Archives for category: pain

I sip my coffee quietly, head aching. Back aching. Sort of “waiting on the next moment”, in the morning stillness. No walk, no commute, this morning, there are ice storms in the weather forecast and my Traveling Partner asked me to work from home, rather than worry about my safety on the road. So far this morning, the temperature is unexceptional, there is no rain falling (freezing or otherwise), and it’s a dry and clear winter morning. I did sleep in, though, which was quite nice.

My beloved wakes, and asks me if I would make his coffee and some breakfast? I step away from my desk, unsurprised, and do so, feeling contented and loved. He seems to be in a decent mood, but I can tell he’s also in pain. I remind myself to be patient and kind as the day wears on. As I make his coffee, I am reminded that the dishes need doing (hard to avoid that reminder; they’re in the sink, and I dislike that so intensely it’s hard to put words to it), and also that I have a prescription to pick up at the pharmacy if the weather holds out. Later. Later. I make myself some oatmeal, and get back to my desk and let my just-woke-up partner finishing waking up while he enjoys his breakfast.

It’s an ordinary enough morning, for one built on exceptions to the routine. In spite of the pain I’m in, I’m in a good mood, and feel pretty well-rested. Funny how much difference good sleep can make, isn’t it? I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take my morning medication. I eat my oatmeal. Walnuts and dried fruit with a bit of ginger, this morning, and it’s pretty good. My coffee is excellent. Good beans. Careful pour over that I made myself. It is, of course, precisely the way I like it. lol Sometimes little satisfying rituals, like making a cup of coffee “just so”, can be so intensely soul-nourishing. Definitely a fond practice, for me, although too often I rush through things or grab whatever coffee is near at hand and call it good enough – it’s not at all the same experience as taking the time and care to do it skillfully, with intention. There’s something to be learned in such things. Will I ever learn it? I hope I at least keep practicing. lol

I sip my coffee, grateful to have it. I am grateful for this warm cozy home, and the sound of my Traveling Partner getting his morning started in the other room. I’m grateful for this work space, which my partner set up with me in mind, measuring things and getting the ergonomics just right for me so I would be most comfortable, even on long work days. I’m grateful for the convenience and warmth of “quick cooking” oatmeal, and a pantry stocked with nuts and dried fruits and things with which to prepare meals. I am fortunate. It’s worth a moment of gratitude, however ordinary these things may seem. Running water. Indoor plumbing. A gas fireplace. Carpets and rugs over well-maintained floors. Electric lighting. You too? Probably – for most of these things – they aren’t all that out of the ordinary for a family in a small suburban home in the United States. It’s not a lavish life of luxury, generally speaking, although I have some things other people may not have for themselves, there are also a great many things some people have that I go without. There’s a variety of human experiences. I’ve lived worse off than I do now. Some people are by far better off than I find myself. It’s not a race or a competition, and I’m content to simply find my joy in sufficiency, and appreciate what I’ve got, without striving aggressively for luxuries “within view” but beyond my means. This is not a time for that. (Is it ever? Greed is an ugly quality.) There’s no knowing what the future holds, so I enjoy this “now” with appreciation and gratitude.

I sip my coffee and think about “the future”. With so much chaos, destruction, and despair in the world (and in this country) right now, it’s something I worry over a bit. What does the future hold? How do we create a world in which everyone can thrive? The wealth of the world would provide for us all, if it were not held in the hands of a small few who do not make use of it, just pile it up and point to their pile and remind us all how very privileged they are, while others struggle and suffer (and often at the hands of those very wealthy hoarders of privilege). It’s not a good look. I keep expecting humanity to do better. (Don’t you?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to start the day. Time to do my own best, moment to moment. It’s time to begin again.

I’m sipping my fairly bad cup of office coffee. It’s not the worst coffee I’ve ever had, and the price is right (“free”, which is to say included in the office overhead and not obvious to me – nothing’s actually “free”). I sigh quietly. I can see the luminous disk of the full moon beyond the window. I turned off the light in this little office so that I can see it more clearly. It’s lovely and peaceful looking.

I take a minute to reflect with love, and considerable respect, on my Traveling Partner. He’s getting past just recovering from injury and surgery, and beginning to think more in terms of fitness and health more generally. He doesn’t panic – he makes the changes he needs to make. There’s something to be learned from this. It’s not an easy thing – there are still verbs involved. The thinking is sound. He brings his intentions and his will together, and does the work required to be the change he wants to make. He often makes such things “look easy”, although I know they aren’t. I’ve seen him grow a lot as a human being over the years, by choosing willful change and getting to work.

I sip my coffee and reflect on the opportunity his choices for change present for me as his partner. I feel a renewed sense of commitment to my own goals, and motivation to pursue change. We’re in this together. We’re each having our own experience. This morning I’m “feeling my years” more than I’d like to. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Piece together the frayed threads of my thoughts “about things, generally”. My head aches, but my back isn’t bothering me much, for now. My tinnitus is mostly drowned out by the sound of the ventilation, and by the way my earring aids amplify that. I pull myself more upright in my office chair, shifting uncomfortably. It’s not a comfortable sort of life, this human experience, is it? I frown briefly and let my thoughts move on.

…For a moment, I think about small mammals: squirrels, chipmunks, sugar gliders, dormice. No idea why. The “cuteness” of them, maybe? Maybe their resilience? They find ways to thrive on very little, in spite of the encroachment of human kind with its chaos and purposeful destruction. I find that interesting – and a little promising.

I let my thoughts wander to old friends, and remind myself to stay in touch. My thoughts wander to Spring, and I feel reassured that more likely than not it will arrive as expected, and it’s not too far off. I think about the seashore, and walking on the warm Atlantic beach with my Granny, or with my Dear Friend along the cold beaches of the Pacific. It’s been so long, but these are beautiful cherished memories worth enjoying now and then, for a moment.

I glare into my half-empty coffee mug. Cold already? Shit. I could sit here being annoyed about that, or I could “do the verbs” and solve the problem. It’s only a choice, a will to act, and an effort to be made. These are simple things. I think again about my Traveling Partner, and his strong will and willingness to act. I sigh, and smile to myself as I get to my feet…

I return to my desk, mug warm in my hand once more. It felt good to walk around, to stand, to stretch. To act. I could honestly just as easily lay down somewhere soft and go right back to sleep, maybe. (I feel that way in the moment, but I know that in practice it isn’t so easy for me to find sleep.) I find it somewhat challenging to find just the right balance between the soft comfort of ease and stillness, and the productive effort of doing and achieving. I’m generally satisfied if I can get all the needful things done without exhausting myself into immobility. I try to “pace myself” through planning and managing my time. My results vary. For now, I enjoy these quiet moments of morning solitude, grateful to have them. Grateful even for this crappy cup of office coffee, although I will admit it doesn’t “taste good” in any definable way – it’s just satisfyingly hot, and delivers an appropriate amount of caffeine for a workday morning. It has the comfort of the routine.

I think about anxiety, stress, and panic, and how much it can matter to slow down, to consider, to choose change, and to act. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This moment right here? It’s fine. I’m okay right now. For now the world within my view is quiet and calm. It’s enough, and I make room to appreciate it and to be grateful. Sometimes changing the world has to start very small, with a handful of choices, and a moment of action. Once this moment passes, what shall I do with the next?

Soon, another sunrise. Soon, I’ll begin again.

I overslept this morning. Of course. I have an important meeting on my calendar, early. Not early enough to change the flow of my routine at all, just early enough to “feel different” and be on my mind, in the background. I dreamt strange dreams before I woke.

I dreamt that I worked somewhere quite different than I do, and that we worked uncomfortably alongside each other, me, “the boss”, and a bunch of classic stereotypical “mean girls” (basic bitches one and all with french tip manicures, heavy perfumes, high heels, and carefully sprayed hair-dos) – and “the other coworker”. She was a pleasant competent woman going through some difficult times, and in my dream I remember feeling affronted and dismayed to hear “the boss” making dismissive comments and giving her side-eye over absences to do with child-care and medical care. It was disappointingly real, and rather than endure more of that bullshit, I left for the day.

In my dream I struggled with my car seeming to go “too slow” – like, really slow. No traffic, it just went slower than I expected. At some point I noticed I wasn’t driving my car – I had taken someone’s scooter by mistake?! Weird. I don’t ride a scooter, never have. I found myself lost on what should have been a familiar route home and began to worry that I might be sufficiently late to worry my Traveling Partner. I called home and tried to explain about the terrible day, the mistake taking the wrong vehicle, getting lost along the way, and how I ended up in a strange town with a familiar name, but where nothing at all looked the same – and no gps. I was on foot by then, near an elegant restaurant, where I had parked the scooter planning to call the colleague whose vehicle that was to explain what had happened. I couldn’t reach her. I woke with a start, and realized I was dreaming, and looked around me to take stock of where I was.

I walked on, unaware that I was still dreaming. Everything around me was destruction and chaos. Desert (and deserted) communities flattened by warfare, all the way to the distant horizon. Pinkish-beige desert sands and remnants of stone buildings, and an eering silence broken by suspicious sounds of things scurrying unseen, and I walked on feeling a strong sense of dread and sorrow. A man approached me suspicious and angry, demanding that I identify myself, as I clearly wasn’t from around there. He refused to give me directions – or hope or reassurance. I kept walking. I was approached by another man, aged and twisted, who demanded I turn over my credit cards. He was pointing some kind of weapon at me. I burst into tears claiming not to have any credit cards, and starting to tell him all about my terrible day, which he clearly had no time for. He let me walk on rather than deal with my emotional bullshit.

I wandered into some sort of town-ish area, noodle shops and small restaurants, decorated with banners and signs in a language I did not understand, just opening at dusk, lights filling the cramped narrow streets. Cobblestones? I continued toward what looked like a main avenue, maybe somewhere familiar? I saw a road sign suggesting the freeway was somewhere ahead. I saw a lovely peculiar park, filled with irregular steps leading down into a verdant lush garden, with a small lake, candles everywhere. No leaves on the trees – winter? I tried to take a picture (to share with you) unaware that I was dreaming. I couldn’t get it to turn out, from any of the angles I tried. I turned to find my Traveling Partner arriving to help me find my way home. I felt incredibly reassured to have him by my side, and started to tell him about my strange day… He laughed, and held me close and wispered in my ear “you’re only dreaming, Baby, and it’s time to wake up, time to begin again…”

I woke from my peculiar dream, still not quite sure which was the more real circumstance… the here, now, or the dream? I went through my morning routine in a most routine way, and the commute was quite relaxed and there wasn’t any traffic; I’d hit the quiet pocket between batches of commuters rushing along on their usual timing, perhaps. The office is cold and quiet. My calendar is waiting for me – no surprises. Real life feels quite ordinary, and looking beyond the window, I see my car parked in the usual place. No scooter. No “mean girls”. My head aches ferociously – also quite ordinary and routine. A new day dawning, a chance to begin again. I sip my coffee grateful that I am not surrounded by the detritus and aftermath of war, but dismayed that this isn’t true everywhere, for everyone. There are whole communities left in rubble, unlivable, destroyed, and people struggling to survive there, any way they can. Those places just don’t happen to be here. Not yet. Maybe not ever (I can hope to be so fortunate, but I don’t think I can count on that).

Strange dream, I think to myself, reflecting on the details and wondering what I might learn from it. Am I trying to tell myself something, or was my brain just “taking out the trash” as I slept? I often wonder about dreams. I breathe, exhale, relax, and take a moment for gratitude and self-reflection before I begin the day in earnest. I have choices ahead of me. I hope to make only the most wise, most ethical, and most helpful choices I can – and to contribute in some small way to truly making the world a better place for everyone who lives in it. We’re all in this together, in spite of each having our own experience. I can do better than I sometimes have. I can begin again.

…So can you. It’s time to wake up.

I went to bed with a headache. I woke up with a headache. It’s not even unusual anymore, and as close to “permanent” as chronic seems to get. I mostly have this headache. It’s not what I want to have on my mind, this morning, but here I am sipping my coffee and thinking through (and about) this headache. Like so many things, it is what it is (nothing more, nothing less, and only that).

I breathe, exhale, relax. I double-check that I actually took my pain medication this morning; it does nothing much for the headache, really, but not taking it would definitely contribute to making the headache worse. I get up, stretch, get more coffee. The office coffee is pretty mediocre, but this morning it isn’t actually bad. That’s something. I take a minute to appreciate that, and to be grateful. How much longer will coffee even be affordable? Or… available at all? Will I live to see coffee fade into obscurity, a legengary delight of a bygone era? I know I’ll live to see it become more expensive, perhaps unaffordably so for someone of modest means, such as I am. What strange disturbing times we live in. It saddens me, and I let my sorrow and rage wash over me momentarily before I sigh and make a point to let it go. It’s a work day, there are other things that need my attention.

A shadow of myself.

Another breath, another moment, another thought. The morning sunshine casts my shadow on the bare wall beyond the desk. “Nothing to see here,” I chuckle to myself and my shadow.

…This headache, though…

Valentine’s Day is coming. I’ve said this about that. On the other hand, my beloved Traveling Partner actually has made a practice of getting me a gift and taking a moment to honor the sentiment of the day with me, every year for rather a long while. I enjoy that time together. I enjoy celebrating love in an authentic and romantic way. Last year was… not any of that sweet stuff. lol No idea why, it just wasn’t a great day. “Human” is not always easy and our path is neither paved nor even.

I sigh to myself. I’ve got a lot to be grateful for – even this headache does not diminish that. I sip my coffee grateful for love, most especially. (I wonder what my Traveling Partner got me for Valentine’s Day…?) I turn my thoughts to work. It’s time to begin again – already.

I left the house in the usual way this morning, amused to see a dusting of snow on the car. It hadn’t been sticking on the ground. It was a loose powdery sort of snow that the windshield wipers easily brushed away. Snow was falling as I got into the car. Snow fell as I drove through town, and the streets were white with it in some of the colder places. “Funny”, I thought to myself, recalling the forecast from the night before, “we’re definitely below 500ft”.

…The weather forecast, complete with a winter storm warning, was pretty clear that the chances of snow were near 0 below 500ft, and more likely above 1000ft. Plenty of rain in that forecast, at the elevation where I make my home, which is around 150ft of elevation. Unimpressive as elevation goes. Agricultural low-lands. No particular expectation of snow in the forecast…

I drove to the office grateful that my chains were in the car, at least initially. The snow fell plentifully the first handful of miles. The closer I got to 300ft of elevation, the less snow fell. The peak elevation of my commute to the office is only about 420ft, if that. No snow. The pavement wasn’t even damp. Clear skies and dry pavement the rest of the drive to the office, on the highway and on the side streets, too. “Nothing to see here.” I chuckled to myself. There wasn’t much traffic for a Monday morning, and I felt certain a great many people likely looked at that forecast and made plans to work from home if that were an option (or to be absent from work due to the potential for inclement weather if it wasn’t). The office is empty and quiet.

It’s a useful metaphor for all manner of anticipated or predicted disasters. The plan is not the event. The forecast is not the weather. The map is not the world. Panicking over what is not yet (and may not ever be) is an enormous waste of emotional energy, and a big contributor to stress. We humans tend to expect the worst, generally. I sigh quietly to myself, breathe, exhale, and relax. I pull myself back to “now” – this moment, this very real actual lived moment of my life – right now, and any time I find myself all wrapped up in something that hasn’t even happened, or isn’t happening to or near me. I’m not saying I “don’t care” about what is going on around me, just that it isn’t helpful to get lost in a moment that is not my own, and may not be happening at all. There’s a lot of completely misleading bullshit in the media we consume, that isn’t true or real at all, and often things that are true are presented in a way that provokes far more emotion or demands more attention than is useful or necessary. Perspective is a handy stress-reliever. Non-attachment is a good practice. Finding peace in presence is healthy.

…None of this defies what is true and real; there are some really terrible things going on in the world. It’s just that we may be more able to provide whatever help we can if we’re not freaked out and stressed over the things that are far removed from our lives, or quite abstract, or not actually happening (yet)…

Another breath. I sip my coffee aware of my “winter pain”. The cold and damp make my arthritis so much worse. I take a moment to do the things I know help the most; I stretch, I move around, I take my pain medication, I distract myself with something engaging and positive, I breathe and set my timer for future breaks so that I don’t find myself stiffening up from sitting too still for too long. Practices. No, it’s not enough to get rid of the pain I live with, but the pain would be much worse without taking the steps I do. The rest is “noise”, and I’ve mostly gotten used to it. It’s not ideal, but it’s real; I live with chronic pain, like a lot of people do. Letting it wreck my life moment by moment isn’t helpful, so I do my best to avoid that (when I can). Today is better than a lot of days. Worse than some others. I breathe, exhale, and relax – and let that go. Again.

I think about the snow, this morning. It was so pretty while it fell. A beautiful moment, and like a lot of moments, so brief, so temporary – a lived moment that will never repeat. Ichigo ichie. It’s already time to begin again – here comes the next moment.