Archives for category: Mindfulness
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And a Side of Fail Sauce, Please

July 13, 2013 //
2

Let me get what is true and obvious out of the way, first, as an effort to find clarity; it is a lovely summer Saturday, sunny and mild.

"Sheer Bliss", and a breezy, sunny Saturday.

“Sheer Bliss”, and a breezy, sunny Saturday.

It is also pretty disappointing as Saturdays go, at least for now. If it just sucked from the moment I woke, I think it would be less bothersome that it sucks right now. Unfortunately for my present mood, the morning was lovely, and I developed expectations of how great a day it could turn out to be. It fell apart unexpectedly, largely due to the vagaries of the human primate experience in the close quarters of self-imposed captivity, hemmed in by walls and windows and expectations and needs. Because I’m not very comfortable with dealing with my own anger – or frustration or disappointment – with some sort of genuinely adult skill and graciousness, I’ve ended up being more than a little discontent in general, disconnected, and finding little pleasure things I could be doing instead; they entirely lack any satisfaction or enjoyment for me just  now. That’s enough to render the moment complete suckage, for the time being. Very human, and very reflective of a lifetime of following the lead of my emotions as if they were a powerful current with irresistible pull.

I am returning to my ‘now’ again and again, taking a breath, and putting ‘things’ on pause to feel the moment, hoping to find some small pleasure or delight in it. I mean, seriously? For fuck’s sake – there are easily a million people in the world right now without enough to eat, without a safe haven from a storm, or respite from war, or a secure home to live in, or affordable medical care, or the simple decency of being accepted by their community…all I’ve got to bitch about is that my Saturday isn’t as pleasant as I’d prefer? It’s not exactly a global crisis, is it? I can do better than this.

Still…sand in my oyster. This has every potential to be an awesome Saturday, full of laughs and good fun with people who matter to me. How do I create a pearl? (I find myself contemplating the possibility of a ribald ‘pearl necklace’ joke of some kind here, but come up empty-handed. lol > sense of humor still intact)

So…

…It takes a few moments (ha! sometimes much longer) to write one of these – at least it does for me – and it is now quite some time later than it was when I started. I mention it because over the few minutes writing, feet up on the ottoman, toes warmed by the sunlight pouring in through the skylight, the soothing trickling of aquarium noises, and the bump of bass in the background, I am finding myself slowly letting go of my anger, finding a more compassionate perspective to embrace, and time begins to slow down…the day is still ahead of me.  My day. I can do a lot with that. I can take care of me.

 

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Roses, Summer, Words

Softly…

July 12, 2013 //
2

…As in a morning sunrise…

It is a quiet morning, beyond my common understanding of quiet. I am still and serene. I am… ok. It’s been a couple of days to take care of my fragile heart, to heal and to rest. My eyes still tear up when I think about Tuesday morning, and I hurt down deep that ancient pain can still touch me at all. That it can reach through progress and every day delight to grab hold of my experience and continue to torment me saddens me a great deal, and so much of that vague simmering undercurrent of anger in ‘who I am’ is about this…that the pain of what-has-been can still touch me.

I see the reflection of my face in the dark mirror of the unused side monitor…I don’t look broken. I don’t look like I’ve lost my mind. I see the hint of a smile, and a subtle knowing look that suggests ‘you can’t fuck with my head so easily’…although I don’t think that’s accurate, as much as how I see that reflection; a hint of a woman I am becoming, more than the woman I have been in the past. There are also big colorful earrings…which is for the moment more relevant to my pleasure in that reflection. They match my shirt. I feel a moment of familiar affection for this complicated being that I am. Becoming more…’aware’…has also resulted in some fun moments of friendly exasperation over being so very human. I’m endlessly amused by my vanity…do earrings really matter? That the purple of these bold cheap purple and green daisies is quite the same purple as the hand-me-down purple thermal delights me in a sweet and simple way. It isn’t that the purple is a match that matters, as much as the delight. The delight is more about where the earrings and shirt came from. Every material thing I cherish has a story, or holds a memory.

Today isn’t trivial. Today isn’t tragic, either. It’s just a day. It is, however, a day that has started well and for now that is more than enough to put a smile on my face. It was a tough week…strangely, and wonderfully, it’s an enormous improvement over other, older, more difficult weeks.  It’s been about resting, recovering, healing…instead of ‘more of the same’ and the pain and anger and the tears.  The mindfulness practices I am learning have helped more than I can describe; imperfect perfection. I need a lot more practice. lol. Progress, though, is enough to show me I am choosing a path that is taking me to some desirable destination. Again, that’s enough. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d have spent days bouncing in and out of horrible states of rage and despair, frustration and tears, unable to get ‘unstuck’ from ancient pain, unable to be aided or consoled, begging for mercy, unheard. Then there’d have been days and days of fatigue and exhaustion, wandering around in a blue funk, teetering on the edge of ‘more of the same’, until it all finally ran its course. This is so much better.

It is Friday, though…and that means therapy. Progress is awesome. Doing the work that supports further progress…not always so awesome. It’s ok, though. I have the support of my partners, and 50 years of life experience to remind me that my demons only have the power I give them, and that the journey is not about the goal, or measuring the distance walked, as much as enjoying the experience over time.

No pictures today, and far fewer than a thousand words.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50

4 letters

July 9, 2013 //
6

PTSD. This morning these are the most important 4 letters in the alphabet, for me.  They are not important individually, and they are not important for the words the initialism represents, at least, not right now. Right now they are only important because they name my experience and give me shared language to attempt to communicate with the world.

"Broken" 2012, detail

“Broken” 2012, detail

For now, I am calm, again. Things seem quiet. An eternity ago the morning started easily and beautifully. Something went very wrong. The brain injury complicates my experience. I’m so fatigued now, and my memory of what went wrong, exactly, and what set me off, and what exactly transpired between then, and some short time later (an hour almost exactly) is all pretty fuzzy and jumbled. Confused. A moment of irritability became ‘an episode’. I don’t actually know what that must be like from the outside…I can’t see me from that perspective. From the inside it is…frightening, actually terrifying, and the loss of control is…hard to describe. Lost in panic and terror, uninhibited aggression is a very real and imminent threat, and the awareness of that adds to my terror and panic. I do remember reaching again and again for mindfulness practices I am learning – this was their first real ‘test drive’ in my emotional ‘badlands’. I kept trying to breathe, to focus on that, to allow that moment of new breath to give me just a bit more control over my actions…no throwing things…breathe…no slamming things…breathe…no head slamming…breathe…no self harm… I achieved a personal best this morning. It wasn’t everything…I’m not strong enough yet, or skilled enough, or… perhaps just too broken. It was finally too much to manage and I was overcome, overwhelmed by chaos and damage. I remember feeling as if I were under attack, as if my life, my will, my liberty were threatened, as if my actual being were at risk of…not being. The world seemed to fall away and I remember crying out…pleading, I think, for help…or mercy.

I am fortunate, so very fortunate. I sit quietly here, soft jazz playing, tears still sliding down my face on and off as my emotions come and go, and my poor tired broken brain does its best to regulate things appropriately. My partner was with me, and he is more prepared than most people to support a partner with the issues I’ve got. “There for me” doesn’t even begin to describe it. He is the voice of reason calmly observing I’ve been triggered; before I realize myself that I’m going off the edge, he’s giving me something to grab onto for emotional leverage, for perspective. He’s the warm embrace comforting me, in spite of my behavior, and emotional state. He’s the thoughtful touches: the ready kleenex, the sympathy, the jazz playlist, the good listener, the wise storyteller. He gives me closeness, then space, as he watches me move through the badlands; helpless to share my experience, ever willing to share ours, and always doing his best to nurture me and helping heal my heart. I can’t ask for more – I doubt there is more to ask for.

My other partner woke later, the worst of it past. Less experienced, but all the love the world to build on, her first question was ‘what can I do to support you?’ with the firm commitment of a soldier on the battlefield, her will and her resolve available on request, without hesitation. I am fortunate to be so well-loved.

I know more about taking care of me, now. I’m taking that very seriously these days. So, today will be that – taking care of me. Recovering. Healing.

"Emotion and Reason" 2012 detail

“Emotion and Reason” 2012 detail

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress

A Beautiful Start…

July 8, 2013 //
2

…It astonishes me how quickly such a lovely morning can descend into complete discontent. It’s all so mundane, too, there’s really no point in providing details.  I walked into work thinking about remote cabins, and wondering how much of what I’ve got I actually need. I composed a very different blog post in my head, too, humorous and highly sarcastic, to the point of being vitriolic and potentially emotional weaponry. That’s not really ok with me, and it’s not the level of genuineness and honesty I aspire to. I decided to keep it simpler, cleaner, shorter.

I feel unappreciated, and under-valued. I feel annoyed.  My needs aren’t met. Yesterday sucked (although it actually did finish quite well as the day wore on); I was so delighted that this morning got off to such a good start.  Cynically, I now find myself wondering why I thought it would last even long enough to get to work, and I feel sad and disappointed that I don’t have what it takes to be worth simply enjoying the morning with me… or something.

The Big 5 are in my thoughts like cognitive tinnitus. The after-taste of my morning latte is now bitter in my mouth.  Oh well. Monday.  It isn’t worth saying more about it. Words will not improve my mood.  I will endeavor to satisfy myself with good work – at least I am certain of my worth 40 hours a week.

I don’t want to leave the impression that life itself sucks – I don’t feel that way, and that isn’t my perspective. I’m dissatisfied with my morning. I feel discontent and cross because I know better is possible. It isn’t a bad life and I am not the easiest person to make a life with. So…here’s something nice from this morning:

Cucumbers already flowering in the greenhouse.

Cucumbers already flowering in the greenhouse.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, women, Words

A Window into Hormone Hell

July 7, 2013 //
5

Today has pretty much sucked, subjectively, since I woke.  To be clear, there’s nothing wrong I can pin down. I slept well, and the one bad dream I recalled when I woke was more saddening than nightmarish. The day has built itself around a theme of frustration, and my tolerance for frustration today is so low that even the smallest success seems framed in associated failures. The sounds of voices irritate me to a point I can only describe as ‘near violence’. At this point I hesitate to undertake any task I had looked forward to, for fear of a moment of frustration turning to an uncontrolled outburst of anger. So far so good, but I am constantly vigilant and my mood is brittle and aggravated – with myself, with the world, with the details of living and loving, whether large or small.

Mindfulness, generally, has been helping with so much, so much of the time, I have grown to count on it. It isn’t helping me now beyond seeming to give me a moment to pause, and force a cease-fire internally. My outward facing behavior remains within the acceptable boundaries. Go me. I want to throw a really whopping fucking tantrum – with some screaming and crying, some inappropriate projectiles launched needlessly at things I actually value with predictably poor outcomes, maybe also some door slamming, feet stamping, and vile language used as emotional weaponry. Mindfulness is letting me put some of this into words – but it does nothing to prevent something as simple as a typo becoming a moment of real rage, with crying, and angry invective. I don’t like this. I don’t want this. I don’t need this. I want to enjoy a calm serene Sunday, getting a few things done. Fuck I’d at least like to get my damned laundry done today – and I just don’t want to actually do anything but burn the world down. (I’m not being literal – I’m menstrual, and my hormones are wreaking havoc with my comfort and my subjective experience. If this is new material for you, talk to more women in an open way about their experiences with hormone hell.)

I really wanted to get some things done today – I was looking forward to them, and ‘taking care of me’ seems to demand that I get them done – and I just don’t fucking care. I am just as angry and frustrated in advance in contemplation of doing anything at all as I am going to be in a day or two that I didn’t get them done.  It is aggravating as fuck and I just want to take my toys and ‘go home’ – but there is no home to go to, I take being a woman everywhere I go. 😦

On the other hand…I guess I can count today as a success. Aside from some tearful moments early in the morning, I’ve managed to force myself to comply with an acceptable standard of behavior. I haven’t raised my voice at anyone. I didn’t snarl at the hardware guy who ‘sympathetically’ offered to help me select a compound miter saw because he didn’t expect ‘girls to know enough about hardware to select a good tool’ – although I did very firmly and politely send him away. I didn’t scream at the woman who frustrated my first attempt to do an exchange on a different item, or cry over it when later the issue she had didn’t even come up with a different clerk. Small things just haven’t been going well. I feel… thwarted. Yep. There it is. My menstrual experience is that I am thwarted. By the world. By circumstances. By emotions. By inconvenience. Hopes, dreams, needs, desires – I can’t get a fucking thing to turn out well the first time, if at all, today.

I’m so done with Sunday, already. I feel cross and unreasonable. I know if I could somehow lower my resistance, feel less aggravated over small stuff, let things be small stuff… the day would probably turn around.

Fuck today. I give up. I’m going to lay down for a while and cry.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Menopause, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, women
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