Archives for category: Despair
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The Rise of the Fall

May 19, 2026 //
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In the news, grifters go on grifting, the president of the US openly engages in what looks like insider trading, greed continues to shove AI “features” into tools where no one wants it, and people who already have much continue to take more from people who have very little. It’s not exactly humanity’s finest hour. Measles. Hantavirus. Ebola. All pretty bad. You know what’s worse? Genocide. War. Greed.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Where does this path lead?

Do better. If nothing else, we can, as individuals, choose to do better than billionaires and authoritarian jackasses. We can stop chasing dollars, and take a long look in the mirror, and question the path we are on. Are you on the path to becoming the person you most want to be? Will you live a life you can be satisfied with, ethically, or will you go to your grave reviled by all those whose lives you damaged?

I’m not telling you what to do. I don’t have easy answers. I’m human, too. I want the safety of knowing the bills are paid, that my family is in good health, and the pantry is stocked. I want the luxury of an occasional meal out, new hiking boots when these wear out, and comfortable clothes that fit. We probably all want something. I’m not here to sneeze on the things that matter to you. We’re each having our own experience. I just don’t see many billionaires doing good things for the world by design. $100 of philanthropy does not make up for $100 in damage to humanity. It doesn’t work that way. That’s not “doing good” in the world, that’s just fixing a pothole caused by one’s own endeavors. Performative guilt-soothing “good” isn’t a benefit to humanity once the damage is done.

Sometimes human primates are very disappointing. (Looking your way Altman v. Musk) Shoving “AI” garbage into the experiences of people who just don’t want it is not good for humanity. It’s just another cash grab by out of touch assholes who think their perspective is the only one that matters.

I sigh to myself and pause on the trail to watch the sun rise. A beautiful sunrise never disappoints. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and fight off the existential angst I woke with. It’s not as if my bitching is changing anything. (Sorry.) I do dislike seeing humanity’s potential actively being undermined by AI slop and enshittification. It truly sucks to see humanity come so far to fall so hard, so fast.

…It does feel (to me) as if we’re falling (sometimes)…

It’s a chilly morning on the trail. The air tastes of something almost autumn-like. It’s still Spring, so it seems strange to taste autumn in the air… but… I think we may have broken our planet, along with other destructive outcomes of human douche-baggery. I sigh, and watch my breath become vapor.

I reach my halfway point and stop for awhile. A warmer fleece would have been a good choice, but relative to genocide or drone strikes, it’s a minor inconvenience, nothing more. I’m well aware that the world I live in is bigger than this peaceful place betwixt small town living and agriculture. I just can’t stomach what I see going on in the world, and this small personal escape each morning to find a moment of contentment, perspective, and solace in solitude is a practice that keeps me from losing hope.

For a moment I can focus my camera on clear blue sky and rest my soul.

A startled possum out for a late one waddles past in a hurry, sticking to the shadows. Strange to see one out in the open in daylight, but she’s clearly more worried about getting home than anything to do with me. Noisy robins get on with the morning. The clock keeps ticking. My head aches and my tinnitus is almost loud enough to mask the sound of HVAC on a nearby building. I sigh out loud just to remind myself that the tinnitus isn’t “real” at all.

What I put my attention on directly determines the quality and character of my experience. I pull myself back to this moment, here, now. I make myself a note about this moment, and the day ahead, and something to do with free will and choices and walking my own path. Then I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, women, Words

A Masterclass in Being Human

April 29, 2026 //
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Wow. Yesterday, though. It got off to a great early beginning, and crashed into chaos when the morning skittered sideways unexpectedly colliding with mental illness (mine) that is generally well-managed to the point of being mostly forgotten. With my Traveling Partner’s recovery making such good progress, I’ve been making adjustments to my HRT trying to find the sweet spot between effectiveness and timing/dosage. This went very wrong yesterday. I may as well have been an adolescent girl screaming at her mother with no justification, only hormones. Fucking hell.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I 100% lost my shit over nothing at all – a bit of very ordinary feedback and a request to check my breathing while I was on my device (curled over it uncomfortably and possibly holding my breath). On another day I’d have said thanks and corrected my posture. Instead I had a massive tantrum over it, which exploded into a PTSD meltdown and a complete loss of emotional control. It was ugly. My partner tried to deescalate the situation, but I had lost my fucking mind, like, for real.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

We eventually got back on track, which was frankly mostly to do with him. I trudged through a miasma of fucked chemistry and feelings of shame for much of the rest of the day. (Being mentally ill can be seriously embarrassing.) In spite of eventually recognizing the role my hormones (both my own and the artificial kind) played in the mess I made, I struggled to regain my feeling of balance. It took most of an uncomfortable and frequently paused workday to get things right. Adulting is hard.

… Dwelling on regrets is neither healthy nor helpful…

This morning? It is an entirely new day with new challenges, and I begin again, feeling hopeful and pretty much okay. I send a note to my GP about changes I could potentially make to my HRT and seeking advice. I have an appointment with my therapist later today. I sigh to myself, and check those off my list. Too much chaos, and for some reason I am regretting ever giving up an analog to-do list on a legal pad written in ballpoint pen, illuminated in the margins with commentary and little doodles. Why now, I wonder? The idea is enticing, though, more visual, more tactile, and just maybe more effective (for me; your results may vary).

This morning begins with phone calls (business) that I never could have handled yesterday. I complete them, feeling a bit unsatisfied with the outcomes. It is a sunny morning, though, and a lovely day so far. I don’t rush through my morning walk, although I got a later start than usual. Yesterday really fatigued me, and I woke only 1 minute ahead of my alarm. I dressed and slipped away quietly, hoping not to wake my beloved. I sit at my halfway point at last and wonder if I should work from the library today, at least for the morning? Seems wise, and would avoid disturbing my Traveling Partner’s rest. After yesterday, I know he really needs it. I find it quite hard to do battle with my demons, myself, I can’t imagine how much harder it is for him.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit thinking about yesterday’s blog post, the re-reading of which in the afternoon was part of how I began to get my shit sorted out. I never imagined, when I wrote those positive encouraging words how much I would need them myself, nor how soon. Humans being human. Mental illness is a really hard challenge – and maybe at its most complex and vexing when we heal enough to feel well generally. It’s easy to forget – I know I want to forget it, and even more so when things are beautiful and healthy and fun. Especially then. This is a massive pitfall, and a set-up for failure.

I watch the glow of early morning sunshine light up the treetops. We each have to walk our own mile, eh? What we practice matters; we become what we practice. Choose wisely.

I sigh and glance at the clock. Already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Spring Flowers

April 25, 2026 //
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It’s been awhile since I walked the marsh trail. I’ve mostly been staying closer to home, aside from an overnight trip to the coast – was that just last weekend?! It already seems like ages ago. My Traveling Partner woke me at 05:00, he was already awake. I got up, dressed, and headed for the trail. Lovely morning for it.

Lush green hues of Spring under a pink sky.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

As I stepped onto the trail and started down the path, I found myself preoccupied with war, and fretting about American aggression, Israel’s genocide of Palestine, Russia vs Ukraine, and continued flare ups of violence in the Middle East, Africa, and beyond. How is this not a world at war? I mean, seriously? What the actual fuck is wrong with humanity that we still tolerate (and foster) this kind of stupid violent nonsense? Why do we keep putting violent racist misogynist assholes into positions of power in the first place? How have we not, as a species, made the clear and obvious connection between global violence and its actual perpetrators? I just don’t understand how human beings can still be so g’damned violent and hateful, with so much historical evidence that it is destructive and wasteful and unlikely to achieve good outcomes. Fucking hell we are some stupid motherfuckers.

… Also, fuck Pete Hegseth and his ilk. He embodies the problem quite specifically with his hateful words, his misogyny, and his racism. Listening to this fuckwit trying to claim war is peace is so ridiculously “Animal Farm” and “1984” I just can’t believe he isn’t being mocked openly by far more people. Fiction masquerading as real life. This guy? Definitely not gonna make it to the heaven he says he believes in. He should RTFM. 😆 I shouldn’t laugh, because it isn’t funny. It’s terrifying and disappointing, and sad.

Do better. Do better than Pete Hegseth for sure. 🙄

It’s not hard to do better than a guy like Pete Hegseth; don’t kill anyone today, don’t fire people because you don’t like them, or because they are women, or people of color, or don’t share your religion. Don’t cut people down to make yourself feel large. Don’t pick fights. Don’t try to take what isn’t yours. You’d think people would learn this shit growing up.

I keep walking, and notice the Spring flowers along the trail. Beautiful and sweetly fragrant and unaware of the world’s unpleasantness and chaos.

Small purple flowers down in the grass.

I am delighted and distracted by the flowers. They pull me back into this moment, here, now. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let the world go, and fill my senses with Spring, grateful that there are no bombs dropping here (not yet). I walk on.

I see meadow flowers, blossoms waving in the breeze.

I walk, watching the sunrise bring a new day to life. I smile and keep walking. The breeze is sweet with the scent of flowers.

I pass bushes covered in clusters of fragrant flowers and stop for a closer look.

I breathe in the scents of flowers as I walk, grateful that I didn’t inherit my mother’s terrible allergies. She loved flowers, but generally couldn’t be near even scentless florist roses and carefully selected bouquets suggested to be low allergen. I love to get close to the flowers and inhale the intoxicating scent, and feel uplifted. There have been times when I really felt as if the fragrance itself was getting me high.

Fruit trees, too.

I pass by a place that was likely a homestead sometime in the past. There are very old fruit trees in a neat little row at the edge of the meadow, where the trail bends towards the river. They smell delicious. I run my hand over the bark. Plum? Pear? Apple? I take another close smell, and look at the blossoms. I’m not certain and don’t really feel inclined to make more effort to figure it out. I walk on.

A pleasant stop along the way.

I finally get to my halfway point. It feels further than I remember. 😆 It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve been here. I laugh at my foolishness without any particular concern or criticism. I sit awhile watching the sunlight change the shadows and patterns of light on the meadow as the sun rises. I don’t have the trail to myself today, but passing photographers and walkers just wave or say “good morning” as they pass, barely noticing me, really. It’s fine.

I meditate and enjoy the breeze and the little birds flitting about. A large plump robin lands in the leaf litter near my feet and digs around for tasty morsels, pausing now and then to consider my presence. She gives a loud bit of song and flies off.

It’s a pretty morning. I’m glad I let my attention shift to the lovely flowers and I sit thinking about my garden.

In my garden the first rose has bloomed.

There is much to do – weeding and planting and taking time to sip a cup of tea and just be. Pleasant and peaceful moments wait for me in the garden. I yawn and sneeze, and sit enjoying the sunshine awhile longer. I’m in no hurry. I can begin again anytime. It’ll be soon enough, whenever I get to it. For now, “now” is enough.

There are moments of peace and joy in spite of a world rather pointlessly at war.
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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Roses, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Road’s End

April 18, 2026 //
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Roads end. I mean, I guess they do, at some point, even this one, although it doesn’t appear to end here. That’s just the name of this place, “Road’s End”. It’s a small state park at the edge of the shore, with a trail down to the beach. I am here, listening to the sound of wind and waves (and some asshole with their car radio on loud enough to be heard, which I could do without).

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

The view from Road’s End

I definitely need this time alone. I don’t get much solitude as things are, and my Traveling Partner was encouraging to the point of being willing to find me a suitable hotel and book a room for me. (I was going to make it a day trip and call it good enough.) I felt very loved, and excited to enjoy the day on the coast, and a night of solitary fun, reading, writing, and meditating.

A small bird. A moment.

This morning is different. At least for now I am neither merry nor at peace with myself. Instead I’m wrestling demons. It’s fine. Part of life with cPTSD and brain damage, I guess, and in spite of some 30 years in and out of therapy of one sort or another, I still deal with the chaos and damage. I’m not surprised by that, though I am dismayed, disappointed, and even sometimes despairing over it when shit blows up over some little thing, or I disgrace myself by losing my temper or hurting someone I care about with thoughtless words or actions. I do my best, I still fail. This is human.

… It’s also human when it’s someone else having a moment. It is important to forgive, and to make room for people to grow through experience. We’re each having our own experience…

So I’m sitting here at Road’s End, thinking my thoughts. Thinking about endings and beginnings, and change, and trying to be grateful for the solitude I am fortunate to enjoy. I need this time to myself, it meets needs I struggle to meet without the quiet of solitude. I do wish I were enjoying it on other terms than these but feeling mired in my bullshit, I’m glad to be alone with that.

… But is the sky still blue?

What matters most? I sit with the question for a little while, on a fence rail looking out at the sea. The sound of ocean waves reaching the shore and the sea breezes used to be enough to drown out my tinnitus. Now there is a high pitched whine that I still hear, but only on the left side. I frown, momentarily distracted from my thoughts. I hope it’s nothing serious.

I’m thinking about my “baggage”. Not the carefully packed weekend bag I slid onto the seat of the car. I mean “my baggage”. It’s a figure of speech that is so apt it’s easy to forget it is metaphorical. No matter where I go, no matter what relationship I’m in, I drag my bullshit along with me. Baggage. I’ve made so many changes, and I have grown and improved my thinking and behavior so much over the years, but at any moment I may yet again be standing in the middle of my pile of carefully crafted custom matched set of baggage I still lug around with me, somehow only partially unpacked even after all these years. It’s super annoying. Frustrating. Discouraging.

Beginnings. Endings. Practice.

We become what we practice. We choose what we practice. It is important to choose wisely and stay focused on who we most want to be, because if we choose poorly, we may become someone else entirely.

I sit feeling the breeze and watching the horizon. My head is filled with ghosts and regrets. Weird morning to have them turn up and demand attention. My skill with choosing relationships has been poor: a violent psychopath, a manipulative slacker looking for a meal ticket, a cruel woman who delighted in gaslighting me, an assortment of lovers who may have lacked any explicit bad intentions but found value in my limited capacity to understand that I was being taken advantage of… Then there’s my Traveling Partner. One good relationship in a lifetime of trauma and chaos, but the opportunity came late in life, and I still find myself picking metaphorical shards of past damage out of new emotional wounds. I find myself apologizing a lot. That’s got to wear thin after awhile. It still matters, and I keep practicing.

I sit by the sea feeling the breeze, and the weight of all the many mistakes I have made over 16 years with this singular human being. I wonder if he does the same thing, when he finds that he’s hurt me without intending to. Neither of us are perfect beings of pure love and empathy. I feel confident neither of us would hurt the other intentionally. That’s not who we are. We are, however, quite human. I sigh to myself and let it go, at least for the moment. I remind myself that self-care matters, and in solitude there is no excuse to treat myself as second best, ever. I left rather abruptly this morning, instead of enjoying a leisurely coffee with my beloved. Coffee and some healthy calories would be good…

… The descent into madness often begins with poor self-care and low blood sugar…

I guess I should begin again. I don’t know where this path leads…

Sometimes the path isn’t an easy one.
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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

The Price of War Is Too High

March 5, 2026 //
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If someone asked you whether you thought bombing a girl’s school and killing a 150 or more little girls and young women would be “okay with you” to make a point or send a message, or exert control over someone far away and likely unable to harm you directly, would you say yes? It seems unlikely. Maybe you should speak up about that? (I’m not going to link news articles or expose you to the images of the many graves being dug.) I don’t think what matters is whether you think your voice will be effective so much as it matters that you are true to your values such that you are willing to call obscene violence against innocents what it is, and to strongly object to it being done in your name, or in the name of some god you hope may favor you. Just saying.

Just saying.

I sigh to myself. I am grateful to be, for the moment, safe here on this trail, in a country where no bombs are dropping. I’m deeply offended that we’re delivering death from the sky to a foreign nation in partnership with a brutal apartheid regime, with no purpose beyond power. It’s ugly. War always is ugly. There are no beautiful wars. There are no winners, only blood and pain and death and destruction. We should know better by now.

A full moon setting at dawn.

The sunrise beat me to the trailhead this morning. This cold is slowing me down but is more a nuisance than anything serious. I breathe exhale and relax. I’m really enjoying this brief time at home just my Traveling Partner and I. It’s lovely and intimate and close. I’ve missed it. In spite of being sick the entire time, I’ve enjoyed it so much!

I watch the full moon set from the trail. So lovely. No war right here, now, just the trail and the trees and the sky overhead. I sit awhile with my thoughts, quietly. It’s enough. I’ll begin again… soon. For now, this quiet moment is mine.

…Then the rain begins…

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Categories 2024 Election, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, women, Words
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