Archives for category: Despair

I checked the weather while I dressed. Looked like more of the same mild autumn weather we’ve been having. I stifled excessive feelings of merriment before it turned into whistling or song, to avoid waking my Traveling Partner. I woke feeling pretty good.

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

I grabbed terrible coffee on my way up the highway, not intentionally, it’s how things went is all. I got used to it, I guess. I must have; I kept drinking it. There’s something to learn there about the critical importance of being aware that one’s prized adaptability may undermine necessary self-care. I ponder that as I drive, still drinking this terrible coffee. (It’s not bad meaning tainted in some way, it’s simply poorly made, of poor quality beans, and stored in an air pot that likely doesn’t get cleaned thoroughly between uses.) Industrial. Still a learning opportunity worth contemplating.

At the trailhead I’m surprised to see the ground wet from recent rain. It’s cooler, too, and my cozy fleecy shirt doesn’t feel like potentially too much, at all, the way it did when I dressed. I forgot to put on a fleece or my cardigan. Didn’t seem necessary at the time. I shrug it off; I’ll warm up as I walk.

…

Now I’m sitting, half crouching, in the photographer’s blind on the marsh. It was closer than the parking lot when the rain started. It’s not yet daybreak, and rushing down the marsh trail slick with mud, in the rain, in the darkness, didn’t seem like a good idea at all. So, I slowed down, and thought better of it, choosing the shelter of the blind until the rain passes. In some distant oak, I hear the sound of a bird of prey calling into the night with a dissatisfied sounding screech at regular intervals. I hear an owl hooting. I listen to the rain drumming on the roof of the blind. I prop open one of the “windows” and sit looking out over the marsh toward the east, listening to the rain fall. I’m in no hurry.

Yesterday was strange, strained, and difficult, but ended well. I’ll leave it there and let myself move on. Today is new. I’ll do my best. I slept well, and mostly without dreaming, which was a nice relief. Lately my sleep has been unsettled, filled with disturbing images and fragments of painful memories. It was nice to wake gently this morning. I’m pretty well done with the headcold I was fighting all week. I sigh quietly to myself thinking about the housekeeping I’m behind on. Vacuuming and laundry today, I guess. Maybe some time in the studio if my energy holds up. I remind myself of errands – a pharmacy stop, and some returns to drop off, feeling prematurely pleased to remember them without a reminder.

I think about my beloved Traveling Partner sleeping at home. I hope he’s sleeping well and deeply, and wakes to a new day with a smile. We might not have chosen each other as long term partners if circumstances had been different (or if we’d known in advance how deeply complicated this could be), but we did, and it works in an intense, passionate, and also really peculiar way. We “get” each other, love each other deeply, and choose each other again and again. It’s not any sort of testimony to being “easy”, but “easy” doesn’t appear anywhere in the contract. Worth it? Yes, definitely. Sometimes it’s still a lot of work and demands more growth from me than I think I can achieve… but here we are. I’m okay with it. I don’t doubt I am loved and safe.

… He’s more able to vex me than anyone else...

I sit smiling, thinking about my beloved. I’m very fortunate. I feel an acute and unexpected pang of intense loneliness and separation, just being here, while he is there. How strange that I adore this one human being so intensely. No, it isn’t always easy… I am loved, truly, and that’s what matters most. The loving.

Daybreak comes to the marsh. The rain stops. No colorful sunrise this morning, just cloudy sky and occasional streaks of blue showing through. I sit thinking how easily we allow a moment – particularly a painful or angry moment – to take us over and turn us into someone we don’t recognize. Being human, and doing a skillful job of it, is not effortless. It’s got more than a reasonable number of frustrating bullshit moments to deal with or endure. There’s going to be a lot to apologize for in one human life. I sigh, momentarily feeling the full weight of a lifetime of mistakes and failures and… humanity. Sometimes it’s hard.

I get to my feet as I exit the blind. I grab the edge of the plywood roof as I stand, to avoid slipping in the mud. The rain has stopped. Sometimes life is hard. Love, too. Sometimes I have to begin again. I smile as I gaze out over the marsh. I’m okay with that. I get started down the path a step at a time, watching fog deepening in the low places with some surprise. It’s as good a beginning as any.

Yesterday’s sunrise was beautiful. Maybe I’ll paint that sky this weekend.

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

Every sunrise a new beginning.

I spent yesterday taking (Rx) drugs and wracked with pain, mired in irritability, working, and listening to Bauhaus, NIN, and The Stooges. Not exactly cheerful stuff, but infused with a dark moody energy that just seemed to fit. I was even wearing black, though the choice was unintentional.

… This morning is better, so far…

I enjoyed a quiet evening with my Traveling Partner, though I still don’t understand why he took a chance on my company last night; I wasn’t in a good place at all. We both made the necessary effort and it was a relaxed, generally pleasant evening.

This morning? New day, new beginning. I walk the familiar trail in the familiar darkness, grateful it is largely an external experience of circumstances – it’s still too early, not yet daybreak. Nothing like yesterday, when the darkness seemed to ooze from my being. I breathe in the mild autumn air. We haven’t yet had our first frost.

I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under the stars. It’s beautiful. I hear something loud, not too far away. The sound of impact, of things breaking, and a short time later, sirens. Someone else is having a bad morning today. Every one of us will, eventually. Very human. Our results may vary, whatever our circumstances or our practices.

“Maybe a shorter walk in the morning?” my beloved had suggested to me. It was a good idea. I sit with my thoughts another minute or two. Self-reflection is a useful tool for gaining perspective.

The sky takes on a hint of blue, and I stretch a gaze at the few stars I can still see. Short work day, and an appointment with a specialist later about this fucking headache, then the weekend. I hope to spend a substantial portion of it in the studio. I’ve got a playlist ready…

… I get to my feet, and hit play, before I walk on. “….Bela Lugosi is dead…” And it’s time to begin. Again.

Okay so, yeah, I’m having a lot of bad dreams lately. Even when they aren’t “nightmares”, they’re often deeply unpleasant.

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

I woke this morning, grateful for the bright light of my silent alarm; better than the dream I was having. Hell, I’m not surprised by the bad dreams – have you seen the state of the world? The shameless exploitative corporate greed? The thoroughly corrupt government? The war in Ukraine? The genocides? Oh yeah, more than one of those going on, it isn’t limited to Palestine. How can human beings be so incredibly vile?

I’m struggling to maintain perspective, I admit it. I feel disappointed (in humanity, generally) and I feel betrayed on an unreasonable personal level. I was stationed in Germany when the Berlin Wall came down. It was such a proud moment for humanity and I felt such hope for the world. I sigh quietly as I walk the dark trail with my dark thoughts.

I get to my halfway point and stop. I just stand there in the dark awhile, after turning off my headlamp, letting my eyes adjust, watching the stars. After a handful of uncounted minutes gazing into the eternal darkness of the vast night sky, I sit down and cry awhile. I don’t fight the tears. No shame. No guilt. Only emotions I can’t quite process without allowing for the grief. Grieving is powerful stuff and difficult to control or limit or reason with, and now and then I am flooded with tears over what we have all lost – all those lives, all the wasted potential, all the hurting and the sorrow.

…We could do better…

I was once a soldier in an army. I have been to war. I have looked directly into the eyes of my enemy and found that he was every bit as human as I am myself. No one walks away unchanged. We live with the consequences of our actions,  that’s just real. I sigh to myself. I’m grateful to have gotten out alive. I’m grateful to see another sunrise. I’m grateful to have my Traveling Partner’s warm, loving embrace when the weight of the world threatens to pull me down into the depths of madness and grief (and even when he’s dealing with his own shit, he is there for me).

Being human is hard. Being the best human being the resources and experience available permit a person to be is harder still, and it for sure feels like a lot of people aren’t even trying.

I’m grateful for this solitary time to just get shit right in my head before a new day begins. Most days this is the only solitude I have. The rest of my day is interacting with people at work, and out in the world, some days so continuously that by the time I get home to my beloved I have nothing left to give. That seems thoroughly unfair, to the two of us. I embrace the little bit of “me time” life permits me to have and try not to bitch about it not feeling like enough. …At least I don’t also have children.

My beloved pings me. We converse a bit. The clock ticks on. My head aches ferociously and slow tears fall for a moment and stop. At 14 I once felt very similarly, I think, sort of lost, and frustrated-angry-sad. I dealt with it by packing a small bag with everything I thought I would need (it wasn’t), and I walked away. (It would be weeks before I turned up and ultimately went back, but that’s a story for another time.) I hadn’t yet learned that we cannot escape who we are so easily. I’d hug her if I could and assure her it gets better…then wonder if I should also tell her it’s going to get so much worse, first?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The world is a pretty chaotic and sometimes grotesquely frightening place, but right here? Right now? This moment? It’s fine. A woman on a hiking trail looking at the stars. It is peaceful and beautiful. I make room to enjoy this moment as it is. A lifetime is built on moments; it important to savor the pleasant ones, whatever the circumstances.

The mild almost warm morning wraps me gently. The first hints of daybreak begin to develop. I watch the sky quietly. I think about these mortal lives and the place we hold in the cosmos. We are so tiny, so fragile and finite – how is it these moments feel so important? I sit with my thoughts until it is time to begin again.

Morning. Another one. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to see another sunrise. Life gets complicated sometimes, though, and it is a lot to take. It’s rarely “all on me”, or even about me (in many cases it’s nothing to do with me at all).

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

It’s not even daybreak yet. It’s quite dark on the trail this morning – clear starry sky, the full moon overhead.  I walk down the familiar trail with a measure of confidence, the bobbing circle of light ahead of me from my headlamp is plenty to see by. I walk with my thoughts, enjoying these moments of peace and quiet reflection; they may be the only such moments in a busy complicated day.

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on the nearby bench.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Chilly morning. I’m grateful for the warm sweater and cozy cardigan I threw on over it. I can see my breath this morning. Fall. The potential beauty of the morning is thrown off by concern for my Traveling Partner. I find myself wondering whether I should call out from work to take care of him today? For the moment my own pain takes a back seat in my awareness. I breathe deeply, and exhale slowly, working to stave off my stress before it can become a panic attack. My partner needs me to be capable and to provide care. I remind myself that I did it for two years, and I can resume doing so capably, now, when my beloved needs me.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Sometimes shit gets complicated. That’s just life. We all go through shit, and it is sometimes the worst we’ve ever been through. Resilience is built over time, but it can sure feel like it can be used up in an instant.

I sigh to myself feeling restless, and for a moment a little trapped and hopeless. I remind myself that change is, and very few moments last. Most things are pretty impermanent, actually, so I take another breath, exhale again, and do my best to relax. I’ll keep practicing.

Still not daybreak yet, but there is the faintest hint of something more deep dark blue than utterly black about the sky. A new day. I keep working to quell my panic (an inner voice snarls at me, “no one has time for this weak ass shit, knock it off”). Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Repeat as needed. I struggle to get comfortable with myself this morning. My mind refuses to settle down or focus, like hearing a fire alarm I know is a test, and still feeling it is urgently necessary to leave the building. This is absolutely not a test – it’s life. Sometimes it’s complicated.

I sigh to myself and hope I get through the day with my perspective intact, and able to provide any caregiving my partner needs. I stupidly look at my watch in the dark. Pointless. I do know it’s time to begin again… I get to my feet and turn to head on down the trail and back to the car.

The full moon high over head greeted me as I left the house. It seemed auspicious at the time. I was wrong about that.

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

The full moon followed me up the highway. There was no traffic at all. It was peaceful and I traveled up the road to the trailhead feeling secure and unbothered. The day seemed promising from the outset. (It’s looking like I am wrong about that, too.)

Beautiful full moon, though.

I remind myself not to conflate a moment with the day. I breathe, exhale, and relax – well, I do my best with that. It isn’t enough. I keep at it, feeling like I’m walking a slack line over a pit of anxiety and despair – and I can see it seething and roiling beneath me. Falling seems inevitable, but I keep working at being calm, centered, focused on what is, and this moment here, now. I undermine my capacity to support those dear to me, if I yield to the darkness within, but pulling myself from the mire once I’m in it is…hard. Best to avoid going there, if I can.

… But if I can’t, what then, though..?

The moon setting over the marsh.

I walk with my thoughts, after a few minutes of conversation with my beloved. Walking in the moonlight is a beautiful experience with the full moon a luminous pearl in the night sky, sinking toward the horizon. I’m not enjoying it much this morning. It’s not a permanent condition, I’m just human (so is he).

My beloved woke injured, in pain, and feeling alone. I listened (read) while he talked (texted). I don’t have solutions to offer. (And I can’t be his therapist.) All I have to offer is a caring heart and a willingness to listen. (Any attempts to soothe or encourage have seemed actually offensive, so I’ve given up on that; he’ll let me know when he wants that sort of help. He’s made it clear my suggestions are unwelcome right now.) I do my best. It is recognizably inadequate. None of this is “about me”; my beloved is going through some shit. I’m trying to be a good partner.

The moon setting on a foggy morning.

Daybreak comes. It’s foggy, which I didn’t expect. I sit in the fog, quietly. I feel hesitant to turn my attention to myself, my own experience, my own needs… I breathe deeply and exhale slowly. Chilly morning. My breath shows and mingles with the fog. One mortal human primate alone on a foggy marsh at dawn… such a small detail in a much bigger world. I meditate awhile, hoping to regain my cheerfulness and perspective. I have more to offer when I feel okay, myself.

Me? How am I doing? Meh. I’m okay. Any gains I may have made from taking a break for a few days are blown. Between my own physical pain, and the stress of circumstances, and being the vessel into which my Traveling Partner pours his pain and stress and anger, I’m already nearing exhaustion and questioning my existence. It sucks to be so near to the edge of the mire.

… I worry that I’ll crack under the weight of it all…

… Maybe I should take my stress, my anxiety, and my helplessness into the studio and shape the words I can’t find, as color? Maybe the feeling of soft pastels between my fingers will fix my broken bits or soothe my hurts? I sigh to myself. Maybe it would help to work things out in the studio… for me. Won’t do my beloved Traveling Partner any good at all. Fuck. I’m not even certain having me around has real value right now.

… The tears fall slowly, ignored…

My Traveling Partner pings me an apology, and gently encourages me to find something else to do today. At least, that’s how it sounds to me. Okay, well shit, I can accommodate that pretty easily. I’m halfway to nearly everything that interests me locally. I find myself wishing I’d thrown my RC car or my paint boxes in the car as I left the house, but we don’t know what we don’t know. I send a message to the Chaotic Comic – maybe she feels like hanging out, today?

Fuck this aching ankle and this painful knee. Fuck this arthritic back, and this damaged spine. Fuck this headache, and all the other headaches, too. And fuck brain damage, besides. I sigh to myself with little enthusiasm for the day ahead. I’ll figure it out – I’ve got quite a toolbox after so many years of therapy (and living life). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I set down my baggage, and reflect on impermanence, non-attachment, and how difficult it feels to do better today than yesterday, some mornings.

… but what to do with the day, now? It’s a big world, and the menu in the Strange Diner is vast…

…. The path ahead is familiar, the way out is through… and I can begin again. (So can you.)