Archives for category: Frustration

Well…a secret to better sleep, anyway, there are others. Sleep hygiene is tricky. The modern world has a lot of distractions, and a single day sometimes seems too short to fit everything in it. Sleep difficulties can become sleep disorders over time, and there are many of those, each with their own characteristics and common causes.

Over a lifetime, I’ve experienced many sleep disturbances: nightmares, insomnia, sleep paralysis, night terrors, “exploding head” dreams, somnambulance, talking in my sleep, paradoxical insomnia, hypnagogia, apnea… That’s not an exhaustive list. I have a difficult relationship with sleep, and always have. These experiences aren’t limited to my adult lifetime, some have been characteristics of my sleep since early childhood. Some don’t trouble me anymore at all. Some linger as occasional occurrences. Here’s the thing, though, I mostly sleep pretty well, generally, these days. Yes, there’s actually “a trick to it”, one single small change that made a really big difference.

I’m not going to drown you in words making you wait for me to share this incredibly useful practical change that did so much to help me get better, healthier sleep. No subscription. No course to purchase. Also no promise offered nor guarantee being made, I just know this one detail has made all the difference (for me). I reset my expectations about sleep, and I stopped being stressed out and frustrated over not sleeping.

… That’s it.

Like a small town on along the highway, if you blinked you may have missed it. What was the change I made? No kidding, I changed my relationship with, and expectations of, sleep. That has been the thing that has done the most to improve my sleep. I still have occasional (sometimes frequent) sleep disturbances, but they rarely amount to a “disorder” these days, and they rarely last long or recur endlessly. See, it was the frustration, stress, and anxiety over not sleeping that resulted in the worst adverse effects of impaired sleep over time, not the impaired sleep itself. The emotional reaction to not sleeping restfully caused more problems than occasional failures to sleep ever could.

Seriously. It isn’t that noise keeping you awake, or the light, or the ticking of the clock, or that other person’s breathing. More often than not, it’s the stressed, frustrated, angry emotional response to not sleeping. The more vexed by our wakefulness we become, the worse our difficulty getting back to sleep. That’s been my experience, anyway. Take it for what it is; subjective experience, and a sample size of one.

I’m not saying changing one’s perspective on something as vexing as poor sleep is easy, or that it takes less practice than any other willful change. It takes practice, and commitment, and repetition, and I failed a lot and endured many annoying, sleepless, restless nights getting from “there, then” to here, now. It’s a huge improvement, though. The stress and frustration, anger, and despair over not sleeping was doing a lot more damage to my overall wellness and quality of life than my impaired sleep was, though. So…

Now, when I am wakeful, I turn on soft lighting unlikely to rouse me, and read awhile (taking care to choose reading material unlikely to cause excitement, itself), or get up briefly for a drink of water, and some meditation. Nightmares? I let myself wake in my familiar safe environment and soothe myself with a bit of meditation and return to sleep after my nightmares fade. I accept that I have some sleep challenges, and refrain from worsening those with aggressively anxious or frustrated rumination, obsessive blame-laying, or defeated self-talk. The acceptance itself is a useful tool. I’ve stopped trying to force my sleep pattern to comply with some notion of what sleep should look like, and I allow myself to sleep as suits me best. Does that “fix” my insomnia? No, but it doesn’t bother me when I wake during the night, or struggle to fall asleep. I just go with it. The result being that I am more likely to fall back to sleep fairly quickly – and on those occasions when I don’t, I’m not beginning my day in a negative emotional state on top of being tired.

I sit quietly at the trailhead, thinking my thoughts and grateful for the pretty good sleep I enjoyed last night. Did I sleep through the night? No. I rarely do, but I wasn’t awake long, and sleep returned relatively quickly. It took a long time for me to learn that the stress over poor sleep was doing more damage to my sleep than the poor sleep itself would do. It took even longer to really accept how true that was and do something useful with that information. Along the way, my sleep improved, quite a lot, because I also made a point to learn and practice good sleep hygiene, generally. All the many practices I practice intended to improve my emotional wellness and physical health have also helped improve my sleep.

I guess what I’m saying is that changing my response to poor sleep in the moment has done more to improve the quality of my sleep than any one other change.

I sit with that thought awhile. I’m happy to share it without monetary gain, and I hope you find it useful if you struggle with poor sleep. There are still verbs involved, and you’ll have to do the work of making a change on your own. I can’t really help with that. I hope you do though, and I hope you get the rest you need to be and become the person you most want to be. We’re all more pleasant and capable when we get the rest we need.

Another day, another chance to begin again.

Daybreak comes. It is a gray and wintry looking autumn morning. The oaks have lost most of their leaves. The surface of the marsh ponds is still and dark. The sky is a featureless wash of gray-blue. The path stretches ahead, disappearing around a bend. I breathe in the chilly autumn air; no scents of flowers now, only the autumn damp, and a hint of rain to come. I exhale, letting lingering background worries go with my exhalation, dissipating with the cloud of my breath. Lovely morning. A good morning to begin again.

Sometimes small things get large, or at least feel larger than reasonable. Sometimes that experience is a reflection of lost perspective. Sometimes it is about many small things piling up. Keeping small things small is a smart choice, but sometimes it sounds easier than it seems to be in practice.

I sigh to myself from the parking lot of the co-work space I sometimes use. It’s an hour away from home. Some idiot person who didn’t know better locked the deadbolt on the front door of the co-work space, which uses an app to control access. The locked deadbolt is not necessary for security, and being locked it prevents the app from unlocking the door. Shit. I’m more annoyed by this than I want to be.

Most mornings I could shrug this off as a mild inconvenience, but today I had planned on an early start, have calls scheduled earlier than usual, and a late evening request from an upstream colleague last night to look into something “first thing”. Fuuuuuuuck. I would have shifted gears and gotten set up at the Starbucks across the parking lot for the price of a terrible coffee… but they’re closed. So I’m sitting in my car, an eye on Slack to see if the co-work management gets back to me about the locked door. This is not the first time I’ve had to deal with this; it happened once last year, when the cleaning contractor changed. Apparently, it happened yesterday, too, although I wasn’t here and that didn’t affect me.

… I don’t need to be this irritated…

I’d be less annoyed if there were anywhere at all to sit, near the locked door. There isn’t. I’d also be less annoyed, probably, if I hadn’t come here to work with specific plans in mind that have timing details. I sigh again and try my damnedest to let it go. Adapt. Bounce back. Pivot to plan B.

My head aches. My chest is tight. I feel deeply anxious and as if I am having difficulty breathing “enough”. It’s stress. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and focus on my breath. I keep at it until I feel less like smashing things with a hammer and more just quietly aggravated. This situation isn’t personal, at all.

Small shit adds up and it can create big stress. Yesterday, just as my work day ended, I got an unexpected call on my work number from an ex, which I ended before any conversation could develop. I was still triggered, and as a result I was tense and hyper vigilant through the evening, and my sleep was restless and disturbed. Yuck. Traffic this morning was awful and I hit most of the lights red. The coffee place I prefer was closed; their opener didn’t show up. Everything (and I do mean everything) seems more expensive these days, and that manages to stress me out in spite my attempts to put it in perspective. Small shit, adding up.

Daybreak comes as I sit in the car, thinking about what to do next to deal with the random stressful bullshit that doesn’t involve violence. I would have, anyway, so I take time to meditate.

… Fuck this shit, I am so g’damned annoyed right now…

The receptionist doesn’t come in until 09:00… I definitely need planned to get started earlier than that.

Shit. I’ll just have to begin again…

An unexpected ping from another co-work colleague gets me the code to a side door, and my day restarts from a new perspective on timing. There are changes to be made – aren’t there often changes to cope with? I sigh and try to be kind to myself. I am the person I am, with the baggage and odd wiring that make me who I am. It’s mostly pretty okay. Sometimes it’s challenging. Beginning again helps when things skitter sideways and my plan breaks down. I do my best – mostly that’s enough. I remind myself to breathe and slow down, as I move on.

I’m sitting at the halfway point on my morning walk, grateful for the warm sweater and cardigan. It’s a cold morning. It’s that time of year, here. The predawn sky is dark and clear, with a few clouds brightened by the lights below. I sit here contentedly, nothing much on my mind, and trying not to think about work. Now is not that time.

For the moment, my anxiety is well-managed, which is nice, and my pain is pretty typical of the season, which is less nice, but endurable. I smirk at myself cynically; I am a survivor. I’ve survived trauma, and heartbreak, and ruin, and mental illness, and profound injury, and domestic violence, and war. It’s been a lot. I sigh to myself. There are so very many people who have survived worse, and more. I’m grateful to be where I am, sitting quietly on this bench on a cold autumn morning before sunrise.

I’m admittedly disappointed with “the state of humanity”, presently. We could do so much better as beings than we have chosen to do. The current US president calls people names like an angry rude child. Legislators seriously contemplate imprisoning women over what should be private medical decision making between women and their physicians. Billionaires hoard vast unimaginable sums of money and assets piled high, while the working people who exchanged their efforts for a pittance worry about their next meal, and people living below the poverty line make daily decisions about whether to buy lifesaving medicine, or groceries. Housing is both limited in availability and also increasingly unaffordable. Are we really immune to all the suffering and violence in the world around us? Are we really okay with people deliberately seeking to profit off that misery?

…We could do better…

I sigh and let that go. I pull my attention back to this moment, here, now.

I take a moment for meditation, and for gratitude. My thoughts, this morning, are more personal than I’m inclined to share. I think about some painful moments in the past, and turn them over in my memory, considering instead what I may have learned or gained as a result of these experiences. It’s a practice I indulge rarely and approach cautiously; it is easy to become immersed in the recollection of pain or failure, and lose my way. There is real value in changing my perspective on such things, when I can. I don’t force it. Authenticity and honest self-reflection have positive value. Tearing myself down ruminating over past trauma or poor decision making tends to cloud my thinking and make me miserable. It is important to practice one and avoid the other.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The cold has begun to seep into my bones, and my arthritis pain worsens. I sigh to myself and get to my feet. May as well finish this walk and get the day started, I guess. I find myself feeling a little blue. The world weighs too heavily on my thoughts, perhaps, or maybe it’s just pain. Weary. I feel weary of the world and all it’s heartache and chaos, and I’d like very much to simply be alone somewhere for… awhile. Days maybe, but I don’t have the money to spare on frivolous getaways right now, and too much to do that genuinely needs doing, and holidays ahead. Fuck. “Hang in there,” I remind myself, “this too will pass. It’s all very temporary.”

I stand staring down the trail for a moment, feeling unexpected tears rolling down my face. (What the absolute fuck?!) I sigh, a little frustrated with this whole “being human” thing. It’s clearly time to begin again. I see signs of daybreak on the eastern horizon, and start walking.

The morning was chillier than usual when I stepped out of the house. The air had a certain dry bite to it when I inhaled. The car sparkled under the street light. Frost. The first frost this year has come. My eye wanders over the flower beds as I pass them. “Time to prune the roses and woody herbs,” I remind myself. The car door opens with a frozen crackle. It doesn’t take long to defrost the windshield and warm up the car – it’s cold, but only 34 degrees (F), barely cold enough to frost things over.

I head up the highway with my thoughts. I’m cautious and alert for frozen stretches of roadway. There is little traffic, and the drive is a pleasant one. Nice start to the day, and I find myself smiling as I drive, relaxed and unbothered.

…”Relaxed and unbothered”… an almost ideal state of being in 2025, and it feels like a stroke of luck, and a luxury. I make a point to enjoy it, aware of how precious this moment really is…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a good beginning. Sometimes that’s enough.

I sip my coffee and think about the holidays ahead. There’s no stress over it, really, and I don’t have any lavish costly plans. I’m looking forward to a simple holiday at home, a chance to relax with my beloved Traveling Partner, share joy, tasty treats, and festive moments. That, too, is enough. His birthday is between Thanksgiving and Giftmas, and I often find it challenging to find something worthy to celebrate him, but that challenge is a “me thing”. Although he is particular, he is not demanding, nor ingracious, and he knows how to receive a gift well. I’m excited about my choices this year. I think about holiday baking, and setting up the tree on Thanksgiving weekend. I think about the Thanksgiving dinner, and the simple and tasty classic menu we decided on for this year. I’m hoping for a low stress holiday – no one needs more stress these days. I think about Giftmas, too, and selfishly, like a child, I think about gifts under the tree and stockings hung on the mantle. I’m hoping for fuzzy soft spa socks and books, and maybe something for the garden, or the kitchen.

My keyboard begins vexing me with some crazy bullshit. It’s wireless… Low battery maybe? No.  Some update not yet installed? Nope, not that either. It’s weird; the actions of the keys seems to change randomly. Restarting the laptop clears it up temporarily, but in a few keystrokes the problem returns. I find myself more distracted than frustrated, which seems promising, all things considered. I turn my attention to troubleshooting and the work day ahead.

… It’s apparently time to begin again.

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…If you’re curious what the issue turned out to be with the keyboard, my function key was apparently sticking. Resolved. Feeling grateful to have done some time in a technical support role, once upon a time. Handy skills.

After an after work nap that began as “laying down for a couple minutes” and quickly became collapsing into a deep sleep for 90 minutes, I still crashed pretty early last night. I slept deeply, but woke early, abruptly, jerked from a deep troubled sleep by… what? I don’t know, and it didn’t matter. I mostly felt relieved to be awake, and no longer prowling The Nightmare City for safety or an exit.

I got up quietly, dressed, and left the house. My waking consciousness was still disturbed by my dreams, but I know the relative importance of such things (basically, none), and I don’t take it personally, I just move on. I drive to the nature park for my morning walk, and considering the very dense fog this morning, I wait for more light. It wouldn’t do to carelessly step off the seasonal marsh trail in the fog and darkness, and risk tumbling into a pond (or the Tualatin River), most especially during a government shutdown that means there is little chance of help coming. On mornings like this, foggy, chilly, and quiet, I often have the trail entirely to myself.

My nightmares vex me, and I am feeling annoyed. Daybreak came and I walked the first half of my route in the dim light, thinking about the symptoms of the sickness that has infected our national identity. It’s everywhere. An already rich, well-documented fraudster gets a “trillion dollar payday”. Regular people go without promised services and even food because the grifter-in-chief is okay with using actual human lives as bargaining chips and thinks (apparently) that governance is some sort of game. Armed masked thugs kidnap Americans off the streets of their own neighborhoods without personal accountability or consequences, because supposedly they’re the fucking good guys (they’re not). The courts play badminton with people’s rights. The media puts more money and effort into marketing copy than real news, and AI slop is infesting every feed, every channel. The president makes a point of pardoning criminals – as long as they’re his friends, or offer him some personal benefit. Vile. Hateful. Corrupt.

It’s all so very tedious and ugly… My footsteps crunch along the path in the chilly fog. I’m frustrated and disappointed by the pointless petty partisan bickering of elected officials whose actual job is the one thing they seem committed to not doing; governing. This shit has gotten so bad it has the power to put my fucking nightmares into perspective. Remember freedom of speech? PTSD? Say hello to America 2025. Fuck.

Foggy morning

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on the fence rail of this bit of fence that runs along one end of a pond in the marsh. I like this spot. I’ve a good view across the marsh in one direction, and oaks dot the hillside in the other. It’s foggy enough that I can’t see far, and there is no visible horizon. I sigh contentedly, feeling relieved to be awake – and alone. The world is stressing me out quite a lot lately. I keep working at building resilience and self-care, but I also have to keep draining my resilience reservoir over one stressor or another. It has required near continuous self-care and resulted in frequent (emotional, cognitive) fatigue. We could do better.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate in the fog as daybreak becomes the dawn. A new day ahead of me, with new opportunities to be (or become) the person I most want to be. It’s not an easy path. I fail myself rather more often than I’d like, but I also manage to impress myself now and then, and I’ve come further than I ever expected I might go. I sigh to myself. The sound of it seems strangely noisy. A goose or duck, unseen somewhere in the fog, gronks (irritably?). An enormous flock rises from the foggy marsh and takes to the sky as a group. They’re loud as they pass overhead.

Long weekend ahead, for me. Veterans Day Tuesday, and I took Monday off. For a long time a bunch of us (Desert Storm veterans) have gotten together over the phone, or on social media, or in a virtual meeting space to reconnect, hang out, and catch up on things. Not this year.

There are fewer of us these days and the timing and circumstances weren’t in our favor this year. The guy who usually hosts is in rehab. Again. Another needs to spend time trying to figure out groceries because his SNAP benefits aren’t available, and his disability compensation doesn’t go far enough to pay his bills. We’re mortal creatures; some of us just aren’t around any more. I’m disappointed, but also grateful to be in better circumstances, myself, at this place in my life. I sit awhile thinking about these strange military friendships that linger. There’s really nothing else quite like them. A unique experience of a very particular sort of trauma-bonding, with people who knew me at a very different time in my life. In many respects I am not that woman at all, now. I wonder if these old friends would like me as well if they knew me more as I am, now, than as the woman I was then?

I inhale the chill foggy autumn air deeply and exhale slowly, thoroughly, like adding a page-break to a document. I let my irritation and sorrow go, with my exhalation.

I think for a moment about the Anxious Adventurer, and the difficult journey of figuring himself out. Life is hard enough when we do know who we are. Having to also figure that shit out along the way is a massive additional complication for someone who is expected to be an actual adult, already. I don’t envy him having to deal with that; I’ve been there myself and it definitely felt like a Sisyphian task sometimes.

My Traveling Partner pings me. I feel loved and valued. I see him working through his challenges in life, too. We’re each having our own experience, we three human primates. Choices and circumstances, and each on our own path. It’s funny sometimes how different our individual perspectives can be. I often wish it were easier to share what we learn along the way, more effectively.

I sit with my thoughts awhile longer, wondering what value these musings even offer…

…Then I notice it’s already time to begin again. I’m glad I have so much to be grateful for, and so many options.