Archives for category: Despair
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Sometimes It Feels Too Hard

September 18, 2023 //
1

Sometimes I still feel like I’m fighting uphill. Arguing with shadows. Spinning my wheels. Sometimes shit just feels too hard. Even (especially?) the stuff I think “should be” easy.

Fuck I am frustrated and tired. My head hurts. I just wanted…

… doesn’t matter, it didn’t go down like that. There’ll be other times, other moments, other chances. I just wasn’t expecting things to be so damned difficult in this particular instance.

I know, I know, there are practices to practice and I can begin again. Fighting back pointless stupid tears.

… Sometimes I just miss things that were once so easy…

Stay on the path. Your results will vary.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, Hormone Hell, Love, Menopause, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, turning 60

A Kinder Word

July 28, 2023 //
0

Middle of the work day. Coffee long behind me. Stopped for a break to have a bite with my Traveling Partner. We’ve had a difficult couple of days for some reason. It’s probably me, I guess? I’m not sure and I’m not sure it’s helpful to “assign blame” or point fingers at each other, or any particular individual issue. I just want to do better as a partner and as a lover – and as a friend. That’s where we started. That’s what matters most.

So far today I’ve avoided beating myself up over yesterday(s). I like the thought that I’ve treated my partner with similar kindness and gentleness, but I don’t always feel sure of myself on that point. He said some things yesterday that took my breath away with how much it hurt to hear them. I’m not of a mind to make bold promises about changes, I’m just going to seek to do better day to day, and hope that incremental change over time makes a difference. I wish myself luck on that, in a sincere and heartfelt way, and let my thoughts move on.

I read an article that offers some promise of improvement on the strange ticks and habits that are dermatillomania or trichotillomania – as a lifelong “can’t seem to stop” biter-of-nails, and picker-of-cuticles, I’ve been frustrated a long long time that these seem to be “habits” I can’t seem to break. The news article is here. The “habit replacement manual” that supports the practice the article is about is linked with a video, here. Good luck, if you need this I hope it helps. Me, I feel… hopeful. It’s a feeling I really need right now, so that’s a win.

The work day can’t possibly end soon enough, but I feel on edge and stressed out, which isn’t ideal. Is it “all me”? It easily could be, and I try not to resist well-intentioned feedback from people close to me when they express their concern. I look around at the chaos in my studio. My wee library is in a pretty similar state. The house, in general, is quite tidy (after the Herculean effort my Traveling Partner put in just before I went to a work offsite in Palm Springs). I can’t “run from this” – it doesn’t solve anything to do so, it just worsens over time. And it’s funny, the chaos is telling – chaos in my environment nearly always signals some measure of internal chaos. I wouldn’t expect tidying up the external chaos to do anything much about the mess in my head, but… it often helps quite a lot. Like… a lot a lot. So I’m thinking maybe it’s a good weekend to mostly stay home, mostly tidy up, and spend time connecting with my partner. Talking. Touching. Laughing. Not just hanging out watching videos. Definitely not snarling at each other from another room. “Together” – present, and engaged, connected. Hard. We’ve both been irritable, lately, though I don’t think I know nearly enough about why that is (for either of us), and it’s hard to have a gentle conversation about it. Maybe if I can just do better, we can get past this? I say “maybe if I...” rather than “we”, because mine is the behavior I own, control, and make happen with the verbs I’m personally lobbing into the experience we share. The other half of “we” is on his side of every interaction, and I’m confident that he does also want to “do better” – but I can’t force that, control that, dictate that, or own that, so… yeah. I’ll be over here doing my best to do better, myself.

…Don’t wish me “luck”. lol Definitely wish me success – or persistence. I figure I’ll be beginning again quite a lot, and getting a ton of practice at not taking shit personally, letting small shit stay small, assuming positive intent, and being present, open, and kind. I don’t expect it to be “easy”. We’re probably both feeling emotionally hurt by things we’ve said to each other. We could do better. We could be kinder, gentler, and more aware of each other’s fundamental humanity. It’s not easy; we’re also each dealing with our own shit, and probably feeling pretty weighed down by that.

I take a breath and exhale slowly, evenly, and try to remember a time when I wasn’t feeling stressed. Any such recollection, hoping to savor that past moment, and reclaim a sense of it. It’s a useful exercise. Not a cure, but helpful. Hell, I find one such moment pretty quickly, then several more, and so many that are recent, and I start feeling lighter – this is just a moment. Emotional weather. Storms pass. I breathe, exhale, relax, and center myself in the context of a better feeling.

The physical pain I’m in is a bit much. Arthritis in my spine. I lift myself more erect; better posture sometimes means less pain. My neck aches. I do some of the physical therapy “moves” I was taught, sometimes they really help, other times they are at least a brief distraction. I feel the pain that lurks behind my jaw, and below my ear. I contemplate that fucking nodule on my thyroid and wonder if having it removed will help… I am grateful that at least the occipital neuralgia is not also flaring up. Pain makes everything else seem worse, more complicated, more stressful, less easy… I’m annoyed by pain. I look in my wee pillbox with today’s meds in it… have I got any more options? One last dose of an Rx pain reliever. I take it with some reluctance, but hoping for relief. If it helps, it helps. It’s okay to need, and to ask for, and to accept help. Sometimes it’s even necessary.

I take another breath and look at the time. I think I’ll call it a day – and begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, loneliness, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, turning 60

Try Again

July 26, 2023 //
1

This morning has fail sauce drizzled generously all over it. At least I’ve got a decent cup of coffee for washing down that bitter pill. lol

My Traveling Partner woke me because my snoring was keeping him from sleeping. That’s just real. I’ve got an appointment to do a sleep study in a couple weeks, but let’s keep on with the real-real; my partner has been waiting on this to be sorted out for the whole of our time together. Rough. I woke abruptly, and I woke triggered by his frustrated tone. No blame there, no criticism. I 100% get why he’s frustrated and unhappy to experience degraded sleep. That shit is unhealthy! I’ve got sleep challenges of my own quite separate from the challenge that results from my Traveling Partner’s reaction to my snoring. I definitely understand the critical importance of good quality restful sleep. Hell, I averaged less than 3 hours a night of real sleep for an entire decade of my first marriage, and was almost a zombie version of myself as a result. Sleep fucking matters.

As contented and generally happy together as we are, this sort of crap “tests us” hard. It’s vexing and frustrating, and maddening (by which I mean to say that as our sleep quality deteriorates, so does our sanity). There were harsh words, and raised voices, and frankly at that beastly early hour none of that is helpful, necessary, nor provides any kind of useful change – it’s just ugly on top of unhealthy wrapped in miserable. It’s been a difficult morning, so far. It’ll likely be a difficult day.

Drenched in my own frustration (with being wakened from too-brief sound sleep), my reaction was to immediately dress and leave for work (at 4:00 a.m., for real??). It’s a day in the city, in the office, and hitting the road early means “no traffic” and just maybe a chance for my Traveling Partner to get some sleep. (I’d forgotten about the night-paving going on, just outside of town. I’m so damned glad I saw the signs, really saw them, because that flagger was just on the other side of a blind curve.) I’m still bleary-eyed and groggy, hours later, but I made it safely up the highway. There was no traffic, and paradoxically this slowed me down and made me much more patient with myself and the journey. No rushing. Driving the speed limit. Making a point to get gas before I got on the highway. Eyes on the road. It was an ideal commute in all respects – other than my drowsiness. I got into the city just in time for BigNameChainCoffee to open, so I at least have this coffee that I’m slurping on rather mindlessly. I’m just doing it for the caffeine and hoping for the best. It would not matter if it were the best or worst coffee I’d ever had; I barely notice that it is even coffee, at all.

…It’s a fucking work day…

I groan softly to myself. I’ll be alone in the office awhile longer (about 2 hours more, I think) before other people show up. I’m a bit light-headed and dizzy with the persistent drowsiness. Fuck I wish it were easier for my Traveling Partner to wake me or ask me to rollover without actually also triggering me. It’s just no good for either of us (it’s not his fault, it’s just a limitation we’re facing together). I bet it’s hard to “wake me gently”, because I often sleep so very lightly in the first place, and it’s not at all rare for that light sleep to be in a state of hypervigilance. CPTSD – the “gift” that lasts a lifetime. 😦

Sunlight begins to pour in through the office windows. The tearful drive up the road to the office wasn’t any fun, and I’m so tired… but…the sunshine seems vaguely promising of new beginnings and fresh starts. I haven’t heard from my Traveling Partner for a couple hours, so I’m hopeful that he was able to get to sleep and get some rest. Later I’ll call the sleep doctor and plead for any interim solution that will make better sleep possible for my partner under these trying circumstances. I’m at a point where offsetting the timing of our sleep seems like a reasonable solution – even though I’m not doing shift work these days. I mean, if I go straight to bed after work and sleep for 4-6 hours, then get up about when my partner goes to bed, we at least both have an opportunity to get enough sleep to function. This shit? My Traveling Partner isn’t wrong; it’s unhealthy, and not sustainable. Neither of us can do our best work as our sleep slowly degrades, and it’s taking a toll on our personalities and ability to interact with other people pleasantly (including each other). That shit this morning was just not okay. Understandable, but not ideal. Things have to change – for both of us.

…I’m so tired…

Today I’ll focus on the work in front of me and do my best to ensure I take all my medications on time, get to my handful of meetings, and also don’t forget to refresh the parking meter. I arrived in the city before the parking garage opened, before valet parking hours for this building, and so I parked on the street. So many little things to remember. (Call the sleep doctor!)(Get the video for the work project shot!)(Check on the Farmer’s Market)(Shit! Don’t forget the post-pandemic I9 re-verification for work!)(File PACT Act paperwork!)(Get take-out on the way home!) I’ll try to refrain from biting my nails and tearing at my cuticles. Today I am painfully aware that I am entirely made of human.

I look at my work calendar. I’m pleased to see that it is such a light day, generally. Quiet project work, very few meetings. I look over this bit of writing and count up the spelling errors identified by the spell-check feature. Huh. 42. Seriously? Yeah… fatigue gets the blame; my spelling is generally quite good (or at least used to be). I correct the errors, knowing I’ll for sure miss something. I nearly always do.

Well, shit. I guess it’s time to begin again? Unavoidable, in any case.

Time to find new perspective on old problems.
Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, health, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being

No Helpful Perspective

July 19, 2023 //
0

It’s shortly after 05:00 a.m. I am tired. Groggy. Already in the office. I have a headache. At this point, I’d be awake most any work day. On this day, I woke with a panic attack, well before dawn, and even before my scheduled time to wake up. I zone in and out. It’s hard to focus. I did not get enough sleep. I was an emotional mess when I dressed and left the house quite abruptly; I don’t make my best decisions from deep within a panic attack. The point of my departure was exclusively to do with giving my Traveling Partner an opportunity to get much-needed sleep, himself. I sure wasn’t going to be going back to sleep. Now I’m stuck in that not-quite-awake/not-quite-sleeping place. Eyelids are heavy. I feel stupid and a bit dizzy.

…It’s these harder days that I practice for on all those easier days…

I left the house so early (before 04:00 a.m.) that there were no coffee shops open anywhere, on the entire drive into the city. The gas station near home was open, so I stopped in – my plan was to buy bottled or canned coffee. Coffee for the drive. I forgot all about doing that, and just got gas and got on the road to the office. lol The drive in was uneventful, aside from just… no other traffic at all, really. The streets were empty at that hour. It was spooky and pretty surreal. When I got into the city, the parking garage wasn’t even open yet. I parked on the street. I set a reminder on my phone to pay the meter; it is too early to do even that.

…I’m so tired…

Every time my consciousness lands on my waking-up experience of this morning, I start crying all over again. Weeping, to be more accurate. Tears well up and start falling. It definitely messed with my head to start my day from a place of panic, fear, and anxiety. I have a headache right on the edge of becoming a migraine. From the perspective of this fatigue and the associated lack of emotional resilience, tomorrow’s planned drive seems a tad daunting, at least for the moment. I wouldn’t want to be starting that journey from this point. “It’ll be easier once the sun rises,” I tell myself before rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and cleaning my smudgy glasses. “The world” absolutely will not actually care about “my bullshit” or chaos and damage, not even a little bit, and there is a whole new work day between me and setting forth on my weekend of driving, camping, and self-reflection. “One foot after the other,” I remind myself, “and don’t forget to breathe.”

…I get a can of cold-brew from the office kitchen…

Starting the day triggered is shitty. Just saying. I’m acknowledging that explicitly for myself because failing to do so would tend to set up the day as one on which I “don’t feel heard”, or cared for, or supported – because I need those things (feeling heard, cared for, and supported) from me every bit as much (more?) as I need them from anyone else. I take a minute to accept that the day started very poorly, and that I feel tired, and at a disadvantage. I definitely do not feel properly “engaged” or prepared for a routine day of work. My eyes glance at the time… I’ve got basically an hour to “sort myself out” and face the work day. Fuuuuuck. At least it is a “no meetings” day… that’s something. I know I can take some time to get my head right before other people have to deal with me.

…I’m so tired…

I keep sipping this coffee. It’s canned cold brew. It’s… fine? Not good. Adequate. It meets the need. I catch myself picking at my torn up cuticles (again), and sigh out loud as I let my hands drop back to the keyboard to type these words. It’s going to be that day, I guess. Tears start falling again. I let them. Now is not the time to beat myself up over a handful of fucking tears. It’s been a difficult morning. I mean, well, those first moments. The rest since then has been utterly uneventful aside from being stupidly fucking early. It takes me a while for the chemistry of some emotions to clear up… like being on a bad trip, I know it will pass. It’ll end. Things will be okay… later. For now… I sit here with this fairly crappy iced coffee, watching the sun rise beyond the windows.

…Good grief canned coffee is pretty dreadful…

The car is almost entirely packed for my roadtrip. I sip my coffee and contemplate getting on the road today, after work (although honestly I’m probably too tired for that, and may be taking a bit more than usual risk just driving home in commuter traffic later today). My timing is all based on an early departure tomorrow. I chuckle grimly; the early wake-up today will give me one advantage tomorrow morning; I’ll be “more used to” getting up earlier than I tend to for work. I’ll set my silent alarm for 04:00 and try to catch the sunrise in my rear view mirror, from the highway to the coast. I’ll just get up and leave whenever I wake. Why not? No reason I need to put any pressure on myself, and I’ll have at least 11 hours to make the 5-hour drive to my camp site for my first night. 🙂 There are lots of beautiful places to stop to see sights and get pictures, and there is no need to rush. This adventure is about the time spent in my own good company.

…I feel a genuine smile form, and although it doesn’t linger it stills feels like progress…

I am so very much looking forward to a couple days without having to “deal with people” much (hardly at all)(including my Traveling Partner). Alone with my thoughts. Alone in my own head. Alone to sleep, to eat, to breathe, “interrupted” only by a few also greatly needed hours in the company of a dear old friend. I’ve been feeling hemmed in on all sides by what everyone else seems to need from me. I suspect that’s an illusion, and I don’t “trust myself” about that feeling. I do need a proper break from “things”, and a few hours in the company of an old friend. More than that, I need a few days to handle my self-care on my own, and see to the needs of the woman in the mirror. Having come face-to-face with the unexpected existence of internalized self-directed misogyny still lingering in the way that I treat myself, it’s time to do something to heal that wound. I don’t know if a 4-day roadtrip is sufficient to do that work (it’s a lot), but it is at least a beginning. I am a big fan of beginnings. 🙂

…Isn’t each moment a small new beginning all its own…?

A yawn splits my face. I finish this coffee – probably the first of several, this morning. There’s definitely at least going to be one more following this one. lol My back aches. My head aches. The tears have dried up. That’s something. The steady whir of the A/C in the background softly suggests napping. I’m so tired.
“Soon enough,” I tell myself, “the work day will end, and it’ll be time to sleep again.” Probably make an early night of it. What else can I do? I’ve got to get some sleep before I drive a long distance or I’ll be at risk of falling asleep at the wheel. That’d be a poor choice. Safety first.

I look over my To-Do List… today seems the sort of day I’m likely to forget things. I check the list. There are still a couple items to toss in the car… my camera bag, the emergency satellite communicator, coffee beans, and my power brick for charging things. I’m glad I’ve got a list. I sit awhile wondering if I’ve overlooked anything. Coffee filters. I add them to the list. I print off the registration and window tag for each of my planned campsites; having them will be handy.

…I remember to take my morning medications (it was too early when I woke)…

I let my mind wander to the roadtrip ahead. I’m looking forward to the journey, and also looking forward to the camping. I’ve got some “new gear” to enjoy, like the fire pit we got for camping with the pickup – it’s well-suited to solo adventures, too, compact and light-weight, easy to store, easy to use… and because it is both a cook stove and also a heater, by design, I am planning on cooking real food while I camp instead of relying on dehydrated and freeze-dried food (which has been my usual practice for years). I’m excited about that. The little coffee grinder & pour-over setup that I’ve got now is also an exciting “upgrade” in gear; still compact, it will mean having a really excellent cup of very fresh coffee while I’m camping, instead of my usual “downgrade” to instant. 😀 Both items were recommended by my Traveling Partner, and it feels good to enjoy them with him in mind. I’m grateful for those suggestions, they’ll definitely be an improvement on my usual ways. 😀

I laugh outloud when I look over this morning’s post; I’ve obviously gone entirely too far with this. Definitely one of those 1500+ words posts. LOL …And my coffee is gone. Finished. Clearly, it’s time to set this aside and begin again. 🙂

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, gratitude, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer

Fragile

May 25, 2023 //
0

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.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, grief, Hormone Hell, loneliness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, Spring, Summer, turning 60, War and News of War
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »