Archives for category: health

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.

Before I can ever answer the question “how do I get there?”, I guess it’s necessary to have some understanding of where it is I am wanting to go…

Beginning again starts… somewhere.

Yesterday was a very nice day, marred only slightly by a too-common moment of discord that seems, now, both completely unnecessary and also entirely human. I breathe, exhale, and let that go; there is no need to let it define the day.

I was on the trail this morning shortly after daybreak. I had the trail to myself. I enjoy the quiet time spent with my own thoughts. These morning walks and meditative interludes along a quiet trail are keeping me sane. Mostly. I would do well to do more, better, with regard to my self-care, and I am aware of it. I sigh and file that thought under “I’m doing the best I can” and promise myself to give it more thought another time.

Today I’ll begin the work of moving things around in the house to accommodate my Traveling Partner’s son for some little while. I’m simultaneously eager to be helpful with getting him a good start in the community here, and also saddened to be giving up my wee library (and meditation space) and having to compress my art studio to become my “everything space”. It’s the only way to comfortably make room for a third adult human being. I have no objection to making the necessary changes… I just worry a bit that they won’t be as temporary as discussed going into it, and I’m going to have to be diligent about my self-care and making a point to get the time I need away from people. It’s probably going to be a bit more difficult in some ways, but probably easier in others.

… There’s definitely a bunch of manual labor involved in these changes, and I will need to manage my time and energy with care…

I sit with my thoughts awhile, at the halfway point of my walk. I’ve got a few things on my mind and most of those center on how I can most successfully reduce my day-to-day stress, and also how to develop more resistance to being provoked into anger or anxiety. I’m not as resilient as I am able to be when I live alone, and there are a great many triggers in my environment. Adding another person to my living situation doesn’t make things easier. Once my PTSD flares up, it can be very difficult to regain perspective and emotional balance. I’d very much like to improve that situation and enjoy more lasting calm and contentment, and realistically can’t count on anyone else to “make that easy”. The verbs and practices are mine. My results vary.

… Humans are going to be human…

… We’re each having our own experience…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, aware for a moment that there are no notifications buzzing my arm; I’m wearing a watch, instead of a connected wearable device tracking my every action and pinging me with reminders. It’s quite nice. I even remembered to take my morning medication without any of that. I smile when I recall that my Traveling Partner picked this watch with me in mind. I like it very much.

Another reminder that I am loved.

The sun is well up in the morning sky. Looks like another hot summer day ahead. My step son messages me that he’s on the way to pick up the U-haul truck for his move. Events are in motion. Change is. There’s much to do. It’s already time to begin again…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and prepare to head back up the trail.

I’m sitting next to the trail on a convenient bench, having paused on the way back to the car from my morning walk. I was up too early and started the morning vexed by interrupted sleep and my Traveling Partner’s cross tone, but otherwise it’s a lovely morning, and the sunrise was pleasant. I’m working on it getting over my shitty mood, because at this point I am still the only person being affected by it, and it’s just fucking dumb to endure this shit.

… This is already shaping up to be the sort of day where I just don’t want to see or talk to anyone. At all. Unfortunately, that’s rarely an option on a work day. I sigh out loud and prepare myself for the inevitable requirement to deal with people…

There are still flowers to enjoy along the trail.

Fuck this headache and this shitty mood. Just saying… I’ve got to begin again. Maybe more than once.

My Traveling Partner pings me and asks me to work from home after my walk. I agree, understanding that he needs help with things. I try to avoid feeling cross about it and look for opportunities to feel grateful that I can so easily be there for him.

… Just begin again, again, I tell myself…

My thoughts had started somewhere else entirely this morning, but my crappy mood, early wake up, and headache derailed my more positive musings about time and watches. I’m annoyed by that. The morning is off to a poor start in spite of the beautiful sunrise. Fuck. This. Shit. I really need a do-over, but the best I’ll get is a new beginning. Hell, that’s not a bad thing… But my results may vary. Success is not guaranteed. This is a very human experience.

… Breathe, exhale, relax…

Begin again.

Some time later (about 2 hours):

The future isn’t written. Change is. It’s important to be able to see a win when circumstances bring it, and to accept success when it is offered. Life is a peculiar journey some days, and the path is not clearly marked. It’s a bit later in the morning, and my day quickly went from “what the fuck?!” and “why do I even try??” to “what a nice day this is…”, over a short handful of minutes and an opportunity to pivot to the win when it came.

…I’m grateful for my Traveling Partner…

I got a lucky break this morning, when my Traveling Partner reached out to me as I headed back home to provide support and care-giving during the work day; he was doing better. He encouraged me to follow my original plan for the day, and asked me to run an errand on my way home, instead of working from home, after all. I could have let that additional change cause me further stress… and it would have been quite like me to do that, years ago (and considering how human I am, it’s always a risk, eh?). Instead, I allowed myself to change, then change again, and here I am. It feels like a lovely morning. There’s something to be learned from this.

…I hope I learn it…

…I begin again. Again. It’s a lovely day for it. 😀

I’m sitting on this rock, alongside the trail. It’s a Wednesday, but I’m off work, which is a nice change. I’m more or less “moved in to” my new phone, but as is often the case with such things (for me), there’s still a lot to do and quite a few small differences to learn. I’m okay with the process and I have my Traveling Partner’s help, and he’s very familiar with this operating system. I like the new phone better than the old one.

… The novelty is probably good for my brain, too…

Yesterday, just about as my energy was running out, my partner asked me gently and encouragingly “what are you going to do to take care of yourself, though?”. It was a good question. My answer was that I’d have a shower and maybe move into the new phone. Pretty low standard for self-care. lol

That question is bigger than one evening, isn’t it? With my partner being injured, I tend to run myself ragged taking care of him, the household, the day-to-day errands, and bringing in a paycheck (and health insurance) and there’s often very little left in a day “for me”. I’m not even bitching, just aware that I am pushing myself hard.  I have these quiet mornings (and I am grateful), but I reliably fail to be as attentive to my needs as a human being as I am to the many other things I’ve got going on, that often seem more urgent, in the moment. So few hours in a day, and the clock is always ticking. I do need to figure this out.

A wildflower on the trail. A picture with a new camera.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I glance at my poor hands; they are a mess of small wounds from unnoticed near-constant picking and tearing at my cuticles. Pure stress. It’s very telling. Just weeks ago my hands were fine, and even well-manicured. My self-care is slipping. Human.

I take time for meditation, sitting here in the morning sunshine, at the halfway point on this walk. I carefully refrain from chewing on my fingers. It takes an act of will to remain mindful and aware. It’s a practice worth practicing. I definitely need the practice.

Another breath. Another moment. I know it is important to be kind to myself, and to take care of this fragile vessel. It also takes practice, and time I often don’t feel I have. It’s complicated. I can only do so much. It’s important to choose wisely. Artistic work is one way I take care of myself. I’m eager to make time for the new pastels.

… I’m feeling eager and inspired, and also a tiny bit hesitant; change is complicated…

… For now, it’s enough to sit in the sunshine on a familiar trail, feeling the soft Spring breeze tickle my skin, and smelling the scent of flowers. Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

I’m relaxing after my walk, wondering if it may continue to rain today. It looks like it might. I’m thinking about the weekend, mostly quite a nice one, spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner. Father’s Day was Sunday, and I even managed to surprise him with a gift (that he also liked).

The weekend was interesting in another way. Chosen changes. Change is, and no amount of running from it (or insisting on standing still) will change that. Sometimes what makes the most sense is to choose change. It’s a useful way of guiding my journey in life.

Here’s an example; I am frankly pretty “over” my current smartphone. It’s an older one, still quite functional but becoming irritatingly “uncooperative” and vexing with each new update by my carrier or the manufacturer. (I get tired of having to go back and turn off a bunch of bullshit and bloatware every time there’s an update, too.) My Traveling Partner pointed out I’m perhaps overdue to move on to a newer (and not carrier-locked) device.

My current smartphone is “only” 5 years old… but that’s also pre-pandemic, 4 employers, and two addresses ago. lol In terms of technology, that’s a long time. We shopped together, talked about the options, and I picked out a replacement. It’ll arrive in a few days and then I can “move out” of this phone that is vexing me so often and move on to being vexed differently with a new one. lol I’m grateful to have my Traveling Partner’s expertise and help with this one; it’s the sort of change that really fucks with me in a multitude of little ways.

Another example of choosing change with self-care and personal growth in mind? Artistically I have been feeling a bit stalled and struggling to “find my voice” after losing my Dear Friend this year. I didn’t have an understanding of how grief would affect me creatively (this time), nor did I anticipate the ways my Traveling Partner’s injury might affect my comfort with being “distracted by” the desire to paint. I find myself unable to begin new work, too aware that he may need my help any time (acrylic paint dries quickly and I tend to “work wet”). Unable to finish old work, because it brings to mind interrupted conversations with my Dear Friend that now can never be resumed.

I just can’t get going “as things are”… and the more I thought about it, the more significant the medium I tend to favor seemed to be. I’ve worked primarily in acrylics for about 20 years. What if I could work slower… oil paints? No, too slow. Watercolor?Maybe…but… too wet? What if I could work slower without “working wet” at all…? Something I could easily step away from and come back to… I found myself also considering size. I generally work with canvases that are large-ish… not huge, but often “over mantelpiece” or “behind the couch” sizes… I had begun to work much smaller in recent years (a combination of convenience and physical limitations). I never replaced my big easel when it finally failed me. I rarely used it anymore. Large work on paper never suited me…but I started as a watercolor artist, working on paper, as a teenager. Is it time to scale back and return to older ways? I feel hungry for something new.

Continuing to reflect on what I’ve been doing artistically, what has inspired me recently, and what is most physically comfortable at this stage in my life, I found myself considering a big change… a change of medium. (That’s a bigger deal than I know how to communicate, and will come with a potentially very steep learning curve.) Pastels. That’s the “big reveal”, I’m planning to try pastels, and may return to working exclusively on paper (less storage space needed for completed work, too). It’s an exciting thing to contemplate.

I find myself in an interestingly “in between moment”, standing poised between who I’ve been and who I may become, at least artistically. It’s less a crossroad in life than a sharp bend in the path in front of me, beyond which I can’t at all see what is ahead. I’m okay with the uncertainty and the unknowns. I’m excited and eager to move forward, to move on, and to grow with new experiences and new knowledge. This change, particularly, percolates through my consciousness in an interesting way. I think of a snake shedding her skin. It’s a good metaphor for choosing change and the growth that can come of it.

…Pastels…? I would be more easily able to do plein air work when I go camping… less to carry, more compact, easier to clean up… I  sit with my thoughts awhile… The future is filled with potential.

I think about all the various artistic mediums I’ve tried, all the techniques, and the tools… I think about what worked for me, and why, and where I was in life for each of those things… I think, too, about practices more generally, and what has worked, and how much it has mattered to simply “try things out” to learn what really does work best for me. It’s an interesting journey.

There are new steps to take, and new skills to learn. There are new practices to practice, and old chaos to tidy up. There is old baggage to set aside, and old pain to heal. It’s a journey. A process. Incremental change over time doesn’t have to be all happenstance and wandering; I can choose change. I can choose my path, and choose my opportunity. I  can choose to begin again.

…It’s time…

…I wonder where this path leads…?