Archives for category: more than a little bit of bitching

It’s a lovely quiet evening. I’m relaxing, listening to the sound of rain. It is actually raining, but I can’t hear that; the house is a pretty quiet one. I’ve got a video on that is also raining. It’s a nice backdrop to a few quiet minutes. I’m enjoying the satisfaction of a work day well-spent and feeling wholly appreciated. It’s lovely. I worked from home, too. All around a first-rate day.

…Later I’ll finish reading Lord of the Rings (well, the first of three volumes), but for now, this is enough…

My Traveling Partner is in the other room. He and his son and their online friends are louder than usual. He attributes it to good sound quality and someone with a boomy voice. I didn’t argue; from my vantage point, they are loud compared to usual. It’s a “joyful noise”, though, and I am not disturbed by it. They’re having a good time. I’m having a good time. It’s a good time.

…I’m well-aware there is much horror, violence, and conflict in the world, but my sanity quickly breaks down if that’s the entirety of my focus…

I think about things. I think about projects for the holidays that seem to be distant on the calendar, but feel imminent in my sense of things. The “crafter’s CNC machine” in the studio, waiting for my attention is also in my thoughts, as is the written and video content I’ve queued up for additional study. Yes, for me it takes rather a lot of reading, study, practice, reinforcement, failures and re-attempts to learn new complex tasks to get myself to a point where I feel confident and more assured of reasonable successes than likely failures. That’s just real. I don’t weep over it often these days, I just seek to account for it and do the needful. I think about love – and being asked to fold 4 dry towels in the middle of a busy work day by a partner who is… not working at the time he made the request. lol I think about the 3 loads of my own laundry that I’ve continued to not fold for something like… 3 weeks now? 4? I just keep wearing what I like, putting it back through the laundry and dropping it back on the stack of clothes. It’s fucking dumb, and I don’t know why I’m stalled on that, but totally willing to do the very same task for my Traveling Partner when he asks. It’s a bit of weirdness, and I’m familiar with it. I’ve “been here before”, and there’s a real chance it’s a “canary” of heightened background stress not being adequately dealt with in some way.

I sigh contentedly. In this pleasant, quiet moment, it’s easy to forget all about whatever the fuck is up with me in some seemingly abstract way. I know better than to avoid it indefinitely, but I don’t at all feel like dealing with it now. It’s nothing I can do much about… the world, warfare, the violence of angry strangers in places that are not here, now. It all weighs on me. I breathe, and let it go. Again. I listen to the rain, sip my icy cold glass of clear, clean, potable water and make a point of feeling grateful to be in this place, in this time.

I’m also in pain. It’s just physical pain. It’s my arthritis, and it’s Autumn, and rainy, and chilly, and none of this is unexpected or even new, and as much as I want to be annoyed and snarl about how much worse it seems… even that is purely perspective. It’s not as bad in hotter, dryer months, and the change of the seasons brings things round again to the season of pain. So, okay. I’m in pain. I’m not alone in that. I hurt. So do a lot of other people, some of whom have no means of finding any relief at all. So… more gratitude. More appreciation for how much worse it truly could be. I’ve been there, too. I’m not there now. This is better and that’s something worth feeling grateful for. My head aches. My neck aches. Those things are likely related to each other. Still, it could be so much worse. Yes, I’d like it to be better… but… I don’t think making a big deal out of it day after day after day will do much to improve the situation. Hell, I regret this bit of generally harmless grousing about it. I’m only saying it “out loud” because it is so very commonplace, and I guess I need that reminder.

Did I mention what a lovely quiet evening this is? I sit with that awhile.

…Then I begin again.

I woke to my silent alarm, but only once the lights were at full brightness. I got up, dressed quietly and managed to leave the house without making any loud or abrupt noises, hoping my Traveling Partner slept through my departure. He needs the sleep after a restless night, I know.

Morning mist, early walk.

I enjoyed a nice walk along a partially lit trail which meanders through oak groves and vineyards, returning to the car before ever hearing from my partner that he has started his day. I stretch and do some yoga. I take time to meditate. I double check that I am on time with my morning meds.

I look at the time and make a note that I will need to return home by 09:00, regardless, to begin the workday, but I still had some time… So, I decided to write a bit. I chuckle to myself; it would be easier on my laptop, which is specifically portable for exactly this sort of thing. lol I should perhaps begin bringing it along in the morning…

… So far a pleasant morning. I slept okay, aside from being confronted crossly by my partner when he found himself wakeful, struggling to breathe comfortably, and wondering what was up with me, and whether I might be the cause of his discomfort. I eventually got back to sleep. I was also awake, having been awakened when my mask seal broke (I probably turned over awkwardly) and needed to remove and reposition it. Correlation is not causation, but perhaps my sudden movement to remove my mask woke him? Or the sound of air leaking past my cheek? I don’t know. Well. Shit. At least it’s not my snoring keeping him from sleeping.

I keep my eye on the time, hoping that he wakes up before I come home; I just don’t want to be the thing that wakes him up, this morning. I’m in quite a bit of pain, and a little grumpy myself as a result, and I know how cranky he can be when he doesn’t sleep well. I don’t feel like dealing with any of that, just want to get on with the day gently and enjoy a good cup of coffee with my Traveling Partner before work…

… Or just work, if he’s not in that place himself…

Sometimes adulting is hard, and inconvenient. Sometimes I’ve just got to begin again and do my best to do better. 🙂

It’s evening. Even the memory of coffee has grown cold. The work day is behind me. I’ve got my feet up and I can hear my Traveling Partner laughing in the other room, probably talking or gaming with his son, online. It’s a “joyful noise”. I could be feeling pretty mellow, contented, and even merry right about now… but… I just hurt.

…I’m doing my best…

I’ve done what I can for pain management. I’m even managing not to weep, though tears threaten to fall at any minute. I managed to cook an evening meal. I managed to get through some work tasks I had committed to for my partner. I put in more effort than I expected I could. Now what’s left over is just the pain. It’s “just” my osteo-arthritis. It’s the time of year when I reliably wince and grumble about how it seems so much worse than I remember (it probably isn’t). There’s no yardstick or set of calipers for measuring pain. It’s very subjective. So. I hurt. I’d say… 7 out of 10? I’m definitely at “fuck-off-I-just-hurt-too-much-for-this”, for sure. I breathe. Exhale. Sort of relax. It doesn’t feel better to do that, just reminds me that I hurt from a different angle.

Soon I can make excuses and go to bed without feeling like… I don’t know. Like someone who goes to bed too early? I sigh out loud and feel stupid.

…I recently got excited to actually read Lord of the Rings. I never have, which is just the tiniest bit embarassing. Didn’t care for Tolkien’s writing style in high school. More of a Heinlein fan, myself, and a big reader of non-fiction, as well. I think I have tended toward lighter, “easier”, faster-paced fare as stories go… The works of Robert Heinlein… The Chronicles of Amber… The Elric Saga… The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant… Right now, though, I just hurt. 😦 I hurt so much I don’t even feel like reading. Crazy. I’m not tired either… well, not sleepy.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… fuck pain.

I just want to begin again.

Coffee time. A Saturday morning. Strawberry yogurt. An icy glass of water after a hot soak. Feet up. Quiet moment.

…So many practices and choices have gone into creating this moment of calm, it wasn’t “effortless” in the sense that I’ve changed a lot over the years, and am now this woman in this place, having this moment…

No, I’m not going to talk about “the war”, or any number of terrible foreign conflicts going on the in world. I know they’re going on. You know they’re going on. We all know that in subtle ways we (or our government) did or did not do some thing that contributed to the environment that allowed conditions to fester until conflict erupted. So… do better. Yeah. That’s a good start. Do better. Yes, you. Me, too. Demand better choices and actions from your government, too. Speak up if you are opposed to violence. (If you’re not opposed to violence, then, um… do better. Damn. Clean up your mess.)

If you start to get the sense that I’m “selfishly” “over-committed” to my self-care lately, your perception is not incorrect, but your interpretation of my motivation could use some additional nuance and a deeper understanding. I’m a veteran. I’ve served in active conflict. I’ve participated in warfare – both of the cold variety and the other sort. I’ve done some things that have scarred me. I’ve seen some things that have traumatized me. I’ve been through some shit. I’ve seen human beings do things human beings indisputably ought not be asked to do. I’ve seen other human beings pay the terrible price. There are no “good wars”. There is no justification for the slaughter of non-combatants. Ever. At all. On anyone’s (or any god’s) behalf. So. I’m hurting right now, and often wandering about triggered and working aggressively (and silently) to manage those “invisible injuries” and their consequences. I paid a price to serve my country and found out too late that my country not only doesn’t actually care about that, but also can’t be considered a “good guy”, or just, or moral, or righteous, or even, indeed, at all careful about who they decide to kill. Gross. I want no part of it. My sanity, right now, demands that I stay focused on my self-care. That too, is sometimes difficult, and I find it hard to write without thinking too much.

Take care of yourself. These are difficult times. Hug your loved ones. Laugh with your friends. Turn off the fucking news feeds unless you truly need that information to fucking survive. “War porn” such as the continuous live coverage of battlefields is unhealthy; turn that shit off. You already know there is conflict. Let that be what it is, and give yourself a fucking break.

…Sip that hot cup of coffee (or tea)…

…Put your feet up with that book you’ve been meaning to read, and enjoy that…

…Celebrate that professional achievement you worked so hard towards…

…Phone or email or write to that far away friend you’ve been meaning to get in touch with…

…Tackle that household project you’ve had in mind that vexes you every time you walk past it…

…Breathe…

We’re such elaborate fancy “extra” creatures, we human primates, capable of so much more than we even know, and yet… we manage to avoid addressing this deeply disturbing flaw that is our capacity and tendency for violence. It’s hard to believe we struggle so much to find, create, cultivate, or appreciate peace. Please – for the survival of all of us, do something about your anger, do something about your willingness to commit to conflict, do something about your sense of entitlement, do something about your willingness to accept violence in the world – or to commit it. Please. Do better.

…Every moment that I do better at being the woman I most want to be, the world gets just a little better, too. A little more pleasant. A little kinder. A little gentler. Imagine for moment the power of a global society each and all committed non-violence… please don’t tell me it’s not possible. If that’s your first thought, my reply is that you are one reason why that may be the case. Don’t let it be the one lasting truth of humanity… that we could not refrain from slaughtering each other or lashing out in anger. What a fucking disappointment that would be, when we are clearly capable of so much more, so much better.

…This is a good cup of coffee, on a pleasant Saturday morning… I, for one, am not taking up arms against anyone else, today. No killing. No assault. Just a middle-aged suburban woman with her feet up, drinking coffee and thinking about what to do with the rest of the day.

…Soon enough it will be time to begin again…

Better. Things are somewhat better now than they were earlier. This one is 100% “a me thing”. Menopause. Emotions. Age and aging. Frustration. Just the basic slop of being human, female, over 60, and a big ol’ basket of broken shit and fragments and wreckage, emotionally speaking. Having a trauma history has got to be one of the most human of things, and it’s probably a rare individual who manages to make it past 50 without any hint of trauma. If we don’t experience legitimate damaging trauma, chances are we’d make some up. Also? I have a fucking headache. I woke up with it, hours ago… it’s with me still. Very human.

I took my headache to the store and bought goblin snacks for the upcoming holiday. Fun. Still have the headache. Drinking water. Relaxing. Doing my best. All the things.

There’s nothing much more to say about the shitty start to the day. I enjoyed a pleasant walk and then “crashed my hard drive” later – metaphorically. Wasn’t quite a tantrum. Could have been much worse. Wasn’t my best moment. Blech. Adulting is harder than it seems like it could be, sometimes.

I’ll just begin again, again.