Archives for category: grief
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Charms and Potions

July 10, 2014 //
2

First, before I go farther, and carelessly hurt someone’s feelings over mystical or spiritual beliefs we may not share; nothing in this post is intended to slight someone else’s personal beliefs, challenge their system of beliefs, or deny them the chosen beliefs that comfort and guide them. Not even a little bit. This is not about that.

Finding peace and balance is a very personal journey.

Finding peace and balance is a very personal journey.

If you read this blog now and then, you are probably aware that I have a certain…cynicism is a good word… about medicine, and specifically the practice of medicine relevant to women, and our experiences. Still, so many of us get to a place in life where our desperation and suffering require intervention, because we are challenged to find solutions within, and many of us choose the Rx solution recommended to us. Sometimes that’s a life saver. Sometimes it is a game changer. Sometimes it is a real and very practical solution to get us through the hard times. For me… when my turn came the solution offered by the VA, in the form of first one pill, then another, then a handful, only seemed to be helping me, and only initially (resulting in ever-increasing dosages and frequencies being prescribed).  Certainly, being stupefied chemically, pacified, and ‘managed’ by way of the careful and regular consumption of mind-altering drugs (and yes, they are) got me promoted at work, and I suppose that matters… but I couldn’t write easily (and you know I love words!) and struggled to paint. When I could paint, it was often only the most wildly fluid abstractions that were still possible. I watched a lot of television, mostly court tv shows; there is something about the interaction of seemingly real authentic people facing challenges that fascinated me, even drugged.

"Metaphor" acrylic on canvas. Painted on Zyprexa

“Metaphor” acrylic on canvas. Painted on Zyprexa

My experiences with chemical intervention in the struggles I faced with my volatility, my PTSD, my temper, and my hormones were disappointing, at best. The drugs the VA gave me slowly wrecked my health, and along the way I gained a lot of weight. The worst thing about all of it? It didn’t ‘work’. I still had to go through it all, endure it all, and get to the ‘other side’ – menopause, better therapy, practicing what worked. I still had to address the real issues of my PTSD.  There was more to know and to learn about taking care of myself, meeting my own needs where I could, and I hadn’t yet found out about my TBI (which is sort of a big deal in the whole ‘taking care of me’ realm). Many of the drugs I was given turn out to be entirely contraindicated because of the TBI; other treatments were more appropriate, safer, more effective, less likely to cause my brain further damage.

Why do I mention it today? Because each and every time I ‘chose the red pill’ hoping for a miracle, I was disappointed when no miracle came. Over and over it broke my heart, to suffer. I felt like I would never be well, and never stop crying.  We put so much faith in our healers, our medicine men, our preachers, our faiths, our pills and cures and potions – and promises. We keep at it, too, as though the issue is not how we’re going about solving the puzzle, but more that we’ve just grabbed the wrong puzzle piece.  For some reason, we don’t just want relief, improvement, progress… we want it now. Right now. No delay and no real effort.  Pills are much easier than working to improve, so much easier than practicing a skill.  Choosing a different approach was much more challenging than choosing a different pill.

Sip of coffee. A calming breath. A reminder; this is not about you. :-)

A sip of coffee. A calming breath.

Pausing for a moment to reflect on my experience; I hope you are reflecting on yours, too, and in loving kindness, and awareness that your choices are your own, chosen by you, doing the best you can. I hope whatever you choose works to improve your experience over time, too, and if that means an Rx solution to some challenge or another, I hope you get the relief you need, and find wellness and contentment. You get no criticism from me; we’re different people. 🙂

It took me the better part of 2 years to get off the various psych meds the VA had put me on. It was harder than it had to be; there’s limited information of what the experience of going off some drugs is going to be like, and in some cases it is beyond scary, in others the damage left behind was unanticipated, and required further recovery.  Throughout the process I had the emotional support of friends and loved ones to complete the undertaking; very few of them ever thought I needed those drugs in the first place, although obviously something needed to be done. (Turns out it needed to be done by me, and drugs are not required.)

I can paint again. I can write again. I can think clearly (You, there in the back, no tittering!). Let’s be fair, though, I’m not doing nothing. I am doing a lot to take care of me, and it is an active process requiring my time and attention, my will, and my effort: meditation, yoga, study, practicing, modeling new behavior, role-playing the deconstruction of bad programming and conversations that could have been healing if handled differently, developing greater emotional intelligence, learning to ‘take care of me’… I barely have time for life and work, I put so much time and effort into learning to treat myself and others well, and healing, and achieving emotional wellness.  A pill would be much easier; there isn’t one for what I need.  (A pill never got me off the hook for doing the work that needed to be done, either, but often limited my ability to see that work needed to be done.)

Where am I going with this? Into the trees. 🙂 I’m taking time for me, in the woods, camping and meditating, hiking and sketching. Practicing. Change takes work. Sometimes work requires a bit of elbow room. It’s just 3 days, a long weekend alone, and I’m eager to get started; there are a few hours of work between me and… whoever I am when I walk out of the forest. Monday does not yet exist, and there’s still one last gear check, and packing it all up, loading the car, and a bit of a drive ahead. I have no particular expectations, there is no warning label, no contraindications, no risk of overdose. It’ll be me, and some timeless time alone with my heart. I hope I make skillful use of it, take care of my needs over time, and walk a path that leads… to another path, and probably more practice. lol

Walking my own path.

Walking my own path.

Did I mention? I’ll be away a few days. 🙂

Today is a good day to take a step forward. Today is a good day to breathe. Today is a good day to love and be loved. Today is a good day to walk away with a smile. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Big 5, women, Words

Enough is Enough!

July 8, 2014 //
0

…Or is it? What is ‘enough’, after all? Is there some objective ‘enough-ness’ that any of us could recognize? Is ‘enough’ entirely subjective, to the point of being ever-changing with mood and circumstance? ‘Enough’ feels so good when I have it – or recognize that I do. When do I not have ‘enough’? Is that, too, subjective or state-dependent?

One moment of 'enough'.

One moment of ‘enough’.

In any give life, or on any given day, during any particular moment, is my ‘enough’ recognizably enough to someone else? Would someone outside my experience look at my idea of ‘enough’ and find it to be ‘too much’ or perhaps somehow lacking? I have the idea that ‘sufficiency’ is about ‘enough’, and that ‘contentment’ or ‘satisfaction’ are the feeling of it; I observe that I don’t always enjoy those experiences together, which strikes me as strange. This is a puzzle of a relatively subtle sort that leaves me wondering whether it is a lack of experience and understanding, a lack of education, or my injury weighing in on my experience of living by limiting what I am presently able to understand. I observe, on a tangent, that I no longer feel a sense of finality in my lack of understanding, quite the contrary, I feel rather as if nothing is out of reach – it’s only a matter of time, training, effort, will… my brain may be a bit shop worn, and damaged, but it’s pretty awesome nonetheless.

Sufficiency, and the contemplation of sufficiency – living a sense of ‘enough’ in a modest and comfortable way – has been a big deal for me this year. One more step. Yesterday, as my heart continued to trudge along my wreckage-littered journey through life, I had a moment of recognition. I realized that although I’ve come a long way on the ‘taking care of me’ path, there’s more. (Of course, there’s more.) I considered the term ’emotional self-sufficiency’ but could not recall if I had read it elsewhere (I read a lot), or if I simply ‘made it up’. I Googled it. Some of the articles were quite interesting, and apparently it is a thing. lol.  I like the sound of emotional self-sufficiency as a term, and I could easily understand why several articles caution that emotional self-sufficiency, in and of itself isn’t,a goodness or a challenge; it is a characteristic. It’s a characteristic I think could serve me well – and not to isolate me from others, but to nurture myself and my deepest emotional needs first from within – hopefully resulting in a level of emotional well-being that has the result of making it easier to live around others, respect their needs, and enjoy emotionally reciprocal healthy relationships based on the desire to be engaged, rather than the urgent need for some particular emotional experience. Less about demands, more about decisions.

Lacking much emotional self-sufficiency, but having made important gains in mindfulness, perspective, quality of self-care, emotional resilience, and emotional intimacy, I sometimes find I am incredibly easy to hurt, and the TBI leaves me stunningly open to expressing it. Having experienced a lot of trauma, and spending the time I currently do working through that chaos and damage, the result is sometimes an uncomfortable fit, socially. People who love me don’t want me to hurt.  Hurting is part of my experience right now, more often than I’d like.  (I’m dragging around a lot of anger, too, and if the tears are an uncomfortable fit socially, you gotta see the anger; epic doesn’t begin to describe it.) Perhaps necessary, perhaps understandable, perhaps even ‘long overdue’… but yeah, very very uncomfortable to be around.  Will improving my emotional self-sufficiency also improve how comfortable I am with strong emotions, or my ability to comfortably nurture and sooth myself, unassisted?

Is this too much for a Tuesday morning?

Life's lessons are not always obvious; the path is not always paved.

Life’s lessons are not always obvious; the path is not always paved.

This morning begins with contentment, and a good espresso. Where will the day end? Yesterday began with challenges and moody fussing with old hurts and current frustrations, and ended with connection and love. I am learning to be open to affection, beauty, and wonder, regardless of the now I find myself standing in. Still a student, still asking questions. The soothing trickling sounds of the aquarium in the background, the smooth warmth of my espresso, the soft light of a new day unfolding illuminating the room, all reminders that ‘enough’ is a very personal thing. I suspect that this, too, is more about what is within, that what I am without.

Today is a good day to push ‘more’ off its pedestal and embrace ‘enough’. Today is a good day to share the best of who I am, and appreciate the best offered to the world by others. Today is a good day to treat myself well, and set clear boundaries that meet my needs over time. Today is a good day to remember that all that bullshit ‘out there’ isn’t personal; it’s just bullshit, and it’s ‘out there’. Today is a good day to care, because I need caring, and to love because I enjoy being loved. Today is a good day to be the change I wish to see in the world.

A small moment for joy and sufficiency, and to appreciate what matters most, and taking time to find answers in metaphors.

A small moment for joy and sufficiency, and to appreciate what matters most, and taking time to find answers in metaphors.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, Words

The Ups, The Downs, the Friendships

July 3, 2014 //
1

I have some amazing friends. I spent time with one of them last night, after an incredibly difficult and emotional therapy appointment. We didn’t talk about therapy. We didn’t talk about ‘my issues’. We got caught up on ‘things in general’ and shared some laughs, some compassion, and some connected time. It was exactly what I needed. Awareness. Support. Affection. Openness.

Things in therapy are headed for deeper waters these days. This is the first time therapy has ever held real promise of reaching emotional wellness… I try not to get my hopes up, and simply be present, and continue to practice what is working now.

Strange stuff in the news; a lot of articles seem more ‘emotional‘ than I recall news tending to be. It’s probably ‘just me’; like anyone else, I read the news in the context of my own experience, and of late it has been an emotional experience. I’m not running from that. I am learning to value my emotional experience, make room for it, and allow it to speak to me. I am choosing to spend less time with people who are not in a place where they can also respect my emotional experience. They have their own path, I’ll let them walk it without interference from me; we are each having our own experience.

Each having our own experience, walking our own path, and making our own choices.

Each having our own experience, walking our own path, and making our own choices.

Much of the afternoon yesterday I felt raw, exposed, vulnerable, and on the edge of panic. I don’t waste any time during my one-hour session with my therapist, we dive into the rough stuff straight away, these days. I walk away feeling certain the effort – and progress – are worth the money. It’s still hard to be near ‘my fellow man’ for hours afterward, and the idle chatter of people who don’t share my experiences grates on my raw nerves. It’s okay; hanging out with a friend is a salve for raw nerves, every time.

Some metaphor about blooming in shadows, or perspective, or... hey, it's a flower. Flowers are lovely.

Some metaphor about blooming in shadows, or perspective, or… hey, it’s a flower. Flowers are lovely.

The world isn’t seeming a very nice place lately, and it’s not for any lack of loveliness; there are flowers and birdsong aplenty, children’s laughter is still commonplace, and there’s no shortage of sunny summer days. People can be so mean to each other, though, so cruel, so callous. ‘Political rhetoric’ is sometimes so vicious, so lacking in compassion, that it  hardly seems that anyone is still aware that the outcome of the things being discussed effect people. Real people. Human beings. Has everyone forgotten? It’s not actually ‘about’ ideology – none of it. It’s all about people, and most everything we do and choose ultimately is.

Please be kind to people. Crazy people, sad people, angry people, frustrated people, people whose ideas are not your own, people who are famous, people who have been overlooked; it costs nothing to be kind, and it can change the world. Please be kind to women people, men people, children people. Please just be kind – there isn’t room on this planet for even one more jerk.  Please be kind to people you just don’t understand, and to people you understand only to well, and dislike completely; kindness can change hearts, and open minds.  Please be kind to yourself, too; you won’t find yourself being any kinder to others than you are capable of being for yourself. Please be kind to sick people, and to people struggling to be well on limited resources. Please be kind to people who are suffering, even when you are suffering, too. Please just take a moment to be kinder than you knew you could, and to understand that each time you do, you prepare yourself for a better world by helping to create it. I’ll do it, too.

Today is a good day to choose kindness. Today is a good day to reach out to a far away friend. Today is a good day to look ahead to better days, and make the choices that create them. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, grief, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Rape, Summer, The Big 5, women, Words

Back to the Lessons

June 25, 2014 //
0

I woke early this morning. It was very late before I fell asleep. A short night; there are potential consequences later in the day, when I start to feel fatigued. These days that is nothing more than something to be mindful of, to account for with kindness and compassion – and patience with myself.  At this early hour, that’s all theory for later. For now, I am quietly enjoying the too-brief tranquility of mornings and studying. This morning I am studying concepts of attachment and ‘clinging’ that undermine growth, development, ‘becoming’, and emotional resilience.

Sure, why not?

Sure, why not?

I spent a few moments, recently, grieving the loss of a particular experience I wholly enjoy. Like so many things, it could be that its time has simply passed; change is.  I experienced the sadness of that, the loss, and generally such moments feel destructive, joyless, and despairing to me. Yesterday I deviated from my norm, some glitch in my programming turned up and… I understood concepts related to attachment that I have been struggling with for some time now.  Change is. Growth happens through change – whether we embrace it or not – but the nature and extent of our growth may be affected by whether we embrace change or struggle with it.

Change is part of life.

Change is part of life.

I’m not saying I like the concept. I’m just saying yesterday I woke up to an important idea, and accepted it; when I can let go of attachment to specific experiences, possessions, or qualities of character I have chosen as ‘my identity’, I can achieve something new, try something, experience more, and move forward on life’s trajectory.  Even the most perfect of lovely mornings, repeated endlessly, could grow stale.  So, okay, I can find contentment in change…loss still hurts. Saying good-bye can still feel sad. Grief and grieving are still honest and heartfelt emotional experiences that are likely for most of us, at some point in life. Nothing unique there… but I grieve a broken porcelain demi-tasse cup with the emotional depth and intensity that some save for losses of life, and it occurs to me that may not be the best way to take care of my heart, or treat myself well.

I see this same scenario play out in other lives, too; at work, having to change schedules unexpectedly, it isn’t unusual for a coworker facing such a change to take it all very personally, to cling to what they know, and to fight change with a ferocity one might find reasonable on a battlefield…and then to see that same coworker happily embracing new opportunities opened by that change in schedule, once they experience it. Change is scariest when I cling tightly to what I have right now, to avoid facing change, itself.  It mattered yesterday because I was contemplating a change in household hours/schedules that can’t help but throw my own routine out of whack, and that sort of thing sometimes takes me weeks to adjust to.  I realized I was not helping myself by holding on to my attachment to what had been.  I still feel sad that I may be letting a delightful emotional butterfly flutter away…but I am also grateful to have enjoyed it so much, for so long.

My garden in summer, a surprisingly fragile 'now'.

My garden in summer, a surprisingly fragile ‘now’.

There are so many experiences I have enjoyed that just aren’t part of my experience now. Every one of them remains part of my experience over time, and my history. Each has value as a treasured memory. Each exists as a sort of random card in an infinite deck of things I enjoy that could reoccur. Many of them won’t. Holding on to them, refusing change, prevents me from embracing new experiences to add to that infinite deck.  Sounds so easy, so obvious…but…

I really like sipping ice-cold root beer and sitting near the fan on the screen porch at Grandmother’s house, eavesdropping on adult conversations on a humid summer afternoon.

I really like playing monopoly or cribbage by the tent stove, with my motor pool colleagues, waiting for my guard duty shift.

I really like running bare footed down the trails in the woods, where I was not supposed to be playing and could generally be found (with some effort) any childhood summer morning.

I really like lazy Sundays with generous brunches, sleeping in, a lot of sex, a great playlist, and a bit of gardening.

I really like late night strolls through park-like old residential neighborhoods on balmy summer nights.

I really like spending the day out on the water on my grandparent’s sail boat.

I really like being out at the range, honing my skills, and competing with myself and feeling like a bad ass.

I really like keeping a few chickens.

I really like slipping away to a nearby swimming hole on a Friday when I could be working, but the broad blue skies of Oklahoma suggest otherwise.

I really like hanging out with a lover, sharing anecdotes about who we each are, growing closer, and laughing together over coffee or lovemaking.

I really like new love and romance.

I really like being between jobs and taking months off for me.

I really like summer vacation.

…And I miss these things. There are a lot of experiences, moments, and relationships that I enjoy right now that I won’t have in some tomorrow down the road. Just like that list of experiences I am not having in my now.  Some of them I may experience again. Some of them I may never experience again.  Hell, some of them I don’t want to experience if to do so I have to return to the life or context in which I had them before. That’s something to consider, there.

So. Sure. It makes sense to let go. To accept change. To adapt. What comes next? Something new.

Clinging to what has been can prevent me seeing something new.

Clinging to what has been can prevent me seeing something new.

Today is a good day to embrace change.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Big 5, women

A Whistle Stop in Hormone Hell

June 24, 2014 //
0

Most journeys of any substantial distance or great importance have moments of value, and moments I could have done without. Seems reasonable to expect it would be so, simply considering the statistical improbability that any journey would be utterly lovely, and without challenge, from start to finish.

Metaphorically speaking

Metaphorically speaking

Yesterday started well, but for the headache I woke with…which evolved into something very like ‘morning sickness’ and proceeded to hot flashes and heavy sweating somewhat later, followed by a vague sensation of anger that hadn’t yet erupted, which lingered with the headache for much of the remainder of the day. It entirely sucked. Other than how I felt subjectively (body and mind) it seemed in all respects to be a nice day.  Hormone Hell.  I finally admitted I just ‘wasn’t there’ with a good day, myself, and took care of me with every tool I have at hand these days.

It can be so simple.

It can be so simple.

1. I changed my environment; heading for the most emotionally safe space I could (in this case, home).

2. I took steps to relax; a shower, comfy clothes, yoga, a nice cup of herb tea, selected with care to ease symptoms, where possible.

3. I pursued an intellectually engaging distraction; reading and study in a current area of great interest.

4. Meditation – and this being the ‘favorite wrench’ in my tool box, I did it several times, as needed, no timer.

5. Got some space. I talked over explicit boundaries with my at-home partner and ensured that we both got the space we needed to deal with my unpredictable hormones and temperament.

6. Utterly without guilt got the rest and sleep I clearly needed, crashing earlier than usual, and sleeping soundly through the night almost until my alarm went off.

The day ended well, and by ‘well’ I mean I didn’t throw a childish tantrum, having a screaming fit of rage, alienate myself from every reasonable person I know, or cry myself to sleep.  It was a quiet evening, spent gently.

The basics matter.

The basics matter.

I woke this morning in a very different place: calm, content, mostly pain-free, relaxed, and well-rested.  The world looks very different than it did through hormone colored lens. I’m glad I’m not there, today.

Today is a new day, and so far a lovely one. My coffee is hot, and black, and somehow ‘just right’. I feel content and I feel the tug of a smile at the corners of my lips; a nice start to the day.  I feel alert and eager to take on the day, to commit to the moment, to take on new projects… I feel inspired.  Today is a good day to be the best of who I am, unconcerned that a moment of humanity may reveal me, flawed, vulnerable.  Today is a good day to pursue dreams and share conversations with strangers. Today is a good day to say ‘yes’ to life and love. Today is a good day to be kind. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, grief, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Big 5, women, Words
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