Archives for category: Healthy Living

It’s a peculiar sort of morning. I slept through to my lights coming on to wake me, which is rare. I woke groggy and stupid,  confused about what day it is, and whether I have some major activity planned for the weekend ahead…I felt certain I was forgetting something (I was). Only just now,  after a walk through an oak grove shrouded in early morning mist did I remember; I’m taking the car in for some repair work tomorrow morning. lol Nothing critical to know today. Funny that I couldn’t remember.

Morning mist and solitude.

My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning,  something like very distant warning klaxons  going off, or “shimmery chimes” in a breezy garden… describing it accurately eludes me, though I often want to try. In my left ear, there’s a short morse code “phrase” buried in the static, on the right I hear the backup warning of a construction vehicle and chuckle to myself when I realize I am actually hearing that. I clear my throat, startling myself with how loud that seems.

My thoughts wander. I meditate after I change from my boots back to my shoes. I  sit in the early morning stillness,  grateful for the quiet moment. The work day will begin shortly. The bustle and fuss of adult tasks and caring for hearth, home,  and partner with recommence on the other side of this quiet time. I avoid thinking about how fucking tired I am at the end of these days. I feel encouraged by the progress my Traveling Partner is making and remind myself gently to “hang in there “. I’ve been doing my best, but it often doesn’t feel like enough,  and I’m not certain I have it in me to do more/better.

My back is already aching fiercely. I take medication for that, with a sigh and a frown.  I don’t like having to rely on Rx pain relief and approach doing so with some reluctance and considerable care. I’m looking forward to the drier summer days ahead, when I rarely need pain medication to manage my day-to-day pain.

…One of the most difficult things to come to terms with after I broke my back years ago was the likelihood that I would deal with chronic, nearly continuous pain for the remainder of my life… but it has proven to be the situation, and “wishing it away” doesn’t work for me nearly as well as facing it, accepting it, and learning coping skills for dealing with it. I try not to let pain call the shots, limit what I do, or prevent me from enjoying my life. My results vary. Some days are better than others. Today I fucking hurt. I’m in a pretty good mood though,  and that’s a win.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I make a point to let go of vaguely vexing miscellany that doesn’t require my attention. This “here and now” moment is pretty pleasant. I take time to enjoy it before I begin again.

I’m enjoying what seems an unusually quiet morning,  waiting for enough daylight on a dark rainy morning to make out this trail for a morning walk before work. The rain is a soft misty rain that makes no obvious noise on the windshield. An occasional larger drop falls from the branches hanging over head to land with a splat on the window or roof. The loudest sound I hear this morning is my own tinnitus, interrupted now and then with birdsong.

As the sky lightened from black to deep Prussian blue, the rain began to come down harder. So, I continue to wait, now for a break in the rain…

…The darkness dissipates as the day begins…

Yesterday was lovely. My Traveling Partner and I quietly celebrated our now-13-years married, just hanging out and enjoying each other. More elaborate such celebrations need to wait on his complete recovery from his December injury. Progress feels infernally slow sometimes (I imagine even more so for him, an active man in his prime).  I do everything I can – and sometimes push myself beyond my understanding of my limits – seeking to make him more comfortable, and be as helpful as I can in making it easier for him to both rest and heal, and also to stay productive and occupied in a satisfying way. It’s hard sometimes, and I could do a better job of taking care of myself, too. He’s quite helpful there, always considerate of my wellness and likely limits. Good partner, and I am grateful.

…After thirteen years, I am also still very much in love with this man…

The rain makes my back ache fiercely. I add pain medication to my morning medications. It won’t completely resolve the pain I’m in, but it’s certain to help. It’s enough that I should be able to avoid being a bitch because I hurt, and that matters.

I sigh out loud… and begin again.

There’s a steady rain falling. It’s been raining since I parked the car in the city, though the drive in was dry. There’s nothing at all to do about the rain, besides let it fall. The sky is a heavy gray, dark and moody, and the streetlights are still on; there’s not enough light to trigger the daylight sensors. The pavement shines, reflecting the streetlights. The trees in the park are a lush almost luminous assortment of greens. The cars turn the corners as they go around the park block, looking extra shiny, coated with the slick wetness of the rain. This is no mist. It’s a proper rain, and disturbs the surface of the pond in the park, giving the water an almost rough texture. I sip my coffee and watch the rain fall for a while, while I enjoy my breakfast salad (with a handful of blueberries, and a couple hard-boiled eggs). Lovely start to the work day.

I think about my upcoming camping trip, for some minutes, wondering how I will prepare for potential rain. A steady drenching rain such as this one, this morning, would certainly change my options out in the woods, or on the trail. For one thing, if I don’t have adequate overhead cover of some suitable kind, I’d have trouble cooking in the rain (that just also doesn’t even sound fun). I mean, I could hunker down in the opening of my tent, with my Jetboil carefully placed under the edge of the “vestibule” that projects somewhat forward of the tent opening itself, providing a wee bit of cover, and easily boil water for coffee or for preparing a freeze-dried backpacker meal. That’s certainly adequate… but I’ll be going prepared to actually cook real food, too… and I’m looking forward to being outside. It would be a very different experience to be “stuck indoors”, in my tent, facing a downpour. I smile; it’s not an issue, and barely a concern, really, and certainly this far in advance I’m just “borrowing trouble” and thinking thoughts of being prepared. My tent itself is a good one for outlasting the rain, generally, though I’ve never camped in the sort of tropical deluge that could soak through the best of tents… not yet, anyway.

I think about provisions for this camping trip ahead… “glamping” as much as camping, and I’ll have a small solar set up, and a portable fridge that’s pretty good-sized for one person (for 4 days). I sit munching my salad and thinking about what “four days of salad greens” looks like, and how much space that might take… This is the sort of detail that can throw off a plan, and I consider it with care, and with great joy. (I enjoy the planning, itself.)

…The minutes tick by as I amuse myself with my thoughts…

I have learned over time how very critical to my self-care it is to make time to “hear myself think”. These quiet moments of reflection, or even just daydreaming, really matter to my resilience, and my emotional wellness. I quickly begin to feel “crowded” and very much as if “everyone wants a piece of me” with nothing left over for myself, when I don’t make time for simple quiet reflection, and an opportunity to “hear myself think”. Being there for the woman in the mirror is a pretty big deal for such a small thing, and it pays off in calm, contentment, self-awareness, and the ability to maintain perspective and avoid taking dumb shit personally. Giving myself time to sit quietly with my thoughts reduces the likelihood that I’ll end up being a reactive asshole in some inconsequential moment that could potentially go sideways on a day I’m feeling cognitively “crowded” and overwhelmed by life. I’ve even noticed that I’m more easily able to keep track of “all the things”, when I make a point to take a few minutes to just chill and let my thoughts flow past, observed and unchallenged, for some quiet little while. Just saying; I find this a very good practice, though it can sometimes be difficult to find the quiet spot and the time for it. It’s worth making the time.

I sigh quietly to myself. I feel contented and calm. It’s a nice feeling. I’m still nibbling on this breakfast salad. lol That’s been a notable change with the addition of the Ozempic to my care plan; I don’t rush my meals. Like, at all. (All my life previously, I’ve basically wolfed down every meal as if someone might walk up and take my plate away, and in spite of being aware of this being a potentially unhealthy practice, as well as less than civilized for a bystander or dining companion to observe, it’s been a struggle to do things any differently.) Now it’s honestly a bit of a challenge to stay focused on the fact that I am eating a meal, and I’m definitely more likely to stop eating a bit before I notice that I feel “full”. I count this as a positive change, and make a point to notice, before moving on. It’s very nice to find that my consciousness is not dominated by thoughts to do with food, or meals, or cooking, or snacks… and I’m a little surprised, now, to understand that it had been for so long. Odd that there’s so little discussion of the cognitive changes associated with Ozempic… Seems worth discussing. (I’m no longer surprised by how many medications we take are “mind altering” that don’t get described that way, or understood to be so.)

My thoughts veer from cognition to consciousness to knowledge, and I find myself giving thought to what books to take on my camping trip… This “human computer” could use a “software update”! I’ve got a short stack of crypto currency and blockchain related books that seem relevant to my work, currently… but… maybe something more philosophical for this trip? Or… fiction? (I read very little fiction at this point in my life.) I don’t listen to audiobooks… I like real bound books that I can hold in my hand. I’ve got a ebook reader, and I use it quite a lot, but my favorite approach to ebooks is to read a bound book, then reread it as a ebook, which allows me to highlight passages and make digital “notes in the margins” without marking up the bound copy. I used to pride myself on having read every book I own… but I’ve fallen a bit behind on that, and I’ve now got some dozen or so books waiting on my attention, and limited bandwidth. lol It seems rather a shame to spend my downtime on work-related reading, so I turn my attention to books on other topics… Maybe a good time to read Thích Nhất Hạnh? I’ve got a couple books of his that my Traveling Partner gifted me after news of the reknown teacher’s death reached us. I haven’t yet read them all.

…So many books to read, so much to learn that has value, how inconvenient that time if finite…

…I sip my coffee and let my thoughts wander where they will. It’s that sort of morning…

Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

I took a moment in the garden in the afternoon, just to enjoy the sunshine after the rain, and to see how things are growing. It’s still early spring, but already the first roses are blooming.

Rose “Baby Love” blooming first in my garden, peeking out from beyond the curry plant.

I stepped gently across the soaking wet lawn, carefully making a point not to come back the way I came, to avoid compressing the moisture saturated ground too much. Everything is lush and green. The earliest planted peas are thriving and blooming.

I’ve already forgotten what specific sort of peas these are. I’ve got several types and varieties. I just enjoy peas.

Interesting greens in the salad bed are beginning to do interesting things. I like to plant a variety of salad greens, including things like dandelions, arugula, “corn salad”, and several other sorts.

Including this… whatever this is. I’ve forgotten.

…And some lettuces. I mean… salad. Obviously. Tender looseleaf red lettuces, and soft delicate butter lettuce… no iceberg lettuce, and rarely any romaine. Boring. I can do without. Flavor, texture, colors… I enjoy the crunch of iceberg lettuce, well enough, I suppose… but it’s rather bland otherwise and not much nutritional value. It’s a small garden; the nutritional density matters.

I took my time as I made my way around the garden. The walk around makes an irregular sort of open-ended oval, not quite a “U” shape, not quite an “O”. There are 13 roses to see along the way, and kitchen herbs tucked in here and there. There’s an assortment of blueberry bushes planted last year, with a hope that they’ll become an edible hedge along one stretch of the walk toward the front door, and a couple others just tucked in here and there for “shrubbery”. Most all the perennials (including most of the roses) are pretty young, having been planted some time in the not-quite-four years we’ve been here. (A couple of the roses are much older, having come along with me for multiple moves, in pots, over the years.) Some of the roses are new this year – they may not even flower until next year. The oldest of the roses, and those that were planted the first year we were here, I expect to bloom heartily. “Baby Love” will bloom more or less continuously, once she begins, through to January next year, unless I do something to force her to acknowledge the changing season (which I rarely do), like prune her back aggressively after the first frost. Our climate is relative mild, and it is not necessary to winter-over the roses.

…It’s definitely Spring…

The lupines are beginning to bloom. The dahlias have broken through the ground. The French tarragon has sent up new sprigs. The curry plant is setting buds and will bloom soon, too.

As I walk in the garden, I find myself strangely feeling that I’m in the company of my Granny, who would walk me through her garden when I was a kid, sampling the herbs and sharing their scents with me, and telling me all the things they were used for. I find myself in the company of my Dad, thinking about which new variety of this or that vegetable might be worth a try this year, picking weeds out from around the tomato plants, and carefully checking those for growth – do they need to be pinched back? I find myself imagining sharing this garden with my dear friend, and her delight over this flower or that one. My background stress recedes and my heart fills with love… and gardening tips. lol

The blue sky and breezes beckoned me to have a sit and rest awhile, listening to the birds. A blue jay stops at the edge of the garden – a familiar one, that comes regularly to see what I’m up to, and rummage around among the weeds and greens for whatever it is blue jays come to the garden for. He watches me fearlessly curious. I watch him back.

It’s cooler now. I’ve finished my time in the garden, and returned indoors to enjoy a quiet cup of tea and hang out with my Traveling Partner, and share my moment in the garden here, with you. It’s enough. I definitely needed it. 🙂

I woke too early. My sleep was restless and interrupted. I finally stopped bothering to go back to sleep at 04:00 a.m. – it was just too close to when I’d typically get up anyway, so I got up, dressed, and headed into the office. Based on my mood alone, it’s a good day to go farther… just drive and drive, into the sunrise, and see where the road might take me… It’s a Monday, so that’s not really an option. Work. I remind myself that I’ve got a couple days solo coming up, camping, soon. I hold on to that idea as if with a clenched fist.

Making plans for solo time.

G’damn relationships are fucking hard sometimes. People are complicated and they need so much, and it changes so often! What matters in one moment seems unimportant in another, or in a different frame of mind, or from some other point of view at a different time. Complicate that further with individual trauma and baggage and bullshit, and… yeah… so hard sometimes. People are complicated. Me, too. It’s not reliably easy, this whole “getting along” thing… sometimes not even for lovers or devoted partners. There are verbs involved. Active listening skills to cultivate. Boundaries to set, manage, respect, be aware of. Little courtesies to offer no matter how tired we feel in the moment, or how bad we hurt inside. It gets messy, sometimes – we’re really just fancy fucking primates, with all the same poo-flinging tendencies of our ape and monkey cousins. I guess I should at least appreciate that human primates mostly fling metaphorical poo, verbal poo, and not actual turds, generally speaking.

“Lovers” 10″ x 14″ watercolor on paper 1992

I’m sipping my coffee feeling discontented and moody. I teeter between lingering anger and lingering hurt feelings. I nibble at my breakfast salad with moody disinterest in my health or fitness or frankly any other “hopeful encouraging bullshit” – that’s the kind of mood I’m in. Discouraged. Disappointed. Sad. It’s not a lack of progress; I could be celebrating progress right now, but I just don’t feel like it. I’m mired in my fucking emotional bullshit right now, thanks. I’m still eating this healthy breakfast salad, though. It’s “the right thing to do” in this moment, and I’m not going to give that up just because I’m in a snit over my relationship “difficulties” (relatively speaking, I’ve got it pretty good, and I’m probably being an ass to beef about it in the first place, I’m just in a terrible mood, dealing with lack of sleep and pain, and fucking cranky as hell).

Maybe it looks easy…but…

We more or less got the evening back on track yesterday. Shared dinner together. Watched a couple videos. There are still things we need to talk about, and omg I fucking hate that shit. I dread meaningful serious relationship-building conversations about boundaries and expectations and all-manner of fairly important “taking care of each other” details that so easily turn contentious because humans are human, and feelings are easily hurt. We too easily take too much shit too personally. We make small things over into big things, and do our best to “win” or “be right”, when what might be most productive is simply to listen and care and love each other. I’m not pointing a finger – these are generalities that most assuredly apply to me, too. (I prefer to discuss my own bullshit over anyone else’s bullshit; I know its measure very well, and it’s a helpful bit of introspection, whereas finger-pointing and blame-laying only lay the foundation for some future argument. That’s tedious and a huge waste of limited precious mortal lifetime.)

The smallest tokens of lasting affection can feel huge.

I sip my coffee. Breathe. Munch my salad. Watch gray storm clouds roiling against the background of pale morning sky. Think my thoughts and feel my pain. I think about my Traveling Partner sleeping at home and hope that he finally gets the rest he’s been needing, and struggling to get. Everything feels worse and seems harder when we aren’t getting the sleep we need. I sigh quietly to myself. I’m grateful to have the office alone this morning – I’m not fit company for other people, presently. I haven’t been sleeping well, either.

A token of affection. Love on a chain. The only heart-shaped locket I have ever owned.

I give the day’s work an irritated look. It’s all quite routine, and I am struggling to care and to commit. Lingering malaise and ennui and irritation are vexing me, and I’m struggling to let it go. There’s a reason non-attachment is a practice; it takes quite a bit of practicing. I pick the last leaf of arugula off my plate and drag it around in the last drops of vinaigrette with a total lack of regard for forks or good manners before I eat it and set my plate aside. It can be so hard to “make space” for my feelings, to feel them, process them, and proceed to “do what’s right” nonetheless – assuming I have a good idea of what I think “right” may be in this moment in the first place. I breathe, exhale, relax, and try again to just let this shit go, properly, and move on – to allow myself to separate yesterday’s painful moment from necessary future (loving, nurturing, productive) conversations about needs, boundaries, and expectations. I sigh, and remind myself that relationship building is effort and work and commitment and also love. It’s so easy to tear down relationships (and people), and so much more worthwhile to do something to build instead – in spite of how much harder that often feels (is?).

What could be more worthy of study than communication? Even though we are each having our own experience, we are all in this together.

I give myself a minute with my thoughts and my coffee, before I begin again. I know my results will vary – but I also know that love matters most, and that we become what we practice. I definitely need more practice at deep listening, and communicating, and boundary-setting, and setting clear expectations, and being fearlessly open… and I know I can begin again, and keep practicing.

Sharing the love, and sharing the building. Destruction is far less joyful.