Archives for category: forgiveness

The morning is off to a slow start. I don’t take it personally. I slept well, woke easily, and it’s a new day. I start the morning with some exercise, then make coffee. It is a work day.

I sip my coffee feeling grateful for how well my work-station suits me. My Traveling Partner has supported my needs with great care, and together we’ve chosen equipment that really appeals to me, and also suits my physical and cognitive needs. It matters. I’m fortunate, and I smile as my fingers float over the keys of this keyboard. During the work day, it matters, too; I can see the screen easily, and am less prone to spending hours hunched over my desk, squinting at my monitors. I feel relaxed, sitting here, with my coffee, as the day begins. 🙂

My partner put my needs ahead of his own, to get me back to work promptly after the move. He’s finally getting to spend time on his own needs, and getting his workstation set up, too. It’s been challenging to deal with shipping delays caused by the pandemic (I mean, probably?). It’s nice to see him getting to start enjoying his computer, again. When I look around, it’s clear that the last space here at home that is due for a real investment in time, effort, and thought to be wholly “moved in” is my partner’s study/game room. In all other respects, we appear to be entirely moved in, here, and simply living life. 🙂

Yesterday, things went a bit sideways at one point. His frustration (with some set-up details that were preventing him making use of his computer) exceeded his ability to manage it easily (frustration is my “kryptonite”, so I totally “get it”). His strong emotions began to overwhelm me, even though they were not at all “about” me – not his “fault”, or really any “issue” of his at all. That’s all on me. I wasn’t managing that very well. The moment of emotional badminton was a bit difficult for both of us. We have the tools for that. We managed to get a grip on ourselves, each of us, individually. I keep returning to a critical moment of success in my recollection; in that instant when I was teetering on the edge of a PTSD “flashback” and at risk of a full on meltdown, my Traveling Partner stepped out onto our deck for a moment to “get a grip” and take a minute to calm himself. When he came back in, although still stressed, he simply asked me “What do you want out this right now?”, with measured deliberate patience, and a very gentle voice. I took a breath and answered “I want a calm house, contentment, and to be able to simply converse, even when we’re stressed out”. His reply really got through to me, too. “Then work with me and let’s make that happen.”

So we did. And we lived happily ever after.

Well…okay… being real? We did, and it worked out well, and we were able to get back on track and really “be there” for each other. Heartfelt apologies were exchanged, hurt feelings were acknowledged, and each of us took unflinching ownership of our individual baggage and bullshit. It was pretty fantastic. 🙂 I’m proud of my partner’s ability – and willingness – to take a step back in a moment of stress and work together to improve an experience. It’s a shared journey because we don’t leave each other to carry our burdens alone. 🙂 It’s not always easy, and it is very human. That’s okay, too.

Love means us no harm. There’s value in treating it that way. 🙂

Happily ever after is not actually a thing. Let that go. The expectations and assumptions that infect our thinking when we chase “happily ever after” are definitely going to sabotage our joy in every moment that reality can’t measure up to the perfect romantic daydream of “happily ever after”. Trust me; reality can’t live up to our cherished daydreams. lol Let that go. We’re too human for that – and honestly, in its best moments, reality is quite splendid, after all.

I sip my second coffee. My Traveling Partner, now up for the day, drinks his first cup. I consider a dip in the hot tub before work… it’s a nice start to a busy day. 🙂

…Certainly, it’s time to begin again.

 

Funny thing happened yesterday, while I was sorting out what paintings will hang where, here in the new house… an ex crossed my mind. Oh, very briefly, and not in a weird or upsetting or chilling way. I was simply hunting for a particular painting I thought would be exceptional in a specific location, and I could not find it. I could not find it in the stacks of paintings in my studio closet, or in the flat storage cabinets along the wall, or stacked among the unsorted stacks-by-size, or… anywhere. Weird, right? I mean… not so weird; paintings sell. I don’t put much energy into selling art (not the sort of energy I put into painting paintings, for sure), but some of them do still somehow wander off in exchange for money. lol

I solved the mystery with an email search. I almost always email my partner when a painting sells. The subject line is pretty nearly always the same:

“[name of painting] sold! $xxx.xx”.

No idea why, exactly, I do this, but I do, and I can count on two things: firstly, batches of new work get emailed to a friend and attached (giving me a date they were created, and some notes about the new work, often including size, media notes, technical details, and title, if not also providing some insights into my inspiration at that time), and secondly, I email my partner when work sells (giving me details about where it went, and for how much it sold, and when). It only took a few minutes to find the original email with the new work attached… then a few more to find the sale acknowledged. (I could do much better with my business record keeping. lol I even think I should.)

That’s it, really. End of the tale. I sold the painting I had in mind to an ex, almost a decade ago, for a not-insignificant sum. In that moment of acknowledgement (and relief that I hadn’t just lost the damned thing), my ex crossed my mind. Briefly. Impersonally. Healing really does happen. Sometimes it takes more time than feels reasonable or convenient, but it can happen.

“K5: Gently Now” 16″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas w/glow, May, 2010

This morning I sip my coffee and enjoy the quiet morning, undisturbed by thoughts of exes. They aren’t part of my life, by choice, and generally with good reasons.

It’s a new day. The sky is still dark. The house is quiet. The coffee is hot and the mug warms my hands pleasantly. I sit with my thoughts awhile. New beginnings will be soon enough. There’s definitely room in my day for “now“.

One of the big motherfucker’s of PTSD is the lasting impact, the lasting change to cognition, implicit memory, patterns of thought – all the things that make up the “D” (disorder) in PTSD. It’s hard. Recognizing the damage done, and the way it holds potential to “call our shots”, in the moment, is one of the enormous challenges involved in healing. It’s a lot of work finding – and maintaining – perspective and balance. I don’t point these things out as someone who has found her way, or has some solution, or is “over it. I point them out because I am still affected, even 39 years later. The worst of it, in the here and now, is the way it affects relationships with people dear to me who were in no way involved in the damage done, who mean me no harm, and indeed wish me well and want to share some piece of life’s journey with me.

Fuck PTSD.

It’s a major “begin again” moment, right here. My symptoms flared up completely “out of nowhere” (by that I mean, “predictably, but I wasn’t watching for it because I made foolish assumptions about my current emotional wellness, generally”). I certainly could have handled myself much better than I did. A chill calm morning shattered by tense voices, hurt feelings, frustration, irrational fears… it can feel like ruination. It can feel like more damage is done. It can feel like “spreading it around”. It definitely isn’t “fair”. There is guilt and shame beginning to try to fill the space where those irrational fears had been acting out their moment of drama. It’s fucking hard. It’s very very real.

Mental illness – and mental wellness – may not conform to our idea of what they “should” look like, who “should” be afflicted, or how we think such things “ought to” progress. I’ve learned a handful of things over the time and distance this healing journey has covered, though. Mental illness is commonplace. We’ve all got problems. We all hurt sometimes. No one is immune to communication challenges, or emotions.

I take a deep breath. I exhale. I relax. I let it go. My Traveling Partner alerts me he is going to soak in the hot tub. His tone is no assurance that I’m actually welcome… so I choose to do the hard thing; I open myself up to potential hurt feelings, and suggest I’d like to join him. He doesn’t say “no” or set a boundary. I take a deep breath… and begin again.

We soak together, listen to birds sing, and let the day begin.

It’s some time later, now. Feels like a mostly ordinary, pleasant morning, aside from the very deliberate gentleness and care we are taking with each other as we move on from a difficult moment. Do you love someone with PTSD? Complex PTSD? Bi-polar disorder? Depression? Anxiety? It’s hard, right? It’s not your “fault” – it’s also not their “fault”. Mental illness is hard work for the one afflicted – and hard work for the people who love them. Take a breath. Get some distance if you need it. Ideally… don’t punish each other. I know. Hard. All of it is hard. Good practices help – they take actual practice, and consistency, and they do help. A lot. Good therapy in the care of a qualified clinician helps (not always easy to find the right therapist, and it can be costly, I get it). Working to avoid compounding mental illness with “second dart suffering” and further inflicted hurts unwittingly delivered on each other is so important… and again, so much work. I can only say “keep practicing” and “begin again”. Yes, my results vary. No lie. Sometimes I fall short of my best self. I may never be wholly “well” in a reliable way that I can casually trust – my vigilance (regarding my symptoms) and (good) self-care practices are one thing I can offer my partner(s) to prevent doing them further damage. It’s not always enough… but I can’t take that personally.

I begin again.

So, I’ve got this day ahead of me, and things to do with it. I’ve hit the reset button, and the rest is a big pile of verbs. It’s up to me which of those I grab onto and apply to the day. 🙂

What about you? Are you ready to begin again? You’ve got this!

This morning starts gently. The promise of every new day is a new beginning. Even in the time of pandemic, every dawn begins a new day (so far…). I start the morning with meditation, yoga, coffee… and this peculiar beautiful strange celebration of what is human. I love this video version of The Real Folk Blues. I’m not certain I can be clear about quite why. It isn’t the “original version”. It’s one created by artists (during the pandemic) inspired by that original for reasons of their own. It reminds me that even our struggles – maybe especially our struggles – create moments of profound beauty, wonder, and power in our experience. Anchors created in our memory that tie us to events, places, people, experiences… good or bad, lost or found; our hearts beat to these rhythms. Pieces of “who we are”.

Poetic musings and a bit of music, a cup of coffee, a sunrise… there are worse ways to start a day. 🙂

My mind wanders through recollections of recent special moments. Like light and shadows, reflections on water, or catching sight of a finished painting with completely new eyes, the memories are meaningful to me, in a fleeting moment, the significance easily lost if I “overthink” them. There have been some lovely moments during the move, and yes, during this time of pandemic. I sit with those, sipping my coffee, insisting that my restless mind pause and focus on what is sweet, and merry, and good, and uplifting. Love and loving, and what matters most. The things I want to characterize my day-to-day experience. I pause not to celebrate those experiences so much as to savor them, and “lock them into” my implicit memory and experience of life “generally”. The wellspring of my positivity and fairly reliably good outlook on life, these days, is, I suspect, rooted in this one simple practice. It’s not “mine” – I learned it elsewhere. Here’s a great explanation of how to “take in the good”. Your results may vary. (We become what we practice.)

It’s a good morning for coffee and sentiment. Such a human thing. What’s so special about being human? I’m not even certain that it is special… there’s not much I can know about “the life of the mind” for a turtle, an ant, a hummingbird, or a house cat. I only know what I know – and that’s such a pitifully small amount of knowledge, even among human primates, that it can be a bit of a downer now and then. I queue up another favorite song, sentimental, encouraging, and very human. I smile while silly sentimental tears spill over for no obvious reason. Also very human. Also totally okay.

Perspective matters.
“Emotion and Reason” acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012

Another day. Time to get on with another beginning. 🙂 What sweetness and wonder might today hold? Time to find out… If things go wrong, I know I can begin again.

I’m fairly glad the weekend is over. I wasn’t at my best. Yesterday started beautifully, went sideways early, stayed fairly difficult for some time afterward, and was not especially satisfying. It was a cool summer morning, and a very hot summer day. It didn’t cool off enough during the night to get the house below 72 degrees, even with all the windows thrown wide open to the night air. I slept badly. I stubbed my toe as I was getting up this morning. I’ve got a stiff neck, and my coffee tastes like dirt. lol Wow. I could zoom in on what a “shitty morning” this “is”, too… only… It isn’t. It’s just a morning. A blank slate on a new day. A new beginning. There’s more to this new day than a small handful of sour moments, wrong notes, and grumpiness. So many good things are happening this week!

A good thing? A bad thing? Sometimes things are just things; we add the judgement.

I sip my fairly terrible dirt-tasting coffee with more contentment than I can describe with words. I’m okay with today, so far. The gray sky is not bringing me down. The reluctantly partially cooled house isn’t not a deterrent on my good mood. My stiff neck will likely ease as the morning wears on. It’s a work day, and my Traveling Partner is here to take care of meeting with contractors and delivery people; I’m free to focus on work. My desk is very tidy and ready for the day, the result of the work I did in the studio, yesterday; it was the last room to get completely unpacked.

I was overly-sensitive yesterday, prone to taking things personally, and mired in emotional moments – but I still got things done, and I didn’t seek to punish myself for my humanity. I let the tears fall. I got over them. I’m fortunate to have a nurturing, care-giving, partnership of equals built on love – but I also recognize how hard my bullshit is on my partner. I sip my coffee wondering if he is also glad yesterday is behind us? He still sleeps – will he wake eager for the new day? I hope he does.

I hear a car alarm somewhere in the distance, quickly silenced. The sky is lighter now, as day approaches. I make room in my morning for gratitude, for new beginnings, and for contentment and sufficiency. I remind myself of things I want to get done, calls I want to make, and plans for the day. I finish this coffee. It’s already time to begin again. 🙂