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F* You In The Morning

March 25, 2026 //
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I’ll admit I didn’t expect to have love songs in my head this morning. I didn’t sleep well and my dreams were strange and disturbing. I woke up too early. I woke with a headache.

Trigger warning: emotions.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I dressed and noticed my Traveling Partner was already up. I managed to make a colossal mess of that, this morning, although I really tried to make a comfortable exit without causing any chaos or heartache. My excuse is that I wasn’t completely awake, yet. It’s not much of an excuse. I hurt his feelings terribly. That is the large and the small of it. By the time I reached the trailhead he had messaged me enough sincere and carefully worded “fuck yous” that what could have been a small misunderstanding between lovers resolved with patience and communication… wasn’t.

I walked the first half of my walk in tears, pretty much just hating humanity, the complexities of good communication, and wondering what the fuck love even means. I’ve still got a work day ahead. Looks like I’ll be starting the day wondering whether the love I think I share with my partner is real at all – which hurts so much I don’t have words, just more tears.

“Hurt people hurt people,” I whisper to myself through my tears, sitting here feeling foolish and exposed, by the side of a public trail. I’m embarrassed to have hurt my Traveling Partner’s feelings so badly, to the point that I feel hesitant to ever go back to my own house… which feels ridiculous when I see it in words. I feel hurt, myself. He managed to say some incredibly painful things, phrased for maximum damage. How do I measure the impact of emotional weapons? Shit can escalate so fast, out of some inocuous seeming moment, laying waste to to any feeling of emotional safety.

… When you hurt someone, apologize…

G’damn this sucks.

I sigh and try to regain lost perspective. I also stare into the face of my worst fear; that I will return home to find him gone, house emptied, our life together abruptly ended. The tears start all over again, but facing fears seems more effective than running from them.

My ears are ringing like crazy. My head aches, and my left arm feels numb. I’m annoyed by my perceived frailty right now, when I need my strength. I breathe, exhale, and… do my best to let this go. Emotions are fleeting. They don’t make a good substitute for thinking. I’m not having an easy time of it. I’m hurting right now. So is he, I’m sure.

I curse my first husband under my breath, and my father, too. The lessons learned in those traumatic relationships caused so much damage that I reliably face this sort of situation with real mortal terror, and actual fear of potentially deadly consequences. That seems so unfair to my Traveling Partner (and to me, now); he has demonstrated real love and kindness, without violence or mind games, and we’ve shared 16 amazing years together. My heart aches with confusion and uncertainty.

I sit with my tears, replaying every conversation over days and weeks like some sick game of “he loves me, he loves me not”, tearing my certainty of his love to shreds. I take a big breath of Spring air and blow it all out, watching my breath mingle with the fog. Chilly morning. I quietly chastise myself for being overly dramatic, for blowing things out of proportion, even for cowardice. That’s not really helpful, so I let that go too. I try to be a little kinder to the woman in the mirror; tears aren’t her best look, and she deserves better from me.

Fucking hell, I hope I’m not seeing the twilight of this relationship… that’s almost too painful to bear. That’s the big fear. I breathe, exhale, and relax. We’ve been through a lot in 16 years, this doesn’t seem likely to be the thing that ends a relationship like ours. Another breath, and I dry my tears, blow my nose, and notice daybreak has come. Coffee will be nice… This amount of emotion, stress, and drama is not sustainable…

Having a brain injury that results in difficulty controlling my emotions comes with some baggage. I do my best to keep things in perspective. I work to build and protect my emotional resilience. I seek to forgive easily, and to make room for the people I love to make mistakes and move on from those. I know I need that myself, far more often than I’d like.

I yield to the temptation to curse the new day; it’s off to a pretty bad start. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and begin again. I repeat the effort again. And again. As often as it takes to calm myself and face my fears – and my beloved – and begin the new day from a better place. Because moments are moments, and love is bigger than that.

My Traveling Partner sends me an apology for his harsh words. I send one back for my insensitivity and hurtful behavior. I look into the fog, seeing the trail ahead disappear into the mist. I can’t see where the path leads, but it is time to begin again. For real. I get to my feet and head for home.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

333

March 23, 2026 //
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I sat for a few minutes at the trailhead before I set off down the trail. The available mileage read 333, and I thought wistfully of turning the car around, calling out from work and driving east to catch up to the sunrise. It’s early. The sun won’t rise for another two hours.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I take a few more minutes to calm myself, to avoid pounding down the trail more stomping than walking; that’s too hard on my feet, ankles, and knees. Pointlessly damaging. Once I am calm, I set off down the trail in the darkness.

I reflect on my experience as I walk, and get to my halfway point annoyed to discover my phone at 35% charged. Wtf? Did I not plug in the charging cable when I went to bed? It’s possible, but the possibility does nothing to charge my phone now. I sigh to myself and toggle on “extreme battery saving”.

This morning I was awakened abruptly by the bang of a cupboard or a door. I dislike being awakened by loud noises. It sets off my PTSD. I’m hyper vigilant as I sit here in the darkness, heart still pounding, tinnitus shrill in my ears, pain amplified by anxiety – all this in spite of well-practiced tools for managing my PTSD. It takes time.

I sit here taking the time I need.

Fucking hell. And on a Monday after a couple days away from work, too. It’ll be a busy Monday. Maybe a busy week. I remind myself that although I can’t reliably control the circumstances in which I find myself, I can control my reaction to them. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate for awhile in the darkness.

I sit listening to the HVAC of a nearby building. This is no wilderness trail, just a pleasant space between human endeavors. Behind me, the acreage of the air museum and a water park, vineyards filling every bit of space in which grapes could be planted. Ahead of me, on the other side of a creek that winds its way to the Yamhill River, an apartment complex, invisible but for a few lit windows and some balcony lights. Later, after daybreak, the farmworkers will begin to arrive, and the construction workers building a luxury hotel none of the locals actually want will begin their work. I sit with my irritation; it has nothing to do with these details, although it is tempting to connect them with my experience.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let that shit go.

I dislike drama. I dislike displays of temper. I dislike unexpected loud noises. It’s a human life; there’s likely to be some drama, some temper on display, and some loud noises. Hell, sometimes I may be the cause. I sigh to myself in the darkness. My anger over being awakened by shit that isn’t even to do with me at all doesn’t help anything. I let it go. G’damn, I’ll be glad to see the Anxious Adventurer move out. The friction between him and my Traveling Partner is unpleasant to live with.

… They are each having their own experience, and in either case, it isn’t about me…

It’s just two more weeks.

My head aches. I take my medication a little early. I hope it helps.

I sigh again in the darkness, and pull my attention back to me, here, now, in this moment. I’m eager to be painting again. The background tension in the household has made that difficult. I sit reflecting on several views, images, and ideas I have in mind to paint. Being in less physical pain day-to-day has increased my feelings of being inspired. I love this feeling. I focus on the feeling of being inspired and “anchor myself” to that feeling, instead of clinging to my irritation. It’s a good choice, and I feel lifted from my anger.

Soon the sun will come. I’ll finish this walk and return home to work – and to make a good cup of coffee, and begin again.

For now, I’ll enjoy this quiet moment, listening to the HVAC in the distance and the creek nearby, and think thoughts of paintings yet to be painted, and moments of joy yet to come. I’ll open my heart to gratitude, and enjoy fond recollections of the time I’ve been spending with my Traveling Partner, which has been exceptionally pleasant lately, and romantic and connected. Time and moments worth savoring, for sure. I glance at the battery indicator on my phone. 31% now. I shrug, look over my writing and prepare to hit “publish” on this very human experience, before I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

From Another Perspective

March 16, 2026 //
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Relationships matter [to human primates], and because they do matter, we become attached. Attached to individuals. Attached to our own expectations and assumptions. Attached to outcomes. Attached to ideas about people and about feelings about people.

Our attachments become entanglements, sticky snares of emotion, and sometimes heartbreak. Human is (emotionally) messy. We become what we practice, as individuals. We have no control over what others practice, nor over who they choose to become.

Relationships are complicated.

I’ve experienced a few things in life (and love), too many to list off the top of my head, and somehow there’s still more to learn. I ended my evening last night thinking about experience and life and love, and how fucking complicated all that is by itself…then layer on the additional complications of the other person’s experience, and what they mean to us, and whatever challenges circumstances may contribute (mental health, chronic pain, medications needed to treat this or that condition, still other relationships, it’s a long and varied list)… it’s almost miraculous anyone ever maintains a relationship with another individual longer than it takes to go “oh, hell no”. It’s a lot to take sometimes. We do it because we are social creatures, and we do it because it feels so good to “get it right”.

It’s tricky. People struggle and suffer, and sometimes the solutions that are available to ease some particular bit of suffering (for example, medication to manage ADHD, or depression, or pain) can really complicate a relationship. People often “don’t seem themselves” until they get their medication just right. Sometimes the person they become, and may be happy to be, isn’t who we want to be with. It’s not a “right or wrong” discussion, it is more complicated than that.

I’m fortunate that my Traveling Partner is very open with me when he has the hard work of new meds in front of him. I do my best to support him through such things as he has reliably done for me, more than once (and is doing presently). I know it’s not easy.

Inconveniently, this time around we’re going through it together, while we each have our own experience of “the new meds journey”. We’ve been through it before. It is perhaps my least favorite experience in a relationship, and I am deeply grateful and appreciative that we communicate openly with each other; every change, every adjustment, and the details of our subjective lived experience get shared. No surprises, aside from the very real effects of the medications themselves, initially. Could be worse. Not my favorite bit of any relationship, but I’m not also having to deal with mysterious bullshit stemming from poor communication.

I get to the trail with my head full of thoughts. I’m okay. I’m pretty well settled on the new medication that is managing so much of my pain, so much better. A larger portion of my chronic pain is neuropathic than I had previously understood. It was a good choice to change my medication.

I take a deep breath and blow it out as a heavy sigh. I write a few words before I start down the trail, hoping to let it all go and take my walk, present in this moment, awake and aware, comfortable in my own skin and unbothered. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to reflect on impermanence. It’s time to practice non-attachment. It’s time for meditation and self-reflection. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized, Words

People First

March 13, 2026 //
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In this nation where billions are wasted on AI and warfare, people are suffering. It’s not that there isn’t enough to go around, enough to lift everyone out of poverty, enough to build a peaceful world of sufficiency and comfort for everyone, and even to provide healthcare to everyone… it’s that greed gets to the hearts of power first.

…Hard times follow for many people, and it is frankly shameful…

I woke in pain, which means I woke thinking about work and bills and doctors and the grind that seems required to get ahead, stay ahead, and maybe finish with a little left over to pass along. In a nation with the means to spend the many hundreds of billions of dollars it takes to wage unwanted war on a nation that could not harm us, this is both annoying and honestly horrifying. You only have to listen to billionaires talk about people to know they don’t care about people beyond the potential cash value they represent.

I can’t honestly say that I “like people” in general. I’ve been hurt and disappointed too many times. But I value people, and I like many of them individually and cherish what they bring to my experience of life. I cherish and deeply love one person, now, and have loved others. Are billionaires actually capable of love or of valuing people, or humanity?

I walk the trail in the darkness with my blue mood and grim thoughts. I’m vexed that humanity has not yet given up on warfare. What a fucking travesty. What a waste of resources. The cost is too high. The money wasted could be better spent.

… I take my meds and hope that my pain will ease… Doing so reminds me of the ridiculous cost of medical care in this country. I keep walking.

I manage to dodge most of the puddles in spite of the darkness. I’m walking without my headlamp, which is a little silly, but I didn’t care to deal with the bobbing circle of light this morning. I just want peace. There is no peace. Somehow the thought of shining a light on this dark mood only annoys me, so I don’t. I just keep walking.

I get to my halfway point, still hearing the song in my head. “Hard Times” by Devil Makes Three is too relevant right now. I woke with this song in my head and a heavy heart. I’d like to feel differently. Maybe I’ll feel differently later. I ignore the tears sliding down my cheeks. I’m not looking for comfort; I feel things deeply, that’s a super power, not a character flaw. I let the tears fall.

Billionaire grifters dragging the world into war for a profit… This is not what I thought I was fighting for as a soldier watching the cold war end. Instead of a world at peace we’ve handed the future over to thieves at a bargain while we watch them burn it to the ground. The death toll is grotesque. The tears fall. Not just mine, falling helplessly and pointlessly over a war on another continent, but also the tears of loss and pain and terror of the many real human beings whose lives have been destroyed by wars no one needs, that serve no identifiable good in the world. It sickens me. …Or is that queasy sensation only my own physical pain? I sigh to myself.

I wish I were looking forward to the day and the weekend ahead. I get to my feet, tears wet on my face, trail wet from recent rain. I may as well walk on. I have practices to practice, and a life to live. I can begin again. Change is. Hard times come and go. Nations rise and fall. This too will pass.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, loneliness, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, War and News of War, Words

Rainy Days

March 11, 2026 //
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It’s a rainy morning. I reach the trailhead ahead of the sun and listen to the rain falling. I watch an interesting video, and wait for a break in the rain. I pull my rain poncho from my gear bin when I get my opportunity and set off down the trail in the darkness.

Even once I get to this convenient stopping point more or less midway, I’m still groggy. I’m struggling to really wake up. It’s my own fault, I guess. I woke around 03:00 having to pee, and went back to bed although my wake-up time was only a couple hours away. As I drifted back to sleep I remember thinking I was for sure at risk of achieving deep sleep but waking too soon. Getting up at that hour wouldn’t allow for a second sleep, and would have been much too early. I’d have risked resetting my sleep cycle. I sigh to myself. Groggy it is then, I guess.

I’m in more pain than I’ve been enduring most mornings lately. It’s annoying, but demonstrates how effective the new medication really is. I’m grateful for the medical science that produces effective medication and the agencies that oversee and assure quality and safety. I’m appalled by fuckwits attacking science, medicine, and safety standards. Fucking hell, fund the right stuff you giant jackasses. Healthcare instead of bombs, maybe? Also, get vaccinated, and only vote for knowledgeable ethical people to represent you in government. (And if your response is that there are no ethical politicians, I’ll point out that this may be the heart of the problem.)

I sigh to myself. I’m cranky with pain, waiting for my medication to kick in.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. There will be more rain. That’s the sort of place we live. Rainy, often. I’m okay with that. I like the rain. Anyway, it passes. Change is.

I’m slowly becoming chilly. It’s not especially cold, just chilly and damp. I regret not wearing an extra sweater or a base layer, but it’s fine. I get to my feet and get ready to begin again. I look down the trail as the rain begins to fall, and walk on.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words
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