Archives for category: Frustration

Still Human

November 8, 2018 //

I planned. I prepared. I packed the car before I left for work, eagerly contemplating getting out of the office “early” (I’d already worked more than 40 hours this week, before Thursday event started, and part of that on my weekend, it wasn’t going to be “leaving early” any more than my “extra” day off tomorrow is really “time off”; I was just fucking done). Looked pretty good from the vantage point of beginning the work day – at 5:30 am.

1:00 pm came and went. Pretty much every minute of the day had, at that point, be spent fighting one small work-fire or another – for other people – and data entry. A fucking mountain of it. I’m not actually complaining about that; it’s part of the job, and I am both skillful and fast. It’s annoying to be offered “help” with it, and spend still more time fixing mistakes – and the more fatigued I am from the extended work hours week after draining week, more and more of the mistakes I have been fixing have been my own. So human. I’m convinced everyone I work with is pretty spectacular, and working to the absolute limit of their ability, generally. I fight back tears of frustration so much more often than people realize.

2:00 pm came and went. I missed a ping from my Traveling Partner, asking if I’d left the office yet. He’s eager to see me and spend time together. I message back that I should be done soon.

3:00 pm came and went – more things break. More things to fix. More questions asked. More questions answered. Support this thing. Find that data. Finish this task, then that one. Swamped by low-priority non-negotiable workload, the minutes… are hard. I’m… so done. I’m aggravated by the long hours I end up choosing to work because the work needs to be done. No back up. Team of one. I have a few snarling “fuck this shit” moments, feeling, in the absence of immediate direct stimulus to the contrary, unappreciated. Here’s the thing, though; I’m very much appreciated, and valued. I even recognize that. In the moment, it’s still hard to feel overworked. It’s hard to have to choose self over profession – more often than I want it to be. I matter more. …But…but… money is a shortcut to quality of life. Fucking hell. Some days I feel so trapped.

As 4:00 pm approached, I started wrapping things up, even while recognizing there was more I could do. Of course there is. Always. Very few people work for organizations that understand structured managed workload based on organized routines and interdependent orders of operation. Most organizations just race at break-neck speed from crisis to crisis, reacting – regardless of how well or poorly they plan. I shrug thinking back on the day. It’s a business approach that keeps me employed. I manage chaos. I gently and firmly seek to impose order on chaos. Chaos won today. I don’t really feel like talking about work. lol

I finally got out of the office. Into the car. Couldn’t get myself to start the car. Stared at my phone awhile feeling… distant. Cut off. Confused. Irritated. Overwhelmed. I just wanted someone to help me figure out what to do next… which, considering I just left work, seems odd to me now; I tend to be so purposeful. I called my partner. No answer.

I called my partner. No answer.

Fuck! I feel… left behind? “Ignored”? (Way to take it personally, when I know I’m… what exactly? Shit. What the hell?)

I called my partner. No answer.

I start the car and start driving… a direction. A quiet observant voice in the back of my thoughts suggestions I am not actually in any shape to be driving. I try to process that thought. It’s hard.

Where am I going?

The phone rings in the car. I click the phone button sort of… habitually. I don’t feel present. It’s my Traveling partner. Just the sound of his voice… I start crying like a little kid. I want to say that the whole day has been mean to me. I want to cry because nobody likes me (so emotional, so not a real thing – just feelings). I’m trembling all over and notice that I feel cold. We talk. He says words. I heard sounds. I hear emotion. His soft tender tone. “Take care of yourself…” I hear him encouraging me. I feel soothed. He suggests my blood sugar may be low. He’s probably right; I realize when he mentions it that I haven’t really taken the time I need to care for myself today, at all.

The phone call ends and I feel energized, cheerful, recharged… and my blood sugar is still low. And I’m still mired in rush hour traffic. And there’s no where good to stop. My frustration surges again. Tears spill over…

…Where am I going? I’ve ended up on the freeway, a small salad later, and I am apparently headed south for the weekend at a decent clip, thinking… okay, I can do this, this is fine…

Brake lights. So many brake lights for so far ahead. We sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. Creep forward. Sit. Creep. Sit. Creep. Sit. The guy ahead of me is reading a newspaper with the overhead light in his car on. Creep forward. I figure maybe I should get off the highway, and take a rural route, and slowly move over just in time for the exit I want.

As I come around the curve of the ramp, I start noticing more how noise sensitive I also am. I’m also pretty nearly blinded by all the high intensity headlights that are so popular now; no divider, nothing to stop assholes with their high beams on from really fucking up my vision completely. Aging sucks ass. Fuck. I can’t see well enough to drive safely, I’m feeling reactive and noise sensitive – this shit isn’t about work at all, and it is very much about self-care. I turn left instead of right. Even though I’d been on the road at that point for almost 90 minutes, I was far closer to home than to the freeway headed south. lol I don’t even feel frustrated by the long drive home; I’m relieved to be out of the traffic.

My Traveling Partner catches up with me on the phone later. We agree that doing my usual early morning drive just makes sense. No one has hurt feelings over it. I mean, we miss each other, and yeah, I’ll admit I was crying for some minutes once I admitted to myself that I was not going to make the drive tonight – just pure disappointment and longing for the company of this human being I love so much. I’ve been home a little while. Car’s already packed. Some healthy calories later, a couple big glasses of water, an appropriate amount of cannabis for the need of the moment, and some unmeasured time meditating, I realize I didn’t write – again this morning. The sudden blast of resentment that blows through my consciousness catches me by surprise – without surprising me. I get it; it’s time to take back my time. 😉

It’s time to begin again.

Tags are you going my way?, be here now, be love, begin again, care for you, choose wisely, don't drive distracted, experience, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, love, love and lovers, love me do, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness matters, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, self-care, sufficiency, take good care of yourself, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, loneliness, Love, medical marijuana, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Watch Those Words!

October 30, 2018 //

Language is funny stuff. I sit here amusing myself with rephrasing passive-aggressive posts in my feed, and vague-booking posts, and always/never posts… basically just reading posts and rewriting them in my head to be clearer (to me) and more frank and… more honest.

Seriously, though, what’s with the bullshit that fills up our thoughts and clutters our minds? “I always…”, “you never…”, “you always…”, “I never…” We could just start and end right there with that one. Those are not just wild exaggerations (and for my own amusement, I’ll say “they always are”, which is likely only mostly true) – they are the sort of subtle lies that set us up for failure.

“Can’t” versus “Haven’t”.

“Always” and “never”.

“Have to” and “Can’t”

“No one ever talks about…” (seriously with that foolishness?)

We put our experiences in context, but rather unfortunately I suspect, we own not only our experience, not only our “content”, but also our context – which we get to craft ourselves from whatever notions and moments we think make sense together. lol We’re not super skilled at it, and fill our heads with narratives about good guys and bad guys, and us versus them, and walls and borders and restrictions… still sucking at real boundary-setting, still sucking at being our authentic selves, still sucking at honest self-reflection…

…Still sucking at accepting and encouraging the varying experiences of others, which differ from our own…

…And we wonder why our lives are filled with drama? LOL Omfg – because we create our experience specifically that way!

We (and by we, I specifically mean you and I) can do better. We can for sure do differently. We have choices.

Choose your words with care. You aren’t only communicating to others, you are setting a tone for yourself, crafting the narrative of your life that you may share with others intending to communicate something about yourself, and literally creating your own understanding of the world. I’m saying your words matter, specifically for that reason.

Treat your own sanity well, specifically by practicing using skillfully frank, and yes also kind, language with and to yourself. Stop trying to “sell it” and just be clear.

I know, I know, this is me saying this, and you know I love some words… Just, …choose them as you would anything else that really really matters. 🙂 Because they do.

Ready? It’s time to begin again. 😀

Tags be the change, Can't versus haven't, choose wisely, experience, good self-care, I always, I am my own cartographer, listening deeply, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, say what you mean, speak gently, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, the world is listening, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, What did you just say?, what matters most?, words words words, You never

Categories autumn, Brain Injury, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, inspiration, Logic & Reason, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Quirky

October 29, 2018 //

Sorry about that… I, um… forgot to write at all. I’m even a tad embarrassed by that, particularly since I carefully plan this time, and follow through quite methodically most days, even to the point of occasionally questioning the value in doing so. Then… Well… There’s this. This is different than that. I quite honestly forgot… like… a bunch of times, and even in spite of some reminders (several).

My habits sometimes break. It’s “a feature” of my TBI, as near as I understand it, myself, anyway. Sometimes I just… wander off without some habit or routine that I reliably practice. Even after years. It’s a thing. A quirk. I’m… quirky. lol. I “always” was, I just didn’t also understand that experience (and so many others) in the context of my TBI, that came later. I had other reasons and excuses, and ways of understanding myself, and I suppose they also served my humble needs for as long as they lasted. I’ve even learned, over time, not to beat myself up about my quirks, my forgetfulness, my challenges – I mostly just look that moment over with great care, and a desire to understand both the circumstances and the outcome with greater clarity, and to learn from it what I can, and move on from there. Life doesn’t have to be some sort of frenetic, punishing endurance race, or some lengthy proof of worthiness. How much better (immeasurably) has life been without all that entirely extra not very helpful performance pressure? I mean… who made those rules, anyway?

So… yeah. I woke up some days ago, and… didn’t write. I noticed way later in the evening, and I was too tired to take that opportunity to write, at the end of that day. Then, the next day, I made some excuse, or slept in a little bit, or… just wandered off. I enjoyed a lovely weekend – so lovely – and today was a fairly routine Monday. Today was the day I realized my writing habit had broken, rather odd for it to be that habit, but… there it is.

The morning started off rather peculiarly, and perhaps that what it took to get my attention, that a valued practice, a habit that serves a purpose, had broken? I woke feeling fairly groggy and sort of… unstuck in time. I found myself going through all the motions of the routine morning routines, only, strangely out of sequence, and rather random. I’d barely gotten through some yoga, a shower, and dressing for the day, when I was stepping out the door with my keys in my hand, and heading to the car. That’s super odd; I don’t do mornings in that hurrying-to-work fashion anymore. My days are built around a leisurely start. What the hell? I spent the morning drive into the office musing about how strange it was that I’d broken my writing habit. That I’d also broken my leisure mornings habit didn’t hit me right away. I didn’t notice in time, or with sufficient ability to connect all the dots, and I was already parked at the office when I really understood that I had literally gotten ready for work and departed immediately… it wasn’t even 5:00 am, and I was already at my desk. I hadn’t had any coffee. I was definitely on auto-pilot. I made a promise to myself that I would take a break “a little later” and write, “sometime after I’m caught up…”

…Many hours later, having utterly forgotten about writing, my work day ends, I make the drive home, I arrive safely at my residence… still no writing. I had forgotten about it completely. Well, shit. Okay… I sit down and I write. About not writing. lol That may seem odd all on its own, but without so doing, that habit would remain broken, potentially even permanently; I’ve gotten to know how some of these quirks work. I’ve wandered off from all sorts of things over the course of a lifetime… lost things that I’d carefully put away, made astonishing changes in my life, ended relationships because I somehow… forgot about the whole thing. lol Just… forgot. It’s more than a bit aggravating, and fairly unpredictable. So, I do the needful thing, and reinforce the desired behavior. By doing the desired behavior. In this case, I sit down and write. lol

Quirky’s okay. Broken, too – even broken is okay. Sometimes what we love and make use of most can’t easily survive the wear and tear of our affection. Things break. Even habits. We fix, repair, rebuild, re-purpose, modify, alter, adjust, adapt – we do what is needful. I mean, when we know what that may be, I suppose. I don’t mind being quirky – it turned out, perhaps not so surprisingly, that a great many of the things I am well-regarded for, loved for, or entertained by, myself, are “quirks” I might not have, if I didn’t also have the challenges, injuries, and experiences that I’ve had. 🙂 I rather like this woman I see in the mirror, these days. I’m okay with her quirks.

It’s been a long-ish journey, and not all of it has been pleasant, but it’s mine. 🙂

I’ll just begin again. 😉

Tags be the change, begin again, being and becoming, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, experience, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, MBSR, meditation, mindful living, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, taking care of me, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?, write on write on write on

Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, Words

Busy Street

October 26, 2018 //

It is a rainy night. The cars make that certain specific shhh-shhh that they do when it is a rainy night. I listen to it fall. I listen to the drips cascading leaf to leaf on the yellowing big-leaf maple leaves. I notice the plonk plonk of large splashes dropping to the side of an empty decorative flower-pot made of thin sheet metal. I don’t recall leaving it lay there, purposeless. I enjoy the sound. The wind chime stirs, and the tinkle and soft tones mix in the breeze with the sound of the cars on the too busy street. Night fell. I hadn’t noticed until now, really. I’ve been too busy.

Too busy.

Shit. Right. I gotta do something about that. 🙂 I’m glad the weekend is here. I’ll use it to begin again.

Tags be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, experience, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, meditation, mindful living, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, inspiration, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being

This, Again?

October 17, 2018 //

Yesterday, I had yet another opportunity to patiently explain to someone that they do not get to tell me what I think, why I think it, or how I came to the conclusion I did. It seems obvious, really; my opinion is mine to decide, and to decide even whether to share it. Attempting to force assumptions about my opinion, or my thoughts, or my feelings, upon me is… fucking dumb. A.) That isn’t how opinions or thinking work. B.) No one likes that shit or needs that from anyone else. Lastly, C.) Fucking hell, people, how hard is it, really, to ask a question and listen to the fucking answer?

It’s an extra special nightmare frustration when that person is a man and his tone is condescending and patronizing. I’m not a child or a little girl, and frankly, on its own maleness does nothing whatever to make any stated opinion or observed fact somehow more relevant, worthwhile, or legitimate, at all. I’m just… yeah. So done with that bullshit. lol I managed to walk on from that interaction without resorting to insults or name-calling, which turns out not to require any sort of heroic effort of any sort, I just reminded myself silently that I had things to do, and that arguing with an ass clown was not on my list today. lol

On and on. Trump didn’t change it – maybe didn’t even “make it worse” – but his presidency pushed it into the forefront (again)(I mean, really, we’ve fought this fight before, and had made a lot of apparent headway, but… no… here we are). Kavanaugh isn’t “new” or novel, or frankly even fucking interesting. Been. Here. Before. Been here all along. Maybe we can all work on this? We can do better. I mean, seriously America? Fucking Nazis? Are you kidding me?

Words matter. Choose them with care. Really listen to people. Really share your authentic actual thoughts with them (versus just quoting some regurgitated sound bite you lifted from a talking head on cable news). Connect for real. Ask the deep questions that matter most. Listen – really listen – to the answers. Put content over bullshit. Show your fellow citizens some “common decency”, consideration, empathy, and respect. Maybe even let “I disagree with that position” be the actual end of a conversation or disagreeable moment, and walk on. You don’t have to persuade or convince everyone that your position is right. Maybe it isn’t. Share it if you care to, then let that shit go, too. Quality of life is not about being right. Great relationships are not built on being right. Contentment and happiness are not made up of moments of being right. Fucking just listen once in a while, and even, now and then, accept that you do not know all of everything… or… just maybe.. in some particular instance… insisting on being right, regardless of perceived factual correctness, maybe be quite the wrong thing to do.

…Then… also… respect both your own expertise, and the expertise of your associates. Ask more questions than you answer. Listen to what you’re hearing, and really be present for that. Learn stuff. Grow. Assume positive intent. Have positive intentions yourself! Be authentically who you are – rightness and wrongness and error, flaws, mistakes, and character failures, and all; we don’t become who we most want to be if we can’t start from who we are right now and move on from there.

What I’m saying is, arguing is dumb. It wastes time, and people who are arguing are not listening to each other. Arguments are made up of people throwing their words at other people who are, at best, throwing words back – without listening at all. It’s ridiculous and gets no further toward truths than standing still quite silently would do, and quite possibly, standing still silently would be more effective. (It probably is, actually…)

Don’t argue.

Don’t yell. (Not really relevant, it’s just super unpleasant, and effective only for escalation the emotionality of the interaction in an unpleasant way; if you’re yelling to make your point, you already lost the argument. Just stop.)

Talk to each other. Really listen. Grow because you are hearing new information – or because you have the wisdom to refuse to incorporate ad copy, memes, or straight up misinformation, in your thinking, in spite of hearing it, again. Ask clarifying questions; there’s always more to know. Get context, and check your assumptions; you’re wrong more often than you realize (I promise you this is true).

People can be really fucking repetitive with shit they pick up along the way that they did not really think through themselves, or apply any critical thinking to, when they adopted it as their own. They cling to that shit. It’s tedious. Don’t follow the crowd. It makes for dull conversation, filled with half-baked bullshit, and actual lies.

Do better. Think your own thoughts. Use critical thinking skills to examine what thoughts you think you have. Check your assumptions for accuracy. Check your expectations to ensure they are shared, and realistic, and not left moldering in a corner all implicit and unverified and shit. Easy stuff. Slow the fuck down and ask yourself some questions about the thoughts you tell yourself are your own. Are they really? Fact-checked, lately, Bruh? Did you make any effort at all to determine whether the words you are about to say reflect who you truly are, consistent with the values you claim you have?

My coffee is tasty this morning. I’m mostly ignoring it. My nightmares were a tad too much “Handmaid’s Tale” for my emotional comfort, and I woke feeling confused, angry, resentful, irritated, puzzled, frightened, restless, and yearning for freedom. The conversation, yesterday, in which some rando man-human specifically told me I don’t think what I do, and can’t because I’m wrong about thinking it, was still grating on my nerves. lol At 55, I fucking well know what my political leanings are, what my philosophy of life is, and where I think my ideas potentially take me in life. I’m pretty over men thinking they have something to say to me about what I think. (Wow. I’m obviously still fucking angry about it, too… and only on this whole meta level as an archetypal conversation repeated over time, not the specific moment and individual. Wild. Why are we still here, at all?)

I grin when I think about the end of that conversation (for me). “I disagree with your position. We have nothing further to discuss.”

Sometimes, I gotta just walk on, and begin again. 🙂

Tags be the change, begin again, being and becoming, choose wisely, do better, do your homework, emotional self sufficiency, experience, fuck your opinion, I am my own cartographer, I don't live by your rules, language functions by agreement, listening deeply, MBSR, mindfulness matters, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walk on, walking my own path, what matters most?, words words words, yes I'm an anarchist, you didn't write my dictionary, you don't define my experience, you don't tell me!

Categories Allegories, anger, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, Logic & Reason, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Still Human

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Watch Those Words!

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Quirky

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Busy Street

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This, Again?

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