Archives for category: more than a little bit of bitching
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Try Again

July 26, 2023 //
1

This morning has fail sauce drizzled generously all over it. At least I’ve got a decent cup of coffee for washing down that bitter pill. lol

My Traveling Partner woke me because my snoring was keeping him from sleeping. That’s just real. I’ve got an appointment to do a sleep study in a couple weeks, but let’s keep on with the real-real; my partner has been waiting on this to be sorted out for the whole of our time together. Rough. I woke abruptly, and I woke triggered by his frustrated tone. No blame there, no criticism. I 100% get why he’s frustrated and unhappy to experience degraded sleep. That shit is unhealthy! I’ve got sleep challenges of my own quite separate from the challenge that results from my Traveling Partner’s reaction to my snoring. I definitely understand the critical importance of good quality restful sleep. Hell, I averaged less than 3 hours a night of real sleep for an entire decade of my first marriage, and was almost a zombie version of myself as a result. Sleep fucking matters.

As contented and generally happy together as we are, this sort of crap “tests us” hard. It’s vexing and frustrating, and maddening (by which I mean to say that as our sleep quality deteriorates, so does our sanity). There were harsh words, and raised voices, and frankly at that beastly early hour none of that is helpful, necessary, nor provides any kind of useful change – it’s just ugly on top of unhealthy wrapped in miserable. It’s been a difficult morning, so far. It’ll likely be a difficult day.

Drenched in my own frustration (with being wakened from too-brief sound sleep), my reaction was to immediately dress and leave for work (at 4:00 a.m., for real??). It’s a day in the city, in the office, and hitting the road early means “no traffic” and just maybe a chance for my Traveling Partner to get some sleep. (I’d forgotten about the night-paving going on, just outside of town. I’m so damned glad I saw the signs, really saw them, because that flagger was just on the other side of a blind curve.) I’m still bleary-eyed and groggy, hours later, but I made it safely up the highway. There was no traffic, and paradoxically this slowed me down and made me much more patient with myself and the journey. No rushing. Driving the speed limit. Making a point to get gas before I got on the highway. Eyes on the road. It was an ideal commute in all respects – other than my drowsiness. I got into the city just in time for BigNameChainCoffee to open, so I at least have this coffee that I’m slurping on rather mindlessly. I’m just doing it for the caffeine and hoping for the best. It would not matter if it were the best or worst coffee I’d ever had; I barely notice that it is even coffee, at all.

…It’s a fucking work day…

I groan softly to myself. I’ll be alone in the office awhile longer (about 2 hours more, I think) before other people show up. I’m a bit light-headed and dizzy with the persistent drowsiness. Fuck I wish it were easier for my Traveling Partner to wake me or ask me to rollover without actually also triggering me. It’s just no good for either of us (it’s not his fault, it’s just a limitation we’re facing together). I bet it’s hard to “wake me gently”, because I often sleep so very lightly in the first place, and it’s not at all rare for that light sleep to be in a state of hypervigilance. CPTSD – the “gift” that lasts a lifetime. 😦

Sunlight begins to pour in through the office windows. The tearful drive up the road to the office wasn’t any fun, and I’m so tired… but…the sunshine seems vaguely promising of new beginnings and fresh starts. I haven’t heard from my Traveling Partner for a couple hours, so I’m hopeful that he was able to get to sleep and get some rest. Later I’ll call the sleep doctor and plead for any interim solution that will make better sleep possible for my partner under these trying circumstances. I’m at a point where offsetting the timing of our sleep seems like a reasonable solution – even though I’m not doing shift work these days. I mean, if I go straight to bed after work and sleep for 4-6 hours, then get up about when my partner goes to bed, we at least both have an opportunity to get enough sleep to function. This shit? My Traveling Partner isn’t wrong; it’s unhealthy, and not sustainable. Neither of us can do our best work as our sleep slowly degrades, and it’s taking a toll on our personalities and ability to interact with other people pleasantly (including each other). That shit this morning was just not okay. Understandable, but not ideal. Things have to change – for both of us.

…I’m so tired…

Today I’ll focus on the work in front of me and do my best to ensure I take all my medications on time, get to my handful of meetings, and also don’t forget to refresh the parking meter. I arrived in the city before the parking garage opened, before valet parking hours for this building, and so I parked on the street. So many little things to remember. (Call the sleep doctor!)(Get the video for the work project shot!)(Check on the Farmer’s Market)(Shit! Don’t forget the post-pandemic I9 re-verification for work!)(File PACT Act paperwork!)(Get take-out on the way home!) I’ll try to refrain from biting my nails and tearing at my cuticles. Today I am painfully aware that I am entirely made of human.

I look at my work calendar. I’m pleased to see that it is such a light day, generally. Quiet project work, very few meetings. I look over this bit of writing and count up the spelling errors identified by the spell-check feature. Huh. 42. Seriously? Yeah… fatigue gets the blame; my spelling is generally quite good (or at least used to be). I correct the errors, knowing I’ll for sure miss something. I nearly always do.

Well, shit. I guess it’s time to begin again? Unavoidable, in any case.

Time to find new perspective on old problems.
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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, health, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being

No Helpful Perspective

July 19, 2023 //
0

It’s shortly after 05:00 a.m. I am tired. Groggy. Already in the office. I have a headache. At this point, I’d be awake most any work day. On this day, I woke with a panic attack, well before dawn, and even before my scheduled time to wake up. I zone in and out. It’s hard to focus. I did not get enough sleep. I was an emotional mess when I dressed and left the house quite abruptly; I don’t make my best decisions from deep within a panic attack. The point of my departure was exclusively to do with giving my Traveling Partner an opportunity to get much-needed sleep, himself. I sure wasn’t going to be going back to sleep. Now I’m stuck in that not-quite-awake/not-quite-sleeping place. Eyelids are heavy. I feel stupid and a bit dizzy.

…It’s these harder days that I practice for on all those easier days…

I left the house so early (before 04:00 a.m.) that there were no coffee shops open anywhere, on the entire drive into the city. The gas station near home was open, so I stopped in – my plan was to buy bottled or canned coffee. Coffee for the drive. I forgot all about doing that, and just got gas and got on the road to the office. lol The drive in was uneventful, aside from just… no other traffic at all, really. The streets were empty at that hour. It was spooky and pretty surreal. When I got into the city, the parking garage wasn’t even open yet. I parked on the street. I set a reminder on my phone to pay the meter; it is too early to do even that.

…I’m so tired…

Every time my consciousness lands on my waking-up experience of this morning, I start crying all over again. Weeping, to be more accurate. Tears well up and start falling. It definitely messed with my head to start my day from a place of panic, fear, and anxiety. I have a headache right on the edge of becoming a migraine. From the perspective of this fatigue and the associated lack of emotional resilience, tomorrow’s planned drive seems a tad daunting, at least for the moment. I wouldn’t want to be starting that journey from this point. “It’ll be easier once the sun rises,” I tell myself before rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and cleaning my smudgy glasses. “The world” absolutely will not actually care about “my bullshit” or chaos and damage, not even a little bit, and there is a whole new work day between me and setting forth on my weekend of driving, camping, and self-reflection. “One foot after the other,” I remind myself, “and don’t forget to breathe.”

…I get a can of cold-brew from the office kitchen…

Starting the day triggered is shitty. Just saying. I’m acknowledging that explicitly for myself because failing to do so would tend to set up the day as one on which I “don’t feel heard”, or cared for, or supported – because I need those things (feeling heard, cared for, and supported) from me every bit as much (more?) as I need them from anyone else. I take a minute to accept that the day started very poorly, and that I feel tired, and at a disadvantage. I definitely do not feel properly “engaged” or prepared for a routine day of work. My eyes glance at the time… I’ve got basically an hour to “sort myself out” and face the work day. Fuuuuuck. At least it is a “no meetings” day… that’s something. I know I can take some time to get my head right before other people have to deal with me.

…I’m so tired…

I keep sipping this coffee. It’s canned cold brew. It’s… fine? Not good. Adequate. It meets the need. I catch myself picking at my torn up cuticles (again), and sigh out loud as I let my hands drop back to the keyboard to type these words. It’s going to be that day, I guess. Tears start falling again. I let them. Now is not the time to beat myself up over a handful of fucking tears. It’s been a difficult morning. I mean, well, those first moments. The rest since then has been utterly uneventful aside from being stupidly fucking early. It takes me a while for the chemistry of some emotions to clear up… like being on a bad trip, I know it will pass. It’ll end. Things will be okay… later. For now… I sit here with this fairly crappy iced coffee, watching the sun rise beyond the windows.

…Good grief canned coffee is pretty dreadful…

The car is almost entirely packed for my roadtrip. I sip my coffee and contemplate getting on the road today, after work (although honestly I’m probably too tired for that, and may be taking a bit more than usual risk just driving home in commuter traffic later today). My timing is all based on an early departure tomorrow. I chuckle grimly; the early wake-up today will give me one advantage tomorrow morning; I’ll be “more used to” getting up earlier than I tend to for work. I’ll set my silent alarm for 04:00 and try to catch the sunrise in my rear view mirror, from the highway to the coast. I’ll just get up and leave whenever I wake. Why not? No reason I need to put any pressure on myself, and I’ll have at least 11 hours to make the 5-hour drive to my camp site for my first night. 🙂 There are lots of beautiful places to stop to see sights and get pictures, and there is no need to rush. This adventure is about the time spent in my own good company.

…I feel a genuine smile form, and although it doesn’t linger it stills feels like progress…

I am so very much looking forward to a couple days without having to “deal with people” much (hardly at all)(including my Traveling Partner). Alone with my thoughts. Alone in my own head. Alone to sleep, to eat, to breathe, “interrupted” only by a few also greatly needed hours in the company of a dear old friend. I’ve been feeling hemmed in on all sides by what everyone else seems to need from me. I suspect that’s an illusion, and I don’t “trust myself” about that feeling. I do need a proper break from “things”, and a few hours in the company of an old friend. More than that, I need a few days to handle my self-care on my own, and see to the needs of the woman in the mirror. Having come face-to-face with the unexpected existence of internalized self-directed misogyny still lingering in the way that I treat myself, it’s time to do something to heal that wound. I don’t know if a 4-day roadtrip is sufficient to do that work (it’s a lot), but it is at least a beginning. I am a big fan of beginnings. 🙂

…Isn’t each moment a small new beginning all its own…?

A yawn splits my face. I finish this coffee – probably the first of several, this morning. There’s definitely at least going to be one more following this one. lol My back aches. My head aches. The tears have dried up. That’s something. The steady whir of the A/C in the background softly suggests napping. I’m so tired.
“Soon enough,” I tell myself, “the work day will end, and it’ll be time to sleep again.” Probably make an early night of it. What else can I do? I’ve got to get some sleep before I drive a long distance or I’ll be at risk of falling asleep at the wheel. That’d be a poor choice. Safety first.

I look over my To-Do List… today seems the sort of day I’m likely to forget things. I check the list. There are still a couple items to toss in the car… my camera bag, the emergency satellite communicator, coffee beans, and my power brick for charging things. I’m glad I’ve got a list. I sit awhile wondering if I’ve overlooked anything. Coffee filters. I add them to the list. I print off the registration and window tag for each of my planned campsites; having them will be handy.

…I remember to take my morning medications (it was too early when I woke)…

I let my mind wander to the roadtrip ahead. I’m looking forward to the journey, and also looking forward to the camping. I’ve got some “new gear” to enjoy, like the fire pit we got for camping with the pickup – it’s well-suited to solo adventures, too, compact and light-weight, easy to store, easy to use… and because it is both a cook stove and also a heater, by design, I am planning on cooking real food while I camp instead of relying on dehydrated and freeze-dried food (which has been my usual practice for years). I’m excited about that. The little coffee grinder & pour-over setup that I’ve got now is also an exciting “upgrade” in gear; still compact, it will mean having a really excellent cup of very fresh coffee while I’m camping, instead of my usual “downgrade” to instant. 😀 Both items were recommended by my Traveling Partner, and it feels good to enjoy them with him in mind. I’m grateful for those suggestions, they’ll definitely be an improvement on my usual ways. 😀

I laugh outloud when I look over this morning’s post; I’ve obviously gone entirely too far with this. Definitely one of those 1500+ words posts. LOL …And my coffee is gone. Finished. Clearly, it’s time to set this aside and begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, gratitude, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer

Mind-Altering Drugs

July 6, 2023 //
0

It’s been a week since my airport misadventure with food-poisoning. I’m home. The holiday weekend is behind me. The work trip to Palm Springs is a handful of memories and photographs. I’m finally back on all the various medications I currently take, and back to my proper timing on those. I’m fully hydrated. I’m getting back into the gym starting tomorrow morning. Life is good.

…Why am I so fucking grumpy and cross with the world, today?? I feel like I’m taking all the right steps… all the right medications… I smile, sipping my afternoon cup of (decaf) coffee. It’s that, isn’t it? It’s the medications. I’m literally “on drugs” and it does actually take a day or two to settle down into that routine all over again, even after a minor disruption. It’s something we often don’t give much thought to. Mind-altering drugs? That’s all the damned drugs, people. Yes, and the coffee. And the Tylenol. All of it. All. Of. It. Changing your chemistry has the potential to change your mood – and your mind. So.

Take another sip of coffee. I breathe, exhale, relax. I look at the clock. The work day is nearing an end. My Traveling Partner rather sweetly made afternoon/evening plans to make room for me to just deal with my own bullshit without it becoming our bullshit. I feel loved. Understood.

It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

Independence Day

July 4, 2023 //
0

Here it is, the fourth of July. A holiday, of sorts, in the United States of America. Our national independence, we say, begins here. It doesn’t, actually, but that’s the story we tell nonetheless. Today, folks will party, BBQ with friends and family, and perhaps go blow some shit up or fire off some rounds, maybe lose a finger, a hand, an eye, a family member, or set off a massive blazing wildfire. Peculiar sort of celebration.

…”Can’t you just let people have fun, damn?!”… Yeah, okay. Moving on.

I’m in a shit mood this morning. Wakened from my sleep by an equally cross partner who could not sleep due to my snoring. It was a less than ideal start to my day, and it’s been unremarkable (if a bit aggravating) since then. I’m in pain – for some reason my arthritis has flared up and I have a vicious headache. Seems like the day will be quite a hot one, so I got my walk in early – and now my feet hurt. So. Yeah. I’m mostly in the mood to bitch about this or that, and less inclined to celebrate my “independence” – although, I do have more to celebrate around this time of year than a lot of folks.

Independence Day also happens to be the 28th anniversary of leaving my violent first husband at long last and for good. I survived! That is something worth celebrating. So much so that for many years, I made a point of saying things on 4th of July like “thank you for joining me in the celebration of the end of my first marriage” to anyone who happened along. lol I eventually gave up the practice – time and distance had offered some opportunity to heal.

Independence Day is also – or at least the weekend of, was – when my Traveling Partner and I moved into our little house here, finally homeowners, with a place our of own and a sense of a fixed address and a reason to “put down roots”. Also very much worth celebrating. I’ll shortly be getting back to that. 😀

Our personal celebrations have so much real meaning and heart. Don’t give up on your independence. Break your chains! Take the bold step in favor of yourself. Move forward and move on. Be free! It’s Independence Day.

It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being

My Results Vary, and The Map is not The World

July 3, 2023 //
2

I got home around 0230 a.m. on Saturday morning, although my itinerary and planning had put me arriving home closer to 10:00 p.m. on Friday. Flight delay? Mmm… Not exactly. Sort of. Real life got real, is all.

I had awakened brutally early for the day’s plan on Friday, and upon exiting my hotel room and facing what felt like a furnace blast of heat when I expected the cool of morning, I sort of just folded up the idea of one last elegant French-inspired breakfast and dropped it in the waste bin in favor of a purposeful (and early) trip directly to the airport. Waiting for my flight sounded better at that point than lingering anywhere, for any reason. I didn’t have any particular thoughts on why that might be, I just went with it.

Once I arrived at the airport, I went through security relatively quickly; there was no line. It was that early. I got a cup of coffee and commenced waiting for my flight, which would not depart until hours later. I was fine with it. I pulled out my book and started reading. When it came time to board, I quickly did so, and resumed reading my book. Short flight, and it seemed like we were on the ground in no time at all. (For which I was most grateful, since the passenger ahead of me had some pretty severe and seriously noxious flatulence throughout the flight that was literally making passengers – including me – actually gag outloud. It was quite horrible.)

We arrived at the airport in Las Vegas for a planned layover of about 5 hours. It’s a lively, busy, exciting airport, as airports go, and I expected to easily find a meal, and suitable time-passing entertainment, just strolling around the terminal. Funny thing, though, I disembarked feeling a bit… off. Queasy. Uncomfortable. Vaguely ill-at-ease. I bought a soft drink hoping the bubbles would bring some relief. I’d soon regret that choice…

…Very soon…

TW: gross human biological functions and discussion of same in the next paragraph. You’ve been warned.

Looking out the window from a seat near my departure gate.

Less than half an hour after arriving in Las Vegas, and certainly before I made any move in the direction of “entertainment”, I found myself feeling quite ill. That feeling quickly became diarrhea and vomiting, and I didn’t know it yet, but that was going to persist – a lot – for several hours to come. Probably food poisoning. Possibly the ceviche at dinner the night before. I ultimately had to reschedule my departure for a later flight; no way I could have flown in the shape I was in. I even had to ask for medical attention (and the EMT that was sent to the terminal ended up giving me IV fluids). The restroom attendant took pity on me and marked one stall of the insanely busy women’s bathroom between Gates 5 and 16 “out of order” for me, allowing me to reliably have access to the plumbing without having to wait in line. All my clothes were in my checked bag – which had already gone ahead to PDX, with my earlier planned flight. I was limited in how far I could get from that restroom by the severity of my symptoms, so walking to any retail space where I might be able to purchase a change of clothes wasn’t a serious option. I basically spent 10 hours in that airport, mostly in that restroom, shitting myself stupid (literally becoming stupider as I became more dehydrated, no foolin’) and puking up whatever remained in my guts until nothing did, and a bit even after that. It was… horrible. I couldn’t keep anything down, and initially that included all my medications (replacements for which were in my checked bag, along with all my clothes), and even the Pepto-Bismol I initially thought might ease my symptoms. (It didn’t, it just came back up a grotesque Barbie pink.) The Imodium my Traveling Partner recommended didn’t do any better, at least not right away, but I persisted with it, following the directions for additional doses, and refraining from adding to future potential misery (initially) by not drinking more water and definitely not eating anything. Eventually, about an hour before my rescheduled later flight was expected to depart, my symptoms seemed to have subsided. I was distrustful, and remained fairly near to that restroom until it was time to board, and took advantage of pre-boarding protocols to get the front aisle seat, just in case I found myself faced with an urgent need to get to the restroom, again. The flight itself was mostly routine, and I made it to PDX.

…I even found a taxi willing to take me all the way home – a drive of more than one hour, even at that time of night…

Home. G’damn it was so good to be home. I was still too sick to spend much time with my Traveling Partner and after a shower (that I very much needed), I went directly to bed. I think I slept for the better part of the next 10 hours, mostly unable to actually wake up completely at any intermediate point. I woke only briefly to pee again, or to drink water when my partner woke me to offer it, immediately going back to sleep. I lost pretty much the entirety of Saturday to resting from the exhausting airport ordeal, even after I woke up. Sunday was a taking it easy day, and I felt like I’d been in a terrible fist fight, but managed to stay awake and even got a few things done. I got back on track on all my medication, too. Not much of a weekend, honestly, and nothing like I had expected, planned, or dreamed of…. with one delightful exception; my Traveling Partner’s love.

My partner kept me company via text message all day Friday, while I was so sick, helping prevent me from really losing my mind over it. He helped me decide to ask for medical attention, helped me figure out that delaying my flight would be the best course of action. Reminded me to cancel the car service originally scheduled to pick me up and deliver me home, because they would not be able to just wait another 4-5 hours for me to get to PDX. All day Saturday – a day he’d expected to be spent on (perhaps) lovemaking and (definitely) work in the shop – he cared for me, making certain I drank adequate water, took my medications properly, and both rested, and also got up and moved around some. He took care of meals. He took care of chores. He handled everything, and helped me get well. Yesterday? Feeling some better, I got a couple things done with the day, slowly, and he was there making a point to encourage me to go slowly, while also being a steady aware presence, available to help or to offer care when it looked like I could use some. That evening, we cooked dinner together in the kitchen, and it was delightful.

…It was a little hard bouncing back to the work routine this morning. I feel a bit as if I “didn’t get a weekend”. I’m not bitching, just facing the circumstances from a position of relative privilege; there are a ton of people who don’t get enough leisure time, and that doesn’t describe me, outside this limited situation. I can get past that without whining about it (much), but I am feeling it. Short week, though; tomorrow is a holiday. 😀

I breathe, exhale, relax, and count myself fortunate. It could be that in another era, the illness that came over me Friday could have ended this mortal adventure rather definitively. Instead, I paid too much for an over-the-counter remedy, and sat around too long in an uncomfortable environment (for what I was going through). I still got home. I’m still alive to enjoy that experience. I still get a chance to begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, health, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer
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