Archives for category: Post Traumatic Stress

It is raining at this trailhead. Just a sprinkle, really, and not enough to deter me this morning; I am restless and tired and I feel a need to “walk it off”. I slept poorly. My Traveling Partner was up late with the Anxious Adventurer, clearly enjoying each other’s company. I retired for the night a little later than usual, and every time I started to doze off, a bit of loud conversation or the bark of unexpected laughter would wake me. This went on until well past eleven, though I stopped checking the time at that point, resigned to the serious likelihood that I just wasn’t going to get the rest I need.

… I’m honestly still annoyed about it…

I woke sometime around 02:30, wakened again by some human sound. My Traveling Partner was awake. I felt a moment of sympathy; I wasn’t sleeping well, either. Headache-y and sound sensitive, I got up to pee, had a drink of water, and went back to bed. I woke groggy and stupid when my silent alarm reached full brightness, cross to be facing a new day already. My dreams were full of work (actual manual labor). I woke still tired, eyes scratchy, head aching, squinting at what seemed to be the overly harsh reality of another work day ahead.

…Fuck, I’m tired and irritable…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Dinner was really good last night. The evening was pleasant and genial. Fun. Time well-spent, although listening to Tool turned up loud for the last hour of my day (sort of) didn’t do my fucking headache any favors. I almost laughed when my Traveling Partner asked me “Have you heard this one?” (Was he kidding, I wondered? I endured 14 years of Tool in the relationship prior to ours. lol. Yep. Heard that. All of that. All the time. Every day for 14 years. I even like some of it… but the anger got old and I got bored with it. I sit thinking about that; it’s a little sad when great art becomes boring. Trite? Overplayed.) I return my attention to yesterday’s pleasantness. It was a delightful day worthy of savoring for a time – so I do.

I’m sitting at the halfway point of my walk, enjoying the sprinkling of raindrops on my face in the darkness. It feels refreshing and my mood improves sitting here quietly, listening to the sound of distant traffic and a soft breeze stirring the meadow grass. My back and neck ache ferociously. There’s still an entire work day ahead. Still, I’m okay – for most values of okay. I’m just tired. I feel less cross, understanding there was no ill will in my crappy night’s lack of rest. The Anxious Adventurer lacks awareness of how his voice carries. My Traveling Partner was enjoying his son’s company. Their conversation wasn’t unpleasant or burdened with negative emotion, and perhaps on a different night I’d have slept through it easily. I let it go. There are more important things in the world to be mad about.

The rain begins to come down harder, making it difficult to write. I get to my feet and stretch, looking back down the trail in the direction I came. Yep. Another day ahead. There are verbs involved and some real effort to be made. I’m already tired. Doesn’t matter much, it’s still time to begin again.

“Are you even a good person?”

I sip my coffee, listening to the rain fall, thinking about goodness, character, doing and being good, and what any of that really means in the world we actually live in, where nations hold themselves up as righteous while committing genocide, and human beings individually lay claims to being “good people” while espousing hate, and “othering” human beings who have never harmed them at all.

Are you even a good person? If you answer “yes”, the follow-up question has to be “what does that mean to you?” How will you answer that? How do you defend your less than ideally good thoughts or behaviors? You know the ones I mean – and we’ve all got some. We’re human. Our brief mortal lives don’t lend themselves well to aspirations of goodness.

… But are you at least trying, though? Are you making the attempt to be a good human being, a good person? Putting real thought and effort into it? Working day after day to be a better version of yourself than you were yesterday?

This is on my mind this morning because of a brief interaction with strangers waiting in line ahead of me at the pharmacy yesterday evening. I was tired, and irritable. Hungry. They were making conversation to kill time in the long, slow, line (and blocking the aisle, forcing other shoppers to detour around them). They were mostly shit-talking younger generations. One of them was a woman somewhat older than I, the other about my age. The details are pretty irrelevant, aside from admitting they sounded pretty ignorant to me, and more than a little offensive. One of them caught my eye and probably picked up on a microexpression of some critical sort. She laughed somewhat uncomfortably and said, as if in protest of my judgement, “But I’m a good person!”

… Sometimes my mouth has a life of its own…

I held the stranger’s gaze and and replied rather cynically “Are you?” I said nothing more, and she turned away uncomfortably. There was a brief pause in their conversation, before they resumed, quietly, seeming more aware of other listeners. The line continued to move slowly.

Since then, I keep coming back to this idea of viewing one’s self as a “good person”, while simultaneously doing, saying, or thinking things that completely undermine any potential truth to that statement. It wants thinking about.

Are you a good person? I’m not judging or accusing you. I likely don’t know you, and even if I do, how could I truly know the content of your character sufficiently well to judge you? But… Are you, though? Are you at least trying?

Am I a “good person”? Hell, I don’t know. I want to be a good person. I value the idea of goodness. I aspire to goodness. I recognize and appreciate goodness when I see it. I seek to practice goodness as I understand it in all of my relationships. But – and it’s a big but – I am human, I am mortal, I have been traumatized, I was raised and influenced by human beings of poor moral character, and have participated in systems that could not ever be described as “good” – for nothing loftier than a fucking paycheck. At best, I guess I can say I’m generally at least trying to be a good person. My results vary. My efforts are often more aspirational than practical. I’ve still got a lot to learn and I still need an entire lifetime of practice.

I guess my point is… be humble about what a good person you are. You probably aren’t all that g’damned “good”, if you’re truly honest about actions no one observed, lies no one ever caught you out on, or thoughts you’ve never admitted to another person. Definitely keep working at it – the journey is the destination. The world has a serious shortage of goodness, and maybe nothing keeps us from the darkness besides our own will to fight for what is truly good and right. The effort to be the best version of ourselves is worth making, every day, in every interaction. We’re going to fail a lot, all of us, so let’s also be kind to each other about how difficult it is, while encouraging each other and also keeping things real when we see it all going very wrong. “See something, say something” is a useful strategy. Make corrections, not excuses – but for goodness sake, turn that critical eye toward your mirror, first, last, and often!

… Funny that this is where my thoughts are this morning, but I definitely need to reflect on these things as much as anyone…

I could do better. I’ll keep practicing.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain continues to fall. I sip my coffee waiting for daybreak and wondering whether the rain will let up enough for a walk before work. I think thoughts about art, about love, and fill my heart with gratitude. I’m fortunate to live where I do, when I do. This particular “here and now” is pretty good. I can comfortably afford to spend time reflecting on whether I am a good person, instead of worrying about drones, bombs, or whether there will be food or drinking water for my family.

I sit quietly with my thoughts for awhile. What defines a “good person”? I watch the traffic roll by like the seconds hand of a strange clock. Isn’t it time to begin again?

Another autumn morning, no sunrise before the work day begins and I’m okay with it. I’ve got these quiet minutes of solitude to reflect on upcoming holidays, ongoing genocides, and an important election. (Please vote, I hope that goes without saying.) The world feels like it has gone mad… maybe don’t contribute to the chaos, pain, and mayhem. Don’t add to the body count. Seems almost ridiculous to say such things, but… there’s a lot of killing going on, and it is being perpetrated by human beings. Don’t be one the killers. Actual people are committing atrocities against other actual people, and somehow finding a way to justify their participation in these horrors.  Don’t do that.

It’s morning. I’m okay, though I am aware of the world, and the pain, misery, and destruction we somehow refuse to end. It’s a foggy autumn morning. The sky overhead, though, is clear and starry. It gives me a brief hope.

Traffic in the fog.

Yesterday was a good start on a new week, that is already almost over. I’m over being ill, which is nice. Monday is a holiday, which I had forgotten, and the long weekend ahead feels like an unexpected treat. I sit quietly awhile, grateful for the small win. I gently shift my thoughts away from more worldly matters, and reflect with gratitude on the many things in my life that are working out well. Small moments of joy and satisfaction. Contentment. These things matter, too, and there’s an enormous reserve of resilience waiting within them. I breathe, exhale, and relax, giving myself over to a few moments of meditation, before I begin again.

Nice break from the day-to-day, and I definitely needed it. Now it’s back to life, back to reality…. and, oh, hey, there’s a song for that. I add it to my playlist, queue it up, and sing along as I drive to the trailhead feeling grateful that I took today off to “reacclimate” to real life after I returned from the coast.

I slept deeply last night, the first really good deep sleep I’ve had in days – since before my trip to the coast. I rarely sleep really well in a hotel. I often sleep poorly at home. I don’t take it personally or fret much about it anymore; I have sleep challenges and I’m pretty accepting and real about it. Sleep disturbances have been “a thing” for me since I was a child. I’ve experienced multiple parasomnias, some of which persist to this day, and some that I seem to have “grown out of”, or recovered from with medication or therapy. I don’t think of them as “part of who I am” so much as relatively commonplace challenges I happen to endure. I’ve long since given up seeking a root cause or wanting to assign blame. It just isn’t about that. I’m generally grateful to sleep well and deeply. It’s quite a wonderful experience when I do.

Watching the traffic pass by, waiting for the sun

The morning is dark and foggy. I watch the traffic pass by on the highway and sit quietly with my headache (which is a 7 out of 10 this morning) and my tinnitus (which seems to be turned up to 11). Unpleasant, uncomfortable sensations on an otherwise pleasant morning. My head is filled with the remnants of surrealistic dreams of running down forested paths between festival tents and brightly painted caravans, and strangers doing strange things. I was playfully evading a group of my friends for some reason, and woke before I could figure out why some angry old man was hucking tangerines at me. lol

… How’s that for having nothing at all to do with reality?…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I am vexed by this headache. I feel certain I have “things” to do today… but for the moment I don’t recall what, and there’s nothing on my list to guide me. What am I forgetting? Anything? Is it just that nagging feeling, unattached to anything real? I sip my coffee, and wait for the sun.

…Fuck this headache, though…

My Traveling Partner definitely missed me while I was gone. The reality of having me back home, in his presence, with all of my issues, and very authentically me, this woman that I actually am, wasn’t embraced with the same enthusiasm, or so it seemed to me. I’m sometimes quite frustrated by the sensation that the woman he loves so deeply may not actually be the woman I am. I’d love to be able to see myself through his eyes…both the version he holds in his heart when I am away, and the creature who vexes him so when I am with him. I wonder what I might learn about myself – or about my partner?

Daybreak comes.

The gate to the parking lot finally opens with a familiar rusty screech and a quiet clang. The timing has changed. I take note.  Reality legitimately does not care about my expectations one bit, and it’s a useful practice to reset expectations with new information. I try to do it often.

It’s still early. Chilly morning. I’ve got a warm shirt on, and a comfy zip-up fleece. The sunrise is orange through the mist. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. Good morning for walking and for self-reflection, and a good morning to begin again.

This path won’t walk itself.

I’m sipping my coffee, waiting for the sun. I’ll enjoy the sunrise, finish loading the car, and then head for home. I miss my Traveling Partner, and it’s time. My coffee is quite good this morning; it’s left from yesterday’s very excellent coffee, purchased on my way to a beach walk not too far away. I knew I’d want a good cup of coffee this morning, early, and it was honestly too late in the morning for coffee drinking when I bought it – so I got a 20 oz Americano, black, and enjoyed something less than half of that with the plan of saving the rest for this morning. It has proven to be a good plan. 😀

I’m more or less packed. I’m showered. Dressed. There’s no particular reason to linger, besides this handful of words, a moment for meditation, and the coming sunrise. Very low stress, as mornings go. I’d intended to get a bit closer to sleeping in, but my eagerness to see my partner overcame any potential for further sleep around 05:00 a.m.. LOL Hardly counts as sleeping in, but whatever. I’m rested. I’m content to enjoy my coffee, and this quiet moment.

A productive weekend, creatively.

The time away has been well-spent, creatively speaking. 9 new pastels, a couple of them exceed my expectations and quite delight me. All of them are adequately satisfying to meet my needs. Another 9 hours or so, over 3 evenings, spent studying the art of pastel and a variety of techniques commonly used. 4 or 5 hours spent walking the beaches. An hour or so spent getting my hair cut. Unmeasured time spent chatting with my Traveling Partner because we often miss each other more than I enjoy my solitude. Time well-spent, indeed.

…Not one single nap, at all, how strange…

… I’m wrong. lol I forgot about my unexpected early evening nap the night I checked in. Good grief, I was sooo tired.

…Now it’s time to begin again, to go home, and hopefully to take with me renewed enthusiasm for the day-to-day, and restored resilience for the things that will go wrong – because things definitely will. lol It’s a very human experience.

I reflect on the days now behind me. Did I get what I was looking for? What I needed? I think so, yeah. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Now I’m just waiting for the sunrise, and drinking my coffee. I’m ready to begin again.