Archives for category: pain

I got robbed last night. Feels odd to say it. Non-metaphorically speaking, my home was broken into,  things were taken. It was a new (for me) and fairly terrible experience. 

This morning’s post is written awkwardly, on my phone. The interface behaves differently. I’ve had little sleep.

The worst of it was in those moments of increasing awareness, as I arrived home, thoughts full of anticipation for the evening ahead. Looking back on it after less than four hours of sleep, it seemed much worse last night. This morning I feel fortunate they only took some electronics. They took my laptop. Other things matter less. It’s a lot to process… but I am okay. That matters most. So… now what? I mean… after filing the police report, and the insurance claim… after getting some sleep, after securing the premises… after the practical things are handled, and the tears have dried up… now what?

…I guess I begin again.

There is so much we get to decide for ourselves, so many options on life’s menu to choose from moment to moment, day to day, over the course of a life, lived. We choose a lot of stuff. We make a lot of choices. Many decisions are in our hands. There is something we don’t get to decide; we don’t get to decide if we’ve hurt someone else. They get to decide that, as the person who feels hurt. Period. End of discussion. Non-negotiable. We only know our own intention, and we’ll lie to ourselves about that, if it suits us. (Yes, you too. Yes, me too.) We tend to make ourselves the protagonist in our own narrative – and “the good guy” as well.

Yesterday I hurt my traveling partner’s feelings. I wasn’t sure how initially; I was feeling pretty fucking hurt myself, as it happened. He’d managed to hurt my feelings, too. He brought his hurt feelings to my attention immediately. I felt crappy for hurting him, angry that he’d hurt me, and resentful that he “got to it first”, resulting in also feeling that I had no legitimate opportunity to speak up about my own hurt feelings with him directly, without undermining the sincerity of my apology for hurting him. It was a less than ideal situation for good communication, or affectionate support. Still… I muddled through, and stayed true to one understanding of emotions I have learned I can count on; when we feel hurt, whatever the circumstances, we want the person we perceived has hurt us to acknowledge our suffering, and the part they played in it, and if possible we want them to make it right (or at least to apologize sincerely without making excuses). It’s an important part of treating others well to be able to apologize wholly, to mean it, and to handle that quite separately from our own hurts. That’s hard sometimes.

It's hard to unsay the words.

It’s hard to unsay the words.

I don’t always recognize that I’ve hurt someone. I don’t always understand why they are hurting. If they are hurting, and they tell me they are hurting, I accept that the hurt they are experiencing is truly their experience; it isn’t up to me to decide for them what hurts. No amount of comparison to my own experience, or other experiences, can serve to define, clarify, or place limits on the experience of someone saying they are hurt; it’s their experience, no one knows like they do. Let’s put another period right there, while we’re at it – this is also a non-negotiable on life’s journey; we don’t get to tell someone else how they feel. Just stop doing that shit. (I still catch myself, sometimes, and it usually begins innocently enough as an attempt to connect, to understand, to empathize… doesn’t matter much how it begins, if it ends with me telling you how you feel, I am in error for doing so, regardless whether I am coincidentally correct about your emotional state.)

Search all the books that matter most to you, there are still verbs involved. :-)

Search all the books that matter most to you, there are still verbs involved. 🙂

I’ve gotten decently skilled at some of the emotional intelligence stuff… It hasn’t necessarily eased the journey in any noteworthy way. lol I am quite human, and struggle most with emotions within the context of my most passionate intimate relationships like pretty nearly everyone else. I’m okay with that, it is a process and there is no lack of love. I felt sad to have hurt my traveling partner’s feelings. Keeping my sadness to the side, without disrespecting my own emotional needs, I made myself commit to listening deeply, however much his words hurt me (there was nothing abusive about them, just painfully frank, and striking directly at where I also hurt most, myself, in that moment). In listening with great care, and great compassion, I stayed open to accepting that I had hurt him, regardless of my intent. I apologized. He lashed out, hurt and angry, and I apologized again for hurting him, while I wept private tears. My morning felt pretty blown. My head ached. I felt heartsick.

Perspective matters. I often find it here. ;-)

Perspective matters. I often find it here. 😉

I took the space I needed to care for my own heart. That was a mixed effort for some time. It got easier after my traveling partner had time to give consideration to the morning, himself, with a clear head, and unencumbered by his own hurts. He apologized to me. We mutually acknowledged the misunderstandings, the miscommunications, mistakes resulting from the order in which text messages were received or read, the way key words and phrases evoke emotional reactions, we reinforced our value to each other, and took time to say soothing, caring things. We moved on.

Be love. It's a choice. Love is a verb.

Be love. It’s a choice. Love is a verb.

Did I hurt my traveling partner’s feelings deliberately? No. I wouldn’t. It’s not my way and I find no value in willfully treating people poorly. Did I hurt his feelings at all? He said I did, therefore that is his experience; my own, in that moment, is not relevant to his experience – even if I am also hurting. (Those are quite separate experiences.) It’s hard not to respond to my lover’s pain with my own pain – but it’s not productive, generally, to do so.

Our own pain easily manages to feel like the worst pain we’ve ever known (and generally without regard to whether we’ve ever hurt worse in the past, in other circumstances). Our approach to the pain of others is different – we want to fix it, to help, and we most certainly don’t want them hurting, we try to make it go away, or try to ignore it. As silly as it seems to read it in print, we behave as though we can use our words to re-craft our experience omitting their pain. It just doesn’t work that way. Sometimes people hurt. Sometimes we are the reason why they are hurting. The result, too often, is that we put our own pain ahead of the pain of others and end up imagining our pain hurts worse, when we cannot possibly know that, and can’t validate that assumption even by asking. The kinder choice is simply to be compassionate about pain, and to apologize when we’ve hurt someone. In mutually supportive relationships among equals, this is a reciprocal practice.

It’s still super hard though; if I feel hurt I want that attended to, and letting it go long enough to care for the pain of another is one of the more difficult practices I practice. Sometimes the result, as with yesterday, is that after that hurt person is cared for, they return that care and soothe my hurt in return. Sometimes that is not the case, and I must care for myself. The thing about that… it’s okay. I’m getting pretty good at caring for myself, and when I must, I can count on me to do so pretty skillfully. The most important thing is to refrain from treating myself badly while supporting someone else. Yesterday I managed it through a haze of tears over text communication… I don’t know that I could have done it with as much success in person. I’m still very much a student. I need more practice.

I keep practicing.

I keep practicing.

My traveling partner and I enjoyed a splendid fun evening, later on, and not “as if nothing had happened” – that’s a place I don’t personally want to get trapped. Instead, we enjoyed the deeper intimacy of two human beings, fully human, loving each other humanity and all, awake and aware, present with each other. When we greet each other our embrace wrapped us both in warmth and affection, and the shared understanding that we’re really there for each other – even when we’re the ones bringing the pain. Those sincere reciprocal apologies built on respect, consideration, compassion, and openness, delivered with awareness, and accepted with heartfelt relief make a huge difference. We go forward stronger. Love wants a good apology without reservations, and without excuses. It’s okay to save reasons for another moment, a different conversation, some other time.

This morning I sip my coffee, content and calm. No lingering tears, no “emotional hangover”. It’s nice. It’s been a long journey to get here. There is further to go. Today is a good day for housekeeping, and becoming the woman I most want to be. Today is a good day to practice loving well.

I had taken notes yesterday for a very different blog post. It’s something I experience rather regularly; my thinking changed, my mood changed, my experience changed, and the my awareness of context and my perspective changed along with them. I woke this morning in “a very different place” though I am in my usual surroundings. My notes no longer “make sense” – oh, I get where I was going with those observations, but… no. Not today.

Another perspective on the day

Another perspective on the day

My perspective changed. Perspective shifts are a pretty wonderful “natural resource”, when I allow them. Last night’s concert, for example, was actually pretty dreadful – unexpectedly so, although after-the-fact, looking back, I knew when I purchased the tickets that the artist was working the trailing end of a lifelong career, and “tired” probably doesn’t describe the end result in appropriate terms. The artist attracted a bizarre mix of elders, middle-aged rockers, and rather peculiarly – some real creepers, actually frightening “do not talk to me, sir, I don’t know you” sorts of creepers. The smell of booze, body odor, and heavy perfume was thick in the air. Ick.

My traveling partner caught up with me in line, and we went to our seats. It was clear in minutes that the seats behind us were occupied by stereotypically entitled rude douchebags, demonstrated primarily by such loud talking that it was difficult to hear my partner seated immediately next to me, and it was highly distracting. I expected they would stop when the show started, but that wasn’t going to happen – when did everyday people become so incredibly rude and inconsiderate? It irked me most especially that they’d probably go about quite proudly on Veteran’s Day thanking Veterans for their service without even once thinking about the contradiction implied by being so heinously rude in a concert venue that they were potentially ruining the quality of the experience for the Veterans who may be attending. Dicks.

After the show started, I turned around and asked them politely if they could lower their voices. I’m a woman. They ignored me with smirks that told me it wasn’t an oversight that they were blowing me off. My partner turned next and straight up, quite firmly, told them to stop talking. Heads turned. There were approving murmurs to my right, and heads nodding in the seats on the other side of the aisle. The two loud-talking dick bags did stop talking loudly – instead, they kicked the backs of our seats regularly, like vengeful children on an airplane. It would be funny if it weren’t so demonstrative of “the state of things” that seems so common and scary in people’s behavior these days. Certainly, it is inappropriate behavior for an adult.

Intermission came. With it, our shared admission that the jack asses seated behind us weren’t really all that… just people being annoying. For a really stellar show, we agreed we’d both endure that, and shrug it off having made our point politely… only… The show was actually quite dreadful. That’s enough to say about that, I’m not a reviewer or a critic, and there is so much in the world I do not know. We mutually agreed, with some relief, that our perspective was shared and neither of us was feeling hurt over the other’s disappointment in the event. We left during intermission, talking and laughing and enjoying the night out. The drive home was pleasant and unhurried. We hung out late into the evening, sharing each other’s company – really that’s what the evening was all about, anyway. Being authentically who we each are saved our evening from an evening enduring a mediocre concert event in the company of children masquerading as adults.

Damn. I sound all sorts of judgmental this morning… and that’s what I was actually going to write about, from my notes yesterday! We do have and use our judgment. It’s so easy to turn that critical voice on ourselves – and then on each other. On the other hand, I don’t see being non-judgmental as requiring me to accept mistreatment, or tolerate indefinitely an unpleasant experience. It can be a matter of judgment to choose to speak up, or to walk on; I see that differently from “being judgmental”. I realized this morning, I’m not sure I have the words to explain why… so… maybe I am incorrect in an assumption somewhere, and this requires further thought? I’m okay with that. There’s time. This is a journey – and the destination is not the point of it.

I slept quite late this morning after the late night. I woke up in pain. I remind myself again to call the doctor’s office this morning. My traveling partner checks in with me about doing something today. Doing things is good – I have today off. I just hurt today, and don’t really care about doing anything. I haven’t finished my first cup of coffee, and suddenly I feel cross. Oh! I’m hungry. I chuckle at myself; I’m not yet awake enough to really understand that my self-care is thrown off by sleeping in. I’m prone to misunderstanding myself, my surroundings, the context of my experience, and more than usually reactive. Another coffee, then, some yoga, a hot shower… maybe later doing things. lol

Today is a good day to begin again. Today is a good day to enjoy the moment that is… and another cup of coffee. 😉

 

 

Thinking about the future. “Here it comes…“. It is a morning with a theme song. 🙂 It’s also 4:30 am. So… a theme song, and headphones. Again this morning I am thinking about the reality and the fantasy, considering options, considering needs, considering what it takes to take care of me, over time. What do I really need, versus what do I yearn for but can so easily do without? I continue to plan this next move, and in the planning I find my anxiety and stress about it greatly reduced.

I ended the evening last night in great pain. Yoga, physical therapy, acetaminophen, medical cannabis, a hot soak in Epsom salts, meditation… I did the things, it was still a struggle. I managed to avoid reaching for Rx pain relief, though, which is a win. I woke without much pain, in spite of the very rainy morning and the chill in the air. My calves ache from muscle cramps during the night, a weird new development along life’s journey. The thought distracts me with the idea of pain, and I find myself mentally listing all the things that hurt, or are uncomfortable, and before I know it – I’m completely immersed in the experience of pain, and actually hurt more than I did minutes ago. We really do create a lot of our experience with the power of our thoughts and our words.

I take a moment to breathe, relax, and let go of (at least the thought of) the pain. I set a reminder to call my doctor for an appointment to discuss changes in my health, and pain management in the coming winter months. What’s to be done about the neck fracture recently identified in X-rays and a CT scan? That’d be good to know…

Pain again? Damn it. I change the music to something more defiant. Sometimes it helps to tell pain to fuck right off. No bullshit. I have an entire playlist of music with big beats and great grooves that all basically tell someone, or something, to fuck right off with great enthusiasm. Some days defiance is what it takes to move past the pain. I remind myself to be very mindfully aware of the things that don’t hurt, and the moments I am not in pain – however brief. Soaking in those experiences, savoring them, appreciating them fully helps preserve the memory of not hurting, and improves my implicit experience – otherwise, over time, I’d slowly lose touch with having any experience other than pain. This morning, I teeter on the edge of pain; when I am not thinking about it, this morning, I don’t hurt nearly as much.

This morning is a good one for music and dancing, for yoga and another cup of coffee, for meditation (on a timer – it’s a work day!), and for taking care of me. On the other side of the work day… a quiet evening. In between: rain, meetings, spreadsheets, questions, an important task hand-off, deep-diving some puzzles, lunch, thoughts of love, a couple miles of walking, and a new look at a view of the city I love. Each day a new beginning, a step on a much longer journey to becoming the woman I most want to be.

Every day has its own qualities, its own joy, its own suffering. Begin again.

Every day has its own qualities, its own joy, its own suffering. Begin again.

Up at 4 am works for me; I don’t fight it. There’s time for coffee, time for words, time to change the tone of the morning, and regain the leisurely feel of the morning that I enjoy so well. Today is a good day to take care of this fragile vessel that serves me so well. Today is a good day to slow things down a little bit and enjoy the morning without rushing. Today is a good day to embrace what matters most: perspective, mindfulness, sufficiency – and love. 🙂

I am awake ridiculously early, for no obvious reason other than I apparently got enough sleep to be awake now. I have no emotional position on the matter of being awake at 4 am on a Sunday morning. I woke thinking perhaps it was quite late on Monday night and that I’d slept through the work day. I’m glad it is Sunday morning. So… in spite of the early hour, the morning starts in a good place. 😀

I woke in pain. My lower back is still aching from an unfortunately very comfortably (in the moment) placed small pillow yesterday evening that resulted in very poor positioning of my spine (although I didn’t feel it until later). I’m still dealing with the pain of my careless mistake. Reality works like that; it literally does not care – or account for – our opinions about good, bad, comfortable, uncomfortable, win, lose, best, worst – any of it. Reality simply is.

Our value judgements are as made up as a lot of the rest of our experience, and align to reality by varying degrees depending on our level of awareness, and willingness to recognize reality’s hard surfaces, sharp edges, and unexpected corners, when we could choose the softness of our dreams, and the soothing poetry of our internal narrative.

Very few people seem to actually want to live their lives awake and aware, present and engaged in this moment, here, now. Some people talking about being awake, awakening, and other such assorted verbiage for being more “on” than “off”, more clued in than clueless, are talking about other dreams, rather than being simply mindfully with what is (as much as our senses allow us to be). Some people use statements of awareness as accusations that others are less so. I have even read articles suggesting some people use basic mindfulness practices to distract themselves from life’s practical realities needing their attention. It is perhaps useful to avoid those pitfalls. I have no particular constructive solutions or suggestions to offer. Awareness is a fairly personal state of being. We are easily misled, sometimes by our own thinking, and it is tempting to think that our notions are a matter of “being awake” solely because the thinking is new, ours, or because few others share it. What isawake“, anyway?

This morning it is enough to distinguish sleeping from waking, and to consider this state of being literally awake sufficient to define the term. 🙂

It will be hours still before day break. I sip my coffee, relaxed, enjoying this moment without anxiety, stress, or weirdness. 4 am doesn’t have to be loaded with baggage, fear, stress, existential angst, or the residual emotional load from nightmares. It can be, and is, simply a moment. To be sure, it’s a moment I could be sleeping through, were circumstances different, but the circumstances are what they are – and I choose how I experience the moment. 🙂

Weekends seem short now, just two days, with firm borders of work days keeping them in place, like bookends. Making best use of the time seems to matter much more than it did only weeks ago. Today will be spent mostly on housekeeping, meditation, reading, playing my guitar… I can’t complain, that sounds like a great Sunday, to me. I’ll make a point of getting a good walk in sometime in the morning, after the sun is up; in only months this nearby trail won’t be so nearby – I may never walk it again once I move.

Oh good grief - not again?!

Oh good grief – not again?!

Moving is hard on me. Departures, leaving, breaking free, letting go, “never again”, endings generally just don’t feel as delightfully welcoming as beginnings. I had the thought last night that with regard to moving, if I were to look upon the process as a prolonged beginning, instead of a prolonged ending, perhaps it would feel different overall? Would I grieve less to view this move as a profound beginning, a delightful choice to be embraced, a unique adventure whose time has come? It seems a promising notion, and I decided to begin putting it to the test today, by beginning with a list of the small things that have been less than ideal, compromises of aesthetic, unsatisfying logistical necessities, things that haven’t worked well, or have continued to be problems yet to be solved. If nothing else, I expect it to reduce my level of attachment to this place, and these circumstances, and perhaps reduce the emotional baggage associated with moving. I guess I’ll find out once I do it. Practices, and practicing them, tend to work that way for me; they are an idea with intent before the verbs are put to work, and only in the practicing is the result evident. Sometimes it is necessary to practice regularly, continuously, frequently, and with some persistence (like meditation), others sort of “just happen” and continue on auto-pilot once I practice them a few times and find it a natural fit for who I am. My results definitely vary – they vary by practice, they vary by day, they vary by moment. I’m very human.

I get distracted by a favorite track on my playlist and lose my train of thought. Perhaps it is for the best? Some mornings I can continue to hit “enter” and start a new paragraph more or less indefinitely and find some hours later that I’ve got a few thousand words to cut down to size – and haven’t said much. Sometimes a distraction is helpful.

It is interesting to watch the sky through the open blinds of the studio window. When I sat down the sky seemed a milky shade of some sort of orange, pale and peculiar, and the pine just beyond the patio was silhouetted boldly. It was quite striking. I look up now, and more than hour later (less than two), all is darkness without feature or form, nothing to see of the sky, the pine, or the imminent dawn besides some distant streetlights shining through more distant trees, invisible on the horizon. It is strange that the sky seems darker now than when I woke, much earlier. Reality does not care what I think about it. Hasn’t ever cared. Isn’t likely to care in the future. Reality is. 🙂

Today is a good day to be here, now. Today is a good day to embrace change. Today is a good day to practice practices, to be, and to become. It’s time to face a blank page.

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