Archives for category: pain
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In Between

October 3, 2026 //
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The foggy marsh trail feels like a liminal space, this morning. There is only “nothing” in the distance ahead of me, and behind me, and I walk along this portion of the trail in the predawn darkness with my headlamp on its dimmest setting to enjoy the sensation of being between moments.

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

It’s still dark on the foggy marsh trail.

Did you click on the picture, anyway? In spite of the not quite featureless darkness? This moment feels like a decision to click on something partially obscured from view. Life is defined by those decisions. We’re choosing our experience all the time.

I sigh to myself contentedly. The halfway point on this trail is near the Tualatin River. I can’t hear it, but the scent here is different than on the portion of the trail near the highway and the marsh ponds. The strange feeling of being between places or experiences persists. Is it the autumn fog or the moment itself? I can’t tell.

… Don’t feel like hearing me bitching about chronic pain? Skip the next paragraph…

I woke in pain. I’ve taken medication. Stretched before I headed down the trail. Did my PT stuff. Doesn’t matter, the pain accompanies me every step this morning and sneers at my meds. Today it is limited to head, neck, shoulder, and it is exceedingly clear that my neck is the source. I grimace, massaging my neck as well as I can. It’s not an especially helpful effort. I remember some things from the appointment with the specialist yesterday and try something he had recommended and demonstrated with me. It helps. It’s not perfect, but it’s definitely better. Better is good. An acceptable outcome.

New pastels arrived yesterday from a reputable brand with a long history (a characteristic I really value is that feeling of “legacy” provided by distinguished old brands). I hope to spend time painting today, pain permitting. I stretch and feel joints popping and pain easing a bit. I rub my hands slowly, gently. The arthritis developing in my thumbs vexes me. (How many more paintings are left in these hands?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit with my thoughts awhile. I am unbothered by the ticking clock of this mortal life, this morning. It’s Saturday and for the weekend, my life is not limited by clocks. That feels better than what seems reasonable.

Daybreak comes to the foggy marsh. I get to my feet, ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being

Yesterday’s Sunrise

October 2, 2026 //
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Yesterday’s sunrise was beautiful. Maybe I’ll paint that sky this weekend.

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

Every sunrise a new beginning.

I spent yesterday taking (Rx) drugs and wracked with pain, mired in irritability, working, and listening to Bauhaus, NIN, and The Stooges. Not exactly cheerful stuff, but infused with a dark moody energy that just seemed to fit. I was even wearing black, though the choice was unintentional.

… This morning is better, so far…

I enjoyed a quiet evening with my Traveling Partner, though I still don’t understand why he took a chance on my company last night; I wasn’t in a good place at all. We both made the necessary effort and it was a relaxed, generally pleasant evening.

This morning? New day, new beginning. I walk the familiar trail in the familiar darkness, grateful it is largely an external experience of circumstances – it’s still too early, not yet daybreak. Nothing like yesterday, when the darkness seemed to ooze from my being. I breathe in the mild autumn air. We haven’t yet had our first frost.

I breathe, exhale, relax. I meditate under the stars. It’s beautiful. I hear something loud, not too far away. The sound of impact, of things breaking, and a short time later, sirens. Someone else is having a bad morning today. Every one of us will, eventually. Very human. Our results may vary, whatever our circumstances or our practices.

“Maybe a shorter walk in the morning?” my beloved had suggested to me. It was a good idea. I sit with my thoughts another minute or two. Self-reflection is a useful tool for gaining perspective.

The sky takes on a hint of blue, and I stretch a gaze at the few stars I can still see. Short work day, and an appointment with a specialist later about this fucking headache, then the weekend. I hope to spend a substantial portion of it in the studio. I’ve got a playlist ready…

… I get to my feet, and hit play, before I walk on. “….Bela Lugosi is dead…” And it’s time to begin. Again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Keeping It Real

September 28, 2026 //
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Just saying, I have bad days, too…

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

… Some days I don’t sleep well and I really feel it. Sometimes chronic pain is more than I feel like I can manage. Sometimes love isn’t a merry playground. Sometimes I burn dinner, or stub my toe, or get my stupid hair brush tangled in my damned hair before I’m quite awake in the morning.

… Some days it just feels like a lot to deal with, this whole “being human” thing, and it’s definitely not “fair“. Some days it just fucking sucks from end to end for no obvious reason…or at least it feels that way in the moment.

I put my head down on my desk, where I’m co-working, and I just start crying. It’s nothing particular, I’m just feeling the weight of the world and circumstances, and very much wishing my resilience wasn’t born of endless effort and constant practice.

It’ll pass, I know that. It’s only a moment. A very human moment to be sure, but it’s still only a moment. I sniffle back the last few tears and use my last tissue to dry my eyes and blow my nose. I still have hours of work ahead of me, and it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, grief, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Sometimes It’s Complicated

September 28, 2026 //
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Morning. Another one. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to see another sunrise. Life gets complicated sometimes, though, and it is a lot to take. It’s rarely “all on me”, or even about me (in many cases it’s nothing to do with me at all).

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

It’s not even daybreak yet. It’s quite dark on the trail this morning – clear starry sky, the full moon overhead.  I walk down the familiar trail with a measure of confidence, the bobbing circle of light ahead of me from my headlamp is plenty to see by. I walk with my thoughts, enjoying these moments of peace and quiet reflection; they may be the only such moments in a busy complicated day.

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on the nearby bench.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Chilly morning. I’m grateful for the warm sweater and cozy cardigan I threw on over it. I can see my breath this morning. Fall. The potential beauty of the morning is thrown off by concern for my Traveling Partner. I find myself wondering whether I should call out from work to take care of him today? For the moment my own pain takes a back seat in my awareness. I breathe deeply, and exhale slowly, working to stave off my stress before it can become a panic attack. My partner needs me to be capable and to provide care. I remind myself that I did it for two years, and I can resume doing so capably, now, when my beloved needs me.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Sometimes shit gets complicated. That’s just life. We all go through shit, and it is sometimes the worst we’ve ever been through. Resilience is built over time, but it can sure feel like it can be used up in an instant.

I sigh to myself feeling restless, and for a moment a little trapped and hopeless. I remind myself that change is, and very few moments last. Most things are pretty impermanent, actually, so I take another breath, exhale again, and do my best to relax. I’ll keep practicing.

Still not daybreak yet, but there is the faintest hint of something more deep dark blue than utterly black about the sky. A new day. I keep working to quell my panic (an inner voice snarls at me, “no one has time for this weak ass shit, knock it off”). Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Repeat as needed. I struggle to get comfortable with myself this morning. My mind refuses to settle down or focus, like hearing a fire alarm I know is a test, and still feeling it is urgently necessary to leave the building. This is absolutely not a test – it’s life. Sometimes it’s complicated.

I sigh to myself and hope I get through the day with my perspective intact, and able to provide any caregiving my partner needs. I stupidly look at my watch in the dark. Pointless. I do know it’s time to begin again… I get to my feet and turn to head on down the trail and back to the car.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

A Full Moon Setting

September 26, 2026 //
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The full moon high over head greeted me as I left the house. It seemed auspicious at the time. I was wrong about that.

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

The full moon followed me up the highway. There was no traffic at all. It was peaceful and I traveled up the road to the trailhead feeling secure and unbothered. The day seemed promising from the outset. (It’s looking like I am wrong about that, too.)

Beautiful full moon, though.

I remind myself not to conflate a moment with the day. I breathe, exhale, and relax – well, I do my best with that. It isn’t enough. I keep at it, feeling like I’m walking a slack line over a pit of anxiety and despair – and I can see it seething and roiling beneath me. Falling seems inevitable, but I keep working at being calm, centered, focused on what is, and this moment here, now. I undermine my capacity to support those dear to me, if I yield to the darkness within, but pulling myself from the mire once I’m in it is…hard. Best to avoid going there, if I can.

… But if I can’t, what then, though..?

The moon setting over the marsh.

I walk with my thoughts, after a few minutes of conversation with my beloved. Walking in the moonlight is a beautiful experience with the full moon a luminous pearl in the night sky, sinking toward the horizon. I’m not enjoying it much this morning. It’s not a permanent condition, I’m just human (so is he).

My beloved woke injured, in pain, and feeling alone. I listened (read) while he talked (texted). I don’t have solutions to offer. (And I can’t be his therapist.) All I have to offer is a caring heart and a willingness to listen. (Any attempts to soothe or encourage have seemed actually offensive, so I’ve given up on that; he’ll let me know when he wants that sort of help. He’s made it clear my suggestions are unwelcome right now.) I do my best. It is recognizably inadequate. None of this is “about me”; my beloved is going through some shit. I’m trying to be a good partner.

The moon setting on a foggy morning.

Daybreak comes. It’s foggy, which I didn’t expect. I sit in the fog, quietly. I feel hesitant to turn my attention to myself, my own experience, my own needs… I breathe deeply and exhale slowly. Chilly morning. My breath shows and mingles with the fog. One mortal human primate alone on a foggy marsh at dawn… such a small detail in a much bigger world. I meditate awhile, hoping to regain my cheerfulness and perspective. I have more to offer when I feel okay, myself.

Me? How am I doing? Meh. I’m okay. Any gains I may have made from taking a break for a few days are blown. Between my own physical pain, and the stress of circumstances, and being the vessel into which my Traveling Partner pours his pain and stress and anger, I’m already nearing exhaustion and questioning my existence. It sucks to be so near to the edge of the mire.

… I worry that I’ll crack under the weight of it all…

… Maybe I should take my stress, my anxiety, and my helplessness into the studio and shape the words I can’t find, as color? Maybe the feeling of soft pastels between my fingers will fix my broken bits or soothe my hurts? I sigh to myself. Maybe it would help to work things out in the studio… for me. Won’t do my beloved Traveling Partner any good at all. Fuck. I’m not even certain having me around has real value right now.

… The tears fall slowly, ignored…

My Traveling Partner pings me an apology, and gently encourages me to find something else to do today. At least, that’s how it sounds to me. Okay, well shit, I can accommodate that pretty easily. I’m halfway to nearly everything that interests me locally. I find myself wishing I’d thrown my RC car or my paint boxes in the car as I left the house, but we don’t know what we don’t know. I send a message to the Chaotic Comic – maybe she feels like hanging out, today?

Fuck this aching ankle and this painful knee. Fuck this arthritic back, and this damaged spine. Fuck this headache, and all the other headaches, too. And fuck brain damage, besides. I sigh to myself with little enthusiasm for the day ahead. I’ll figure it out – I’ve got quite a toolbox after so many years of therapy (and living life). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I set down my baggage, and reflect on impermanence, non-attachment, and how difficult it feels to do better today than yesterday, some mornings.

… but what to do with the day, now? It’s a big world, and the menu in the Strange Diner is vast…

…. The path ahead is familiar, the way out is through… and I can begin again. (So can you.)

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women
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