Archives for category: forgiveness

I find one of the most difficult (and worthwhile) practices to be refraining from taking things personally. It’s so easy to bask in the glow of a lovely compliment and take that to heart… but… the same person telling you that you’re awesome yesterday could very well be calling you a fucking bitch when they see you next week. That’s about them.

If I let myself become invested in some other person’s opinion of me to the point that it becomes self-defining, I’m likely to end up constantly spun up every time they change their opinion in some moment of joy – or anger. That doesn’t sound particularly healthy, at all. Using another example; if taken personally, shit talk from another room could be a huge mood wrecker and potentially a source of conflict. Avoid taking that personally, and it’s simply that other person dealing with their own emotions (however well or poorly, which is a separate concern). I’m not saying it’s easy to avoid taking shit personally, at all, I’m just saying its a worthwhile practice. So – I keep practicing.

…An insult is like any poison; it only affects you if it gets into your system. Don’t drink the poison.

Human primates are messy and sometimes unpleasant to deal with. Doesn’t matter if it’s that guy over there, or the person in the mirror – we’ve all got “issues”. Making a point of letting that other person’s issues be their own (and not letting them also become yours) is a good step toward feeling centered and calm, even when there’s a bit of chaos about. It’s also easier to focus on and deal with your own issues if you’re not all wound up in someone else’s moment. It’s one useful thing about being individuals; you can let that person be who they are, let them have their moment, and go right ahead and work on you while they do. Non-attachment is another useful-but-also-difficult practice. I take a deep breath and let it out.

I sip my coffee. The day started early, and less than ideally well. I got up, dressed, and went directly to work. I’m not in a good mood, and just dealing with that is taking quite a lot of my focus and effort. I had my day planned differently, but circumstances often don’t check my calendar. lol Later this morning, I’ll attempt to make the drive to a town nearby to get some lab work done that has been delayed by the inclement weather. I’ll return movie rentals on my way back. Maybe take a package to the post office. All of this is dependent on the condition the road is in, later in the morning. I admit – I’d very much like to get out of the house for awhile. I’m feeling a bit cooped up, and it’s exhausting trying to keep up on work, the housekeeping I usually do, and handle the tasks and chores my partner typically handles, while also doing things to support and care for him while he recovers from being injured. It’s a lot. I’m fucking tired. I’m tired enough that it limits my ability to graciously deal with stress or moments of temper, and since we’re both human primates, there’s reliably a bit of that now and then. I could do better. I keep practicing.

…There’s a lot of practicing going on this morning…

I sigh. Continue to drink my coffee. I could use some real “down time”. My last “coastal getaway” was mostly spent working, and was done primarily with the intention of giving my Traveling Partner time alone to work on a project – neither of us anticipated that he’d get hurt and be both unable to work on that project at that time, but also have to shelve it for weeks while he recovered. I came home from a getaway that provided little down time at all, to increased workload and increased stress with few opportunities to get away from either because I was needed right here at home to provide my partner with care because he just couldn’t get around to do basic tasks for himself. I’m exhausted, and I’m very much yearning for some time to myself to just exist on my own terms for some brief period of time without being constantly aware of the fairly long list of things I still haven’t gotten to that need doing. It’s called “self-care” for a reason; you’ve got to do it yourself, for yourself. I’m betting my Traveling Partner would enjoy a couple days without my constant presence, himself… I remind myself to ask, and to check-in on whether he thinks he is in sufficiently good shape to take care of himself without me for a couple days.

In the wintry months, camping is not an ideal option for me, personally. I don’t care for sleeping on the ground in cold weather, and it worsens my arthritis significantly to do so. Instead, I count on an inexpensive room on the coast, near trails and beaches I enjoy walking. I check to see what the availability is like over the next couple of weekends, and spot a potential opportunity. Just taking the steps to check out my options reduces my stress some little bit; I “feel heard” by the person I reliably need to be listening to me (me). I breathe. Exhale. Relax. Sip my coffee. Repeat. I think about other things I can do to ease my stress and restore my energy and plan my day with those things in mind. The weather seems to be improving somewhat, and the ice is melting… handy. I could use a walk. 😀

I make a short list of the more urgent items to attend to today, so I don’t forget them… I immediately feel overwhelmed when I add “put away your laundry” to the list; I’ve been putting off actually completing that task for literally weeks. It’s one task I can shrug off without really affecting anyone else, but… it does add to the chaos in my living space, and that increases my stress. There’s an obvious cycle to that, and breaking it requires me to hang up a bunch of shirts and tops, which is physically painful and also tedious. That’s it. That’s the “big deal” and I keep dodging it. Fucking hell. And the dishes need doing, which vexes me endlessly because as soon as they’re done, I cook something or fetch my Traveling Partner a snack and there are more fucking dishes. Cycles upon cycles.

…One task at a time…

I look at the time, and my inbox. It’s already time to begin again.

I woke up early after a short restless night of shitty sleep. I’m stuck at home because everything local is covered in ice. My Traveling Partner was already awake, and obviously not happy about that, tired, cross, and earnestly wanting very much to sleep. I said good morning, and as little else as was possible without being rude and slipped away to my office committed to being as quiet as I could so he could maybe sleep.

…My keyboard is too loud for this shit, and I find that regrettable. I briefly shop for a quieter one, then move on to catching up on work notes…

I sip my coffee, typing super gently and with great care, trying to be quiet enough that a sleeping person in the adjacent room would be undisturbed. I doubt that I am successful, and I am painfully aware of how noisy this mechanical keyboard I like so much actually is. Shit.

…It’s very hard to write in a digital space without hitting keys on a keyboard of some kind. I chose poorly for this environment…

If a human being could arrive at death’s door with no more serious regret than a poor choice of keyboard in a home office adjacent to a bedroom, that would indeed be an amazing thing. I do have more serious regrets, and I suspect that most people who proclaim they “have no regrets” either wholly lack compassion, or are not considering the question deeply. Just an opinion, based on having once been one of those people (and it was a bit of the one, and a lot of the other).

  • I regret the times I have hurt people, emotionally or physically.
  • I regret rushing into marriage at 18 (frankly it nearly killed me).
  • I regret not leaving that relationship sooner.
  • I regret not getting the help I needed when I first understood my mental health was at risk.
  • I regret how difficult it has been to overcome some of my TBI and PTSD related challenges and the way that has affected my relationships.
  • I regret that I can be such a bitch sometimes.
  • I regret a great many of my foolish decisions.
  • I regret not setting better boundaries earlier in life.
  • I regret that I’ve ever made my happiness someone else’s problem.

Big and small, regrets come in many sizes and an endless variety. Choose your adventure. Choose with care and with your eyes on your values, and perhaps you’ll have fewer regrets? Less to regret seems like a good goal… But, we’re all human, and our cognitive biases alone are enough to ensure sooner or later, we’ll have done something, said something, or been part of something we later find regrettable. That’s okay, though, isn’t it – if we learn from it, and grow to become more the person we want to be?

This coffee is almost gone. It’s time to begin again.

This lovely chill interlude brought to you by my delightful Traveling Partner who has had about enough of my continuous presence after being cooped up together over a long snowed-in weekend. lol

I’ve got a lovely cup of tea here, no caffeine, just lemon balm. Yum. Next Spring I’ll have my own from the garden. 😀 That sounds nice. Hot tea after a long hot shower. Soothing. Hot tea after a long hot shower on an icy winter day. Comforting.

…Comforting hot tea after a long hot shower on an icy winter day of mostly working from home, while also juggling housekeeping tasks, errands, trying not to work from home (the roads are too icy and not safe to drive into the city, but I did try to get the hell out of the house, unsuccessfully), and caring for my Traveling Partner while he is injured…? Delicious. I just also really really needed an actual proper break for some “me time”. Solitary. Headphones on (without music). Just me, my thoughts, this cup of tea, and a few minutes alone and quiet. Relaxed.

I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I feel the sensation of ease move through my body as the work day gets further and further from “now”. It’s so nice to just sit here quietly. No agenda. Nothing going on. No conversation. No tasks or chores or errands or doing. The verb, in this instance, is “chilling”. Relaxing. Breathing. Any of those will do, nothing fancy or elaborate or requiring a lot of energy. Just this quiet now.

…I know it won’t last, but I am embracing it and savoring it while it does…

I sip my tea thoughtfully.

My Traveling Partner said he hasn’t been able to relax all day because I “seem so stressed”. Yeah, I don’t doubt my energy was dialed way up – all the way to 11, perhaps? I got off to a weird start, by trying to work in a room other than the studio, further from the bedroom, hoping to let my partner sleep in awhile. Then, once he was up, I followed my plan to work from the local library, which I easily got to over roads far icier than I realized, and once there I found myself wondering if I’d be able to also make it home (ice storm warning for mere hours later). Instead, after a brief consult with my Traveling Partner, who wanted me safe more than he wanted me gone, I headed home, stopping by the store for additional provisions on the way.

I got home, unpacked, and got to work… and got called that I’d left my purse at the damned store. Back out in it, and picked up burgers for lunch uncertain when that would be possible again, and on back home to enjoy lunch with my partner, then… back to work. Again.

My work day was fractured into tiny (but still productive) pieces. I hit that level of productivity by just banging that shit out, firing on all cylinders, doing the things! I probably did “seem stressed”. I wasn’t feeling any sort of anxiety that was obvious to me, or any amount of perceptible (to me) negative stress, but the only way to get through the work that needed doing today was to dig deep, and work fast and efficiently, at what would admittedly be an “unsustainable” pace. No slack. No real breaks other than those that took me from my office chair to do errands, housekeeping, or to care for my partner. Nothing much for me, at all, except a latte from a drive through cafe that went cold before I could drink it because my day was crafted of pure chaos.

…I’m glad it is behind me, and I’m enjoying this quiet moment with this cup of tea. It’s enough. I needed this so much. 😀 I tell myself there is no way my Traveling Partner can “sense” this state of relaxation settling over me from another room, but… it often seems that he totally can. I hope it helps him enjoy his evening more than he enjoyed his morning. 😀

Knowing I’ll likely need to work from home for the rest of this week, due to the freezing weather, ice storms, and accumulated snow that has since frozen solid on the roads, I looked over my work calendar and coordinated with my team to move any morning meetings to later hours of the day, hoping to preserve enough quiet time for my partner to sleep. Maybe it works. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe it doesn’t help at all. I’ve at least managed to clear my calendar of meetings for two days – that’s got to be good for something. 😀

I sip my tea and listen to my tinnitus ringing in my ears. It’s time to begin again. 😀

Many many years ago, in what now feels like an altogether different life, lived as if by an entirely different person, I made a choice to “save my own life” through extreme means (in that moment). My ex-husband was coming after me with a very large knife, in a small apartment in Germany. The front door was locked from the inside, and I could not open that door to escape down the stairwell. I dashed to the patio, barely ahead of him, and rolled over the balcony rail. He reached me as I dangled there in that moment between actions, and his face wore a look of astonishment and alarm, “Don’t!” he demanded urgently. “I have to,” I said quietly, and then I let go.

I hit the slick paved patio below quite hard. My ears rang, I felt something snap. I “saw” an explosion of lights behind closed eyes. I felt nauseatingly dizzy. I saw him looking down, then retreating from the balcony rail quickly – I knew he was on his way and I panicked. I jumped up from the pavement, disregarding all sensations, and climbed a fence and a hedge to get to the nearest neighbor whose lights were on. I couldn’t remember a word of German in that moment other than “polizei”, and so that’s who they called. The police arrived, locked and loaded, and told the neighbors (whose English was better than my German) that an ambulance from the American hospital had been called. The police went after my ex husband, and once they found him he was arrested.

When the ambulance arrived, the medics quickly determined I’d likely broken my back (and there I was sitting upright in a lawn chair, flexing my spine uncomfortably and commenting that I could not figure out why I was so “uncomfortable” – I didn’t understand that I was in shock). They insisted I be still. They put me on a back board, and on a stretcher, and rushed me to the ER. I wasn’t there long, barely long enough for X-rays, and for the Military Police investigators to arrive to interview me, while the doctor reminded them that I was heavily medicated and badly injured, and to keep their questions to a minimum. A helicopter arrived, and I was medevacked to the big regional Army hospital to the north, where there was a larger team more capable of treating spinal injuries. That was when I realized I was actually badly injured. The flight was short, and the strange air mattress they had me on was more comfortable than the back board or the hospital bed. When we arrived at the big hospital ER, they went to take me off that air mattress (I guess it belonged with the helicopter) and I cried and pleaded that they please let me stay on it. I still didn’t know “how bad it was” (or wasn’t) and I was starting to feel pain, again.

…It was pretty bad. My back was broken in two places, a spinous process from one smashed vertebrae had gotten shoved into my spinal canal, and I had a concussion and a broken wrist. I’d be in that hospital for a couple of months after 16+ continuous hours of surgery to fuse the damaged vertebrae and install bizarre and uncomfortable hardware to hold those surgical sites still while healing happened. (A year later, that hardware would all come out… except for a ferrous surgical wire that to this day prevents me having an MRI; the wire was woven through the fusion to hold things together.) I’ve got a long scar down my spine, a visible reminder, and an uglier, shorter one on my left hip where the bone grafts were taken to build my fusion. I don’t care about the scars; I lived. I’m still walking.

Funny thing about all of this; the longer term consequences were not within view. I had no idea that I would struggle to form healthy attachments or build trust with lovers, possibly ever again. I didn’t know that the nightmares would plague me for decades to come – some to do with the domestic violence, some to do with the medical terror of the surgery itself, during which the medical team had to wake me up to verify that I was responding to stimuli. There have been few things more openly terrifying in my life than being awake during spinal surgery, intubated, on life support, surgical incisions open, and being asked questions that required answers. There have been other consequences… the pain of my arthritis reminds me regularly of the choice I made. A choice to live, sure, but also… a choice that came with profound consequences. I paid a high price for this life of mine.

I pause for a moment to reflect on the value of a life. This life. My life. The choice I made to keep it, to trudge on, to try again, reaches so far back beyond that despairing moment in 2013 when I thought to abandon it. It has been a worthy journey, consequences and all. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it’s easy.

…Some nights I still have nightmares. Some mornings I still wake up in pain. When I look back, though, I don’t regret that terrible lonely desperate choice to let go of a balcony rail and fall to my… freedom. Some choices just extract a big price. It’s a question I think few of us ask or answer before we choose; will the price be worth it? It’s hard to know, isn’t it? It’s probably worth wondering, for at least a moment… but there’s no map on this journey. We’re each walking our own hard mile.

Choose your adventure. Pay your price. Begin again. The journey is the destination.

However bad it feels in some one moment… it’ll pass. If you let it pass. Give yourself that chance. Take care of that fragile vessel. Have a cup of coffee (or tea), or a drink of water. Take a shower. Breathe. Go for a walk. Listen to the wind. Get some fresh air. Listen to some music…

This one hit me in a special way the other day, and it’s lingered since then… particularly this bit:

Oh no, love, you’re not alone
You’re watching yourself but you’re too unfair
You got your head all tangled up
But if I can only make you care
Oh no, love, you’re not alone
No matter what or who you’ve been
No matter when or where you’ve seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I’ve had my share, now I’ll help you with the pain
You’re not alone

“Rock-n-Roll Suicide”, David Bowie, Ziggy Stardust 1972

I must have worn that album out in half a dozen different formats over the years… lost it… come back to it. It lives on in my memory. I know the words by heart, but can’t sing the tune (human limitations being what they are, I’m no David Bowie! LOL).

Sure, sure, we’re each having our own experience. Fuck that can feel so lonely sometimes, right? But… we’re also “all in this together” – humans being human, stranded on this one mudball hurtling through space, together. So fragile. So… amazing.

I smile quietly to myself and reflect on that much younger woman in the mirror… so damaged and cynical and angry. There were still so many tears ahead, too… I’m not sure I could have endured that had I known what was to come, but the lived moments have passed pretty fucking quickly in all their complexity and beauty and sorrow and love. It’s been a complex and interesting journey so far… and I’m not alone. Here we all are, eh?

I sip my coffee and watch the clouds beyond the window as daybreak arrives and becomes dawn. There’s Winter weather in the forecast and perhaps I’ll be stuck at home for the weekend because of it, but… maybe not? Like anything else to do with the future, it’s an open question. There are a whole lot of possibilities that may – or may not – unfold. I’m feeling philosophical about that, and peculiarly, intensely, grateful that I stuck around to find out, and let the future unfold.

…You’re not alone. Give yourself a minute, and a bit of care. Let the tears fall. Begin again.