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Ready? Begin, Again.

October 31, 2025 //
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I’m feeling better. I wake up ahead of my alarm, but a glance at the time and I realize I’ve also slept in, having left my alarm reset for a later time from yesterday. Win? I enjoy waking up without an alarm. I also enjoy sleeping in. It’s a small thing, but a nice start to the day.

I don’t bother looking at the news. I can easily manage the day without alarmist bullshit (that hasn’t factually changed in days) generated by the media outrage machinery (now with AI slop). Not now. Not this morning. Not today. I think I’ll begin the weekend without that.

I set off down the trail in the predawn darkness, feeling merry.

Every journey begins somewhere. Sometimes we take our first step on a new path in the dark.

My steps crunch along the paved section of the trail as I trod the fallen leaves. The path is dry this morning. The darkness is chilly. A cold autumn morning, this morning; I’m grateful for my heavy sweater and my fleece over that. It’s about time to consider pulling my gloves, scarf, and knitted hat from my gear bin in the back of the car. I grin to myself feeling the satisfaction of being prepared. Life doesn’t always make being prepared particularly convenient or easy, but at least I can be ready for the weather.

I take a seat at my halfway point. The bench is cold beneath me. I begin to feel the chill straight away. Winter is coming.

I think about recent conversations with my Traveling Partner about what is within our control as individuals, and perspective for managing stress. He makes it clear how deeply he cares for me; it truly matters to my beloved that I have every possible tool to manage my anxiety and PTSD readily at hand. I feel grateful for this partnership and very fortunate to be so loved.

My first husband wanted to possess me, like a trinket or a Barbie doll. My next significant long-term relationship was different; he wanted to control me, as though I were a puppet or a sex doll. A third (and my shortest) long-term partner only wanted to use me and take what I had. My Traveling Partner loves me, and wants to enjoy me as a person, as a woman, a friend, and a partner. It feels very different. I sit with my love and gratitude for some little while. Feeling my breath, in… out…, in… out…, The moment feels splendidly indefinite. I prolong my joy simply by savoring the feeling itself. Nothing complicated. I hold my focus on this quiet joy and feeling of being loved, and sit with it awhile. It is a pleasant start to this Friday morning.

I think about friends, both near and far away. I’m fortunate to have a handful of really good friends of the sort I could count on if things were dire. I’ve got quite a few more that I wouldn’t want to impose upon, but can count on for a great time together most any occasion. I think about dear friends awhile longer. I don’t see them enough. I think about what it takes to change that.

My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning greeting, and my plan for the day shifts to account for things he also needs out of the day. I look at the time and get to my feet. It’s already time to begin again.

…

…

…

… This just in from The Department of The Map Is Not The World, and endorsed by The Society for Unnecessary Complications, I find myself waiting for the university library to open, working from my laptop, in the parking lot, instead of working from home. Not sure it’s tale-worthy at all, just saying, may as well go ahead and embrace impermanence and get started practicing non-attachment. Our plans don’t always work out. Our results may vary. Now it’s definitely time to begin again, again, and work on salvaging the day. It’s fine, I’ve just got to be adaptable and resilient. I practice all the time, and we do become what we practice.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Better…And Worse

October 30, 2025 //
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The work day ended gently, and it’s been productive. which surprises me. The morning passed pretty quickly, but the minutes became prolonged and tedious as the afternoon began, and by 13:00 I was definitely aware that I’m ill. The headache that seemed to have diminished during the night is very much back. My sinuses feel weirdly dry and irritated, in spite of my drippy nose. I finally noticed that I had forgotten to remove my shoes after running a brief errand… then still managed to forget about them entirely until some minutes ago. I ache all over, although the chills and sweats seem to be over with. I’m “tired” – but not the healthy tiredness of the end of a long day at hard work, nor the anticipated tiredness of bedtime. Just feeling generally rundown. The malaise of illness seems so utterly mundane. But…

…I’m okay for nearly all values of “okay”, presently, in spite of being sick. It’s just a headcold. Pretty commonplace, and very ordinary. Hell, it’s that time of year, anyway, eh? I sigh, and let that go. It’s not really worth bitching about, and I’m snug at home and cared for…

My Traveling Partner asks me, every so often, if I’m feeling better. I mean… mostly? Sort of. Some? A little bit? As with the way I often answer questions, the answer isn’t helpful at all, and fails to communicate anything worth knowing. It’s a challenge I deal with often, and I know it frustrates people. What frustrates me is how often people who know I have brain damage either completely forget that there are some very specific things that result from that (which affect communication in some cases) that I can’t reliably do much about, or behave as though it is as simple as doing things differently. Practicing doing some particular thing in some very particular way can be helpful over time, but (most especially) when my executive function and communication impairments are most severe (like, when I’m sick, or deeply fatigued), there’s often damned little I can actually do about it in any practical way. I just have to deal with the experience of struggling to communicate, when it happens. Frustrating all around.

I take a break with my Traveling Partner. He’s working on a project in the shop. He’s having his own experience with frustration and shares details with me. He offers to show me something he’s working on, or something to do with the thing frustrating him. I’m aware that I’m too sick to be sharp enough to appreciate and value the experience, putting us both at risk of still more frustration – so I decline in favor of more self-care, and maybe laying down for awhile. This fucking headache is kicking my ass, and has now partnered with my “everyday headache” to bring real oomph to my headache experience. I sigh to myself, alone in this comfortable space. My headache is not eased by whatever the fuck that low frequency whine outside is. A leaf-blower? A distant train engine idling on a siding? One of those vacuum or carpet cleaning trucks over at the apartment complex on the other side of the creek? It could be any number of things. One thing it definitely is, is incredibly irritating and I’ve got a fucking headache. I snarl quietly to myself, then remind myself it isn’t personal, at all. It’s just noise.

…This headache, though…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m not at risk of death. I’m not headed to the ER. I’m not immobilized. I’ve got a headcold. Some random virus going around the community at the start of flu season caught up to me. I could have rolled d20 and predicted the outcome, most likely. Annoyingly mundane and not at all interesting. (Sorry.)

I sit quietly for a moment, appreciating the other details. The good stuff. I pull my focus back to this moment, this relationship, this little house situated between town and farm. There’s a lot to be grateful for. I’m grateful that the Anxious Adventurer is willing to make dinner, and that I had ingredients on hand to make that relatively easy on him. I’m grateful to have the means to quickly go to the pharmacy for cold remedies, and the freedom to do so at my convenience, even on a work day. I’m grateful that I can afford to do so, without worrying about trade-offs. I’m grateful for the good quality well-roasted sustainably sourced fair trade coffee beans from which I made my morning coffee. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to make that choice. I’m grateful to have become the kind of person who cares about the other human beings in the supply chain for the things I want or need in life, and the sort who makes choices that are informed by that caring nature. I’m grateful to recognize my relative privilege in life, in spite of the tough times I’ve endured along the way. I’m grateful for the computer that sits here on my desk; my Traveling Partner built it with my needs in mind, and it suits me so well! I’m grateful to be so well-loved by such a very interesting and delightful human being, one that I love so well. I’m grateful that my problems in life aren’t worse than they are – and that I am aware of my good fortune.

…Even when I’m sick, a few minutes of sincere gratitude is a powerful mood-lifter…

When I’m sick, my emotions are often very much “at the surface” of my awareness. This puts me at risk of losing my temper, or weeping over nonsense. In addition to those risks, though, it also puts me in touch with the softer subtler emotions, the little joys, the childlike delight over something that sparkles, the pure radiant happiness of a hug. It’s a weird time. I’m tired, but energized and restless. I’m volatile, but capable of beautiful moments of great joy, love, and delight. I’m kind of stupid, but barely matters because I’m also feeling accepted and safe and cared-for. Being human is peculiarly complicated. Nuanced. I try not to take it personally. If things go sideways, I know I’m loved anyway. I smile to myself and finish my tea. The work day is behind me. I can begin again tomorrow – for now, I’ll just take care of myself.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Another Turn of the Wheel

October 27, 2025 //
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The wheel keeps turning. The clock keeps ticking. The going around keeps going around, and the coming around seems slow to arrive, but inevitably will come around. The grains of sand in our mortal hourglass keep trickling away. It is another new day, another new week, and another series of imminent moments to live, to savor, and to remember later.

… What will you do with your finite precious moments, today….?

Me? I’m starting with a walk. The trail is dark, and it rained through the night. The neighborhood that surrounds this trail is quiet. The darkness is illuminated by occasional lights, and the quiet is interrupted by the distant hum and whir of HVAC systems. Humanity exists here. I sigh and keep walking. “Peace and quiet” is relative, I guess.

I slept well and deeply. The weekend of much needed rest was a worthwhile deviation from more typical weekends, when I commonly swap “gainful employment” for the greatly appreciated, but wholly unpaid, domestic labor of errand running, housekeeping, grocery shopping, and caregiving. I’m both grateful and relieved that my Traveling Partner needs so little caregiving now, at all. As his capabilities around the house with day-to-day tasks continue to improve, my ability to cover “everything else” (more or less, most of the time) also improves. The shared effort is a quality of life improvement, and made it possible to just set stuff aside this past weekend and relax. I can’t easily describe how much more rested and able to focus I feel this morning. I definitely needed that restful time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, smiling to myself and enjoy the lingering feeling of being loved.

The world looks different before daybreak.

I walked the wet trail carefully in the darkness. It is slick with wet leaves, and dotted with puddles. I playfully stomp through a puddle or two before a grown up sense of safety vs hazards catches up with my sense of whimsy. I slip, just once, nearly falling because I carelessly stomped a puddle that was full of slippery leaves. I catch myself, feeling a brief moment of embarrassment, although I’m alone on the trail this morning.

I get to my halfway point and stop to take in the scene, rest a moment, write and meditate. It has become a cherished routine. It begins to rain, softly, and I am grateful for the tree cover that keeps me mostly dry. Chilly morning, too, I think to myself. I’m grateful for the fleece over my sweater, and its warm deep pockets.

… Monday…

I’ve got no particular sorrow or stress over a Monday, these days. A work day is a work day. I smile in the darkness. I sit enjoying the moment. I’m ready for whatever is next, as the wheel continues to turn. I’m ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Resilience In Practice

October 25, 2025 //
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I woke later than usual. It was almost 05:00 when I woke. I felt rested and positively merry. I dressed to head out for my morning trek down the marsh trail that circles the nature park.

As I checked the weather, and the time, I see I’ve got a message from my beloved Traveling Partner. The love and concern in his words is clear. He suggests I keep my walk short, maybe local, and proposes I maybe stay home entirely and get my miles on the elliptical, while watching a favorite show. He proposes that we could do something together, later, an idea that appeals to me. I feel loved. I sit with that feeling for a moment, letting it fill my consciousness.

The idea of a shorter walk and better self-care is a tempting idea, for sure, I admit. I really like being out on the trail, though, enjoying the short quiet interval of solitude… and my walks at the nature park put me nearby a favorite grocery store, and I generally stop there after my walk on a Saturday morning… The temperature is mild… I head out, remembering my commitment to one of the grocery checkers to share some items my Traveling Partner made, and deciding to keep my walk short, any way.

The drive to the nature park was quiet. No traffic. I enjoyed it, smiling to myself as I drove with my thoughts, grateful for my loving partner who cares about my well-being, and for the lovely morning. Before I reach the nature park, it begins to rain, first just a sprinkle, then as I reach the trailhead parking, a proper steady rain. I grimace, and laugh, betting my Traveling Partner had checked the weather report more closely than I had.

Now I sit, waiting for a break in the rain. I’m unbothered and relaxed. Hadn’t I already decided to make my walk a shorter one, anyway? No stress. No agitation. Just change. I breathe, exhale, and relax, listening to the rain on the roof of the car.

At its heart, resilience is simply that ability to bounce back in the face of change, uncertainty, emotional disregulation, or even trauma. Resilience needs development, as with things like muscular strength. Specific practices build resilience. Meditation, as a practice, helps build resilience. The practice of “taking in the good” is another that directly builds resilience. Forgiveness, as a practice, is another that contributes to resilience, by limiting how long our hurt feelings or injuries inflicted by another can dominate our thoughts. Practicing non-attachment and embracing related ideas such as impermanence, sufficiency, and building depth and breadth into our perspective on life, generally, are helpful for building resilience.

What’s it good for, though (resilience, I mean)? Why do I put so much value on it? Partly due to this; it improves pain management results.

Resilience let’s us bounce back and carry on, without becoming mired in our pain, sorrow, or anger. Resilience is that quality that gets us quickly past a difficult moment, and on to enjoying the next. Well-established resilience, over time, may become the difference between having some troubling mental health episode or meltdown, and simply acknowledging a difficult experience, dealing with it, and moving on with things calmly. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty good to me.

…So I practice…

Sometimes, I fall short of my commitment to one practice or another, but that’s also why I see such things as practices in the first place, instead of tasks to be checked off as completed, or skills to be mastered. Mastery is inconsequential. Practice is ongoing. It is a doing that doesn’t really finish. Each practice with real world value in my lived experience becomes a lifestyle change, over time. Each practice becomes part of my routine, and part of who I am. The result? I am more resilient. It becomes a character trait, and in that regard, it also becomes easier to maintain. Such results don’t mean no practice is required, just that the effort and will involved in the practice itself is greatly reduced. Sometimes, though, I still find myself not practicing some practice or other, through circumstances or forgetting. I’m human.

… I just begin again, and get back to practicing…

The rain stops, but it’s not yet daylight, and I’m not in a hurry. There’s no need to rush my walk, or hurry home to barge in on my beloved’s quiet time over his coffee first thing. I sit quietly a little longer. Daybreak soon, and I’ll walk the short loop, and watch the sunrise – then, I’ll begin again.

…It is a good day for self-care.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Sirens and Rain

October 19, 2025 //
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It is the wee hours, before 02:00, but after midnight. I’ll get back to sleep shortly. Noisy neighbors, rudely partying outside, in a rainstorm, well into the “quiet hours” indicated by the local noise ordinance. To be sure, a Saturday night, and they don’t do this often, but…they’re sure as hell doing it tonight, loudly. Fucking hell. We’re generally pretty chill about such things, but it’s too much, and quite unreasonable. I go out on the deck and ask them to keep it down. My Traveling Partner, still vexed by continuing noise some minutes later, finally has enough, and yells out the window, audibly angry.

… The noise finally dies down, some 15-20 minutes after we said something. I commit to bringing it up tomorrow, directly. Boundaries, people, consideration. Damn.

I hear my Traveling Partner turn in, again, in the other room. I prepare to do the same. The rain continues. Somewhere in the distance I hear a siren. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin again…

I went back to bed, and slept soundly and deeply, and woke later than usual by more than an hour. I dressed and managed to slip away quietly, without banging, clanging, sneezing, or dropping something to the floor with a crash. Win. Due to the time of year, and the dense storm clouds, it was still dark when I got on the highway, headed for this morning’s trail. The drive on a Sunday morning is reliably pleasant, no traffic.

I reach the trail at daybreak, boots already on because my casual wear soft slip-on shoes – an Allbirds knock-off – gave up on life a few days ago. I haven’t replaced them (yet?). The storm clouds overhead are beginning to break up along the eastern horizon, but it is also sprinkling. I chuckle to myself, thinking it might be nice if the weather would make up its mind, although I’m not actually bothered at all, I simply put on my rain poncho.

Actually, as I walked along contentedly to my halfway point, I noticed that nothing much is bothering me, presently, which is a nice change. I’ve been struggling a bit with my PTSD as the world seems to go crazy in a daft orgy of authoritarian cruelty and ignorant douche-baggery. I do my best to manage my symptoms when they flare up. It’s a lot of work, but I have better tools these days, and a more resilient, healthy partnership with a human being who loves me enough to give a shit about my mental health. I am emotionally supported, and more.

Yesterday was, as it turned out, the kind of day built on love and consideration, and my Traveling Partner and I moved through the challenges created by my bullshit with love and gracious good nature, generally. The evening ended with loving intimacy, and I felt profoundly cared for and nurtured, and thoroughly loved. I hope he did too. I sit on the fence rail swinging my feet like a kid, grinning to myself happily. Today has the added fun of brunch with a colleague who is local to me, and who is becoming more a friend than purely a professional associate. More reasons to smile, brunch and friendship.

My thoughts wander to my beloved Traveling Partner and his progress with healing and regaining more and more of his capabilities. G’damn I am so impressed and proud of him. He works at his physical recovery with dedication and diligence. He continues to make progress, and as he does, he continues to begin to do more and more of the day-to-day practical stuff he once took care of. Slowly the weight of the added workload that had fallen to me is being lifted, along with the stress that came of being unable to do all of everything every day. It’s not “about me”, though – I’m grateful to see him really doing better. I can’t describe my feeling of gratitude – and relief.

And it’s not raining! Small wins count, too.

I sit gazing out over the marsh, or the oaks that dot the hillside, listening to the wind blow, watching the trees bend to it, and observing the ripples that stretch across the pond (lake?) nearest to me. Migratory birds float on the water in small groups. Out in the marshy meadow I see a dot of color, as daylight comes. A tent? There is no camping permitted here, but this is a federal asset, and with the government shutdown, the gates are open 24 hours, and there are now two cars that seem permanently parked in the parking lot, one appears abandoned, the other, lived in. I feel annoyed by the cars, the tent, and the stupid shortsighted partisanship of our government.

I sigh and let that bullshit go; it’ll be there to consider some other time, and there is no reason to sacrifice my merry morning to it. I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking my time with meditation, so still and relaxed that a chipmunk climbs the fence to get closer with her curiosity, creeping up near to me, as I sit. I don’t have any of the sort of treats in my pocket that might interest a chipmunk… and anyway, common wisdom is that it is a bad idea to handfeed wildlife, or to take steps that could interfere with their natural routines. With that in mind, I just sit, still and quiet, enjoying her hesitant proximity. Delightful! An enormous Great Blue Heron flies past, low to the ground, heading to the water, startling the chipmunk. She darts away.

I think about brunch, and wonder whether it will go as planned? My new friend and I are both comfortable with change, and share very realistic expectations of such things. Either of us could cancel without causing hurt feelings, and we both deal with chronic conditions that make it likely that we might choose to, any time we plan something. lol I’m very much looking forward to brunch, but prepared to pivot to other things, should plans need to change.

I breathe the rain-fresh marsh air, deeply. It’s a lovely morning in spite of the rainy weather. The sprinkle begins to become something more like rain, and I’m grateful for my rain poncho. I get to my feet, ready to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words
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