Archives for category: pain

I am sipping my coffee between calls with recruiters interested in me for one role or another. I am feeling relaxed, hopeful, and positive, but with a nagging hint of lingering anger at my former manager (over the lay-off itself and the bullshit she attempted to use to give that any sort of acceptable context that could make her “not the bad guy here”).

I’d like to let go of that anger; it’s not productive or helpful.

Over the past 11 days, I must have composed dozens of emails in my head, seeking to “have my say” or in some way exact a feeling of “closure” about being laid off. Usually this occurs in some quiet moment when I could definitely be spending my time more joyfully, but somehow find myself picking at this minor hurt nonetheless. Honestly, over a lifetime I’ve for sure survived far worse. Being laid off, in general, and this manager specifically don’t deserve another moment of my attention at this point, and certainly don’t rate being irked to the point of unhappiness at all. Yes, it was a good job, with a good company that has a good culture… but… I continue to feel more relieved than dismayed; my manager was a fucking nightmare to work with (in spite of being a generally pleasant person to interact with socially) and in less than six months it was already coloring the experience. “Unfit to lead” puts it mildly. Tales for another time, perhaps.

I sip my coffee and breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t work for her anymore. 😀

When I find myself struggling to let go of some circumstance, event, or conversation (it’s a very human thing), it’s often the result of feeling as if something “important” has been left unsaid, or some task left uncompleted. I’m looking for “closure”.

It’s pretty human to seek closure when something falls apart. Often that’s our very human ego seeking to make ourselves properly the good guy in our own narrative, other times we’re seeking a missing apology or for someone who hurt us to “make it right” – and if that’s not going to be available, to at least exact some explicit acknowledgement of the harm done. Let’s get super real about that; we don’t always get to have closure, at all, especially if we’re insistent on the person who actually wronged us being an active participant in getting that closure. (People don’t like being accountable for the wrongs they do and the harm they cause.) Sometimes it’s helpful to have the conversation, make the attempt, and see what comes of it… other times not so much. Sometimes seeking closure just tangles us up with whatever caused our trauma in the first place, and does more damage without real benefit. Why do that?

What do to about wanting closure…?

I sip my coffee (iced this morning, mostly gone at this point and quite watered down by melted ice). I notice the small puddle of condensation that has formed on the desk around the bottom of the cup, and mop it up with a couple tissues. “Cleaning up my mess” feels like a relevant metaphor…

What would “closure” get me, in these circumstances? What am I really looking for that it feels like I’m going without? Am I wanting a “last word”? Am I hoping to change that manager’s thinking in some way? Am I feeling that human urge to “be right” – and be recognized as such? Am I just wanting to say “I saw what you did there, you didn’t get away with anything.” or “That was a dick move.”? What would the point be? What am I hoping to gain? Am I just having a private tantrum or working through the emotions of hurt and grief? I’m not sure, but I definitely won’t be attempting to act on my feelings until I answer these questions for myself in a way that feels clear and settled. (I’m not a fan of hasty decision-making, lashing out, or burning bridges, and avoid doing those things where I can.) So… in my head, I write the email sharing my thoughts – each time recognizing where my words fail me, or identifying some internal need I can entirely meet for myself without ever hitting send on an email I might later regret. The mental exercise has more value than sending the email. What I think I want to say has already changed a number of times, in some cases because my thinking has already “matured”, or new information has come to light. Sometimes I just find “better words” or a clearer way to communicate my point(s), which is a very useful means of understanding myself more deeply.

…Sometimes, I just want to hurt her because she hurt me. That’s also very human, but it’s a lot more “tit-for-tat” and petty than I prefer to be, personally. I choose a different path.

…Perspective is helpful, and I often gain perspective through self-reflection…

Other circumstances, other needs for closure; for many years my yearning for “closure” (and some kind of apology) kept me distant from my father. Many years. Decades. I can’t say I regret the distance, I got quite a lot of healing from that… but I was definitely taken by surprise when closure developed on its own, through circumstances I didn’t anticipate. I wasn’t just surprised to get closure – I was surprised that I still felt a need for it after so many years. Stranger still, now and then I find myself still yearning for closure as if I’d never had any… trauma leaves lasting damage and closure doesn’t work the way we’d like it to; it’s not magic, it doesn’t “fix everything”, and it doesn’t erase past events. It’s worth understanding (and accepting) that.

…But what to do about wanting closure…?

It’s actually possible (not easy, just possible) to give ourselves closure, absent any involvement by the person(s) who hurt us. No kidding. It’s even quite effective. (Closure – and its partner “forgiveness” – isn’t about that other person at all; it’s about us, ourselves, and how we feel.) There are verbs involved, and yeah, your results may vary, but… it’s do-able. It’s also a practice; it’s not a one-off task that one can check off a to-do list once completed. (Note: this is my practice for achieving some closure when none is offered or readily available, and should not be considered the opinion of an expert, or any sort of guarantee of success – no science behind it, no peer-review, just one woman’s approach to getting closure. It’s worked pretty well for me.)

There are some steps. (These tend to “make it look easy” due to over-simplification, but should give you an idea of how I approach it.)

  1. Understand the actual hurt I’m feeling (try to get the heart of it, in the simplest possible terms)
  2. Sort out what I want that I think will ease that hurt in some way (if anything; keep it real)
  3. Practice non-attachment, compassion, and self-compassion
  4. Look for perspective and alternate understandings of the circumstances that may provide more context (without gaslighting myself, but mindful that I can be mistaken, or lacking “all the information”)
  5. Role play the conversation as realistically as feasible (or write the letter or email – do not send!) – do it more than once, as often as needed, until it feels “said”. (Don’t get mired in this step!)
  6. Reflect on how the event that hurt me has affected me (and why), and what I can learn from it
  7. Have I grown from this hurt? How? Can I grow further? How?
  8. Give myself credit for enduring/surviving/getting over it – and for any subsequent growth or success that may have come from it.
  9. Let it go. Let them go. Walk on.
  10. See number 3, and keep practicing.

It’s not a perfect process, but it’s a useful starting point. See, the thing about closure is that it isn’t really something someone else gives us – it’s something we create, or accept, for ourselves. We have the control. We have the power. We have the words.

…We can begin again.

Still and always practicing. Sometimes I get it “right”. Sometimes I fail myself (or someone else). Sometimes I am proud of the woman I am right now. Sometimes I fall short of being the woman I most want to be. I need more practice. 🙂

I’m sipping a delicious hot coffee, a freebie from the local chain vendor of caffeinated beverages (one of many that accumulated over the past not-quite-a-year of weekly commutes to the city). Handy. Yes, I saved them up over time without using them, figuring there might be some time when it would be nice to enjoy one, but perhaps excessively costly, for… reasons. Here I am, with reasons. LOL It’s a pleasant quiet morning. The slow dawn revealed a cloudy start to the day. The day started easily, and I had slept well through the night, waking feeling quite rested. My Traveling Partner pinged me a kiss emoji over SMS on my way to the solitude of a morning walk, and some time in the co-work space handling job search tasks. A good beginning to a new day, indeed. 😀

A different day, a different beginning; it’s not really about the cup of coffee, how it’s made, or where it came from – it’s about the moment.

My Traveling Partner and I had a moment of conflict “recently” (I have the sense that it was this week, but… I honestly don’t recall when, at this point, and it entirely blew over, and was, it seemed, more a byproduct of stress over lingering sleep challenges than anything else), and in the midst of taking turns saying things to each other that were needlessly unkind, he mocked the very thing(s) that I rely on to persist in putting one foot in front of the other day-after-day and which I use to heal ancient pain, and grow as a person, and yeah, also even use to treat him well, and with kindness and compassion. Ouch. My feelings were incredibly hurt. I was astonished and appalled. I was… enraged. I was saddened. (I mean, for real though? Damn, dude. Way to be hurtful.)

Here’s the thing, though… On reflection, I am sensitive to the idea – the very true truth – that “hurt people hurt people”. I know this first hand, from within the context of my own experience. Meaning to say that people who have been emotionally wounded over time do lash out, and they do inflict new/further damage on people around them, often those they love, and that damage is often targeted, using uniquely personal information that has the greatest potential to inflict pain, taken from the most intimate shared moments. Messy and unpleasant. Also… not actually “personal”. It just feels that way. It is an expression of the pain of the person delivering the injury, more than anything explicitly to do with the person they are lashing out at in that moment. Hurt and anger are strange like that. It feels personal to the recipient, mostly because as creatures we’re prone to taking shit personally, not so much because it really is.

…I get it, though… I work through a lot of my personal bullshit and baggage right here. Out in the open. Honest and real and raw and… also aspirational. I seek to do better. I don’t always hit the mark. I set goals for myself. I don’t always achieve them. I acknowledge where I’ve failed or fallen short. I pick myself up and walk on. I am practicing. Day after day, I show up, and I practice the practices that I hope will, over time, result in my becoming the woman (the person) I most want to be. I’m not there yet. I’ll point out two things that seem obvious to me, but maybe aren’t so obvious… 1. I practice because I’m human, and I’m “not there yet”; I need the practice! 2. “The woman I most want to be”… may not be the woman anyone else wants to see me become. With just those two things in mind, there’s more than enough within these blog posts to fill any argument with insults and barbed remarks to fuel any heated moment. Taking them personally would only set me up for disappointment, a feeling of chronic inadequacy, a sense of utter failure, and a quick slide into despair… defeating the point of being here, now, in the first place. “Don’t drink the poison.

Instead of attacking him for attacking me over such personal things, or for seeking to undermine my progress (it’s highly unlikely he was looking at his words through that lens at all), I let those words simply land in the space between us unaddressed beyond the basic point that he was feeling hurt, mistreated, and provoked, and was frustrated by his lack of sleep. I did my best to focus on the need actually being expressed, and not so much on the shitty way he was expressing it in the moment. He’s very human. I “filed it away” for later reflection, and here I find myself, reflecting. It’s a nice morning for it. I’m in a good place. We’re in a good place with each other. I know I need more practice. That’s not new information. What’s useful to reflect on is where we are with each other, and how I can make use of what I’ve heard my partner say to me to become a better partner, and friend, myself.

Any misstep can become a beautiful gesture of love, if we’re willing to be vulnerable about our failures.

I think about the lawn my Traveling Partner recently put in. It’s gorgeous. In the process of preparing the ground for the new sod, my partner inadvertently damaged one of the roses. He didn’t hide that, or ignore it, or try to excuse the error, or blame someone/something else; he simply pointed it out, with some regret. He also took that moment to transform the mistake into something beautiful; he carefully cut the roses and put the blossoms in a wee vase on the table where I would see them. So cute. The little vase of flowers meant so much more to me than the unplanned cutting of a stray cane or two on a rose that is already pretty well-established. Just saying; we’re human. We make mistakes. We fuck shit up. It’s how we handle that and the outcome, and how we support and seek to heal each other as human beings that matters most. 🙂

I sip my coffee. It’s a good morning.

So… yeah. I’m a work in progress for sure. lol The journey is the destination. I am my own cartographer, and this trip has no map. I do my best, and I can fearlessly state that my results vary, and sometimes my best definitely does not feel “good enough”. It’s necessary to begin again. Often. All of that is more than “okay” – it’s the nature of the experience. Growth and incremental change over time are not instant. There are verbs involved.

I breathe. Exhale. Relax. It’s a beautiful morning to practice practices, and to put in the effort to become the woman I most want to be. With that in mind, it’s time to begin again. 😀

When it feels like it’s all stairs, it’s nice to have someone sharing the journey.

I slept poorly last night. Restless dreams, wakefulness, and frequently having to get up to pee, along with being in pain, made for a difficult night. My Traveling Partner woke up in a shitty mood, in pain, and cross with me as his default approach. Not my favorite way to start a day. I dressed and headed out as soon as I woke. “Later” will be soon enough to return home, hopefully some time after my partner has had his coffee, done some yoga and stretching, and taken whatever he can to manage his pain and allergies.

I’m sitting on a fence rail next to a marshy expanse of still water favored by all manner of water birds. There is seasonality to the view. I enjoy this quiet place, although on weekends it is often crowded with bird-watchers and camera nerds. It’s a nice place for perspective.

God damn, it would suck if this otherwise beautiful relationship were to fail over our inability to sleep in the same place. I think about that briefly. Tears well up, and I brush them away. We’re not there yet and there are still things to try. My sleep study got moved up from mid-August to… tomorrow. I’m not exactly excited, just hoping something helpful comes of it.

A woman and child walk past me. I hear the child ask “Mommy, why does that lady look sad?”, and the woman’s kind careful reply “Sometimes being a grown up is hard honey. It makes Mommy sad sometimes, too.” For real, Lady, you’re so right. Sorry, Kiddo, it’s not always easy.

I sit quietly awhile. No plan. Just stillness. I check the hours for the pharmacy near home in order to time my return such that I can pick something up for my Traveling Partner. I try to do enough sweet things, kind things, helpful things to offset the unpleasantness of our shared challenges. It’s not “enough”, but it is at least something. I find myself making a silent promise to refrain from talking about my own pain, and fatigue, and stress, and anxiety… Hoping to be more easily able to make room for my partner to feel heard, even if I can’t do much about it. Again, it’s not everything, it’s just something.

… I have to trust that after 13 years together he does understand that I am chronically struggling with pain, myself, and that he has the affection for me and the emotional intelligence to hold space for that awareness day-to-day, in spite of his own pain and fatigue. That’s hard sometimes. It can be a very “fuck your pain, what about mine?!” kind of world sometimes. I think I can do better… But how best to do better without being a dick to myself and undermining my own emotional wellness? It’s a puzzle.

… Sometimes being a grown up is hard, and it makes me sad…

I think about a dear friend tearing up a bit as we discussed age, aging, and the inevitable loneliness of feeling “cast aside”. Fucking hell, that is some real shit. Sometimes being grown up is hard. I watch a small flock of birds take flight, appearing to chase a larger bird. They don’t pay me any attention at all. I’m not part of their experience.

We’re each walking our own path. No map. Sometimes we get lucky on the journey and have some companionship along the way for some distance. It’s not a given that we will, and ultimately we’re in this alone, regardless how or whether we surround ourselves with people or creatures. These are individual journeys. Nonetheless, we’re also all in it together. It’s a puzzle. I remind myself to try to be kind. Always.

It’s time to begin again.

Middle of the work day. Coffee long behind me. Stopped for a break to have a bite with my Traveling Partner. We’ve had a difficult couple of days for some reason. It’s probably me, I guess? I’m not sure and I’m not sure it’s helpful to “assign blame” or point fingers at each other, or any particular individual issue. I just want to do better as a partner and as a lover – and as a friend. That’s where we started. That’s what matters most.

So far today I’ve avoided beating myself up over yesterday(s). I like the thought that I’ve treated my partner with similar kindness and gentleness, but I don’t always feel sure of myself on that point. He said some things yesterday that took my breath away with how much it hurt to hear them. I’m not of a mind to make bold promises about changes, I’m just going to seek to do better day to day, and hope that incremental change over time makes a difference. I wish myself luck on that, in a sincere and heartfelt way, and let my thoughts move on.

I read an article that offers some promise of improvement on the strange ticks and habits that are dermatillomania or trichotillomania – as a lifelong “can’t seem to stop” biter-of-nails, and picker-of-cuticles, I’ve been frustrated a long long time that these seem to be “habits” I can’t seem to break. The news article is here. The “habit replacement manual” that supports the practice the article is about is linked with a video, here. Good luck, if you need this I hope it helps. Me, I feel… hopeful. It’s a feeling I really need right now, so that’s a win.

The work day can’t possibly end soon enough, but I feel on edge and stressed out, which isn’t ideal. Is it “all me”? It easily could be, and I try not to resist well-intentioned feedback from people close to me when they express their concern. I look around at the chaos in my studio. My wee library is in a pretty similar state. The house, in general, is quite tidy (after the Herculean effort my Traveling Partner put in just before I went to a work offsite in Palm Springs). I can’t “run from this” – it doesn’t solve anything to do so, it just worsens over time. And it’s funny, the chaos is telling – chaos in my environment nearly always signals some measure of internal chaos. I wouldn’t expect tidying up the external chaos to do anything much about the mess in my head, but… it often helps quite a lot. Like… a lot a lot. So I’m thinking maybe it’s a good weekend to mostly stay home, mostly tidy up, and spend time connecting with my partner. Talking. Touching. Laughing. Not just hanging out watching videos. Definitely not snarling at each other from another room. “Together” – present, and engaged, connected. Hard. We’ve both been irritable, lately, though I don’t think I know nearly enough about why that is (for either of us), and it’s hard to have a gentle conversation about it. Maybe if I can just do better, we can get past this? I say “maybe if I...” rather than “we”, because mine is the behavior I own, control, and make happen with the verbs I’m personally lobbing into the experience we share. The other half of “we” is on his side of every interaction, and I’m confident that he does also want to “do better” – but I can’t force that, control that, dictate that, or own that, so… yeah. I’ll be over here doing my best to do better, myself.

…Don’t wish me “luck”. lol Definitely wish me success – or persistence. I figure I’ll be beginning again quite a lot, and getting a ton of practice at not taking shit personally, letting small shit stay small, assuming positive intent, and being present, open, and kind. I don’t expect it to be “easy”. We’re probably both feeling emotionally hurt by things we’ve said to each other. We could do better. We could be kinder, gentler, and more aware of each other’s fundamental humanity. It’s not easy; we’re also each dealing with our own shit, and probably feeling pretty weighed down by that.

I take a breath and exhale slowly, evenly, and try to remember a time when I wasn’t feeling stressed. Any such recollection, hoping to savor that past moment, and reclaim a sense of it. It’s a useful exercise. Not a cure, but helpful. Hell, I find one such moment pretty quickly, then several more, and so many that are recent, and I start feeling lighter – this is just a moment. Emotional weather. Storms pass. I breathe, exhale, relax, and center myself in the context of a better feeling.

The physical pain I’m in is a bit much. Arthritis in my spine. I lift myself more erect; better posture sometimes means less pain. My neck aches. I do some of the physical therapy “moves” I was taught, sometimes they really help, other times they are at least a brief distraction. I feel the pain that lurks behind my jaw, and below my ear. I contemplate that fucking nodule on my thyroid and wonder if having it removed will help… I am grateful that at least the occipital neuralgia is not also flaring up. Pain makes everything else seem worse, more complicated, more stressful, less easy… I’m annoyed by pain. I look in my wee pillbox with today’s meds in it… have I got any more options? One last dose of an Rx pain reliever. I take it with some reluctance, but hoping for relief. If it helps, it helps. It’s okay to need, and to ask for, and to accept help. Sometimes it’s even necessary.

I take another breath and look at the time. I think I’ll call it a day – and begin again.

This morning has fail sauce drizzled generously all over it. At least I’ve got a decent cup of coffee for washing down that bitter pill. lol

My Traveling Partner woke me because my snoring was keeping him from sleeping. That’s just real. I’ve got an appointment to do a sleep study in a couple weeks, but let’s keep on with the real-real; my partner has been waiting on this to be sorted out for the whole of our time together. Rough. I woke abruptly, and I woke triggered by his frustrated tone. No blame there, no criticism. I 100% get why he’s frustrated and unhappy to experience degraded sleep. That shit is unhealthy! I’ve got sleep challenges of my own quite separate from the challenge that results from my Traveling Partner’s reaction to my snoring. I definitely understand the critical importance of good quality restful sleep. Hell, I averaged less than 3 hours a night of real sleep for an entire decade of my first marriage, and was almost a zombie version of myself as a result. Sleep fucking matters.

As contented and generally happy together as we are, this sort of crap “tests us” hard. It’s vexing and frustrating, and maddening (by which I mean to say that as our sleep quality deteriorates, so does our sanity). There were harsh words, and raised voices, and frankly at that beastly early hour none of that is helpful, necessary, nor provides any kind of useful change – it’s just ugly on top of unhealthy wrapped in miserable. It’s been a difficult morning, so far. It’ll likely be a difficult day.

Drenched in my own frustration (with being wakened from too-brief sound sleep), my reaction was to immediately dress and leave for work (at 4:00 a.m., for real??). It’s a day in the city, in the office, and hitting the road early means “no traffic” and just maybe a chance for my Traveling Partner to get some sleep. (I’d forgotten about the night-paving going on, just outside of town. I’m so damned glad I saw the signs, really saw them, because that flagger was just on the other side of a blind curve.) I’m still bleary-eyed and groggy, hours later, but I made it safely up the highway. There was no traffic, and paradoxically this slowed me down and made me much more patient with myself and the journey. No rushing. Driving the speed limit. Making a point to get gas before I got on the highway. Eyes on the road. It was an ideal commute in all respects – other than my drowsiness. I got into the city just in time for BigNameChainCoffee to open, so I at least have this coffee that I’m slurping on rather mindlessly. I’m just doing it for the caffeine and hoping for the best. It would not matter if it were the best or worst coffee I’d ever had; I barely notice that it is even coffee, at all.

…It’s a fucking work day…

I groan softly to myself. I’ll be alone in the office awhile longer (about 2 hours more, I think) before other people show up. I’m a bit light-headed and dizzy with the persistent drowsiness. Fuck I wish it were easier for my Traveling Partner to wake me or ask me to rollover without actually also triggering me. It’s just no good for either of us (it’s not his fault, it’s just a limitation we’re facing together). I bet it’s hard to “wake me gently”, because I often sleep so very lightly in the first place, and it’s not at all rare for that light sleep to be in a state of hypervigilance. CPTSD – the “gift” that lasts a lifetime. 😦

Sunlight begins to pour in through the office windows. The tearful drive up the road to the office wasn’t any fun, and I’m so tired… but…the sunshine seems vaguely promising of new beginnings and fresh starts. I haven’t heard from my Traveling Partner for a couple hours, so I’m hopeful that he was able to get to sleep and get some rest. Later I’ll call the sleep doctor and plead for any interim solution that will make better sleep possible for my partner under these trying circumstances. I’m at a point where offsetting the timing of our sleep seems like a reasonable solution – even though I’m not doing shift work these days. I mean, if I go straight to bed after work and sleep for 4-6 hours, then get up about when my partner goes to bed, we at least both have an opportunity to get enough sleep to function. This shit? My Traveling Partner isn’t wrong; it’s unhealthy, and not sustainable. Neither of us can do our best work as our sleep slowly degrades, and it’s taking a toll on our personalities and ability to interact with other people pleasantly (including each other). That shit this morning was just not okay. Understandable, but not ideal. Things have to change – for both of us.

…I’m so tired…

Today I’ll focus on the work in front of me and do my best to ensure I take all my medications on time, get to my handful of meetings, and also don’t forget to refresh the parking meter. I arrived in the city before the parking garage opened, before valet parking hours for this building, and so I parked on the street. So many little things to remember. (Call the sleep doctor!)(Get the video for the work project shot!)(Check on the Farmer’s Market)(Shit! Don’t forget the post-pandemic I9 re-verification for work!)(File PACT Act paperwork!)(Get take-out on the way home!) I’ll try to refrain from biting my nails and tearing at my cuticles. Today I am painfully aware that I am entirely made of human.

I look at my work calendar. I’m pleased to see that it is such a light day, generally. Quiet project work, very few meetings. I look over this bit of writing and count up the spelling errors identified by the spell-check feature. Huh. 42. Seriously? Yeah… fatigue gets the blame; my spelling is generally quite good (or at least used to be). I correct the errors, knowing I’ll for sure miss something. I nearly always do.

Well, shit. I guess it’s time to begin again? Unavoidable, in any case.

Time to find new perspective on old problems.