Archives for category: grief

Sometimes, regardless of your attempted attention to detail, your willingness to do more, better, your drive to improve and grow, or the hours of work and study you’ve put into being your best self, it won’t be enough (for someone, or for some circumstance). That’s frustrating (maddening), and real. It’s a harsh truth in life that while we’re walking our own hard mile one step at a time, someone else is also walking theirs, and conflict, confusion, or miscommunication can make just about any endeavor contentious and unpleasant. Humans being human. Some people are truly doing their best. Some people maybe not so much. It’s not really obvious which are which. There’s likely always going to be someone around who just doesn’t think you’re doing enough. There will be someone who thinks you’re doing it “wrong” (often simply because you’re not doing things the way they would). There may even be travelers along the way who earnestly hope to see you fail, though it will be rare for them to say so explicitly.

…We’re each having our own experience…

Points of view differ. Individual perspectives on shared events are sometimes at odds with each other. Personal values may not be shared. People are quite individual, and often we don’t even share the same understanding of the basic meanings of the most common words we use. Recollections of even the most recent events may be quite different among individuals who shared the experience. None of this makes communication easier, quite the contrary.

It can be helpful sometimes, I find, to be very open to the possibility that I’m incorrect. Mistaken. Flat out wrong. It’s helpful to really listen to what someone else is saying about their experience or perspective. This isn’t always easy; I may disagree. I may find my own thinking at odds with theirs. I may recall events quite differently. We may have different values, or place importance on different details. Being open enough to really listen and humble enough to accept that I could be wrong can make a lot of difference and create an emotionally safe environment to sort things out more easily. It takes practice (a lot), and I can’t honestly say I’m “good at it” (yet). I keep practicing.

All of this sounds good “on paper”, but it’s not “easy”, and it really does take a lot of practice, commitment, willingness to fail (and to begin again), and a steadfast refusal to take someone else’s emotions personally, and to refuse to internalize their frustration, anger, or criticism. Listen, yes. Hear them out, yes. Understand their point of view, yes. Be open and compassionate, yes. And refuse to allow their frustration, anger, or criticism to dictate “who you are”, nonetheless. Be the person you most want to be. Make room for them to be who they are, also. Becoming the best version of yourself, the person you most want to be, may bring you into conflict with people who are walking a very different path – their own path. Whatever you choose to do about that, it matters that you still live your values, take care of yourself, and treat people with kindness, compassion, and consideration.

…You’re probably going to fail, a lot…

Keep practicing. Savor the wins, however small. Learn from your mistakes, and avoid allowing them to bring you to despair. This shit isn’t easy, but it’s worthwhile. Change takes time. Time, practice, effort, commitment – and beginning again. Often. Sometimes it’s especially hard, like a barefooted walk on blistered feet down a gravel path. Sometimes it’s easy, like a firm level trail through a sun-dappled forest on a mild summer day. You’ll choose – sometimes poorly. You’ll face anger, frustration, disappointment, and grief. It’s not personal, just part of the human experience. Learn, grow, and walk on.

I sit sipping my coffee, re-reading these words. This one’s for me, from… me. I need the encouragement today, tomorrow, maybe always. It helps to reflect on what works, and to remind myself that it is a complicated journey. It is useful to consider missteps, and to learn and grow, and try again.

Keep walking.

Yesterday my sister messaged me to let me know a favorite aunt had died after a lingering illness. (COVID is still taking lives, people, be safe, be considerate, be vaccinated.) It seems like I’m now in a place in life when the losses come more frequently. We are mortal creatures. I will always remember my Aunt fondly. She opened her home to me more than once when I needed a place to heal. She was peculiar, and special, and interesting, and the first adult who would sit and talk with me for hours about all manner of things, into the wee hours of the morning. Some of who I am developed sitting by her kitchen table in Baltimore on summer evenings, talking about life, love, music, reality… I’ll miss her.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t know what’s around the next bend on this path. I don’t know how far this path goes, or where it may ultimately lead. I don’t know how long this mortal life will last, or how many moments of joy I can wring from it along the way, nor how many tears I may need to dry from my cheeks. It’s a very human journey.

…It’s time to begin again…

New day, new beginning.

I’ve spent the day relaxing in this quiet room, and providing my Traveling Partner with caregiving. It’s detail-oriented personal service work, providing care to this human being I love so deeply. Still, it has been a day with ample time for reflecting on life and love and what I have learned along the way.

Here are 61 lessons from my mortal lifetime thus far:

  1. There’s always something more to learn.
  2. Change is a constant.
  3. Zest for life is closely tied to experiences of wonder and awe.
  4. Self-care matters.
  5. Meditation is an effective practice.
  6. We become what we practice.
  7. We each have the power to define success for ourself.
  8. Setting boundaries is a self-care practice.
  9. Our values are not what we say they are; they are what we live and practice.
  10. Taking the time to do something well is reliably more efficient than having to do it more than once.
  11. Anxiety is a liar.
  12. Chasing happiness does not result in greater happiness.
  13. Lust is mostly a matter of biology.
  14. Savoring life’s small joys and making time for gratitude builds emotional resilience.
  15. Human primates operate “emotion first”.
  16. Our quality of life is more dependent on the quality of our relationships than the size of our paychecks.
  17. Assumptions are not facts.
  18. Expectations are not facts.
  19. Opinions are not facts.
  20. Beliefs are not facts.
  21. The catchiness of a slogan has no bearing on its truth or usefulness.
  22. Very few of life’s stressful moments have lasting impact.
  23. I probably need to drink more water.
  24. “Wealth” is relative.
  25. The person who throws the punch doesn’t get to decide whether it hurt.
  26. We are each having our own experience.
  27. A lot of the crap that bothers us most is shit we totally made up in our own heads that has no actual basis in reality.
  28. Self-reflection can help develop perspective.
  29. Rumination can be really damaging, and tends to limit perspective.
  30. The difference between rumination and self-reflection can be subtle.
  31. Emotional intelligence has real-world value.
  32. Getting enough rest is as important as drinking water, eating healthy food, and exercise.
  33. Solitude can be rich, beautiful, satisfying, and nurturing.
  34. Few people recognize their own confrontational, hostile, angry, or escalated tone of voice.
  35. Forgiving someone is a thing we do for ourself, not for the person being forgiven.
  36. People notice when someone isn’t paying attention.
  37. Distracted driving is potentially lethal.
  38. What we think we understand about human behavior isn’t reliably accurate, and can’t be assumed to apply to all people in every circumstance. It doesn’t.
  39. People are people.
  40. We’re all in this together.
  41. The journey is the destination.
  42. Your lived experience is yours. My lived experience is not yours.
  43. How you behave when you think no one is watching will tell you what your values truly are.
  44. Rationalizing poor behavior doesn’t make the behavior any better.
  45. We feel our own pain the most.
  46. Our ability to understand the world is limited by our perspective.
  47. Being a dick to people is a poor practice with predictably poor outcomes.
  48. Thriving and surviving are two very different experiences.
  49. Reading is an incredibly useful skill, the benefits of which are multiplied by enjoying it.
  50. Art is a way of expressing the things we don’t have words for.
  51. Language functions by agreement.
  52. Carefully defining the terms in a discussion prevents a lot of arguments and misunderstandings.
  53. Apologizing without sincere contrition isn’t really an apology.
  54. Apologizing while making excuses for how the offense is justified, understandable, or must be overlooked isn’t really an apology.
  55. An effective apology is 100% focused on the person hurt and how they were affected, and 0% about how the offender feels about it.
  56. Listening deeply is a powerful relationship building tool which takes time, practice, and effort to develop.
  57. Hijacking a conversation to talk about yourself instead is rude.
  58. Waiting for a turn to talk while someone else is talking is rude.
  59. Interrupting someone while they are speaking is rude
  60. Manners and civility are key to quality of life and cultured society.
  61. Life is worth living.

It’s not science. These are things I’ve learned myself, over a lifetime. I’m not even saying these observations and learnings are “all there is” (what would you add?)… these are just a few things I’ve learned that continue to serve me well.

It’s your journey, up ahead. I’m over here walking my own path. May your path be smooth and the way ahead illuminated.

Every sunrise is a chance to begin again.

Well… Not literally “no words”…cuz here I am, eh? Words. I’ve got a fair few of these fuckers (words) laying about. May as well use them…but… This morning I’ve nothing much to say, really.

… I’m tired, and there’s this damned headache and this ringing in my ears…

“Anhedonia”. Now there’s a fucking word. Anhedonia is more or less simply a loss of delight, of interest, of the will to engage with pleasant and interesting things. It’s not “boredom”, and it most definitely is a “mental health issue”. Sometimes it’s simply that circumstances grind me down until I just fucking give up on a “just don’t give a shit” level that transcends even irritation, leaving me without the will to resist or try to overcome it at all. Here I am this morning.

… I’m just that tired, cognitively and emotionally…

Caregiving is hard work, and I’m learning that a great deal of the work involved is in the form of emotional labor. I have profound respect for people who are caregiving a loved one for years. I’ve only been doing it for months. It’s fucking hard, and it’s draining. 8 days until my coastal getaway, and I definitely need it, but… I’ll also need to really get away from the emotional labor of caregiving to get the rest I need so badly. Most of the brief opportunities for downtime since my Traveling Partner’s injury haven’t given me the rest I really needed, because I failed to leave the emotional labor behind, and returned home to still more. I didn’t understand that I needed to put that down, and didn’t understand what a large portion of the caregiving it really is. (I’m pretty new to taking on a caregiving role, and have never had a child.) I failed myself in this way, and by extension ended up also failing my Traveling Partner – in two ways.

1. I failed my Traveling Partner by not taking care of myself sufficiently well to ensure I am up to the challenges and requirements of caregiving over time. It’s an endurance race, not a sprint.

2. I failed my Traveling Partner by not setting clear boundaries with regard to emotional labor generally, or communicating clearly when the burden is too great for my limited human capacity.

I can see how these are both also failures of self-care, too. No wonder I’m fucking exhausted.

This morning I got to the trailhead and just sat in my car weeping quietly for some unmeasured amount of time. I really didn’t feel like walking, at all. Anhedonia is a difficult challenge to overcome, but eventually I got out of the car and trudged down the trail irritably. The rising sun only annoyed me and my sour mood followed me down the trail. I spitefully didn’t stop to sit and write in my preferred location, choosing instead to annoy myself by sitting uncomfortably elsewhere. (Good grief, really?! Fucking stupid.)

I’m sitting. Writing. Feeling irritable because my back aches, my head aches, my tinnitus is loud, and my Traveling Partner is injured. From the perspective of this moment it feels very much that there is “no end in sight”, and despair threatens to rear its head. I sigh deeply, and just let the unwanted tears fall.

This shit is hard.

…It could all be so much worse…

This shit is hard.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Eventually, I even stop crying, and even mostly stop feeling overcome by anhedonia. I clearly need to get some downtime, some relief, a real break… Which makes me feel like an asshole; my Traveling Partner gets no break from being injured and in pain and needing my help. Fuck.

… Did I mention that this shit is hard?

I’m okay for most values of okay. My Traveling Partner is, too. He’s got surgery scheduled. This is, thankfully, a temporary situation, and we’ve got the additional help of the Anxious Adventurer now (which is greatly appreciated and very much needed). I make a point to reset my perspective, my expectations, and my awareness. It’s not helpful to become mired in pain – particularly someone else’s, and especially when I’ve also got to manage my own. It’s hard, sure, but it truly could be worse, and in some respects it isn’t even as bad as it sometimes feels. We’re fortunate: I’m employed, we have health insurance, we’ve got help, and this isn’t a terminal health issue.

If I were better at this caregiving stuff, I might be more easily able to lift my Traveling Partner from his pain-focused funk, when he gets stuck there. I sit with that thought for a few minutes. I think about the many years of therapy and skilled mental health care I’ve been fortunate to receive. I think about mindfulness practices, meditation, and CBT.

… I remind myself that I can’t do the verbs for anyone else, and that we’ve each got to walk our own hard mile…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sometimes the best thing I can do to care for my partner is to care for myself. I think about the day ahead, and the things I’d like to get done. I think about my partner, and what he may need today, and consider how best to be there for him.

It’s a new day. The sun is warm on my back. I hear voices coming down the trail. It’s time to begin again…

Busy, productive weekend. Even feels like my Traveling Partner and I connected more deeply in some important ways than we have in a while. That feels pretty good. Fucking hell, though, life is a bit stressful and I am so tired. It’s just ordinary human fatigue of the sort that results from pushing one’s self too hard to do too much for too long. It’s a familiar feeling, though it has been awhile since it could “so easily” pull me down like this.

… I woke disoriented, unclear about when or where I was this morning, confused by the clothes I had laid out for today (“Where’s my uniform…?) and feeling the purposeful “relaxed tension” of military readiness – until I moved, and my aching back reminded me that time has passed and I am not that strong, aggressive, laser-focused, mission-driven, can-do young woman who thought she understood who the good guys are, and what the point of it all might be. lol Weird way to wake up. I feel exhausted before the day begins, and there is already (still) so much to do… I could definitely use the energy of that younger self!

…and also? Fuck this headache.

Emotionally, I feel like I am treading water, not yet at risk of drowning, but too fucking far from shore to feel secure facing this predicament. Life is “a lot”, right now. I’m doing my best. Sometimes, maybe even most of the time, it’s enough, but I sure don’t feel like I can count on that.

It’s fine. I’m fine.

Work is fine. Love is fine. Life is… complicated. 2 out of three in the “wins” column? I probably shouldn’t bitch, I’ve had it much worse. Hell, life isn’t bad, just complicated right now. There’s a lot going on, and change is in motion (some of it I chose myself, and while I can certainly question my timing, I can’t really complain about getting what I asked for).

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Self-care becomes huge at times like these, and I tend to do well if I already have firm reliable self-care practices in place that are habitual and just part of everyday life. I’m kicking myself a bit over self-care failures over time, recently, but trying to also be kind to myself. “Just begin again. Keep practicing.” I remind myself.

The morning feels chilly, though it’s a mild 51°F this morning. I don’t need a jacket as I walk, but quickly notice the cool of morning when I paused to take pictures. Sitting here at the halfway point, I regret the sleeveless top I’m wearing, though I know it will feel like a good choice in the heat of the afternoon, later.

I sit with my thoughts. I won’t sit for long. I’m filled with restless energy that needs an outlet. That’s okay, it’s a work day, and my to-do list is rather long, presently – there’s no shortage of shit to do, or things that need my attention. I’m presently faced with a to-do list that continues to grow slightly faster than I am working it off, so running out of shit to do? Not a challenge I have to deal with. lol I guess I am grateful? I probably should be.

The sun rises above the hills on the horizon, golden and bright. A new day ahead. What will I do with it? When night comes, will I be satisfied with how I spent my time? How will I care for this fragile vessel? Can I tread water long enough to reach the shore? (Metaphorically speaking, swimming might be a better choice…)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Soon it will be time to begin again, to face the next challenge, the next moment, and the expectations of the woman in the mirror. I’ll do my best – that will have to be enough.

We become what we practice. Feels like a good day to practice maintaining perspective, and non-attachment, a good day to practice kindness, compassion and consideration. I’m definitely going to need the practice… I’m very human and my results vary.

…Change is. Are you ready for it? Time is short, and the clock is ticking…

Stress complicates things. Letting it go, when I can, makes sense for a lot of reasons. Ruminating about past events that can’t be changed isn’t very helpful. Worrying about future events that have not occurred is also not helpful. Learning from past mistakes and being prepared for future events or decisions are both excellent strategies, though… Finding balance between the extremes is a worthwhile endeavor.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I purposefully let go of my stress. I make a point of not exploring deeply what may be driving it. Honestly, it’s just too easy to make it much worse by giving my thoughts over to it, so instead I focus on here, now, this moment – a very useful practice.

… And anyway, the things that cause human primates stress are pretty commonplace, aren’t they?

I breathe the scents of summer as I sit at the halfway point of this morning’s walk. The air smells like rain and the sky overhead is obscured by dense clouds, dark and stormy gray to the north and east, and a smooth homogeneous wash of paler gray to the south. The sky was a clear mild blue across the western horizon at daybreak, but now it’s a soft neutral gray, too. I listen to birdsong and the sound of traffic on the nearby highway.

…My mind wanders to my to-do list, and my anxiety surges. I’m reminded that my Traveling Partner’s health challenges are worrisome, and I struggle to calm myself, briefly. Life has some difficult moments. I feel fortunate to share many of those with my Traveling Partner. I breathe, exhale, and relax, again. I allow myself to acknowledge the legitimate stress that results from my partner’s injury last fall, and the challenges of getting him a skilled diagnosis and the care he needs. (He’s right; our system is badly broken and it shouldn’t be this hard.) Another breath, another attempt to let the stress go. It’s not particularly helpful to get wound up and angry, or to become mired in frustration, feeling beat down or hopeless. Perspective can be hard to achieve. I keep at it. Practicing.

…Breathe, exhale, relax…

Sitting here, the tallest meadow grasses obscure me from the trail. I watch the grass sway in the gentle breeze. I enjoy the solitude. My tinnitus is loud in my ears. It vexes me, but I get some sense of relief by turning my attention elsewhere, listening to the sounds around me: distant traffic, chirps and birdsong of the early birds, the sound of rustling leaves. Quiet sounds, but audible when I turn my attention to those.

… Breathe, exhale, relax…

My background stress day-to-day has reached a point where my morning walks fuel just about enough resilience to carry me through the day, but rarely further. Nights are sometimes difficult, restless, wakeful, and full of troubling dreams. This time I take for myself is now pretty necessary, just due to circumstances, instead of being a pleasant luxury. My Traveling Partner sees it too, and frequently encourages me to take care of myself as a priority. The challenge is that the whole messy business has a certain “failure is not an option” feel to it that is a major cause of my stress. Yeah… That’s a thing. I sigh out loud, missing my Dear Friend acutely; I would benefit so much from talking all this over with her!

… Breathe, exhale, relax…

Just moments in a lifetime. This too will pass. Change is.

I brush the bits of leaves from where they’ve clung to my jeans, and stand and stretch. There’s a list of things to do and time is short. I turn to the trail, to head back to the car. It’s already time to begin again.