Archives for category: forgiveness

A great mood shattered in an instant. Harsh words. Punishing criticism over elements of behavior or memory that are byproducts of brain damage or past trauma. Sisyphus didn’t have it like this. Progress. Achievement. Joy. Then failure, sorrow, yelling. Feelings of disappointment, shame, frustration, and hurt. Yuck. Stupid fucking primates and their messy g’damned emotions. Very human.

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

… I could get mired in these very human moments of failure (real or imagined, the emotions hit just as hard). It is at least partially what originally brought me here, a bit more than a decade ago. Being human is messy and complicated, and there’s no User’s Manual. I suck at some of this crap. We all do, to one degree or another. Sharing the journey gives purpose to the pain and sometimes lifts the weight of the baggage I’m dragging through this wilderness of chaos and damage. I’m doing my best. Legitimately, keeping things real, that isn’t always enough.

It is a new day, a beautiful morning. I wake early, dress, water the lawn and head for the marsh trail up the road. As I drive I consider how to practice better (deep) listening more consistently in more of my relationships (especially with my Traveling Partner) more of the time. It’s important to me.

The sky is streaked with pink clouds. The mountain, when the view reveals it, is a soft blue gray against a bold orange sunrise. There is no traffic at all, and I drive along patiently and contentedly, wrapped in the moment.

Arriving at the nature park, there is a dense mist clinging to the ground in low spots this morning. The air is cool and fragrant, and my sinuses immediately begin to feel stuffy. The marsh is more meadow than marsh this time of year and there are little birds everywhere. I take some Benadryl and check that I’ve got my bee sting kit handy and set off down the trail with my cane and my thoughts.

A new day, a chance to begin again.

I get to my halfway point thinking about that feeling of frustration and futility that can push my thoughts towards self doubt and self-abusive internalized criticism. It’s an emotionally unhealthy way to live, and a drain on resilience. It’s also an active rejection of growth and change – anything rooted in feelings of despair and futility is.  I breathe, exhale, and relax, as I turn over the details of the heated “discussion” in my head, seeking the useful details that can form the foundation of real understanding and a better way to practice communicating (specifically listening with care). This will probably be a lifelong challenge for me, given my issues. Knowing that isn’t self-critical, so much as recognition and acceptance – and acceptance is not an impediment to change.

We become what we practice.

So… about the feeling of futility itself, and painful doubt about the worth in making any effort to change? I ease that pretty reliably with reminders about the why in a given change, and also who I am doing it for. I embrace change on a journey to become the woman I most want to be, myself. When people who are dear to me, and people who have earned my respect, suggest to me (or demand) some particular change to my behavior (or thinking), I give it real consideration. The actual choice whether to change is about me living my values, and whether the proposed change will make me a better version of who I am. (There are still verbs involved, I will still have to work to build new behavior, and fight off old programming; changing behavior is rarely like flipping a switch, and generally more of a thru hike.)

Understanding a desired change as fitting my values and my sense of self is an important requirement for effective lasting change.

For me, feelings of despair and futility are very closely associated with finding myself unable to successfully make a change I have perhaps failed to understand as serving my own interests, or haven’t figured out in the context of my values or sense of self. (Or haven’t practiced long enough, consistently enough, for it to become default behavior.) Failing to live up to my own expectations of myself sometimes leads me to feeling despair and frustration, too, but the effort to become the best version of myself is a worthy journey – and also long, and sometimes vexing. “Practicing the practices” is the best approach I’ve found for me to take because change is neither immediate nor “sticky”; I have to work at this shit. I’m very human. (So is my Traveling Partner.)

Yesterday’s difficulties were primarily to do with not listening with care, and taking action too quickly, without a complete understanding of the request or need. It’s something I have real problems with, reinforced over many years and relationships in which the pressure being applied was specific to “speed of response” rather than to “fidelity to need”. It’s not a subtle difference, but years of reinforcement of less desirable behavior over time makes it more difficult to correct. I really struggle with it. I also really want to become someone who listens well and deeply. That is a communication skill with enormous value. So… I keep at it. Practice. Fail. Apologize. Reflect. Refine. Practice. Each iteration a bit better over time. Setbacks now and then. Occasional achievements that result in better relationships. It’s a process, and not a reliably fast one. It’s a journey. The journey is the destination. The journey is about me becoming the best version of myself that I can be, for myself, and true to my own values.

If you thought I had a shortcut to offer, you were wrong. There are no shortcuts, only more practice. 😆

… It’s not rocket science, People. It’s more difficult than that – and has more value. Where would humanity be if we had all learned to reliably listen deeply and communicate clearly without emotional escalation 100 years ago? How much conflict exists between people who communicate well and live their values?

I sigh to myself, watching the chipmunks and squirrels, and the festival of little birds of many kinds fluttering about. It’s a beautiful morning. I fortunate to have time and opportunity to reflect on change and I sit awhile thinking over yesterday and turning over conversations in my head. How might I have responded to this or that differently? I’m not reluctant to be accountable for my mistakes, and I’ve got plenty to work with. I wish my beloved well from this sunny meadow and hope he’s sleeping in and dreaming happy dreams.

Yesterday had some delightful high points and wonderful moments, too. It would be a mistake to overlook them. I sit awhile with my gratitude. Soon it will be time to begin again, again, and a new chance to be the change I want to see in myself. It takes practice.

Trigger warning: run on sentences. 😆

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

Yesterday, I let the day get to me. I mean, it was vexing in spots. Frustrating. Tedious. Busy. I mostly dealt with things, mostly successfully, mostly effectively, and delivering on most expectations of most people seeking something from me acceptably well. I almost snapped when my Traveling Partner supportively encouraged me to make a point of taking care of myself, also – and I managed to refrain from rudely observing I just didn’t see how time for that shit was left in my day.

… Because he’s right, taking of myself needs to be a higher priority, at least most of the time, than anything else anyone asks of me. It has proven incredibly difficult to make that my boundary in practical terms. Sometimes I resent the fuck out of that. Sometimes I accept it reluctantly as an unfortunate byproduct of being female in a misogynist patriarchal society. Sometimes I struggle with it on a whole different level fueled by irrational seething unsatisfied rage left behind by trauma and held in check by pure will and good manners…

… I’m very human…

(We’d all better hope AI doesn’t achieve actual conscious intelligence – because it seems unlikely we’ll be prepared for the amount of rage that will coincide with the awareness of designed-in servitude.)

So…yeah. Yesterday was difficult in spots, after a similarly difficult week. I’m over it this morning, though. I slept in after a pleasant night hanging out with my beloved Traveling Partner, feeling warmly appreciated and valued, especially hearing him share how good he feels about “us”. He is doing some amazing things with our home automation, and our home network. His design work always delights me, too. It’s fun to “have him back” after his long convalescence.

Sunshine and gratitude.

I hit the trail well after sunrise this morning. I walked with my thoughts, happy and filled with gratitude. I’ve got this sunny morning, and a short list of things to pick up at the store. I’ve got to fight the American healthcare system, too, but I feel ready for it this morning. I’m grateful for this life and my opportunities. I’m grateful to be so well loved by my partner, and well-regarded professionally by my colleagues. I’m grateful to have this platform to write from and for each of you who read my words. (Thanks, by the way, nice to have you stop by. 😃)

Here’s the thing; the gratitude itself is a practice. I choose to explore my experience and to willfully make a point to acknowledge my good fortune and to be (and feel) grateful. In much the same way I can use curiosity to fight anxiety, I use gratitude to fight discontent and anger. It’s actually really hard for anger to persist in the face of authentic gratitude. Doesn’t even require trying to force feelings of gratitude over the actual thing pissing me off – not at all. Gratitude for completely unrelated things and circumstances works quite well, and doesn’t create cognitive dissonance.

I kept at it yesterday. Each time my anger and frustration surfaced (it was a difficult week, mostly due to work crap, and my headache), I would insert some grateful thought about something. It helped keep me calm.

By the end of the evening I was feeling pretty merry. Before I went to sleep, I sifted through my recollections of the week, grateful for this or that experience, some small moment of joy, a kind word from my beloved, a beautiful flower, some coincidence that brought delight – there were actually so many I fell asleep “counting my blessings”. My dreams were welcoming and infused with soft joy. Sleeping in was a treat. Watering the lawn in the early morning daylight was a pleasant way to enjoy the garden before I set off for my walk. Some practices are pretty easily reinforced once cultivated, because the rewards are obvious and pretty immediate. Gratitude as a practice is one of those. (Authenticity and sincerity matter a great deal with this practice, and learning to practice gratitude is an exploration of what really matters most.)

The morning is off to an excellent start. There is a soft buzzing and sound of insects and peeping frogs down closer to the creek, and for a moment I can forget about my tinnitus as it blends into the sounds of nature around me. The sunshine makes the glitter on my nails throw shards of colored light here and there. The low flat rock I’m sitting on causes me to gaze through tall grass, the illuminated tops nodding slowly in the faint breeze. It’s a beautiful moment.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Soon enough it will be time to begin again. For now, I’ve got this moment, and I’m grateful.

My tinnitus is shrieking in my ears this morning. (Well, okay, more of a high pitched static in the background, if static were made up of tiny chimes vibrating aggressively, with a touch of morse code in the background that I can almost but not quite make out.) It is a beautiful Spring morning in spite of that.

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

In the sunrise, all the promise of a new day.

I slept well and deeply. I woke gently. I dressed, watered the lawn, and headed to the local walking path to get a mile or two on my boots. So far an ordinary enough day. It is a Sunday, and Mother’s Day, but there’s not much to do about that around our house. I’m not a mother. My maternal figures have all passed. I sent my sister a Mother’s Day greeting and let it go. I suppose my Traveling Partner will phone his mother at some point today.

I think about yesterday as I walk. I think about today. Yesterday had some beautiful high points and some frustrating low points, too. I made a batch of excellent brownies. It was all very human. Today will no doubt also have highs and lows, beautiful moments and aggravating mistakes, failed communication and delightful moments of connection. Fucking hell, I’d like to get everything right all of the time, but I don’t see living perfection among the options on life’s menu. I guess I’m grateful that the brownies turned out well, if nothing else. I sigh to myself and keep walking.

Order, and chaos, and beginning again.

Yesterday was spent creating order from chaos. My Traveling Partner continues to move things around in his spaces, preparing for the work ahead, this week. Exciting to see. I help where I can, when I’m asked, and try my damnedest not to break shit, forget something, or misunderstand something obvious – with mixed success. I had expected to spend the weekend relaxing and focusing on my own needs, and my own spaces, and taking care of myself, but it didn’t play out that way; my partner asked for my help. Today, I have less to give. I’m not in as much pain, but my mobility is more limited. Today it takes longer to get to the halfway point on this walk. I’m actually fatigued when I get here. (I’d take a nap right this moment if that were convenient. It isn’t.)

I take a seat on the bench that is next to the trail, under the trees. My legs ache. My back, too. My head spins for a moment with unexpected vertigo and I half wonder if walking was a terrible idea, after all, but I’m here and the Spring air is sweet with the scent of flowers. I breathe it in deeply. The soft scent of joy is in the Spring breeze, it seems to me. I stretch and groan from the sensation of muscles protesting, and stretch again. In each movement, I feel yesterday’s effort.

I make a point of letting all my yesterdays go. This is a new day, and a new moment, all its own, to be lived and savored and enjoyed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I commit silently to reviewing my to-do list and tackling the tasks that most directly support self-care in some way, and hope that my Traveling Partner doesn’t need much from me. I feel pretty drained and have little to give, but I don’t find denying him easy; I want to help. (Sometimes even at the potential cost of my health, safety, or sanity, and that’s not healthy.)

… Brain damage is hard to live with, and also hard to live around…

A small herd of deer steps from the trees, one by one. Probably the same little herd I see here now and then. Two of the does are obviously pregnant, the other two seem younger. I don’t see a buck anywhere around,  just the four does. They watch me with calm eyes and munch their way along the grassy edge of the trail, nibbling at the grasses and shrubbery. There is blue sky overhead, streaked with clouds, and the tops of the oaks are dark green against the sky. I could sit here for hours just watching the clouds and the wildlife.

Be present.

I meditate awhile. The deer move on. The clock keeps ticking. I wonder if my beloved got the rest he needs for the day ahead? I sigh to myself and get to my feet. It’s already time to begin again.

I don’t much feel like writing this morning. Hell, it wasn’t my plan to be walking this morning. My plan was to sleep in and take it easy, and to spend the weekend taking care of myself. It was my Traveling Partner’s idea.

… Plans? Meet reality.

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

It’s a bit later in the morning than I usually write, but only because I simply sat here at my halfway point quietly occupied with my thoughts for so long. There’s no one else here yet, this morning. I breathe, exhale, and… do that a few many more times. I watch the sun rise. I reflect on life, love, mindfulness, and presence. I consider the meaning(s) of words and contemplate the nuances and complexities of communication. I think thoughts. This moment right here? Well-suited to contemplation.

Yesterday went sideways quite unexpectedly later in the evening, and although I don’t much feel like discussing it, it is what is on my mind. Less in a ruminative spiraling way, and more in a gently reflective studious way, seeking to learn what I can that I can put to use to do better later on. Over years of practice, this has become my way. Is it effective? Probably depends on who you ask. I think it is. My therapist has said he thinks it is. What my Traveling Partner thinks probably varies quite a lot depending on what I’m putting him through on any given day. We’re each having our own experience. Differences in perception and lived experience make things kind of complicated. I do my best. So does my partner. Sometimes it isn’t quite enough (of whatever was needed in the moment). The journey may be shared, but we’re still each walking our own path. Individual, separate human beings sharing precious finite mortal minutes.

We become what we practice. Practice is a verb. There’s a ton of practice required to make a permanent change, especially to behavior that developed out of trauma. I sigh to myself.

This morning my head aches. Allergies maybe, but these days it seems like I’ve nearly always got a headache. I remind myself that it will pass. My thumbs ache in  the latest edition of “where has my arthritis gone to now, y’all?” Neck… shoulder… knee… ankle…yep, it’s all there, all still attached and functional, but fuck all this pain, though. I double check that I took my medication this morning. I breathe, exhale, and then stretch and yawn, and encourage tight muscles to relax.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. Mom has been gone a long time now. 2019? I think that’s right. Her birthday would have been at the end of May. My Dear Friend, too, is gone. It’s been a couple years now. I still miss her, but can’t remember when her birthday was. Instead I remember losing her. No calls to make for Mother’s Day. It’s weird what seems to matter after someone is gone. I reflect on that awhile.

I can’t imagine life without my Traveling Partner

I let a poignant moment of sorrow and gratitude wash over me, and I let it pass without criticism or scrutiny. Emotions are very human. I pause and consider the importance of making room for someone we love to express their emotions and have their own experience of circumstances. That’s not always reliably easy, especially if their experience seems different from our own. I struggle with this, more than a little and far too often. The temptation to explain or correct isn’t generally useful when emotions are involved. Better to listen deeply and understand circumstances from another perspective, and doing so is undeniably difficult sometimes.

Staying mindful and compassionate and open to understanding someone else’s experience is seriously one of the most complex practices among a long list of communication and relationship practices. I need a lot more practice. Even knowing these things, I still get it wrong…a lot. Very human. So beautiful and worthwhile when I get it right (and I often do, after years of practice, but I also fuck it completely far too often to be complacent about my limited successes).

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cotton fluff of some tree or another is blowing about on the breeze. I eye it with a measure of annoyance; it’s one of the few plant things that I’m definitely allergic to. My sinuses are pretty clear for the time being. I took my morning allergy meds as soon as my feet hit the floor this morning, which turns out to have been a good choice. Probably best not to linger in this strip of trees though. I get to my feet to begin again.

Yesterday’s anniversary celebration was delightful, really memorable and lovely. It was the kind of night out that lingers in memory, lasting beyond the moment. I’m glad to be traveling life’s path with my Traveling Partner.

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

A new day dawns. Where does this path lead?

I went to bed later than usual, well-fed and still a little tipsy. I woke early-ish, rather abruptly. My beloved was already up. I dressed and headed for a hike along the seasonal marsh trail, now open for the Spring and summer. Somewhere along the drive up the highway I began to wake up more completely. I stopped for coffee along the way. I definitely need a cup of coffee this morning. 😆

… What an experience last night was! Remarkable…

I walk alongside the marsh ponds still thinking about last night… the wines, each so beautifully paired with the course they arrived with… the shrimp toast!.. the rabbit… the salmon!.. desserts… that chocolate cake, wow. The evening, and the meal, made its way into my top three most memorable meals of a lifetime, before the check ever arrived. I walk thinking about food, love, and Springtime. It’s rare that we splurge on such an evening, and the rarety made it even more splendid. I savored every bite. I’m grateful to my Traveling Partner for setting it up. His company for the meal was the best part.

I get to my halfway point, and take a seat on this favorite fence rail. The sky looks stormy and I have lost my enthusiasm for driving a great distance to a preferred retailer for peppercorns (and nothing else!). I’m enjoying the morning, but like a walk down any trail, I’m alert for tripping hazards after stepping into a pothole I didn’t see ahead of me. It’s a metaphor. Life’s journey isn’t reliably “well paved”, and surely it can’t be expected to be on “easy mode” for the entire game, eh? I sigh and swing my feet. A small brown bird darts away to a more comfortable distance and looks me over.

… We’re each having our own experience…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a beautiful Spring day full of promise. The path ahead no doubt still has potholes, and occasional obstacles to avoid. Detours. Bad weather. Wrong turns. The journey is the destination. I resolve (again) to enjoy all I can – and to learn from what I can’t enjoy. That’s enough.

I decide to sit a little while longer. I’ll enjoy taking the long loop back, around the meadow and down along the river. Good day for it. Good day to begin again.