Archives for category: pain

…Or at least with this ringing in my ears that is always with me. I woke with a wicked headache this morning. It creeps up through my arthritic vertebrae to the base of my skull, and the ringing in my ears seems both louder, and more distinctive; it’s actually several tones, frequencies, and noises, and it differs left and right. lol. This morning, the headache being what it is, I am listening to the ringing in my ears; the sound of my fingers on the keyboard serves reasonably well as percussion. I can’t change it, I may as well….something.

My coffee is good, and hot. I slept badly and it meets a need this morning, more than suiting an aesthetic of mornings in general. No nightmares, I just struggled to fall asleep, slept restlessly, woke often, and just didn’t rack up enough hours of rest. My traveling partner has expressed concern that I am pushing myself to hard at work. It’s a fair concern; I am. It’s a thing I do, and I frame it up as ‘playing to my strengths’ but I am aware I need to ease up and treat myself as a human being, and consider other needs, my own needs, too. Work kept my mind busy last night, and I did not rest well. That’s enough of that; it has to stop.

Right at the moment, from the perspective of the delicate new day, still unfolding, all potential nothing yet actual, today has a lot to offer. I hope it lives up to its potential.

Utterly unrelated to this moment and its beauty, right here, I’ll pause to observe that I continue to be concerned about the increase in spelling mistakes and difficulty finding the right word since my TIAs (transient ischemic attack) at the end of July. Painfully obvious to me, actually, and concerning way beyond vanity; this is my health, my life, and I exist in a fairly fragile vessel of flesh and mortality. I haven’t had another since mid-August, and it was ‘just’ those three… doesn’t stop me wondering what caused them, why now, or will I be okay. Especially on days with other headaches. I want to be around a good long time…I’d like to see 2083.

I take much better care of my  health these days. Doing so doesn’t take away the pain of earlier misadventure, or later aging, but it sure helps me maintain vitality and fitness well beyond what I’d manage otherwise. The meditation helps soothe me, builds emotional resilience, and teaches me balance and perspective; great for my blood pressure. The yoga helps me maintain a healthier weight, good flexibility, bone and joint health, and keeps my arthritic joints moving; great for reducing my pain, and building my fitness level for more, other, activities. I take a good multi-vitamin, and the supplements my doctor says I need, individually, based on testing, to maintain good health on a another level, and I manage my calories. I try to get enough sleep to really rest each night and wake refreshed each morning. I walk 5 miles a day, pretty nearly every day, sometimes more. Every small choice I make to take care of me adds up to a better experience of being who I am. I’ve gotten here one practice, one choice, at a time; it would have utterly overwhelmed me to try to tackle it all in one list of resolutions or commitments to myself. Being patient with myself, showing myself compassion, has been huge for reaching some of these goals; there’ve been many missteps along the way. I often learn best through my mistakes (like finding out some months ago what a weekend of eating sweets will do to my mood and temper after months of eschewing sugars!).

I’m just writing. Making observations. It’s a moment. I have a headache. I’ll call this one ‘doing my best’ this morning and find myself content with it.

Today is a good day to treat myself with compassion and take care of me. Today is a good day to be practical and real about pain – and pain management. Today is a good day to recognize we’ve all got our hurts, our own situation to face, our own individual personalized baggage, and we’re all in this together. Today is a good day to smile and understand that physical pain doesn’t have to be an impediment to happiness. Today is a good day to change the world.

Change is okay; it's not as if I can do anything to stop it. :-)

Change is okay; it’s not as if I can do anything to stop it. 🙂

It’s a progression, isn’t it? Who we become over time. How we get from ‘here’ to ‘there’. Our progress in work, in life, in being. This amazing journey of discover we are each on is… yeah. Amazing.

...This is also a journey that can get very 'real'...

…This is also a journey that can get very ‘real’…

I spent much of my time out in the trees meditating. (Less on yoga than I’d have liked to…admittedly, because I didn’t really want to get down on the ground with the bugs and leavings of creatures passing through; no time for hantavirus this year, thanks!) Meditating, and study. One of my partners had recommended some TA (Transactional Analysis) reading, that he has been finding value in. I understand the value of shared language (and the axiom that ‘language functions by agreement’ seems supported by my experience), and I regularly read books and article recommended by significant others of a variety of sorts in order to maintain a shared understanding of the meanings of things in my personal dictionary. Earlier exposures to TA didn’t provide me with much direct benefit for healing or growth, and it doesn’t seem to be a system that is really about that, as much as it is useful for troubleshooting pattern behaviors in small group dynamics – and it’s very good for that.  Having caught up on that bit of reading over the course of a day, I moved on to something that is more specifically suited to actual treatment and/or rehabilitation of my TBI – and stuff that suits that need tends toward the practical, the positive, and things built around repeatable exercises that have clear cognitive or behavioral outcomes, and changes over time to brain structure/function. In this case, I picked up “Hardwiring Happiness: The New Brain Science of Contentment, Calm, and Confidence” by Rick Hanson.  I’m adding it to my reading list today – it’s that big a deal already.

Few books move me immediately, and most of the time practical exercises contained in study material can be a tad generic, or feel a bit forced. My experience with Hardwiring Happiness has been quite different so far; every exercise attempted from a place of commitment and sincerely and wholeheartedly undertaken has resulted in real success and a sense of immediate improvement. Nice. Easy. How much stuff in life actually feels easy? How we pursue growth and change matter. What we fill our heads with matters. The actions we take matter. Our intentions matter, too. My time in the trees felt – and still feels – significant and important to me. I feel, too, as if I have gotten ‘unstuck’ from something I was struggling with on an existential level about the nature of emotional hurts, ancient pain and rage, long-carried baggage, and the nature of forgiveness. This is a nice place to be on a Tuesday morning. I am taking a moment to recognize and celebrate my progress along a difficult journey, and to honor my will to carry on, my goals off in the distance, and my strength carry me onward.

Taking a moment to consider the path ahead for perspective.

Taking a moment to consider the ground already covered and the path ahead for perspective.

The desire to achieve some measure of improved emotional self-sufficiency almost requires that I pause now and then to give myself a moment of recognition and celebration; I’ve worked hard to get here, from somewhere quite different, and it hasn’t been an easy journey. It’s been day by day, book by book, moment by moment, epiphany by epiphany, restful pause by restful pause, appointment by appointment, breakthrough by breakthrough, meltdown by meltdown, choice by choice, change by change… always practicing practices, studying, and taking care of me. The journey stretches far beyond what I can imagine, from where I stand now, and will continue until some time as I choose to quit, or the clock stops ticking altogether; it’s definitely a good idea to stop once in a while along the way for a moment of gratitude, appreciation, self-awareness, and praise.

Getting stuck happens. I had reached a point some weeks ago, where I was having more difficulty, more of the time, suffering more, and feeling as if I were just at the edge of ‘really getting it’ in some way that I couldn’t quite reach…and struggling. Losing ground on emotional resiliency, taking more stuff personally, feeling more of the lingering hurt and frustration in the background becoming more significant in the right-now moments of my everyday experience – and somewhat inexplicably so. Life was pushing a particular lesson at me, hard, and it was as if I couldn’t read the blackboard from where I was seated.  The weekend grieving and painting was important to express myself beyond the limitations of words. This past weekend in the trees helped me find new words, and to contemplate new ideas, and recommit to ideas I know work for me. It turns out that even this area of my life, there are processes I can count on. I remain a student of life, more about questions than answers.  My commitment to mindfulness and approaching each moment eyes wide open to the possibilities of now, and facing experiences as a beginner, open and with a humble heart, still gets me some amazing results. I got unstuck. This is good stuff.  I am hoping to apply the large-scale basics to smaller situations, the sort that blow up out of nowhere leaving everyone feeling sad and lost and wounded, that happen quickly, and dissipate, leaving emotional disarray in their wake. It would be good to build that level of emotional resilience and responsiveness, for my own experience, and for the value it holds for my relationships with others.

Like a paved trail on a sunny day, some of this may seem obvious; it doesn't hurt to check the map once in awhile, anyway.

Like a paved trail on a sunny day, some of this may seem obvious; it doesn’t hurt to check the map once in a while, anyway.

Today is a good day to share progress. Today is a good day to celebrate the many things I do well, get right, and find value in each moment. Today is a good day to make what nurtures the best within me a higher priority than my challenges. Today is a good day to make choices in favor of what meets my needs over time. Today is a good day to change the world.

My weekend in the trees over the Autumnal Equinox was lovely. It was not as quiet as I’d hoped; two troops of boy scouts had occupied the same bit of forest available to me for the weekend, and were actively exploring it in the way that boys of that age are active like no other creatures. lol. I was not distressed by their activity, or their presence. Apparently, I may have grown some while I wasn’t looking. 🙂

Forest: the view from my tent.

Forest: the view from my tent.

Friday was still and quiet all day, and Sunday from the moment day broke through the milky predawn sky and the boy scouts fled the trees in a moderately orderly fashion (at the behest of their leaders), until I myself departed at noon, was again quite still and quiet. I mean, as quiet as forests get. Certainly, the forest has music all its own that rarely really ceases. I got plenty of quiet, certainly enough stillness to calm my spirit and nourish my soul, and oddly several very good nights of sleep. On that, it wasn’t that I didn’t wake in the middle of the night to pee – I did, and honestly the walk in the dark, and cold, to get to that destination – and of the sort it is when camping – did nothing to add pleasantly to that experience – it was simply that the sleep I got was simply exquisitely restful. Naps or nighttime, either way, the sleep I got over the weekend was of amazing quality for restfulness, depth, and pleasantness. I am a big fan of good sleep.

Friday, I hiked 10 continuous miles, and met a goal set for 2015.

Friday, I hiked 10 continuous miles, and met a goal set for 2015.

My weekend in the trees was spent hiking, studying, meditating, focused contentedly on me, on the ‘now’ I exist in, and on solidifying recent lessons from life’s curriculum. My Granny would have called it ‘sorting shit out’ and made an annoyed face at me for my ‘grand words’ (although she loved my writing, even my poetry). I found time, this weekend, to walk in solitude wrapped in the affection and memory of cherished friends and loved ones no longer walking a living path. I never felt ‘lonely’, even in those poignant moments when loss felt visceral and heavy as I walked the trails.

I had plenty of company, too, from this guy and his sibs.

I had plenty of company, too, from this guy and his sibs.

Some important things occurred to me this weekend, perhaps short of an epiphany, but the evolution of useful ideas and worthy of further consideration and study. I learned quickly that I don’t understand these new ideas well enough to communicate them to others, without stumbling over things important to them. Sharing ends up being for some other time, rather than now.

Some of this has been about a change in perspective...

Some of this has been about a change in perspective…

...I mean, seriously changing perspective.

…I mean, seriously changing perspective.

My last weekend solo camping ended feeling very ready to head home. This one, although I felt the absence of my loves and dear ones in a significant way, ended feeling vaguely as if no amount of time in the trees could ever feel ‘too much’ given adequate supplies, and a secure tent. I wasn’t quite ready to come home…until my traveling partner pulled up in the parking lot. Just seeing him took my breath away such that I very nearly didn’t give him the usual hug and kiss; the moment was so intense with the wonder of loving this being. This man of flesh and emotion, of thought and action, of will and tenderness standing before me just then for that one moment seemed an ‘everything’ unarguably enough to come out of the trees for.  My partner.

What followed was a quiet evening at home, each contentedly (it seemed to me) doing our own thing, sharing space and time, and now and then conversation. My partner made a point of bringing some healthy groceries home for a simple and nourishing evening meal. I cooked. My generally-at-home partner tidied up after. Teamwork. A partnership. It was a lovely evening of family and warmth and contentment. It was enough. This morning…it still is.

Sometimes the path is paved, pleasant, and a beautiful experience.

Sometimes the path is paved, pleasant, and a beautiful experience.

My body and my heart have returned from the forest. My feet will carry me to work today, and I’ll harness my mind to my employers goals and do what I do. My thoughts, generally, are still out there…in the trees…in the autumn forest…listening to the fall of pine needles in breezes…the guttural insistent croak of a frog somewhere in the distance…the squeak and chatter of the nearby chipmunks and squirrels…on the edge of an awakening, on the edge of understanding something more today than I did last week, and in the midst of becoming. Surely, there will be more words on this another day.

Today is a good day to be.

Today I’m feeling pretty low, waking with a vicious headache, and memories of last night. I don’t care for drama so exploring the details isn’t on the agenda today. Is it enough to say I’m human? That I have moments of self-doubt, moments when things that made so much sense some other day don’t make sense right now? Times of struggle and heartache? I am, after all, grieving… that colors life somewhat, doesn’t it? I’m asking because, at 51, sometimes I don’t feel like I know the answers to some of these questions.

...There's still sky overhead...and possibilities.

…There’s still sky overhead…and possibilities.

Lonely in a crowd? Yeah, this has some of that feel to it. Uncertain about the future? Yep, I’ve got that, too. I feel sad. I feel challenged by life’s curriculum in a similar way to what I imagine it might be like to wander into a college physics class at some tender age, without any academic preparation, and being told my grade depends on the day’s pop quiz. My partners are good people. This morning the tears on my face and the splitting headache I woke with go hand in hand with my doubt that I qualify to make that team.

Death sometimes has an unexpectedly insistent way of making us look closely at our own life. What do I want out of mine, truly? Where am I headed? What is the trajectory of my choices, and where are they taking me? Is this what I what? Is it what will best meet my needs over time? I don’t have good answers to these questions either, and I feel adrift. Oddly, this does not make me eager to see my therapist, instead, a profound urge to ‘leave it all behind’ builds, but I don’t know what I really mean by that. I’m too old to ‘run away from home’ and the sorts of baggage I have are neatly chained to me, going along for the journey everywhere I go.

Each day dawns, entirely new, filled with potential and choices.

Each day dawns, entirely new, filled with potential and choices.

This one’s difficult. My skilled brain tries to tell me I will be okay, that “this too shall pass”. Mindfulness… well… yeah. It’s getting to be easier and more habitual. Mindfulness in moments like these doesn’t often do much to ‘make it stop hurting’. Opening my own heart to this experience of hurting and making room for it, and being compassionate with myself are not the simplest of tasks – particularly after an evening of being castigated for imperfect execution of practices that serve me so well other times, other days. So, I sit here allowing the tears with a certain irritated resignation, and doing what I can to be kind to myself, and understand that it’s all a lot to take, and that being human is the nature of my experience. I focus on me, my experience, what I need from me to feel nurtured and supported. There’s that emotional self-sufficiency piece rearing its head again, too. Would I cry less if I met more of my own needs? Maybe tears are what I have to count on? Where is the line between working through grief and trauma appropriately to heal, and ‘being a victim’ – is that a matter of perspective? I feel like I was headed for summer vacation and the teacher just handed me Moby Dick, War and Peace, and Atlas Shrugged and said “see you in two weeks”. Being a student of life and love doesn’t really end with ‘graduation’ – there’s always more to learn. I kind of wish I weren’t a ‘C student’, though, this shit is hard.

So. Today I am alone. In a sense, I always am; we are each having our own experience. That can be a very lonely thing, sometimes. It is, right now.

I’ll spend the weekend out in the trees, in the stillness, breathing, safe, content; I may not ‘figure it all out’, but I’ll get a break from everything that hurts except the stuff I carry with me. That I just have to deal with. It’ll be a few days, maybe, before I write here again. I won’t have access to the internet – the trees don’t use Facebook, they simply stand in stillness, content. Or something poetic like that. Anyway. I guess I’ve ‘run out of words’ for now.

What is there to say about a sunrise? It is, in a sense, the only 'do over' we get; a new day.

What is there to say about a sunrise? It is, in a sense, the only ‘do over’ we get; a new day.

No affirmations, today, they would feel hollow to me this morning – and if nothing else, I am genuine. Today I hurt.

My mind is a little slow this morning, and still catching up to my body. I’m awake, but my routine is thrown a bit off by challenges with falling asleep last night; it ended up a short night, and I’m groggy this morning. I’ve made a quad espresso which I’ve rather unceremoniously dumped over a tall glass of ice.

After meditation, and yoga, and before I got to this point here, sitting in front of the keyboard, I took time to give myself a manicure. It was necessary because it is Monday and my hands were just…awful. Paint still under my fingernails and one of my nails broken at a jagged angle – how did I not notice that? I couldn’t go to work with my hands looking like that, it would have eventually launched old nail-biting habits. I find doing my nails very relaxing, and it requires a certain mindfulness to do well. I don’t mind going to work bearing evidence of being an artist…but the colors didn’t go with my sweater. 😉

What follows are some words about domestic violence, which are relevant to my own history. It’s not graphic, but it only seems fair to mention this is the direction my words have gone this morning.

"The Tracks of My Tears" 12" x 20" acrylic on canvas w/glow and googly eyes.

“The Tracks of My Tears” 12″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas w/glow and googly eyes. 2014

When I was much younger, welcoming my partner home was fraught with terror, anxiety, panic and dread; I spent every moment I could combing our residence for any evidence of ‘wrong doing’ that might get my violent partner’s attention, and cleaning frantically right up until I heard footsteps approaching the door.  All these years later, I still find some urge lurking in the background to check everywhere/everything looking for stuff to ‘fix’ before my partners return home.  I am a survivor of domestic violence. I wept reading so many recent #whyIstayed tweets online, and news articles as the nation finally seems to wake up to what a big issue domestic violence actually is. Healthy tears. I survived. I got out. I waited ‘too long’ and my psyche bears the scars for that choice.  Although some portion of my PTSD is military in nature, by far the vast majority of it is related to relationship violence, and sexual trauma; domestic living with other human beings, for me, is a veritable minefield of triggers.

There’s no substitute for getting out of a dangerous or toxic relationship. There is more often than not no resolution for domestic violence other than getting the hell away from the violent person. Human beings can change, and they do, but the stark and frightening truth is that it isn’t likely to happen in the context of the already violent relationship that exists. Having said all that, I have found that mindfulness practices make healing and getting from surviving to thriving much more likely. It hasn’t been an easy journey, and I’m not across the finish line yet; I may spend a lifetime repairing the damage domestic violence has done to my heart, my spirit, my cognition, my comfort with others, my feeling of safety in my home and my relationships, and my willingness to tolerate specific words, phrases, gestures, or circumstances. It can’t be easy on people who choose to live with me.

If you are struggling with domestic violence and reading these words, please, take care of you. Whatever that takes. You matter. Don’t tolerate poor treatment, you deserve better. It is safer to walk away than to stay.

If you are violent, and acting out physically on a partner (or really, any other human being) because you feel ‘provoked’ or ‘entitled to’ or ‘because they…’ – the world is sick of your bullshit. Please stop. It’s not okay and you have no right to lash out at another human being in anger with physical force. Ever. At all. No provocation justifies domestic violence. Not anything. Not ever. Not at all. Please get help; you are the bad guy. Please stop hurting people. You have no right. It’s not okay. (Strangely, I find it hard to imagine anyone who is violent being a regular reader…but…there’s a lot in the world I just don’t know, or cannot fathom.)

I got out. I survived. I moved on to other not-so-bad relationships, and eventually to a really good one. I made choices. We have choices. There are always choices. Making them isn’t easy, but making choices matters. Choice is where our power lies.

"Awareness" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas w/glow. 2014

“Awareness” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas w/glow. 2014

Today is a good day to choose change. Today is a good day to respect ones self. Today is a good day to take care of me. Today is a good day to change the world.