Archives for category: joy

I am greeted by a gray overcast dawn when I reach the trailhead, and it is cooler than most recent mornings, below 60°F. I’m grateful to have worn a sweater. I’m grateful to be in less pain today than yesterday, at least for now.

A new day

Yesterday was quite wonderful, shared with my Traveling Partner, and special for quite personal reasons. I smile thinking about it, and him. I’m grateful for how far he has come in his recovery from injury and surgery. So worth waiting for. Worth the time and work and tears that went into more than a year of caregiving to get here. Mt gratitude is all mixed up with my relief and my enduring passion for this human being I love so deeply.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful my time between jobs has been brief. I’m excited about tomorrow and many more tomorrows to come. I’m grateful, too, for my own positive outlook, and the self-work, and therapy, and the valued perspectives of friends and colleagues that helped get me to this more positive place in life.

I walked down the trail, grateful to be walking, and grateful to find a favorite stopping point unoccupied. Small things matter, too, and are worthy of my appreciation and gratitude. I feel uplifted and light.

My tinnitus, as bad as it is, doesn’t aggravate me nearly as much, nor as often, now that I’ve got the hearing aids. No, they don’t diminish it at all in any measurable way, but in practical terms I’m forced to notice it a bit less often. It’s enough that it definitely improves my subjective experience. I’m grateful for that. I listen to my steps as I walk the trail. I listen to birdsong and breezes, and the sound of distant voices somewhere on the trail.

Summer is nearly over. Autumn is approaching quickly. The cooler morning tells the tale. My mind wanders ahead to holidays that don’t require my attention at all quite yet, and I’m grateful to feel eager to enjoy those when they come. I’m grateful to live in circumstances that allow for such celebrations – the heartfelt joy in a holiday celebration is one of the high points of a human life.

I sigh to myself, mostly out of contentment, and a little simply to  enjoy the deep breath of cool meadow air. No colorful sunrise, I’m grateful for the dawn in spite of the gray overcast sky. I watch the swallows flit quickly through the air, darting here and there so quickly.

There was a time, more than a dozen or so years ago, when it wouldn’t have occurred to me to practice gratitude in a willful, considered, and deliberate way. Making gratitude one positive practice among many has been part of a steady and fairly profound improvement in my outlook and even my practical quality of life. I feel better more of the time than I once did. Hell, I didn’t know that some of these nuanced positive emotions even existed until I made some changes in my approach to life generally (one of those changes being to make a practice of gratitude). They’ve been a delight to experience and to savor, and I’m grateful for that, too.

I smile thinking about yesterday, and love and partnership, and how truly fortunate I am in so many ways. I look down the path ahead, humbled by my good fortune and grateful for my opportunities. Tomorrow isn’t here, yet… I’m ready to embrace change. I’m ready to begin again – and I’m grateful for the chance to do that. I hear the geese calling overhead. The season is changing. The clock is ticking. It’s time to walk on.

I wonder where this path leads?

Yesterday was a pretty relaxed day of getting things done, although not that many things, and rather slowly. I spent the day in pain, and that put pain management as a high priority, competing for my attention through the day. My Traveling Partner was also dealing with pain, and struggling to focus on the work he was doing, too. We managed to enjoy the day together in spite of pain. Later, when the Anxious Adventurer returned home from work, he brought his own pain along with him. Nonetheless, we all mostly managed to mostly enjoy the time, without complicating the experience with pain. That’s something, and I sit for a moment this morning, grateful for the good day yesterday in spite of pain. Everybody hurts sometimes… Living with chronic pain is its own special hell, but it can be managed to some extent.

It could have been worse; I found enough “spoons” to bake cookies.

I woke this morning from a deep restful sleep, and was awake for a few minutes before I realized I wasn’t asleep anymore. I got dressed and headed to the local trailhead I favor. I don’t have any reason to drive further, really, and this is a pleasant trail and it is a quiet morning. It’s Labor Day weekend, and there’s no one here but me, so far. It’s the sort of weekend a lot of families use to go to the coast or to the mountains, this little suburban trail is neither of those.

A hazy summer sky reminds me that the world is burning, elsewhere.

I walk the trail, down through the oaks, between the parking lot and the vineyards, winding around the bend past mature grape vines, and down into the trees that grow more densely along the creek, until I get to this spot, convenient to sit a moment with my thoughts. I’ve grown very comfortable with practicing meditation outside, somewhere along the trail I’ve chosen, in the early morning. I’m rarely interrupted. It’s pleasant and quite calming. Lovely morning for it, in spite of the haze of distant wildfires.

… I’m still in pain (again) today. Like a lot of people, I live with chronic pain

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I reflect on age, and aging, the vagaries of the absolutely crap-tacular US healthcare system, and what it means to balance endurance with joy, and what it takes to thrive in spite of chronic pain. Then I let all that go and enjoy this lovely morning moment of quiet contentment out here on this trail. I’m less anxious, knowing I’ll go back to work on Tuesday, which is helpful. Like a lot of other things, anxiety tends to worsen pain, or at least seems to make it more difficult to manage or ignore.

I watch some chipmunks playing at the edge of the trees. They delight me. I would definitely pet one if it came close enough, and laugh at myself over it. It’s probably not a good idea to try to pet wild creatures, generally speaking. I spend a moment wondering if I’m such a chucklehead that I’d actually do something so foolish, or would I only want to? I find myself unable to be entirely certain. I hope I’d choose wisely. My ability to apply self-restraint and impulse control are much better on the GLP-1 I’ve now been taking for more than a year. It has improved my life quite a lot, because I’m not so likely to do dumb shit “because it seemed like the thing to do at the time”.

The rising sun illuminates the strip of meadow beyond the trail that separates the forest from the vineyard. I see an elder couple walking their dog slowly approaching from the farthest point along the trail still visible to me. Nice morning for it, and I knew I wouldn’t have the trail to myself indefinitely. They wave and offer a cheery greeting as they pass. I wave back and reply.

More housework today, I guess, that’s the routine. Pain slows me down, but I try to avoid letting it stop me. There’s just too much to do, and we’re all in pain (in this household) – someone still has to get things done. When we all commit to doing what we can and coordinate our efforts, we still manage a pretty good quality of life, and sometimes even manage to forget the pain for a little while. It doesn’t do to let things go too long, it’s harder to catch up than it is to stay on top of things.

…New job Tuesday…

I sigh to myself and enjoy the cool summer morning and the scents on the breeze. Meadow flowers. Mown grasses. Forest and creek. The lavender scent I’m wearing, that reaches my nose when I move. My hair feels soft on my shoulders and I wonder again if I should get it cut? I feel comfortable in my skin in spite of my pain, and grateful to have worn a sweater over my lighter summer top. The first hints of autumn approaching are all around, and the cooler morning is just one sign.

I’ve lingered here awhile and my legs are beginning to feel stiff. It’s time to walk on. This day is a good one to get things done… but there are definitely some verbs involved. lol It’s time to begin again.

I arrived at the trailhead just at daybreak. No waiting required. I laced up my boots, grabbed my cane and stepped out onto the trail dimly visible in the gloom of dawn. There’s a dense mist clinging to the low places, and the air feels a bit more brisk than recent summer mornings. Fall is coming.

A new day, a new moment, a new beginning.

The trail crunched under my feet as I stepped along carefully. With each step the sky lightened, dawn becoming day, and more of the trail being revealed to my eyes. Sounds in the brush became little birds, an occasional squirrel, and a possum. Further down the trail, I passed by a family of racoons, and wondered if it is the same family of racoons I’ve seen here before? Out in the mists of the meadow, I see a small herd of deer. I have the sensation of solitude, though I know there are other people on the trail this morning; I saw two cars parked nearby when I arrived.

I walk with my thoughts. I’m back to work Tuesday, though not inclined to fuss about it much or celebrate too eagerly. No particular doubts or concerns that it could fall through, it’s not that at all, it’s more that these feel like uncertain times, and I’m very fortunate to secure a new position so quickly, and not inclined to have that information create stress for folks who may not be similarly fortunate. So, I take a chill and somewhat discreet approach to the whole thing, to avoid being callous or haplessly cruel. I am excited though. It’s a new beginning, and a new adventure.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It is a Saturday, at the start of a long weekend. I don’t have any plans, besides a bit of housework and getting myself ready for a new job. I decide to go to the co-work space I’d been frequenting in my previous job, for day 1. Convenient, familiar… and “colleagues” there will appreciate knowing I am back to work and okay. I’ll work out something closer for the long-term if I can. Gas is expensive and it makes very little sense to drive so far to work remotely! 😂

Summer oaks

Arriving at my halfway point, I see racoons playing where I generally take a seat, on a fallen log. I walk on a little way to a large rock, out in the open, past the oaks. The meadow stretches out before me, and I can see headlights sweep around the curve of the highway beyond. In a few more weeks, most of the meadow will become marsh, and the seasonal trail will close. I take a deep breath of the fresh morning air. It smells of summer flowers and mown grass.

I’m feeling mostly pretty ready for the changes ahead. I know change can be hard on me, though, and I give thought to what sorts of things might ease the feelings of upheaval and disruption. Like doing the first shift from a familiar co-work space, there are little things I can do to make the experience feel more comfortable. It’s mostly a matter of good self-care.

I watch the dawn become day. No sunrise, really, the sun is obscured by dense gray clouds on the eastern horizon and the clear starry night sky has become a milky overcast backdrop for silhouetted birds and trees, with only the faintest suggestion of blue. Will it rain, I wonder? The forecast says it’s unlikely, but the air smells like rain, here, now. The morning mist spreads, creeping towards me until I am surrounded by it. I’ll sit awhile longer with my thoughts… and enjoy this new beginning.

I’m waiting for the sun. Daylight will arrive, I’ll walk this local trail, then it’s job search activities, appointments, and errands. I’m grateful that planning and task management are among my skills; the fatigue of what I’m presently going through finally caught up with me yesterday. (I even snapped at my Traveling Partner in a misdirected moment of frustration and cognitive overload.)

There’s nothing noteworthy about a human primate feeling emotional or overwhelmed by stress, or distracted by competing priorities. Hell, there’s nothing noteworthy about having to manage stress, or needing to reinforce good self-care practices. It’s not even noteworthy that I finally reached the tipping point between purposeful action, and disabling fatigue. Just happens to be that I got there yesterday.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I needed the deeply restful sleep I got last night. Today feels a little less overwhelming. I sit waiting for the sun, drinking water, and thinking about a recent conversation with a friend (who is also a former colleague). I may not be out of work very long, which is reassuring. I’ve even gotten a couple of “lucky breaks” this week that serve to reduce my stress quite a lot. I’m more okay than not, just very human and enduring a stressful circumstance.

I watch the sky lighten to a dishwater gray. The hills to the west are hazy from smoke of distant wildfires. A walk will feel good. I remind myself again how critical good self-care is, especially right now. I’m fatigued from managing stress, and I’m in pain from my arthritis. The physical discomfort piles on with the background stress, and in spite of a good night’s sleep and good self-care, I feel rundown and quite exhausted. Hilarious that I see more physical work as something to re-energize me. It probably will, though, for some little while. Eventually there has to be a reckoning and I wonder what else I can do to help myself through this?

I can almost hear my Traveling Partner’s voice reminding me, “don’t forget to breathe”, and realize I was indeed holding my breathe. I exhale, and breathe deeply. The summer air is sweet and floral with the scents of summer flowers and mown grasses. It is a pretty morning, pleasantly cool, and very quiet.

Nice morning to walk with my thoughts.

I lace up my boots and grab my cane. The beautiful summer morning calls me to come walk and enjoy the moment. I’m grateful to be reminded that I don’t have to hustle frantically from task to task and moment to moment. Better to take things one by one, to be truly present, and really enjoy things as they are. This won’t last, and overloading myself with self-imposed stress and nonsensically strict obligations is just silly. Life is best lived, savored, and enjoyed!

I smile and sigh to myself, and stretch. I look down the trail and think about it as a metaphor for forward momentum and progress, and this journey that is life. It’s time to walk on. Time to begin. Again.

I am sipping my coffee on a warmer than average morning, grateful to have ice for iced coffee. Grateful to have coffee. Grateful to be as fortunate as I am. I am drinking this coffee and reflecting on how “lucky” I’ve been over the course of a lifetime, so far.

Meditation over coffee… like a sunrise in my thoughts.

I’ve survived a lot in this life: childhood sexual abuse, rape, domestic violence, head trauma, brain damage, military sexual trauma, poverty, homelessness, anxiety, upheaval, and despair… and illness, and injury, and poor decision-making. It’s been much. I did survive, though, and I’m here, now, and generally speaking I’m okay, for nearly all values of “okay”, and life is good. Even the insecurity of being unemployed, presently (well, as of later today) doesn’t sway my impression that I’m fortunate, and have been rather lucky my entire life. You may find it surprising that I see myself as “lucky”, but let’s face it – I’ve survived a fair few things and find myself here, now, with a good attitude about life, and feeling positive and hopeful, generally, and alive. My childhood was difficult – but I did make it to adulthood. My early adult decision-making was spectacularly poor – but I did survive those decisions and their consequences, and moved on to better things, and found greater wisdom, eventually. Considering that I managed to get past all that before I had a “complete set of tools”, I think I was lucky indeed. Things could have been much worse.

…At no point was surviving all that I’ve been through a given; more than once I could have died…

It was luck and happenstance that brought my Traveling Partner and I together, late in 2010. I still had a head full of chaos and damage, my hormones were wrecking my life daily, and I was awash in unresolved trauma, and mired in misery. How lucky was I that my beloved saw past that to the woman I could become? In 2013, on the edge of making an irrevocable decision about living life, I found a therapist who was actually able to help me – a massive stroke of good luck, and I am enduringly grateful. In 2015, I chose to step away from damaging drama and ended an unhealthy relationship that was undermining my emotional wellness, and I chose to live alone for a time. Though my relationship with my Traveling Partner remained important to me throughout the time that I lived alone (no “break up” or separation, we were simply living apart, still deeply in love, but working in different places), it was a healing time that allowed me to “grow up” quite a lot in ways I’d never managed before. I’m grateful (and fortunate) to have a partnership that could withstand that bit of distance for a time, even supporting and encouraging me. Lucky. It’s not just those years that I’ve known my Traveling Partner, either. Year after year. Address after address. Job after job. Friendships. Acqaintances. Experiences. I’ve been damned lucky in this very human lifetime of chaos, and trauma, and change. I try not to overlook my good fortune and privilege. No one actually “pulls themselves up by their bootstraps” and makes it entirely on their own. Choices matter. Relationships matter. Luck matters.

We don’t “win the game” solely through the cards we’re dealt, nor even how we play the hand. Luck matters. Happenstance. Circumstances. Coincidence. The actions of others. Good fortune and good friendships matter. What we do with what we’ve got matters – but so does how we perceive it all, and how we understand it. We create a large measure of our own experience, moment by moment, in our own heads. How we view the hand we’re dealt, and the options we are able to recognize, have a lot to do with our perspective on life.

Don’t forget to dance, when you feel moved by the music

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts and start my morning with gratitude. It’s a warm morning and the air quality continues to worsen as the wildfires to the east continue to burn. I’m grateful (and lucky) that they aren’t much closer. My Traveling Partner pointed out the poor air quality as I left for the last day at this job, in this office, and suggested I take my walk later on, in some large retail space with air conditioning and filtration, rather than tax my lungs with the dirtier air outside. I feel loved that he thinks of such things and affirm that I’ll take his advice. I’m grateful for the consideration of my colleagues, as we wind down this work together; I feel hopeful, not despairing. I feel supported and considered, not fearful and in shock. I am grateful to be comfortable and self-assured in this chaotic space between jobs; I’ve been here before, and I know it’ll be okay. I’ve been lucky in the past, and I’m grateful to have the positive perspective to rest on while I get something new lined up.

“Fortune favors the bold” – it’s worth noting that to a degree we each make our own luck. It doesn’t do much to just sit around “feeling positive” – there are verbs involved. There is work to be done. There are skills to hone, and resources to assess and to organize. Chillaxing on the couch playing Hello Kitty Island Adventure won’t get me a new job (probably)(most likely)(that’d be a remarkable amount of luck!), so I’ve still got to get on with things. Set a plan. Take steps. Act. Begin again in the face of every failure, every rejection, every “no”. I don’t fit everywhere, in every role – but I do fit somewhere. I’m fortunate to have developed so many highly transferrable skills in a lifetime. Sometimes I make fit happen. Sometimes I stumble into it. Sometimes it may be handed to me. Sometimes I work for it over many days with much careful decision-making. Luck happens along the way.

This morning I feel less tense than I have been feeling, mostly because it is “the day”. The last day – and there are steps that could not be taken before this day had come. I’m ready, though; I’ve got a plan and I feel lucky, and grateful.

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin. The path ahead is waiting.