Archives for category: Logic & Reason
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With Honor

July 16, 2014 //
0

I lost someone yesterday. Actually, that’s ludicrously selfish of me, and quite inaccurate. We all ‘lost someone’ – it happens every day. In this case, a man once went to war, came home, lived some portion of his life after we lost touch, and yesterday he chose to end it. I found out fairly promptly, from another friend. What’s odd is that I never heard about birthdays, weddings, divorces, vacations…he only recently joined the Facebook masses. We’d only recently reconnected.  Life can be very like a soap bubble, sometimes, fragile and impermanent.

I wept at the loss of a piece of myself, however small. I wept that we hadn’t shared more, longer, and that I really just don’t know what burden had become to heavy to carry further. I contemplated other lives that ended, one way or another, and gave a moment of heartfelt loving recollection of times shared, and moments worthy of remembrance. My thoughts were of family, and love, and struggle, and warfare; good memories and difficult memories, exciting ones, and commonplace ones, all had their turn. I wept because however much I ever know about those dear to me, and however much they know about me, there always seems to remain unsaid what lacked words; I find myself wondering if I could have said more, or listened more skillfully.

A moment of reflection: life, love, honor...

A moment of reflection: life, love, honor…

Always. Never. These are words I work hard to avoid; they nearly guarantee a logical fallacy as soon as they are dropped into a sentence. How is it they come up so often in a moment of grieving?

“Man down”. At 51 I guess I will start to hear it more often. Those were the words on the phone, when I answered. “Man down. We’ve lost another one.” Enough detail to move on with grieving. Suicide is uncomfortable to contemplate, at least for me. It puts the pain of despair too near to my own pain.  So far, I continue to choose life over death, myself, but I understand considering it.

Every journey ends

Every journey ends

Someday the phone call will be for me… a friend will call another friend, then the pause… “Man down.” I hope I too will be described as having ‘served with honor’; from my friends that is a very big deal indeed.

Today is a good day to embrace life and love, and to live wholly invested in the experience, and present in the moment. There isn’t any other, and this one is very much worth it.

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

One Person, One Moment, One Change

July 15, 2014 //
1

I’m just this one person. You, too, right? Sometimes that feels so limiting! How can it matter to make one change? To cast one vote? To make one decision? To change one habit? To observe one moment mindfully? How significant is one shared experience? One piece of criticism? A compliment? A favor? An unexpected act of kindness on a difficult day? How important are our differences in ideology, values, or favorite color – really? How noteworthy are our similarities, in fact?

One transgression against our will? What about that? How important is that? Where do we begin to set clear healthy boundaries, and enjoy the experience of having them respected in an emotionally healthy, respectful and compassionate way?

Is changing the world actually so hard, when one change – any one change – does indeed ‘change the world’ in some small way? It seems unnecessary to beat this dead horse any further; we each and all continue to struggle and suffer and face off against each other over so many small things that go a bit sideways now and then, it’s hardly odd that when big stuff goes badly, it goes badly in a big way.

Today is an outstandingly good day to change the world; every day is. I’ll start with me – I have to; it’s all I have to work with. Today I’ll endeavor to be kind, to be compassionate, to respect boundaries and be mindful of the experiences of others in those moments when my own experience challenges me. Today I’ll take a moment for gratitude for the examples I have in life – good ones, and ones that are not-so-good, too; everyone has something to teach. Today I’ll smile and share the best I have to offer with the world, and maybe the world will be kind back.

Today is a good day for change. I will choose change – it may be the only vote that matters, and mine is the only voice I can lift up to the world to say ‘this is what I want in life, this is who I am’.

Every moment is a good one for making better choices.

Every moment is a good one for making better choices.

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

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

Pick a Topic, Add a Bias

July 9, 2014 //
3

I was recently meditating, in a moment of doubt and hurt, and in the stillness found an odd question sort of dangling in mid-consciousness, just waiting. “What would I have wanted to be taught, differently? What other things would I have exposed myself, too, had I know more than I did?” That’s not verbatim; it seemed both simpler and more encompassing, but the words are lost now.

The path isn't always paved...

The path isn’t always paved…

It got me thinking, over days, about who I am, what makes me thus, and what sorts of things I was taught, shown, lead to, and what people and ideas I was encouraged to pursue, favor, and build upon. I couldn’t help but observe that years of far right conservative thinking and values, in my teens and twenties, align to the thinking of my parents and many teachers, my culture at large at the time, and even the larger portion of my military peer group. This was the thinking I was taught, immediately after my TBI. I considered the gaps, too. Thinkers and ideas I had not been exposed to, or had been actively discouraged from considering suddenly have profound value for me; they are an unknown. They predictably and reliably have something else to reveal than what I see now.

I timidly and carefully explored the corners of my heart that most need support and nurturing these days, and smirked at myself; my education feels pretty directed and rather worthless.  I dredged up what recollections I have of authors, philosophers, educators, speakers and people of renown, that I had been actively discouraged from reading, or listening to. Would I be very different if I had read Timothy Leary and Ram Dass with the same devotion with which I read Ayn Rand? It took a very long time for me to ‘move left’, as an adult.  I giggle when people make jokes about politically conservative thinking and brain damage; I have no argument to offer.

I remember a conversation at the kitchen counter with my Dad late on some muggy summer night. We spoke of utopia, and ideals, and making the world better. I was young. Before my injury, maybe? No younger than 9…no older than 13.  I passionately spoke in favor of action ‘for the good of mankind’. My father countered cynically, and equally passionately, that mankind is a lost cause, unable to appreciate the effort or value, and that the better choice would be action in the favor of the individual. I don’t recall my father reading, aside from some sporting and gun magazines, but he was quick to quash the words of thinkers he didn’t approve of, whether he’d read them or not.  His bias quietly crept into my programming, with all sorts of other nastiness to untangle over time.  I realized, with some astonishment, that an entire era (genre? category?) of philosophers and thinkers had somehow quietly been locked out of my experience. How strange. I read so much… how is it that I turned so firmly away from the psychedelic thinkers and philosophers? Oh, not all of them, not all their work… I read Castaneda. I flipped through enough pages of Leary to pat myself on the head and move on, having learned nothing. I let some words in through my eye holes; I was not hearing what was being said. I wasn’t listening; I was checking off the box on a reading list intended solely to validate my educational requirements, and ego.

We choose who we are. Through our choices, we also choose who we become.

Yesterday I began reading Love. Leo Buscaglia definitely finds his place among authors, philosophers, and thinkers of whom my father did not approve. Writing about Love? Teaching Love? I actually finding myself pausing now and again, anticipating mockery. Yes, the things we teach children go that deep. I struggle with some of the language, too… the casualness of it, the 70s vernacular, the emphasis on love. But I am also moved, caught by the wisdom of some of the words, and inspired by others.

“First of all, the loving individual has to care about himself.” Wait…what? I could have used this information sooner! Another lesson, another exciting adventure, another step on my path… Everyone has a story. Everyone has something to offer the world in the way of wisdom. I’m a little irked that some of this was withheld from me, and that I myself chose to reinforce that with my own will for so long, failing even to recognize that there was a bias in play. Pop quiz aced – I have more to learn.  I smile, planning to ‘sneak’ a real book into my camping gear tomorrow, adding to the adventure.

Today is a good day to be open to the unknown. Today is a good day to recognize bias and choose differently. Today is a good day to embrace Love. Today is a good day to change the world.

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