Archives for category: Metaphors

I find one of the most difficult (and worthwhile) practices to be refraining from taking things personally. It’s so easy to bask in the glow of a lovely compliment and take that to heart… but… the same person telling you that you’re awesome yesterday could very well be calling you a fucking bitch when they see you next week. That’s about them.

If I let myself become invested in some other person’s opinion of me to the point that it becomes self-defining, I’m likely to end up constantly spun up every time they change their opinion in some moment of joy – or anger. That doesn’t sound particularly healthy, at all. Using another example; if taken personally, shit talk from another room could be a huge mood wrecker and potentially a source of conflict. Avoid taking that personally, and it’s simply that other person dealing with their own emotions (however well or poorly, which is a separate concern). I’m not saying it’s easy to avoid taking shit personally, at all, I’m just saying its a worthwhile practice. So – I keep practicing.

…An insult is like any poison; it only affects you if it gets into your system. Don’t drink the poison.

Human primates are messy and sometimes unpleasant to deal with. Doesn’t matter if it’s that guy over there, or the person in the mirror – we’ve all got “issues”. Making a point of letting that other person’s issues be their own (and not letting them also become yours) is a good step toward feeling centered and calm, even when there’s a bit of chaos about. It’s also easier to focus on and deal with your own issues if you’re not all wound up in someone else’s moment. It’s one useful thing about being individuals; you can let that person be who they are, let them have their moment, and go right ahead and work on you while they do. Non-attachment is another useful-but-also-difficult practice. I take a deep breath and let it out.

I sip my coffee. The day started early, and less than ideally well. I got up, dressed, and went directly to work. I’m not in a good mood, and just dealing with that is taking quite a lot of my focus and effort. I had my day planned differently, but circumstances often don’t check my calendar. lol Later this morning, I’ll attempt to make the drive to a town nearby to get some lab work done that has been delayed by the inclement weather. I’ll return movie rentals on my way back. Maybe take a package to the post office. All of this is dependent on the condition the road is in, later in the morning. I admit – I’d very much like to get out of the house for awhile. I’m feeling a bit cooped up, and it’s exhausting trying to keep up on work, the housekeeping I usually do, and handle the tasks and chores my partner typically handles, while also doing things to support and care for him while he recovers from being injured. It’s a lot. I’m fucking tired. I’m tired enough that it limits my ability to graciously deal with stress or moments of temper, and since we’re both human primates, there’s reliably a bit of that now and then. I could do better. I keep practicing.

…There’s a lot of practicing going on this morning…

I sigh. Continue to drink my coffee. I could use some real “down time”. My last “coastal getaway” was mostly spent working, and was done primarily with the intention of giving my Traveling Partner time alone to work on a project – neither of us anticipated that he’d get hurt and be both unable to work on that project at that time, but also have to shelve it for weeks while he recovered. I came home from a getaway that provided little down time at all, to increased workload and increased stress with few opportunities to get away from either because I was needed right here at home to provide my partner with care because he just couldn’t get around to do basic tasks for himself. I’m exhausted, and I’m very much yearning for some time to myself to just exist on my own terms for some brief period of time without being constantly aware of the fairly long list of things I still haven’t gotten to that need doing. It’s called “self-care” for a reason; you’ve got to do it yourself, for yourself. I’m betting my Traveling Partner would enjoy a couple days without my constant presence, himself… I remind myself to ask, and to check-in on whether he thinks he is in sufficiently good shape to take care of himself without me for a couple days.

In the wintry months, camping is not an ideal option for me, personally. I don’t care for sleeping on the ground in cold weather, and it worsens my arthritis significantly to do so. Instead, I count on an inexpensive room on the coast, near trails and beaches I enjoy walking. I check to see what the availability is like over the next couple of weekends, and spot a potential opportunity. Just taking the steps to check out my options reduces my stress some little bit; I “feel heard” by the person I reliably need to be listening to me (me). I breathe. Exhale. Relax. Sip my coffee. Repeat. I think about other things I can do to ease my stress and restore my energy and plan my day with those things in mind. The weather seems to be improving somewhat, and the ice is melting… handy. I could use a walk. 😀

I make a short list of the more urgent items to attend to today, so I don’t forget them… I immediately feel overwhelmed when I add “put away your laundry” to the list; I’ve been putting off actually completing that task for literally weeks. It’s one task I can shrug off without really affecting anyone else, but… it does add to the chaos in my living space, and that increases my stress. There’s an obvious cycle to that, and breaking it requires me to hang up a bunch of shirts and tops, which is physically painful and also tedious. That’s it. That’s the “big deal” and I keep dodging it. Fucking hell. And the dishes need doing, which vexes me endlessly because as soon as they’re done, I cook something or fetch my Traveling Partner a snack and there are more fucking dishes. Cycles upon cycles.

…One task at a time…

I look at the time, and my inbox. It’s already time to begin again.

Many many years ago, in what now feels like an altogether different life, lived as if by an entirely different person, I made a choice to “save my own life” through extreme means (in that moment). My ex-husband was coming after me with a very large knife, in a small apartment in Germany. The front door was locked from the inside, and I could not open that door to escape down the stairwell. I dashed to the patio, barely ahead of him, and rolled over the balcony rail. He reached me as I dangled there in that moment between actions, and his face wore a look of astonishment and alarm, “Don’t!” he demanded urgently. “I have to,” I said quietly, and then I let go.

I hit the slick paved patio below quite hard. My ears rang, I felt something snap. I “saw” an explosion of lights behind closed eyes. I felt nauseatingly dizzy. I saw him looking down, then retreating from the balcony rail quickly – I knew he was on his way and I panicked. I jumped up from the pavement, disregarding all sensations, and climbed a fence and a hedge to get to the nearest neighbor whose lights were on. I couldn’t remember a word of German in that moment other than “polizei”, and so that’s who they called. The police arrived, locked and loaded, and told the neighbors (whose English was better than my German) that an ambulance from the American hospital had been called. The police went after my ex husband, and once they found him he was arrested.

When the ambulance arrived, the medics quickly determined I’d likely broken my back (and there I was sitting upright in a lawn chair, flexing my spine uncomfortably and commenting that I could not figure out why I was so “uncomfortable” – I didn’t understand that I was in shock). They insisted I be still. They put me on a back board, and on a stretcher, and rushed me to the ER. I wasn’t there long, barely long enough for X-rays, and for the Military Police investigators to arrive to interview me, while the doctor reminded them that I was heavily medicated and badly injured, and to keep their questions to a minimum. A helicopter arrived, and I was medevacked to the big regional Army hospital to the north, where there was a larger team more capable of treating spinal injuries. That was when I realized I was actually badly injured. The flight was short, and the strange air mattress they had me on was more comfortable than the back board or the hospital bed. When we arrived at the big hospital ER, they went to take me off that air mattress (I guess it belonged with the helicopter) and I cried and pleaded that they please let me stay on it. I still didn’t know “how bad it was” (or wasn’t) and I was starting to feel pain, again.

…It was pretty bad. My back was broken in two places, a spinous process from one smashed vertebrae had gotten shoved into my spinal canal, and I had a concussion and a broken wrist. I’d be in that hospital for a couple of months after 16+ continuous hours of surgery to fuse the damaged vertebrae and install bizarre and uncomfortable hardware to hold those surgical sites still while healing happened. (A year later, that hardware would all come out… except for a ferrous surgical wire that to this day prevents me having an MRI; the wire was woven through the fusion to hold things together.) I’ve got a long scar down my spine, a visible reminder, and an uglier, shorter one on my left hip where the bone grafts were taken to build my fusion. I don’t care about the scars; I lived. I’m still walking.

Funny thing about all of this; the longer term consequences were not within view. I had no idea that I would struggle to form healthy attachments or build trust with lovers, possibly ever again. I didn’t know that the nightmares would plague me for decades to come – some to do with the domestic violence, some to do with the medical terror of the surgery itself, during which the medical team had to wake me up to verify that I was responding to stimuli. There have been few things more openly terrifying in my life than being awake during spinal surgery, intubated, on life support, surgical incisions open, and being asked questions that required answers. There have been other consequences… the pain of my arthritis reminds me regularly of the choice I made. A choice to live, sure, but also… a choice that came with profound consequences. I paid a high price for this life of mine.

I pause for a moment to reflect on the value of a life. This life. My life. The choice I made to keep it, to trudge on, to try again, reaches so far back beyond that despairing moment in 2013 when I thought to abandon it. It has been a worthy journey, consequences and all. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it’s easy.

…Some nights I still have nightmares. Some mornings I still wake up in pain. When I look back, though, I don’t regret that terrible lonely desperate choice to let go of a balcony rail and fall to my… freedom. Some choices just extract a big price. It’s a question I think few of us ask or answer before we choose; will the price be worth it? It’s hard to know, isn’t it? It’s probably worth wondering, for at least a moment… but there’s no map on this journey. We’re each walking our own hard mile.

Choose your adventure. Pay your price. Begin again. The journey is the destination.

I sat down with my coffee to write a few words, after a restless, interrupted night’s sleep (I woke several times, though I only got up twice, quite briefly), and a somewhat tense commute. Humans being human. I started with “No Good-Guys” as my working title, because I started my day already disappointed in humanity. Mine. Everyone else’s. Just… yeah. All kinds of annoyance with the fundamentals of people doing the things people do. I mean, ffs, even children don’t get a pass (a six year old shoots a teacher?! a 10-year old shoots a friend over a bicycle race?? what the hell?) – the world feels very messy, chaotic, and whether I view the world through the lens of the media reporting, or simply my own day-to-day experience of self and others… it’s not looking good. I’m disappointed and vexed by both the circumstances that find me feeling this way, and the feeling itself.

…Emotions are not reality, I remind myself, the map is not the world…

I breathe, exhale, relax – and sip my coffee. What can I do better, myself? Probably a fucking lot. I could do more to communicate more clearly and more gently. I could work harder/more attentively at being a good listener. Good places to start. Probably for 100% of everyone out there, it would at least be a worthy starting point.

I sigh out loud. It breaks the stillness in this quiet morning place. I haven’t lost my interest in living – that’s something, anyway. I sit with my thoughts awhile. I think mostly about love, and how irksome it is that loving well and deeply over time isn’t easier than it seems to be (at least for me, with my hearty helping of chaos and damage, and a lifetime of baggage to deal with). The work involved in being the human being I most want to be, reliably, consistently, skillfully… fucking hell, it’s a lot of work. Sisyphean just about covers it. Every step forward on this path seems followed by some irritating detour or setback, and I find myself harshly judgmental of my efforts and deeply critical of my failures. I could do better there, too.

In a moment of harsh words, my Traveling Partner asked me to “set a better example”, to “model the behavior” I’m asking for, and to “show what that looks like”… which, strangely, caught me by surprise with A) its utter reasonableness and B) how truly difficult that looked in my head when I gave it a moment of thought, later. Yeesh. Fucking human primates – we think we know what we want, but again and again we set ourselves up for failure. We’re not actually all that good at being wise, or being kind, or being consistent, or being nurturing, or being positive, or being supportive, or being open, or… I guess what I’m saying is that this is a difficult journey in spots.

…I find myself asking “am I the bad guy?”, and having to admit that at least sometimes, yeah, I totally am. Well, shit. Okay, then. I guess I’ve got to work on that…

My coffee manages to go cold between the start and end of this fairly brief bit of writing, today. It’s a reflection of how often I stopped to ponder some point at length, and how deeply I am thinking some of this over, although I don’t think I’m really “getting anywhere” – at least not yet. There are more thoughts to think, more practices to practice, more work to be done – the journey is long, and there is no map. I guess I’ve just got to begin again.

Again.

Another rainy weekend morning at the trailhead waiting for daybreak.

Rainy perspective on a moment.

There’s nothing extraordinary about this wintry rainy morning. I’m okay with that. Life is built on moments and most of those moments are utterly ordinary in every way. That’s not even a criticism, it’s fine. Perhaps better than fine, it’s sustainable and useful.

The rain spatters the car pretty ceaselessly. I’ll have a better idea whether I will be walking the trail once daybreak makes it visible, in the meantime I sit enjoying the sound of the rain and thinking my thoughts. I’ve grown to embrace this waiting time; it’s mine, for me, solitary and still.

I set aside my writing and take time for meditation. I breathe, exhale, relax, and let my thoughts pass as clouds on a breezy day, noticed but without doing anything with them. I settle into a feeling of profound contentment and love. The thought of my Traveling Partner and our shared journey fills my awareness. A sense of gratitude enriches the moment. Pleasant morning. I woke so gently this morning, and now here I sit, enjoying… now. It’s enough.

I sigh contentedly. Daybreak. I hear the clang of the park gate opening. I notice that the rain has stopped, at least for now… If the trail isn’t too flooded, it’ll be a lovely morning to walk it. It’s a lovely morning anyway. Time to begin again.

I’m sitting at the trailhead, early on a Saturday morning before dawn, listening to the rain on the windows of my car. I watch the lights of passing cars on the nearby highway sweep over the soggy roadside and the marsh beyond. I am waiting for a break in the rain and for the gate to the park to open. I won’t have to wait much longer on the gate, it opens at daybreak.

I’m sipping an iced espresso, more ice than coffee, and thinking about yesterday. New job. Well… Same job, but as a full-time employee rather than a contractor. I’m smiling as I recall the moment, because my boss seemed every bit as excited to make the offer as I was to receive it, and said some pretty great things about the work I’ve done so far. It feels really good to get that kind of validation.

… I remind myself not to take the compliments personally, just as I would if I had been grievously insulted; they’re words. Opinions. Impressions in the moment. They provoke an emotional reaction, sure, but my own lived experience reminds me they guarantee nothing and provide no assurance of a particular outcome.

… Still… I’m pleased and excited. It’s a step I wanted to take and it puts me in a good place for the year ahead. I sit quietly with the feeling of eagerness and contentment for awhile, waiting for daybreak.

Daybreak comes. The park gate opens. The geese begin their day and I hear them honking at each other before I see them overhead. The rain just keeps coming down steadily. Too rainy to bring the camera out. I wait, still hopeful I might get a break in the rain sufficient to walk a couple miles along the soggy marsh trails. Maybe. Maybe not.

I sit wondering what to do with the day before remembering it’s time to take down all the holiday decor and put it away for another year. I’d almost forgotten all about it. lol My heart is still celebrating, I suppose. It’s not that there’s all that much joy available in the world right now, more that it is more urgent that we savor the joy there is.

I sip my coffee (honestly more ice water than coffee at this point) swirling it in the cup to hear the ice rattle. Life can change so quickly. I sit with my thoughts, my joys, my sorrows. I enjoy the pleasant stillness and solitude awhile. No agenda. No demands on my time or attention. Just this moment, the rain, and the sounds of the geese… It’s enough.

… Later, I’ll begin again.