speech, slogans, and idioms; shortcuts we take to communicate.  Thinking on that ‘box of rocks’ and how we take communication shortcuts that rely on our listener’s own experience, history, and culture to understand us (by implication) as much as explicitly through our own unique verbiage, (if not more so) quickly put my attention on the clear contradiction between embracing a genuine life and genuine sense of self (sense of genuine self?) and taking verbal shortcuts.  Only 15 days left, and the first half ends…so, I will commit to avoiding the use of figures of speech, slogans, idioms, homilies, and aphorisms for the next 15 days.  Why? I mean, we all use them (some of us more than others). Aren’t they pretty harmless? Well… maybe, but it struck me that colorful or not, expressive or not, they are both lazy and imprecise – and in no case is a choice to use someone else’s phrasing truly ‘my own voice’. Worse still, so many times lately, at the heart of some bit of logical fallacy, error in reasoning, failure to take care of myself emotionally, or moment of treating someone else less well than I could have, I find some verbal shortcut that has become, over time, ‘programming’ instead.  It starts with nursery rhymes and rote memorization in childhood, and slowly becomes who we are.

Maybe you think I’m taking this too seriously? ‘ Making a mountain out of a…’  I don’t need to finish that, do I? Ok,  maybe it seems a small thing, and unlikely to change the way any of us view the world we live in. Perhaps. I mean… Science is safe from sloppy language becoming programming, right? Hmmm… maybe. Again, maybe. What if I ask you what the moon is made of? If the little voice inside your consciousness quickly quips ‘green cheese’ in the background – even though you know it is not factual– just maybe this is a bigger deal than seems obvious.  I’m at least going to give myself 15 days to be who I am, using my own words as much and as often as possible – even correcting myself if I catch myself taking a short-cut through the programming. lol. Why? Because ‘I love you, too.’ means more when it isn’t a knee jerk reaction to someone else saying ‘I love you’, and ‘because I want to be heard’…my own thoughts…my own words…the things that matter to me, about me, to be understood by others.

While I walked to work, I gave the matter of words a bit of thought, well, a lot of thought. I came up with uncountable numbers of simple phrases heard over my lifetime that have become something beyond a sentence or a simple thought – they are cultural programming.  I won’t list them, you no doubt have your own, I simply suggest that for me, it is time to retire as many phrases, and sentences, that I quickly reach for every day, in favor of more genuine heartfelt communication.  If it auto-completes in my head, I’ll be looking for other words. lol.

…In other words, 50 seems a nice point in life to be who I am.

Being one, among many.

Being one, among many.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, Free Will, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, Words

Another Attack by The Brain

May 24, 2013 //
1

I woke ‘too early’, though I suppose it’s never too early to spend pleasant moments with a lover…only, I am alone now, with my coffee, impatiently watching the clock to head to my Friday appointment.

The morning started wonderfully well, then took a detour through ancient pain through the wonders of human communication and all it’s grand potential to have pitfalls and consequences. Now I am withstanding the nearly inevitable attack on myself from within that so often follows dialogue that even brushes past damage…and this morning was more like ripping off a scab by mistake, because it looked like a bit of nothing-or-other to be brushed away.

I am feeling frustrated, on a couple levels, and incredibly angry ‘with the world’… which I think may be more accurately described as ‘angry with people who hurt me long ago’.  It is the heart of my struggle with anger. This anger is largely unresolved, unaddressed, and ever-present, the sort of thing no one in my here/now experience deserves directed at them, and without any hope of being addressed with the appropriate individuals. I have the perception it must surely be the most vile and horrific expression of terrible rage ever in humanity’s history with anger, too, because as soon as it ever begins to come up, everyone around me immediately moves to do or say whatever it takes to shut it down. I have a lifetime of experience that says to me that my anger is unacceptable. I try and try to deal with it alone, and I suck at it in a most extraordinary way, I admit.

We each have our challenges and issues. I doubt mine are truly unique, and there are women who have and will suffer worse, more, and longer. I have survived some nasty shit. Broken, but perhaps not beyond repair, frustrated, but loved…things are better than they were, but god damn, I am so tired –  fatigued – from continuously working to address first one bit of damage, then another, with a frequent experience that feels a bit like scrubbing a huge expanse of floor, and just when I take a moment to appreciate the work well done, someone walks up and says (in a totally well-meaning way) “you missed a spot”. It’s frustrating…almost seems like the floor just keeps getting bigger.

Am I just bitching? Maybe…I am still headache-y, and feeling disappointed that I have challenges getting the emotional support I need…but a great deal of that is likely tied to my lack of skill at asking for what I need. Harder still to communicate that some particular thing is very important to me, especially when I have my own doubts that it makes sense, or what I need from the moment as a result.

I don’t feel well understood this morning, and something I was trying to communicate got swept aside for something else also important… I feel lonely and not well cared-for, right now, which has me doubting… so many things. That is the nature of this morning’s brain attack: doubt. My rational mind ‘knows’ this doubt and depressed bit of morning is illusory (thank you mindfulness!)… the feelings are what they are, just feelings.

How do I tell a lover that all I really want is a few minutes with strong comforting arms around me, and reassuring words while I cry really hard for just a few minutes, when I have so much trouble acknowledging it for myself?

Friday’s experience is brought to you by trauma, damage, and a will to survive… There’s hope for the day, yet; I got an early start.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Metaphors, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Rape, Relationships, Turning 50

Good-bye, Old Friend

May 23, 2013 //
2
So many metaphors...hard to choose just one. (detail from "Anxiety" 2011)

So many metaphors…hard to choose just one. (detail from “Anxiety” 2011)

I’m saying good-bye to an old friend.

A steady rain falls this morning, like a lifetime of tears falling in a day; the sort of respectable rainfall that farmers count on, and that quickly turns a pleasant walk into a test of endurance. I like rain. I especially like rain from a warm, dry vantage point with a hot cup of coffee. I’ve got my coffee, the rain, and if I want to reach into my heart and touch something that hurts, I have my share of tears, too. I also have a headache. The headache is part of this particular good-bye.

You see, after more than a decade, I am finally saying good-bye to prescription anxiety medication. Aside from this headache, and a few somewhat surreal days, it hasn’t been too difficult. I was most concerned about some potential that I’d suddenly be taken over by the level of anxiety that was my everyday experience before I embraced Big Pharm’s tempting sales pitch. A decade is a long time to take a drug, and I’m not surprised that the experience of withdrawing from it is more profound than the assurances and platitudes the literature provides; nearly all the research I’ve been able to access is based on clinical trials of short-term use (6-8 weeks), and none of it is based on a decade or more of continuous use.  Actions have consequences. A decade is a long time to take a drug.  There is too much information available, and a lot of recent reporting, regarding how business interests have resulted in a substantial amount of medical research being suppressed, or actually manipulated for a desired outcome, and similar sorts of things that frankly scare the hell out of me every time I look in my medicine cabinet. I’m painfully aware, too, that doctors are people, not gods, and just as prone to fraud, deceit, greed, error and simple incompetence as anyone else. I am serious about embracing a genuine experience of who I am – of being myself. Really being myself. So, the time had come to back up my recent progress with real trust that my experience is improved, and that I am more whole than I had been, and am capable of continuing to grow and improve my experience, and heal my ancient hurts. I decided to take care of me in a different way. Big Pharm didn’t fix my issues, and couldn’t – they had 10 years to make it happen. lol. My turn. For real. I’m learning, healing, growing…and I am happy to see 50 without having to take mind-altering drugs to endure my experience, pacify my fears, or ‘make me presentable’ for the rest of the world. The headache today is worth it.

...not going to dwell on it... (detail of 'Broken' 2012)

…not going to dwell on it… (detail of ‘Broken’ 2012)

I’m still human. I still feel anxiety. I still have things to work on, to work out, to understand more clearly. I have more to learn. I still have PTSD, and I’m still learning new skills for managing that experience more effectively. I still have a TBI, and I’m finally learning things that address that part of my experience directly, and that matters more than I ever know how to describe.

There’s always another lesson in life’s curriculum, isn’t there? My morning thoughts and contemplation are interrupted. I am finding that my concentration is limited for now, as I say good-bye to this ‘old friend’. I’m not sorry to see it go. But it is a complicated good-bye.

...each having our own experience. (detail of "Emic" 2012)

…each having our own experience. (detail of “Emic” 2012)

It is sometime later, now. The serenity of the  morning didn’t last, and while that is disappointing, I’m finding that I am ok, myself.  Anxiety is what it is, and I’m ok. My own experience, right now, right here, is one of relative calm; concerned, aware, and finding significant perspective in the beauty of a rainy day, and the many shades of green I see. Some experiences have more value than others, and for the moment a rainy day trumps anxiety and ‘what if’ scenarios.

Respect…consideration…compassion…reciprocity…openness…my ‘Big 5’ only look easy on paper. I’m finding that getting there is still a destination, and the journey requires an everyday commitment to mindful choices, and awareness. I want it to be easy. I accept that both effort and will are required; this is not about easy.

I’m tired and my head aches. That’s worth it, too. I’m giving myself my self for my 50th birthday.

"Who am I? Wait...I had something for this..." (detail of 'Kronos' 2002)

“Who am I? Wait…I had something for this…” (detail of ‘Kronos’ 2002)

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Categories Anxiety, Art, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Turning 50, Uncategorized, women

Rain

May 18, 2013 //
2

I woke early this morning.  It was uneventful, and mostly due to my failure to shut off my alarm clock the night before.  I enjoyed the luxury of loitering in bed, wrapped up on warm blankets, enjoying the freedom to daydream, and muse about what matters to me. I further enjoyed the freedom to let my thoughts be on their way when I was sufficiently entertained, rather than getting caught up in a moment of distress, or allowing myself to succumb to some attack on my serenity from lurking personal demons. Eventually, morning won over additional sleep, and I have enjoyed watching the dawn unfold gently through the windows, thinking about my upcoming birthday, my life, my loves, my values, my needs, my humanity, my will, my intentions, my desires… it has been a very think-y morning.

I got done with that, soon enough. Since then, I’ve been sipping my latte and watching a misty rain gradually develop into quite a rainy morning, a drenching Oregon downpour, in fact, of the sort that defines our reputation for changeable wet weather. I love the rain. I rarely feel anything but soothed and peaceful on rainy days, and that has been part of who I am since I can remember.

“…Since I can remember…”  I can’t always, you know. My memory has been crap-tastic, also ‘since I can remember’.  That’s the TBI making one of its contributions to my experience, most likely.  Almost 50 (25 days to go) and headed for menopause, and being an artist, people in my life tend to accept the memory issues in a matter of fact way – it was by far more awkward and embarrassing in my 20s, when I was regularly accused of ‘not paying attention’, ‘not caring’, or ‘lying about not remembering’.  That would be one of the many reasons I’m quite happy not to be in my 20s anymore! lol

My birthday means more to me than makes any sense to me… 50 really seems like a big deal.  I mentioned it to a friend who is older and she smiled at me with the patience of a mother looking at the simple progress her child makes growing up; tolerant, understanding, compassionate, and from an entirely different perspective in life. I wonder if, at 70, 50 will still seem like it was a big deal? I also wonder why we tend to be so committed to a base 10 number system – so much so that we tend to benchmark our ‘decades’ as somehow more significant than other divisions of time on our lifeline… I mean… 14 was damned important to me… so was 5… and 11… 27… 9…32…40…47…clearly not all about 10s. Just a random musing on a rainy Saturday.

Someone dear to me hurt me incredibly deeply, recently.  My heart still aches with it.  The conflict between that person’s values and my own seems to stand out like a an Exit sign in a dark corridor.  It’ll have to be discussed at some point, because it is the sort of thing that matters, and speaks to the core of who I am as a being. I find myself touching the moment gently, tenderly, in my recollection and wondering ‘was that it, was that the end of a friendship?’  Not something to be taken lightly, at all. Something to ponder carefully.  I consider it, and let it go for now.

The rain falls, the household wakes… time to enjoy a rainy Saturday. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Spring, Turning 50, women, Words
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