Archives for category: more than a little bit of bitching

Sharing that important opinion? Don’t bother. I mean, okay, your opinion matters to you. It feels good, maybe even important, to “be heard”, and social media gives that sensation a tremendous immediacy, as though you can actually share your relevant (seeming) opinion with the important (seeming) people you perceive as capable of making changes, or needing to be informed of your (“obviously”) critical thoughts and perspective. Only… mostly? No one is actually listening, and generally no one gives a damn about the random commonplace utterly ordinary (often ill-informed) opinions of the average Everyperson on social media. Maybe you go viral because what you said is sufficiently amusing or poignant or well-stated – but mostly you won’t, and mostly no one is listening, and generally no one gives a shit. Hilariously, we’ve mostly (as a society) given up on snail mail, though it sometimes carries real weight. Even that, though, often just amounts to more “screaming into the void”, and trust me, most of what you feel most inclined to say with such urgency isn’t even novel or noteworthy or of any great import. It’s been said by someone somewhere already. Most likely. Human primates tend to be fairly conformist thinkers with limited imagination (in my opinion).

Posts on social media often just sound like someone shouting at their television. It’s pretty pointless and not even very gratifying. lol This? Right here? It’s an example of that; it’s my opinion. I didn’t do any actual research. I don’t actually “know more” than someone else does. It’s just my own impression, based on my own experience. Is it worth sharing? I’m willing to be sufficiently honest with myself to admit that I don’t know that it really is worth sharing; it’s just my opinion, and I’m choosing to share it without any certainty that it matters at all. Hell, it probably doesn’t, and it’s likely that very few people will read this, and fewer still will care.

I write because I write, it’s really that simple (for me). I’d be writing anyway, and this I do know for a fact based on my lived experience over many years. It’s too easy to get caught up in the bullshit drama and artificially inflated sense of importance on social media – so I left social media. I still talk back to thumbnail titles and news headlines, because so often the content isn’t worth actually watching or reading; everything I need to know is in the bullshit click-bait title, right there up front trying to get my attention, and seeking my engagement. I “engage”, more often than not, by commenting aloud whatever my personal bullshit opinion is, and I move on to the next item. This amuses me without inflaming anyone else, and it’s every bit as likely to “move the needle” on some issue (which is to say, not at all). Less time wasted of these precious limited mortal hours.

I’m feeling a tad cynical, I guess. I need to paint, and walk trails with my solitary thoughts, and distance myself from the many disappointments of humanity – and oh good g’damn there are so so many. Humanity kind of sucks, and our best efforts to do better are not nearly enough. Please keep trying though; the effort does matter. I silently remind myself to do my best, and that the journey is the destination. It’s not about what anyone else wants or needs from me. It’s about what I want and need from myself; to be the person I most want to be, the “best version” of myself that I can become over time.

I sigh quietly, looking out into the morning fog. It’s a chilly autumn morning, and this morning I am waiting for the sun. It’s Saturday, and there is no hurry. The morning is mine.

I sit with my thoughts and my coffee. Later, I’ll begin again. It’s my path, and I’ll walk it my way.

Disappointment and sorrow are part of the human experience. So are misogyny and poor decision making, I guess. I feel sad this morning. It’ll pass. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take time for gratitude.

I’m fortunate. I’ve got a nice little house in a good neighborhood. I’m married to a man I adore and who loves me unreservedly with his whole heart. I’ve got a good job and my health is better than it’s been in a long time. My commute each morning is a pleasant one, and I enjoy long walks on lovely trails nearly every day. The bills are paid. The pantry is stocked. My stepson helps around the house. It’s a good life and I am fortunate. Four years feels like a long time, but it will pass, and the future is unwritten.

It isn’t generally helpful to waste time on anger that can be better spent on joy. It isn’t generally helpful to grieve horrible shit that hasn’t actually happened yet. I do my best with it, sitting here quietly before my walk, thinking my thoughts.

Another breath. I lace up my boots. It’s time to begin again.

It’s Election Day. How is it this isn’t a holiday in a democracy? Definitely vote, though.

I have thoughts about democracy as a form of governance. My thoughts, opinions really, aren’t any more valid or important than anyone else’s – that’s literally how democracy functions. Each person votes, the votes are counted, and the totals determine the outcome. Simple enough that common sense would suggest it would be hard to fuck that up. You’d be incorrect if you think so; human beings have a real gift for breaking shit that should work fairly reliably.

Another thing that breaks democracy is narrowing the voting population such that “too few voices are heard”, like only allowing male landowners to vote, as an example. How could they be expected to make wise and fair decisions for women? For people who don’t own land? A common misunderstanding about democracy seems to be that it will reliably come up with a correct answer to a given question, although it’s not actually set up to do that at all. It just determines what the largest group of people within a given population decides on a question. It’s not about right answers at all. Bias and bigotry are readily given a voice. Pure stupidity and foolishness get written into law. Democracy works best when the voting population is very large and very diverse. “Nothing about me without me”, really matters in a democracy. So does an ethical uncorrupted foundation – voters of good character, well-intentioned, and working toward a common good, even for their fellows who think and live differently.

Democracy gets ugly when it is bought and sold. Lobbying undermines democracy. Seeking personal gain undermines democracy. A body politic composed of just one demographic undermines democracy. “Us vs them” thinking undermines democracy. Lies and false advertising undermine democracy. Trying to force the outcome to “go your way” through dirty trickery or fraud undermines democracy.

It’s pretty easy to get democracy wrong, but go vote for fucks sake, and be part of getting it right. Try not to be a dick about the process or the outcome. Do your part to make it easier to participate. Set an example by doing your civic duty and also being your best self. Welcome other voices to the conversation and really listen.

…Why, again, is Election Day not a holiday??

So far pretty nearly everything this morning has gone at least a little bit wrong, starting with the restless night of poor quality sleep that preceded the start of the day. Realistically, I know to expect some days will be like this, and this one is certainly one of those.

I woke up on time, and even remembered the errand my Traveling Partner asked me to handle before I went to the office (getting the mail), while kindly expressing reservations about asking me to do more, out of concern for my fatigue and the amount of pain I’ve been in day-to-day. That was a pretty good start, and I would leave it there and overlook the smaller stuff (I tried), but as shit started going wrong, it got harder…

… I’d failed to lay out clothes for the work day and stumbled through my morning routine self-conscious about the noise I was obviously making…

… I spilled iced tea all over the floor while setting up my partner’s morning beverages…

…as I was picking up the mail, i dropped it into the street as I returned to the car and then shut my hand in the car door while trying to put my seatbelt on, to return the mail to the house…

… the coffee place I prefer (lowest price, best black coffee) was closed – the opening barista never showed up…

… the backup coffee stand was slow, and the coffee is pretty awful…

… traffic was bad and I got stuck behind a line of cars all stuck behind a truck going 40 mph on the highway during the commuter “rush”…

…I got to the trailhead too late to get a walk in at all (or write)…

… my medication alarm went off as I prepared to give up on my routine altogether, startling me, and my shaking hands fumbled my pillbox, tossing my entire day’s meds all over the floor of the car, much of which I never did find at all…

The drive to the office was thankfully entirely uneventful in every way. I’m not sure I could have endured another misstep this morning!

A less than ideal start to the day, for sure, and I’m “still dealing with it”, like ripples on a pond after throwing a rock into still water. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The office is quiet – and also uncomfortably cold. G’damn, what is with this day?? I sigh, and think of my Traveling Partner’s voice, saying “I’m worried about you. I depend on you. Slow down. Take care of you.” He’d be right to suggest that I slow down, although I don’t feel any sense of moving quickly, it surely couldn’t hurt to slow down and be measured and considerate with my movements, decisions, and even my thoughts.

I take the time to make a pour-over in the office break kitchen – a properly good cup of coffee will help, just by being a comforting ritual, and a pleasant moment. I remind myself, for perspective, that there will be other sunrises, other walks, and more pleasant easier other mornings – no need to take this one so personally. It definitely isn’t personal, just circumstances. Another breath, and a renewed commitment to non-attachment is also helpful. I make time to meditate, and let the morning’s aggravation fall away. It’s behind me now. I can begin again. It’s so easy to burn through limited emotional resilience in a few minutes of aggravation over small shit – and it can be challenging to restore what has been lost, but it’s for sure not impossible. I slow down, slower, and let myself have a few minutes to write and reflect and gain perspective. I breathe, exhale, and relax – and repeat as needed. I make a point to notice that I arrived at the office very much “on time” in every sense of the word, and in theory this puts the whole day back on track, aside from the spilled pills.

…No use crying over spilled milk pills…

I smile, and feel some of my tension dissolve; I’ve got a small assortment of “back up meds” that I keep in the office, mostly to ensure I don’t miss them if I forget to grab the day’s medication on my way out of the house some morning. Part of coping with a brain injury is an assortment of “tactical practices” that anticipate common challenges. My results vary – but I’m familiar with my most common “fail points”, and it’s a small thing to plan ahead for such occurences, so I do. (I mean, I try; my results vary.) My sense of “timing” still feels a little off, and somehow this cup of coffee tastes vaguely like curry (which is super weird, but fortunately I don’t find that to be an unpleasant flavor). I’m okay for most values of “okay”, and restarting the day feels within reach.

…So I do that…

It’s a new day. There are no bombs dropping on my town. There are no wildfires burning nearby. The autumn weather is relatively mild and rather pleasant. My pain seems to be at a relatively ordinary and rather manageable level today. I missed my walk, sure, but the sun will rise shortly, and the office is in a safe neighborhood; I can walk over my lunch break. I have a good sense of what I need to get done today at work, and that feels manageable, too. I make some oatmeal, sip my weird coffee, and begin again.

I’m sitting with my thoughts, quietly (aside from the ringing in my ears). It is a foggy autumn morning, and a heavy mist clings moodily to the low places and along the creeks and rivers. The morning is a cold one, the coldest so far this season. I am mildly annoyed with myself; I am not dressed for the weather. I laid out my clothes last night based on assumptions of milder temperatures without checking the weather forecast, which was foolish.

… Reality does not care what we believe…

I’m sort of “all up in my head” this morning. By itself, absent any context, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and I am fortunate to enjoy my own company. In this quiet early morning time, I often find myself in this mental place, blending introspection and self reflection.

Words, defined.

I sit considering those definitions for some minutes. I’m not sure I agree 100% with attempting to sort them out as “internal” vs “external”. They’re both processes of the mind, which seems to me makes them both very much internal processes. Meaning matters. I wonder for a little while whether it’s worth making the attempt to define them more clearly, before realizing it’s a distraction from my actual thoughts.

Rumination is very different from either introspection or self-reflection, and it’s a difference that matters quite a lot. Rumination is getting mired in negative thinking and negative self-talk. It’s a problem to be avoided as much as possible. Rumination is a poor practice.

Having sorted all that out rather pointlessly, I let my thoughts move on. I’m mostly sitting here on this rock at my halfway point thinking about what a long and sometimes tedious journey it’s been to get to this place, over time. The ongoing fight to build, achieve, and sustain good mental health has been (often still is)…hard. I’m not sure I’d call my results wholly successful, some days.

My Traveling Partner pings me. He’s concerned about a birthday gift I purchased for him potentially having been a poor choice of vendor. He shares the reviews. I see his point and agree to cancel the order in favor of a more reputable vendor. My thoughts are completely scattered now, like autumn leaves. I’m frustrated by that. I’m frustrated by the recurring feeling that I don’t get “first dibs” on my own consciousness – or so it often seems. I sigh and save my writing for another time, and finish my walk in the predawn autumn darkness.

… I can begin again, later…