Archives for category: pain

My Fulcrum

June 28, 2018 //

I woke in pain this morning. Ah, but, I am also undeniably well-rested. That’s something. I scrolled through my feed too early, not quite awake, and fucking hell, the news is not very pleasant. On the other hand, there’s also quite a lot of hopeful news, and, historically, a lot of forward momentum, too. So… I guess that’s something to hold onto. Back and forth – finding “balance” is its own challenge. Like a pendulum or a see-saw, my experience, mood, perspective, and general sense of both wellness and self, shift, swing, adjust, wobble… It’s kinda crazy up in here. You, too?

Where is your fulcrum? What do you pivot on? What supports that search for balance, and soothes your stress? For me, it’s “now”. Just that, and it’s pretty basic, uncomplicated stuff. I come back to this present quiet moment, right here. If “now” is also really super shitty (and not the national or global heart-wrenching what-the-fuck-is-going-on “now”, we’re talking about our personal right here, this instant, “now”) I may need to walk on, get some distance, and work from some other slightly future “now”, when I get to it – more often than not I simply need to let go my attachment to something or other I’ve begun to cling to emotionally, and be truly present, myself, in this “now” right specifically here where I am, myself.

A flower. A moment. There is effort in tending my garden with care.

I woke in pain. Yeah, that sucks. Could be worse pain than it is. That’s something. Perspective is a big deal. I don’t focus on other moments of worse pain, though, that’s sort of backwards, as it happens. I sit gently with my thoughts, contemplating entirely other things than pain, at all. There’s the art show tomorrow night. That’s a thing. I’m excited about it. I consider the work I’ve selected, and what all I may need for the evening, generally, and the pain slips from my consideration for a time. I share a moment of conversation with a far away friend over my coffee. I water the container garden on the deck in the lavender light of dawn, before the summer sunrise. Perspective helps me find balance.

Carefully selected work waiting to be seen.

I sip my coffee, already past that irksome moment when I observed I’d yet again allowed myself to run out of “easy options”. I smirked at myself, leaning on the counter for support, hurting, painfully aware (literally) that the state of things is entirely my own doing, for me to manage. There’s plenty to make coffee with; it all requires effort. Effort, I point out to the woman in the mirror, is not a swear word, and is, in fact, a goal. Making more of it results in greater emotional and physical wellness, and connects me more fully to the things that matter to me most. There are verbs involved, and don’t I know it! I pull myself upright with a sigh, and make a pour over. My coffee is very good this morning. Better than convenient. Better than easy. Made with love. There’s a lesson in here somewhere.

Back and forth with myself all morning. Finding balance. Using perspective. Making an effort. Practicing practices. I smile and sip my coffee.

…Then sneeze, spilling coffee in my lap, and rather hilariously also sneezing it all over my keyboard. Damn it. Already time to begin again. 😉

Tags art and the artist, balance, be here now, be the change, be the person you most want to be, begin again, being and becoming, choose wisely, do better, effort, emotional self sufficiency, how does your garden grow?, I am my own cartographer, make the effort, mindfulness matters, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, summer flowers, taking care of me, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?, where is your fulcrum?

Categories Art, art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Taking That Breath

June 19, 2018 //

This morning, before I quite realized what I’d done, I’d gotten lost in my newsfeed within moments of sitting down to write. I didn’t write. Well, I did write – but I wasn’t writing in a rational, purposeful, helpful way that supports me as a human, or shares something of value. I was mad. I was… posting replies. Oh my.

Once I noticed I was putting myself at risk of an angry screed, I pushed my chair back, sat fully upright, and took a couple deep deep cleansing breaths, and let myself relax. I held on to the awareness of that moment, breaking free of the tantalizing sticky trap of opinion, pulling myself free of the outrage machinery. (There is so much to be outraged about this days, no lie, that’s real.) Differences of opinion so easily become anger. We each feel so certain we are “right“, and that if only we could share the nuances of our personal perspective, everyone else would get it, too! While that may be true, now and then, it mostly just isn’t, at all. We are each having our own experience. It’s not actually fully share-able.

Don’t misunderstand, I’m not a “relativist“. While I do recognize that context, culture, and variations in human understanding and experience can change the truth of a proposition, I also understand the nature of reality to have unchanging elements (that I may or may not be fully able to recognize or understand, myself). I think how we define the terms we use matters a great deal, and definitely affects our ability to have meaning dialogue, generally, every bit as much as “the nature of reality”. I have an ethical framework, as an individual, that suggests to me that some actions and choices are “wrong” – meaning, not consistent with my ethics, as an individual. So far so good. Where things get messy, and I think this is true for a great many of us, is when my own sense of “wrongness” pressures me from within to make a point of calling it out when I see others taking those actions, or making those choices. Do I really get to decide right vs wrong for anyone but me?

Yes.

…Also, no.

So… “yes”, in the limited sense that I’m utterly free to express my opinion on the matter. However, in doing so, I’m a wiser happier human if I can also remain aware that my opinion on such things is not likely to a) change anyone else’s opinion (or actions) or b) have any great persuasive weight in the world, generally, and also… c) it’s not for me to decide what everyone else will think or do. I’m just saying. I mean that – I’m literally merely, simply, only, and “just” saying words. Someone may hear my words and change. Someone else may hear my words and double-down out of pure resentment and fury, because in their view I am clearly wrong. Still someone else will disregard my words without ever hearing me out,. We are each having our own experience. I don’t really get to decide what anyone else understands right or wrong to be – but I am not required to respect, value, share, or appreciate their perspective, beyond hearing them out, and accepting their agency.

I don’t personally take any of this to be an expression of futility, or as a reason to “stand down” or “keep my opinion to myself”, because humanity’s culture has formed around our opinions and understanding of the world. Our shared ethical commitments become our shared understanding of right vs wrong, and ultimately informs entire communities, and whole nations, allowing society to enact change. We do need to share our individual sense of right vs. wrong with each other to help steer this cultural ship through the waters of change and growth over time. It’s the anger and outrage of social media specifically (before coffee) that is problematic; too much noise, not enough signal. So, I give myself a break, sip my coffee, and bring my moment closer to home. I have plenty to do to make change happen right here. I have work to do to be the woman I most want to be. That’s a project I have real influence over – every day. My example, as an individual, has meaning without extending my reach “to the world” by replying to all manner of media detritus in a reactive moment. Hell, I don’t even respect the opinions of 100% of every human; some are worth far more than others (this is likely true for you as well), and we each “rate” the value of another person’s opinion on different criteria!! (Totally true, too.) So… another good moment to practice non-attachment. lol

I finish my coffee and begin again.

Tags be the best human being you are able to be, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, choices, choose wisely, do better, Don't be evil, don't be the bad guy, emotional self sufficiency, hell yes you're wrong, I am my own cartographer, if your neighbor did it to you would it still be okay?, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, some experiences are more worth having than others, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, we're each having our own experience, what matters most?, Wheaton's Law still applies, you don't tell me!, you have choices

Categories anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Despair, Fiction, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Begin Again… Again.

June 10, 2018 //

I got a few things done yesterday, all of what I stayed home for, a few other things that really needed to get done, then… I stalled.

It’s been a thing most of this calendar year. I “run out of spoons” earlier, or hit some sort of peculiar metaphorical wall, and just… can’t. I’ve mastered “stillness”, but sometimes wonder if I have done so at the expensive of managing adequate effort. There is a balance to strike between understanding what must be done, and doing it, and also properly providing myself adequate self-care. This seems an obvious thing, and perhaps mentioning it is just extra words, but… once fatigue sets in, emotional or physical doesn’t seem to matter much, I lose considerable will and energy with which to continue to do. Inconveniently; I’ve got shit to do. lol

I woke this morning feeling rested, but had deliberately allowed all of the rather more costly pre-prepared coffee products of various sorts to completely run out; I know how to make a great cup of coffee, for fuck’s sake. This lack of effort needs to stop. So… I stopped it. Well, at least with regard to coffee. I had to properly be the adult in the room this morning and… actually make coffee. I fought that process every step with thoughts of grabbing the car keys and heading to a coffee stand, a coffee shop, a breakfast place… I kept the temptation at bay by also considering that I really wanted a good cup of hot coffee in a ceramic mug, fresh, perfectly delicious, not at all instant… no dairy… nothing fancy… just… coffee. Made by me. Without getting dressed. Without driving somewhere. Without spending money. The visualization of the realities of coffee in paper cups, and having to dress, then drive, before being coffee’d up were helpful; I just didn’t really want any part of that. So far so good.

Good coffee. Very satisfying. It’s already gone.

Next up? Everything else. LOL It’s Sunday, and although the housekeeping I’m fussing about is barely two hours of actual work, I’ve been stalling, or being half-assed about it, doing just enough to get by, for… weeks. (Months. It’s been months.) So, today? Today I recommit myself to what matters most to me, without any shame or self-criticism, and take a moment with the woman in the mirror, ensuring I’m not overlooking some urgent bit of self-care that may be standing in my way; averting my awareness from my own needs sometimes results in a peculiar refusal by my entire consciousness to participate in the needful task processing of daily adult life. lol Like having a recalcitrant toddler standing in my way constantly. Those unmet needs don’t yield so easily, and the lack of awareness holds the potential to slowly overcome me entirely with a fog of video-watching and scrolling through feeds numbly. Unhealthy. Unproductive. Empty.

This isn’t a situation that actually requires “troubleshooting”. I do understand what is happening here, and with the spate of recent suicides, I’m not willing to diminish the significance; I’m struggling in the sticky trap of long-term ennui that can develop in the aftermath of extreme or prolonged stress. I’ve got a bit of it culturally, just due to the horror-fest of shock and dismay that American politics and society have become (no kidding, it’s a thing), and then on top of it the regular upheaval week after week in my own community and social network this year… it’s been a lot to take, a lot to manage, and a lot to endure. I’ve done well – but I’m also tired. Rest, alone, is not enough; it has required both a lot of rest, and a lot of advance self-care, and I don’t always manage to make time for both.

Today I feel rested. I have a precise, fairly short task-based list of things that need doing, all very routine, and very familiar. It’s not even a lot of work… I just “don’t fucking feel like it”, and it’s time to get past that, because it simply needs to be done, and I’m the person here who is going to have to do it. lol Sometimes being the adult in the room is some work, and sometimes the work can be deferred, but eventually? It’s got to get done.

I’ve got my list. I’ve got my priorities. I’ve got the day ahead of me. It’s time to begin again. 🙂

Tags again, be here now, be the change, begin again, but you don't look sick, choose wisely, chores, emotional self sufficiency, ennui, experience, fighting the fog, get it done, good self-care, housekeeping, I am my own cartographer, I don't feel like it, I need more spoons, invisible injuries, just do it, make time for it, MBSR, mindful living, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, my results vary, OPD, perspective, ptsd, so human, spoons, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, the aftermath of stress, The Art of Being, the hidden cost of stress, the map is not the world, the spoon metaphor, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, grief, Healthy Living, inspiration, Logic & Reason, loneliness, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Why?

June 8, 2018 //

Tuesday it was Kate Spade. This morning, I read that Anthony Bourdain has also taken his own life. I pause for a moment to consider the engaging chef whose books and television shows entertained and educated me. I enjoyed his wit. The headline “Anthony Bourdain Has Died” didn’t prepare me for the further information regarding his suicide. There’s a certain different ache in my soul when I read of suicide…

…I know what despair feels like.

Well, shit. It’s a scary, seriously frightening and frustrating world these days. I get feeling overwhelmed by despair. Some days it is hard not to. We will see, for days to come, articles about suicide help lines, and some analyses of what drives people to take their own lives. There will be salacious gossip about the lives of the fallen. Someone will share a recent article about the high rate of senior or veteran suicides. Most of the people who read those will shake their heads, and turn away, unaware someone dear to them is on the brink of making that major “life” decision.

Connect with your loved ones, your friends, associates, and coworkers. Be sure to mention that they matter to you in an authentic way, and be real about it. It’s not about hyperbole and fake compliments, and it isn’t necessary to use superlatives. Easier to straight up give voice to that thing they do that you enjoy, or count on, or appreciate, or wish you did as well – or, fucking hell, just have lunch, or coffee – make time. Be present. Don’t rush those connected social moments; they are what matter most in our days. There’s no knowing when someone may choose to check out, and while you may not be able to change their mind about it, you can, at least, enjoy who they are while they are here.

On the other side of the equation, please consider sticking around awhile? If you’re considering a firm end to the chaos, and stress, and trauma, and struggle, and despair… please, just for a moment, consider that there may be other things you have yet to try. There may be practices that improve your experience, even if they don’t change the entire world, itself. Incremental change takes time – please give yourself some. Someone, I promise you, will miss you if you go.

I stayed. There are a lot of verbs involved, but it has been, very much, worth it to have stayed. I’ll go on with that, with staying around I mean, because things got better. Things continue to get better. I can’t promise that for you, but I can assure you that choosing change results in changes, so long as you do the verbs. 🙂 Your results may (will) vary, and the changes you choose in life may be somewhat askew from the changes you subsequently find unfolding around you, but change is. Despair isn’t particularly sustainable, it’s just annoyingly difficult to see through when we’re feeling it.

There’s one irksome thing about suicide that never fails to leave me feeling bereft and discontent; I don’t know why. No, I mean… I don’t know why. That’s what leaves me feeling so bereft and discontent. I’m not sure there’s any solid “why” to suicide. Surely, people have their reasons. Many leave a note behind, but often those are not public, and even when they are public, they leave so much left unexplained – as if I think there is, or should be, a reasonable explanation when despair overtakes someone. Despair is shitty enough to be its own reason.

One more time, I let the “why?” go, and pause for a moment to say good-bye to a fallen soul. I pause for regret. I pause to appreciate, to mourn, to find personal solace after a time. I pause to be aware I am, myself, okay right now… as though it could creep up on me, and take me by surprise, myself…

…Then I begin again.

Tags ACT, Despair, don't despair, don't go, emotional self sufficiency, get help, good self-care, listening deeply, love, MBSR, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, saying good-bye, someone cares, sufficiency, suicide, taking care of me, talk about it, TBI, there are verbs involved, walk on, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, grief, loneliness, Love, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, Summer

Now Is Not The Time

May 25, 2018 //

Here’s a Memorial Day weekend reminder that now is not the time to be thanking veteran’s for their service. This is an opportunity, for all of us, veteran’s too, to honor the fallen. The brothers and sisters in arms who did not come home. Who gave everything. This is our time to bow our heads and reflect on the horror of war. Just saying. It’s not about the living.

Image result for arlington

This matters to me. It probably matters to a lot of veterans. We know the price paid to serve, sure; we also know the price that was not exacted from us. We came home with our lives ahead of us. We may be human wreckage – that’s a thing for some – we may be filled with internal torment you just don’t see – also a thing, some of us struggle with for many years – and for many of us, part of that lasting pain is the loss of so many. We lost people we loved, and served with side-by-side, and we lost esteemed professional colleagues, and we lost legends that had gone before us. We lost role models, and wing men. We lost “that guy”. We lost people we never met, and people we knew very well. We lost leaders, and comrades.

Most of us, most of the time, believed we were fighting for a righteous cause. We’re carefully indoctrinated to think so. Some of us knew better or understood things differently. A small few of us knew a very special painful truth; you don’t understand the price we pay, and you don’t understand how carefully we are remade to serve a purpose. You don’t understand, really, that we always knew some of us would never come home. You don’t understand that we served every day knowing that that someone could be… us. You don’t understand that many of us never quite leave it behind. Because you can’t. It’s not your experience.

Please don’t burden veteran’s with your thanks today. This is our day to remember. To grieve. To acknowledge that we came home. To regret that others didn’t. This, too, is our day to stare fiercely into the eyes of those in power with a challenge – you show me this was in fact worth the price. Prove it. Prove it or go fuck yourself – and bring our brothers and sisters home. This is our honor, this is our Memorial. I’d frankly very much like to stop adding new bodies to the body count. I say the price for your glory is too high.

I’m taking the weekend off. This is a time to reflect on what matters most, and what is the value of a human life. ❤

Tags don't thank me I lived, I'll be home for Christmas, Memorial Day, now is not the time, reflect on those who never came home, reflect on war, this is not Veteran's Day

Categories Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, War and News of War

My Fulcrum

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Taking That Breath

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Begin Again… Again.

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Why?

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Now Is Not The Time

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