Archives for category: grief
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All the Feels and a Headache, Too

December 13, 2023 //
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Wow. What a rollercoaster the last couple of days have been. It was lovely getting home to my Traveling Partner – who turned out to be struggling with an injury. Well, shit. I picked up those day-to-day tasks he could not handle, that usually fall to him, as much as I could. (When I woke this morning, I noticed I never unpacked after returning from my trip!)

I’m sipping my coffee thinking about the blur that Monday and Tuesday were, with doctor’s appointments and an ER visit, and waiting around for imaging – all the things. Yesterday, I woke with a splitting headache that was trying its damnedest to shrink my world and render me useless. I did that thing that isn’t healthy at all; I “powered through it”. The end result was that I was pretty cranky all day, generally not very talkative, and not especially emotionally accommodating of my partner’s anxiety and discomfort – although I really really tried. I managed to “be there for him”, but I doubt it was a super uplifting or gentle experience, at all. I did my best – to me it seemed my best was barely adequate, although he expressed his appreciation for my presence and efforts multiple times.

We were both pretty anxious about the whole mess; we rely on each other, perhaps more than either of us really thinks about very often, and this pushed that reliance into the forefront of my consciousness, while also creating a feeling of insecurity and doubt, due to circumstances outside our control. Kind of scary, really.

I sip my coffee grateful that although my Traveling Partner is injured, he’s “okay” for most values of “okay” and will most likely make a good recovery from this injury pretty quickly. That’s a huge relief. I’m grateful beyond words.

For some reason, unexpectedly, two thoughts collide in my head: the nature of attachment and attachment styles, and the 1970s. lol I find myself thinking that if you listen to the music of that era closely, it starts to sound like that the entire decade exists as the definition of unhealthy attachment styles and a certain cynicism about love, generally. It’s not all bad news and insecurity, cynicism and disappointment, though… there were love songs that “rang true” back then (I just didn’t understand them; love was not part of my experience). Funny how much those mean to me now. Like… time traveling back to that younger self and pointing to these moments, and saying “someday you’ll get here”.

Yesterday, more than once I found myself tearing up and feeling a poignant awareness that I would feel lost without my Traveling Partner. Oh, I know, I know. I’d be okay. He’d be okay… but fuck… I love that man and I count on him. He counts on me. We hung out quietly all day yesterday through appointments and doctors and all the crap that goes along with medical care. I tried to work, but eventually had to just yield to my need to be focused on my partner. I’m glad he’ll be okay.

A new day dawns.

…I’m also glad I got over my fucking headache. Fuuuuuck. It was bad. Today it’s just “normal pain” – manageable. I sip my coffee feeling contented and hopeful, and wishing my partner well from the office as I watch the sun rise through the big windows. It’s a new day. Time to begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, breathe, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, Love, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships

A Room With a View

December 8, 2023 //
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Day two of my coastal getaway. I’m up at my usual time, sipping coffee and listening to the ocean instead of sounds of traffic somewhere nearby. It’s not that there’s no traffic nearby, there surely is. The hotel is quite near the highway, but it is nearer to the ocean, and the ocean is all I hear.

Daybreak at Siletz Bay

Yesterday was a good, if rather ordinary, work day. I worked. I worked from this hotel room on the shore of Siletz Bay, content to get up and stretch now and then, and snap pictures from the balcony as the light and the tides changed. Quite delightful. In the afternoon I walked on what remains of the beach after the tide went out, taking advantage of a break in the rain and a few minutes of sunshine. In the evening, I watched a couple videos my Traveling Partner had shared, and later, “together”, we watched a favorite creator’s newest video when it premiered (that was so much fun). Later still, I picked up a book I’m reading (Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers) and read awhile, until I became too sleepy to continue. It was, as I said, a good day. Quite pleasant and relaxed.

I woke once during the night, choking on a nightmare, wrapped in the airline of my CPAP machine. Because I was in “a strange place”, I was lacking the usual “everything’s okay” visual cues that I rely on to calm me quickly. I panicked. Thrashed in bed, frightened by “whatever” was wrapped around my neck (it wasn’t tight and there was no legitimate cause to be so alarmed, but I woke from a nightmare and was not thinking clearly). I lashed out with an alarmed exclamation, and ripped my CPAP mask from my face abruptly. Confused by the sound of velcro and plastic clips yielding to the forceful removal of my mask, I turned suddenly, falling off the edge of the bed and hitting the floor with a thud. I sat there for a minute, gasping and crying, and confused. “Breathe, breathe, breathe,” I reminded myself silently. One deep breathe after another. My heart rate began to slow. The dream images began to fade. I began to regain a sense of where I actually was in time and space. Another breath. Another. I got up off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. I’d somehow managed not to pull the CPAP machine off the nightstand, and none of the clips on the mask assembly were broken. I shrugged silently in the dimness, illuminated softly by the balcony light (I often leave the curtain partially open so that the sunrise wakes me). I give myself a minute, then pee and get a drink of water before going back to bed.

These sorts of things aren’t all that unusual for me, though far rarer these days than they were years ago. They’re more likely in strange places, or after particularly stressful or trying days. Funny that I had such a bad nightmare last night. When I went back to bed, I left the balcony door open just a crack, to more easily hear the sounds of the sea and the wind and the rain. Soothing. I slept well and deeply and woke gently some time later. A usual time. A usual sort of awakening. I’m okay, and I don’t remember now what my nightmare was even about. Considering the panic over the mask and the airline, quite likely it was built on recollections of my violent first marriage or the experience of wearing a gas mask sitting in a foxhole during the war. Or both. Trauma leaves a lasting impression.

I sip my coffee and reflect quietly on how far I’ve come. A nightmare of that severity would have wrecked days of emotional balance, not so long ago, leaving me vulnerable to fits of temper, fearfulness, insecurity, and unexpected tears. This cup of coffee is pretty good. The morning is quite pleasant. It has become easier to begin again. 🙂

The tide is coming in. It will be high tide in a little while. Some time after I’ll do something about breakfast. The work day is ahead of me – maybe a short one? I smile and continue to sip my coffee while it is still pleasantly hot.

A sliver of moon is all that remains of the night.

I miss my Traveling Partner, but I’m sure glad I didn’t wake him with my nightmare. (That’s a terrible way to wake up!) I smile, finish this cup of coffee and consider another, as I listen to the waves crashing against the beach and feel the sea breeze pouring into the room. The air feels fresh and clean. It’s not the cold of a sparkling winter morning. The “Pineapple Express” brings storms with it, but also fairly mild temperatures, more like late Spring or early Summer. Delightful. I will definitely take a walk on the beach, later. For now, the tide robs me of beach to walk. Later will be soon enough. Right now? It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, grief, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being

Another Day, Another Beginning

November 11, 2023 //
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I’m sitting in the car, parked at the trailhead of a favorite trail. I’ve got a cup of coffee, and I am sitting in the predawn twilight listening to the rain and feeling the wind rock the car. I’m hoping for a break in the rain as day breaks, it’s sort of the point of being here so early on a Saturday morning, but I don’t honestly care one way or the other. I’m mostly out here at this hour hoping my absence gives my Traveling Partner a chance to sleep in after a restless night, without me clattering about the house.

The winds toss the big oaks on the hillside and scatter their leaves. The rush and roar of the wind reminds me of other times and places. Strangely moving, although I don’t really get why. I sit here weeping quietly. The marsh birds seem to be enjoying the currents, eddies, and updrafts of the stormy winds. I’ve got a decent view and content myself with sitting quietly and listening to the rain fall, spattering the car.

It’s Veterans Day. I think about “then”. Complicated memories. I pause my thoughts to wonder if I am always so sad each year when it comes around, but I can’t recall with any certainty, and I’ve shredded all my old journals, and I don’t have many connections that have known me long enough to say. I did bring along extra tissues. If nothing else, I knew I would be feeling blue today. I let the tears come.

A huge flock of Canada geese passes overhead. I think of my Granny, and find myself missing her greatly right now. I miss her strength, perspective, and wise counsel. I miss her laugh. I miss long Sunday morning drives, and walks together down country lanes.

My head aches and the tears keep coming. I let them. Eventually I will either venture out for some time on the trail (if the rain lets up), or I’ll dry my tears and put on “my public face” and do the grocery shopping before I head home. My arthritis continues to feel “worse than ever” this year, but acknowledging that I am struggling with a bout of depression, I have to wonder if it’s just amplified by misery and sorrow? Would I feel better if I just felt better? Seems likely but I don’t know what to do about that.

As the sky lightens without any hint of sunshine, mumurations of migrating flocks rise up from the marsh into the winds. The car continues to rock with the strongest gusts. The grasses and shrubs flutter. Storm flung leaves fall onto the car along with the rain. It’s all very Autumn. I sit enjoying the stormy weather. It’s appropriate to my mood. I’m alone here, and no one will be made uncomfortable by my tears. They fall as steadily as the rain. I take them no more personally than raindrops, since I don’t even know why I am crying.

I sit thinking about how best to have a nice time with my Traveling Partner, without burdening him with my bullshit and baggage, or carelessly mistreating him because I am in a shitty mood. How best to comfort and support him, nurture the relationship, and look after hearth and home without denying myself the same care and consideration…? What to share and what to “save for therapy”? How to be kind when I feel wounded? How to work through the chaos and damage without creating it for my partner? How to refrain from taking things personally that sure feel fucking personal sometimes? I’d very much like to be a better person than I am. I know I am a better person than I once was. Like a child on a long walk, I find myself crying because it just feels too far.

… A harsh inner voice griefs me yet again over self-pity and catastrophizing utterly mundane real-life bullshit that everyone probably goes through at some point. I don’t stop crying, but I do take notice of how incredibly unkind my “self talk” often is. I should probably work on that. I’d feel better if I did, most likely. I know where it comes from, and I understand it to be all tangled up with my challenges with internalized misogyny – a result of so many crushingly cruel, diminishing, or abusive relationships of one sort or another with male human beings (and male-dominated institutions). I don’t know what guided the path I took that brought me here. Perhaps it just seemed easier to nod and smile and try harder to be one of the guys? There were (and are) some real benefits to being that woman. There has been a real price to pay. This shit isn’t unique to my experience.

… I could do better…

The rain keeps falling.

There’s grocery shopping to do. Meals to plan. Thanksgiving is coming and I’d really like to feel thankful when it gets here. The laundry has piled up – which should have been a clue that I was spiraling down. There are outside chores to prepare the house for winter, this weekend. There are paintings as yet unpainted and new recipes to try. There’s a precious relationship to work on and holidays coming. It feels like so much and I am fearful that I am not up to the challenge… I can only do my best.

I guess I’ve got to begin again.

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Categories anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, loneliness, Love, meditation, Menopause, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, turning 60, War and News of War, women, Words

AITA?

November 10, 2023 //
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Probably. I’m for sure depressed, which is tending to make me definitely more an asshole than a sweet-tempered, good-hearted, kind and empathetic human being looking out for others and being considerate moment-to-moment. I do wish I’d recognized that I had become depressed before I had become an asshole. My results most definitely vary. The tools in my toolkit feel inadequate. This bit of emotional weather is rough. Stormy. Gray skies. Rain. It’s nasty.

I’m fortunate to have my Traveling Partner by my side, although I don’t like being yelled at over being an asshole. Once the conversation eventually got around to the whys and the wherefores, and recognition of my depression developed, for me and for him, we at least found some kind of equilibrium – a point of understanding to work from constructively. Helpful. Still unpleasant.

What I’m saying is this is a very human experience. I’m as human as anyone. The chaos and damage have won this round, but I’m still in the ring, still getting back up to go another round. Fuck depression. Fuck anxiety too. Fuck nightmares. Fuck sorrow and grief. Fuck trauma and lingering damage. All of this terrible shit is also so endlessly human. Will I be okay? Hell, I’m mostly okay now – I’m just struggling with a tremendous lot of “second arrow” suffering and yes, mental illness.

I breathe, relax. Drink water. Take my meds. Begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Frustration, grief, Hormone Hell, loneliness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, turning 60, War and News of War

Strange Dream

October 21, 2023 //
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I had a most peculiar dream last night.

I was walking a dark trail before dawn on a foggy misty morning and came upon a solitary woman, also walking. As she approached me in the mist, I recognized her stride and her visage; she appeared to me to be some timeless other version of myself. She walked easily, neither young nor aged. Her steps were as confident as if it were fully daylight, relaxed and easy. She wore faded denim jeans that fit her well , and a knee length wool coat which she wore open, over a white cotton blouse. She wasn’t lean or heavyset, but wore womanly curves over muscle I knew must be there; she radiated strength. In fact, she had a subtle glow, as if illuminated from within.

As we approached each other on the path she looked me over. No laugh lines defined her expression, no frown lines distorted her gaze. She had a certain eternal seeming calm, marred by a slightly world-weary smile, barely hinted at, and a tired look in her eyes. She halted her progress and took an easy seat on a fence rail as I neared her, watching me.

As I drew closer, I realized she was carrying a thermos of something steaming hot, though I hadn’t seen it in her hand before. She nodded at me and extended the other hand in my direction; a paper coffee cup. “Coffee?” She asked in a voice very much familiar to me. I accepted the offer silently. It didn’t seem the time to speak.

We sat side by side on the fence rail in the predawn mist. She set down the thermos, or so I figured must have been the case, and began picking out a poignant tune on a guitar I hadn’t noticed her carrying. “Destination”, I said. “You know it?”, she asked without looking up. “The Church”, I replied, “1988?” I wondered out loud. She smiled back and played on, humming softly as if trying to remember something. “… It’s not a religion, it’s just a technique…” she sang, softly, looking into my eyes. She played on, as we sat waiting for the dawn.

The song, and my memories, unfolded as the sky began to lighten ever so slightly. Shapes in the mist began to be more defined. “It’s like the theme from Mahogany, isn’t it?” she asked with a smile, “an important question wants an answer.” I turned to answer her…

In the pale gray mist of dawn, I sat alone on a fence rail, chilly fingers jammed into the pockets of my faded denim jeans. The world was silent around me. I listened to the music in my head and slow tears slid down my face.

I woke from a sound sleep and my strange dream when the room brightened with my silent alarm. It was morning. Not yet dawn. I dressed and headed out for a walk on a misty foggy morning, without a clear destination, alone with my thoughts. .

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, grief, Metaphors, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, solo hiking, Uncategorized
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