Archives for category: pain
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Bread and Circuses

June 20, 2014 //
0

It’s a quiet morning, following gently on the heels of a pleasant and lovely yesterday. My mood isn’t as steady or reliable as I anticipate the day to come being; I am considering things.  When I find myself stuck on some detail, forcing it into context, molding it into part of the narrative of the day, of the week, of my life, I remind myself of the recent readings on ‘narrative bias’ and cognitive errors, in general.  I give myself a moment of understanding and compassion; it’s damned hard to let go of explaining everything, and to pursue questions instead.  It’s so easy to be pulled  into drama and bullshit – mine, someone else’s, the world’s.

The loveliness of the day is only a distraction from suffering if we choose to be aware of it.

The loveliness of the day is only a distraction from suffering if we choose to be aware of it.

I saw a meme in my Facebook feed recently, and it was the sort of catchy slogan, delivered at just the right moment for the words to easily slide into the context of my experience, that it has stuck with me.  Of course, after the fact it turns out to be neither new nor recent. “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.”  Still… I find myself delighted by the simple way it conveys meaning.  I like it. I’ll keep it. lol  I’ve found it pretty easily delivers a powerful reminder of the suffering of attachment, of judgement, and of taking ownership of what isn’t my own. Handy.

I am feeling uneasy, this morning. Struggling to find real balance again after rocking my emotional boat in therapy this week, and after a powerful conversation – honest, real, open, and utterly frank – with a lover that changes…something.  For the better? I don’t know. Is it a big deal? I don’t know. Does it really change any possible outcomes? I don’t know. What does it mean? I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even have great questions to consider, yet.  The step forward in therapy is by far the bigger deal, I suspect, but the heart speaks its own language and sets its own priorities, and even there… my step forward in therapy still matters, and remains suggestive of change to come.

What was the big deal with therapy? Well, simply that I am finally able to express my experience as a trauma survivor fairly simply, in a sentence, using words, without collapsing in tears, or being reduced to an animal state of panic, or wordless terror. I used my words. It isn’t more than that, and it is every bit of that, and I’m proud of myself for taking another step forward.  It isn’t time yet to share such a thing with the world.  It’s not ‘for you’, not yet. Maybe we’ll get there, together, one day? Having never just said it, out loud, so simply, to another real human being, I didn’t know what that experience would be like. Hearing the words said, hearing them hang in the silence and safety of a pleasantly calm office, isn’t really describable, either. I cried – healthy tears, honest sadness, regret, hurt, suffering…and more confused and astonished than angry or terrified. Confused that human beings can be so cruel. Astonished that I said words aloud that I had once been assured would result in my immediate subjection to a long, painful, lingering consequence – and nothing happened to me, aside from feeling all those hot tears slide quietly down my cheeks.  Well. Not ‘nothing’. Something did ‘happen to me’. I know – because I made the choice to make it happen. I don’t have words for the happening, and it is a very subjective thing. Worthy of my attention and consideration, and so, this morning, I consider it.

I’m not too interested in feeling sad this morning, which is a bit irksome since I clearly do, now and again. I find myself rather idly wondering how long this feeling of unease will last, and what it will take to drive it away…then notice with amusement that the idle wondering is much more low-key than the one-time state of panic and dread that would have saturated such a morning, as little as a year ago. Progress. Small steps. Good choices. Good practices.  Focused on what nourishes me, and keeps me headed down my own path, toward my own goals, and meets my own needs over time… Today is a good day to be.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, women, Words

You, Again?

June 13, 2014 //
0

Oh, hello… Please excuse my lack of enthusiasm for your visit. I admit, I was hoping we were really over and done with, you and I. Admit it, it’s been a troubled and troubling experience for years, unhappy, unpredictable, messy… I’d have made plans for your visit, you know, even though – or perhaps especially because – I enjoy you so little.  You wear me out, and wear me down, almost as soon as you arrive on the scene. Headaches, confusion, the way you play with my emotions and lie to me – it’s not okay, and I resent the way you make me out a fool or worse, again and again, but I’ve found some small amount of relief in being prepared. Of course, now you take even that from me.

So often, just as I’m finding a way to get along with you more easily, you slip away. I’m left with cleaning up the mess and making all the apologies. I can only imagine how lame those sound after all these years.  Once you’re finally gone, I still find myself putting distance between me, and everyone, over lingering fears about whether you are really gone, and because the insecurity I feel after even a few hours with you hangs around screwing with my ability to feel emotionally safe long after you are gone.

You rarely move right in these days, and while I do appreciate that, I am still incredibly annoyed, and feeling imposed upon, each and every time you peak around a corner into my space unexpectedly.

Today I’m incredibly angry with you for being here, now. It’s just not right. You were not invited to my birthday and I don’t want you around.  I’m hurt and frustrated that I don’t have the choice of saying ‘just go and don’t come back’; you are an unreasonable and unreasoning pain in my ass (metaphorically speaking) and I’m also frankly bored with you.  Still, you return again and again with no ability to understand what you are doing to me, and clearly no concern or compassion.

344 days since I’ve had to live shoulder to shoulder with your bullshit, your mess, and your drama – and still you hassle me and mess with my good times.  You know what? You can fuck right off. I’m done with you – if not now, then very very soon, and eventually even you will not be able to deny me that.  Maybe for another little while more, but it won’t be long now; eventually I will reach your border, Hormone Hell, and I will walk on through to the other side.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, women

So…No.

June 11, 2014 //
2

Wow. Not a very positive start to a post, at all. Is it a difficult morning? Did I wake in pain, or feeling poorly? Am I sad, hurt, or angry? No, not really any of those things, and it is a lovely, simple morning.  I am thinking, almost happily, about yesterday’s challenges – well met, and behind me. What remains is mostly the recollection of a mostly lovely day.

A lovely summer afternoon in this city I love.

A lovely summer afternoon in this city I love.

It isn’t a perfect picture; life itself isn’t about ‘perfect’ unless we choose to make it so. That’s rarely a good choice, in my experience.  I knew as I headed downtown for appointments at the VA that it was likely to be, like many experiences, less than perfect. It’s the VA. The news articles do not greatly exaggerate the issues, and may in fact present a rosier picture than exists in fact. Just saying.

First things first – any possible calm in the waiting room was entirely disrupted by loud administrators and ‘auditors’ of a variety of sorts. Business is business, work has to be done, and it isn’t all medicine…but when a disruptive crowd of noisy people fill up the waiting room of the Women’s Health Center, and some significant portion are rather disrespectful dudes with no apparent sense that people are waiting, and possibly not feeling well, its super annoying. Distracting, too, and as a veteran with a TBI, I’d like to be able to calmly focus on my appointment and my care needs. Yep – all about me, and every other patient there. Keep the freakin’ noise down!

It only gets better. Somehow, by mistake, although I specifically phoned and specifically scheduled an appointment with my primary care provider at her specific request, I was scheduled to see an entirely different doctor, who doesn’t know me, and has not had (or taken) an opportunity to actually review the entirety of my 20+ years of medical care for service connected injuries. She was personable enough, and educated, even fairly skilled on the VA computer system – a nice change of pace in recent years, to see doctors who can also navigate a windows OS – and I figured I’d relax and value what her perspective may have to offer. Seems fair.  My hopeful curiosity quickly fell behind my irritation.  She was quick to hand me the usual commonplace saccharine reassurances about menopause, not a glance at my records. I quickly and firmly objected to her suggestion that I may want to consider antidepressants for some of my menopause symptoms, and pointed her to the portion of my records that documents what a miserable failure that was – years ago.  She started to bring up atypical antipsychotics. I pointed her to that section of my records. Again. Again. Again. We finally get to a recommendation I hadn’t had offered before. She had piqued my interest – something that might ease the hot flashes? (They’re on/off nearly continuously these last few weeks, it’s very uncomfortable.)  No, I had no interest in spending even one moment in hospital purgatory (the pharmacy), yes mail the Rx to my home… and I made my escape.  While I waited for the bus to return me to downtown to connect with light rail, I read up on her suggestion… Um… wait, what? It’s associated with an increased risk of suicide. Not ‘a rare side effect’, nope, it has a white box warning label. Oh. Hell. No. Seriously? Why would a doctor recommend a drug with a high risk of suicide to a veteran with PTSD, and MST – who is also over 50? (Are the VA doctors unaware that veterans over 50 are, themselves, at increased risk of suicide?)

I walked away from the VA the way I often do – angry. To be fair, the state of women’s medicine isn’t fantastic, even in the civilian community.  Currently, the best medical test for menopause is… wait for it… No, seriously, that’s the test. Wait. 365 days, to be exact. Once one successfully completes 365 days of her adult life without bleeding from her vagina, it’s menopause! Very scientific, guys, very reliable… oh…what? You mean I might still have a period, or some spotting, or obvious hormone fluctuations after that? So… um… go medical precision? I think my irritation is understandable. The VA just pours salt in that wound by being more interested in Rx solutions than in practicing medicine and healing people, by rushing patient care in a very industrial and profit-oriented way (and still failing to actually be profitable), and being grossly understaffed in all roles just makes it very unlikely that anything will change – regardless who is at the top. The bottom line is still about the bottom line; no one really wants to pay the bill on all those broken people.  That shit is expensive.

It wasn’t unexpected. I headed for home, hopeful that I could just let it go and enjoy the evening.

Sometimes I have to take care of me.

Sometimes I have to take care of me.

The train was crowded. That’s a simple enough sentence. It doesn’t go nearly far enough. Wedged between a very large man who was drenched in sweat and smelled strongly of eau de unwashed humanity, and a very thin angular woman with children, strollers, and shopping bags, unable to move, pressed in on all sides to the point of being in very close contact – actually touching – I only managed one stop. I forced my way off the crowded train, gasping for breath, near tears, heart pounding – and still that residual anger. I was having a panic attack. Shit. I backed up against the building at the stop, in the shade, and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and another. The rush of commuters dissipated between trains. A handful of people were milling around, panhandling, chatting. My pounding heart and the rushing in my ears began to ease. A man approached me slowly, cautiously. “You okay, Sister?” He eyed me with wary sympathy. “Yes, thanks,” I replied. I made eye-contact. A homeless veteran? A veteran. Sometimes it is obvious. “I just couldn’t handle the crowd on the train, today.” He looked me over appraisingly, but without hostility or resentment, just that continued calm sympathy. “Yeah… you’re okay, though?” “Yes, thanks.” As he moved away, I contemplated his kindness. I wonder what he would have said or done if I hadn’t said I was okay? I wondered if his simple human kindness, consideration, and sympathy actually have more value than all the pills the VA has ever offered me. I sure felt better… I got on the next train and headed home.

Taking care of me still feels new.  A simple decision in favor of self-compassion, getting off an over-crowded train and waiting for the next one, really matters.  I ended up enjoying a lovely evening at home, as a byproduct of self-care.  Small changes. Good choices. So worth it.

Today is a new day, a fresh start, a different adventure. Today is a good day to be kind to strangers, and a good day to be kind to myself. Today is a good day to appreciate that we are each having our own experience, and we’re all in this together. Today is a good day to change the world.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, women

More of an Edge Than a Line

June 8, 2014 //
0

I slept in this morning, greedily immersing myself in more sleep after each moment of waking, until the morning light through the curtain, and the glow of the aquarium, had become too much to sleep through.  I crashed early last night, fatigued with hormones, hot flashes, emotional volatility and promise threat promise likelihood inevitability of largely unpredictable change future happenings. It’s been that sort of week.

It's still a journey. There's still no map.

It’s still a journey. There’s still no map.

Again, I find myself quite human. Indecisive. Fearful. Bolting from circumstances toward the unknown without patient and thorough consideration; traveling through life as a victim (again) instead of… well, whatever better options there are, and there are many (any of them would indeed be an improvement over panic).  Stress walks my PTSD down the aisle with my TBI and the resulting marriage, like many, is definitely not ‘made in heaven’.  In the middle of a terse conversation about entirely other matters, a partner observed in a frustrated tone that I could take a moment to show myself some compassion.

Well…yeah. Why wasn’t I?

This morning, over my coffee, contemplating recent events and conversations, thinking about needs, looking to understand ‘what matters most’ for me, looking to identify anything that could be tripping me up simply because it is unattended to… I read this in my newsfeed.  Purportedly an article about patience, it spoke to me on a deeper level, and although each and every numbered point is a reminder, rather than new information, the reminders were timely, and utterly relevant.  Meditation. Practice. Acceptance. Recognizing the infinitesimal line between the stories I tell myself, and what is – or may be.

There aren’t many things that calm me the way meditation can. How do I ever miss on that one? Still human.  I make choices, and in a brief moment on a sunny morning it can seem ‘no big deal’ to skip a few minutes of meditation… right? Free will… “I’m a grown up, after all”… “It’s such a beautiful day, and I’m in a great place…” “I just have to get this one thing done…” “It’s not like meditation is medication…”  My TBI already causes me a great deal of difficulty with building habits; not staying firmly committed is careless risk taking (for me) of the highest order.  My ability to show myself some kindness, some compassion, and to recognize my own needs and accept that meeting them is both critical and challenging, snuck off without my noticing and I dived into self-directed anger, resentment, disappointment with myself, berating myself for any decision that could have been hasty or in error, each moment of clouded judgment or poor reasoning… Yep. Still quite human. Still battling my demons, fighting my hormones, fighting the chaos and damage, fighting to go being enduring to achieve thriving. I sure don’t make it easy on me.

I do have ‘needs’, legitimate, non-negotiable, take-care-of-me, value-based, this-is-what-it-takes-to-thrive sorts of needs. Everyone does.  I have not always made it important to recognize and understand what those needs really are, beyond the survival basics, and it’s slow going learning what matters most to me.  I sometimes stumble on an issue, boundary, limitation, or need as an unexpected byproduct of some other event or decision-making; the undiscovered need becomes an unanticipated confound in reasoning that had seemed simple and clear, or becomes the thing that throws a beautiful plan completely off track. It’s inconvenient and inefficient to learn things in this haphazard fashion, and I rather pointlessly resent the crap out of it, wasting valuable time that could be spent understanding more that could be understood.

Patience is hard sometimes. Taking a step back and saying ‘this may not make as much sense as I thought it did’ can be very humbling. Looking into the face of an unmet need that has evolved over decades, as much because I have treated myself callously, and without regard for my own emotional wellness, hurts a lot. However much any one human being has ever hurt me, their efforts do not measure up to the pain and suffering I have inflicted on my own heart. That’s a hard thing to accept first thing on a lovely Sunday morning… but there it is.  How do I move on from the damage inflicted by others when I don’t allow myself to move on from the damage I inflict on myself?

For a few moments last night, I sat alone, still, bereft in my solitude, hurting, sad… frozen. I was immobilized by pain. The evening light began to fade… I sat quietly for uncounted long minutes, heart thumping evenly, breathing. Without planning it, I allowed my state of being to evolve from being emotionally paralyzed to a gentler place. Breathing. Aware. Letting the ‘weight of it all’ fall away.  I made room for my pain, for my confusion, for the simple basic needs of being human: resting when fatigued, comfort when emotional, healing when injured, sustenance, compassion.  I reached out to one partner, then another, open to healing, open to… being open.  Trusting and vulnerable.  They, too, are human.  We all understand the feelings of urgency, fear, need. We all make mistakes. We all struggle to make sense of out of our confusion.

Another perspective.

Another perspective.

I am standing on the edge of something…feeling a little as if the hike I took yesterday could have resulted in more clarity of thought than it did…wondering why it didn’t… feeling open, aware, trusting events to unfold as they will, for things to turn out in some fashion that allows for each of us to grow, to feel calm and secure, to discover and nurture ‘what matters most’ for our own hearts, to gently nurture and support what matter most for the hearts of others.

Today is a good day for calm, and  a good day for comfort.  Today is a good day to meditate, and show myself ‘a softer side’.  Today is a good day to be aware, content, and compassionate.  Today is a good day to change the world.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, women, Words

Well, There’s That…

June 3, 2014 //
0

I woke from a very long night, short on sleep, and with a headache. That sucks, by itself, but just beyond the edge of the desire to bitch about that is the awareness of something so much bigger.  I also woke, you see, filled with resolve, and contentment, and acceptance, and calm. Those are all good things to feel. I feel strong, and I feel experienced in life. I feel ready to face the world with eyes wide open to the endless possibilities, and comfortable with my basic good sense about which possibilities amount to something potentially truly great, and which may not be so promising.

I have been at this self-study-personal-growth thing with real dedication for almost two years now. A few things have improved, and some really useful personal skills have developed, and I find that without really seeing it happen, I may have become a woman I can count on.  Even beyond that, I have become a woman I can count on to take care of myself, and make choices that meet my needs over time – if not ‘fearlessly’, then certainly with determination and great resolve, and a willingness to be aware, present in-the-moment, and to learn from my experiences.

Today is a good day to be the woman I am, becoming the woman I hope to be, one choice at a time.

IMAG1258

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, women, Words
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »