Archives for category: Post Traumatic Stress

I take a breath and exhale completely. So far, it’s a good morning. Honestly, not really all that different from most other mornings, as far as the circumstances and practical factual details go. Most mornings start out pretty well, generally, in my experience. It’s the little things that make the difference; moments of aggravation or inconvenience, some little vexing interaction, a stubbed toe, a forgotten item only noticed on the other end of a long drive, miscommunication, mismatched expectations, some little disapppointment – any of these can result in the feeling of a crappy morning. How bad is it really, though, on any given day? I sip my coffee and think about that awhile.

I haven’t looked at the news today. There’s hardly any point, it’ll probably fit neatly into one of a small number of unimpressive categories: sponsored content, straight up advertising, “official” missives from the government that amount to actual fucking gaslighting, repeats of yesterday’s news copied again and again and spit out as AI slop, and opinion articles sharing the opinions of people whose opinions have no value to me. There is no point in immersing myself in that nonsense at all. I’d be better off reading Proust, by far. lol (If you think your attention span has been impaired by device use over time, making it hard to watch a 2-hour movie, get yourself situated – In Search of Lost Time, by Marcel Proust is 7 g’damned volumes of poetic prose maunderings. It’s a commitment. Still better than doomscrolling the news.)

I sigh quietly and smile. I’ve started reading Proust several times. I’ve yet to get past the first volume before wandering off to do other things and live life, and coming back to it after so much time has passed that I’ve got to start over. LOL Still manages to be a more worthwhile endeavor than doomscrolling some feed clogged with AI slop, by far.

I sip my coffee contentedly, grateful to have coffee at all, with the world in the state it is in right now. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let that shit go, again. Now is not the time, really, and when it comes to being stressed out over distant events and people that we have no influence over, and whose actions barely touch our lives, well, that’s as pointless as expecting to read Proust “cover to cover” in an afternoon. It’s not a practical expectation, nor an efficient use of time. lol Instead, I take time for gratitude, and little things. It is a pleasant way to prolong a lovely morning, and to set up my day in a positive way. It is a practice well-suited to beginnings. With Thanksgiving (in the US) coming up pretty soon, it’s a strong step forward to make time for gratitude. It can be difficult to begin being grateful, if I’m vexed or irritated in some moment, but worthwhile then too; sincere gratitude quickly crowds out irritability, frustration, and anger. Handy sometimes.

It is the little things I’m often most grateful for, and the modern conveniences that I may sometimes take for granted even though elsewhere in the world (rather shamefully) they may be luxuries. Like… healthy food to eat, clean drinking water, indoor plumbing, high speed internet connectivity, wifi, and even this laptop from which I work each day – these all seem like relatively practical “necessities” in modern life, but I promise you they truly are not. I sip my coffee and reflect on my good fortune and my privileged circumstances. I’m lucky, indeed. Even luckier to have the partnership I do, and the cozy little home we share. I grateful for the skills that are valued by employers who have roles suited to my skills and my nature, such that I’m able to work – and even to work remotely, from home or wherever, and often on my own terms. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner’s healing has come so far, and that he is able to work in his shop again. I’m grateful for the housekeeping and help with chores that I get from the Anxious Adventurer each week. I’m grateful that my partner and his son both give me the space I need when I need it most, too. That’s a pretty big deal for me.

I smile to myself, feeling “filled up” on gratitude and ready to begin a new day. I’m walking my own path, and the circumstances and choices are my own – and I’m fortunate to enjoy the validation and agency that I do (unfortunately unusual even in the US). This path has brought me so far in such a (relatively) short time, and there is further to go. I’m grateful for that, too, and I’m ready to begin again. 😀

In spite of taking some weekend time to properly relax and rest, and in spite of sleeping decently well lately, and in spite of having some help and rearranging things to reduce my day-to-day workload, I’m tired. Not the physical fatigue of effort exerted, instead it is the consuming, distracting, encroaching loss of will and focus that comes from “too much for too long” and I really need a break from… everything. It’s dumb. I feel as if I am literally fatigued by living life. I’ve got to do a better job of self-care, before I face legitimate burnout.

…Seems like there is always another chore to do, or another errand to run…

I start the morning already tired, already feeling “over it”, and the work day hasn’t even started. It’s raining at the trailhead, and I’m in pain before I even start my walk. I’m going to walk, anyway, it is a favorite self-care practice, and it is in the very nature of a practice to be practiced. I sigh to myself, feeling annoyed by everything but the solitude, and start down the path, one step at a time.

Eventually, I reach my halfway point. As I stop, the rain stops too. My rain poncho, which has been flapping against my legs as I walk, or wrapping annoyingly around me in the wind, becomes something to be grateful for; it’s keeping me dry, sitting here on this very wet bench. My sour mood is sweetened a bit by the moment of sincere gratitude. I sit with that feeling for s little while. It’s better than being cranky, by far.

The morning is still dark, and I persist in yearning for a weekend that is still days away. It’s time to plan the Thanksgiving dinner. Time to figure out the holidays generally. Life feels ludicrously busy. No wonder I’m tired. I rarely give my mind enough rest. I breathe, exhale, and relax. These quiet moments in the mornings are so necessary to my mental health overall – but they are not enough to prevent me from exhausting myself over time. I need to do a better job of setting boundaries, and pacing myself – and asking for (and accepting) help.

…It is proving to be quite difficult to adjust from full-time caregiving back to a more evenly balanced partnership, even though it’s timely, appropriate, and necessary…

I sit listening to the rain sprinkling the leaves that still cling to the trees, and spattering my poncho. I enjoy the delicate not quite random percussion. I breathe the rain-fresh autumn air. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning, so I don’t hear much in the predawn quiet, besides the zing and buzz of tinnitus, the pattering of raindrops, and my breathing. As if to call me a liar (or to expand my perspective), an HVAC system somewhere nearby comes on, and adds its tones to the background noise. I chuckle to myself; it’s definitely not personal. It’s just noise.

Daybreak comes. It is a gray rainy morning under a soggy overcast sky. A deer startles me walking past. I didn’t see her approach. I twitch, startled. My movement startles her in turn, and she gives a little jump then runs off to the side, into the trees. As she disappears, I see that she was not alone, and wonder how long I sat quietly, surrounded by the herd (three does, four fawns, and a stately buck with branching antlers), before they began to walk on. Do they recognize me? (“Mama, that weird creature is back.” “Don’t get to close to that thing, you don’t know where it’s been.”) I wonder if they mind the rain?

I don’t much feel like getting on with the day, really, but there are chores, and errands, and work to be done, and all these damned practices aren’t going to practice themselves. I laugh at my eagerness to do nothing at all…or maybe to paint… either way, now is not that time. The weekend ahead is a long one (for me), for the Veterans Day holiday. I’m looking forward to that. Right now though, it’s time to begin again, and I get to my feet to head on down the path ahead, one foot ahead of the other, a step at a time. (That’s how progress is made, after all.)

I take a lot of pictures. I mean, since I got my first camera with a phone in it phone with a camera feature, I do. That was back in… 2010? I guess so, that sounds about right. The same year that I got together with my Traveling Partner. Wow. 15 years ago, I got my first smartphone with a camera. I still love “real photography”, but film and film processing were crazy expensive, and my tendency to take a lot of pictures to get one good shot made 35mm photography too costly to bother with, other than vacations and occasions. Now, I am out and about everywhere with a good quality camera in my hand. “A picture is worth a thousand words” is a common enough saying. It’s harder to describe a thing than to see it first hand and “get it” in a glance. Not only that, there are so many interesting and useful metaphors that can be found in an image, and so many interesting sights to see that I might want to look at longer or really study! So, yeah, I take a lot of pictures.

Autumn leaves on the lawn after a rainstorm.

…I am not “a photographer” in any but the most literal sense of “a person who takes photographs”, at least “photographer” is not part of my own sense of identity. I’m an artist, and writer, and even a poet… but my artistic endeavors are generally to do with paint or pastels, my writing is… right here… and my poetry… yet to be published because I am just that g’damned lazy. lol I truly do like things “easy” as much as possible, and I am prone to walking away from an unfinished project entirely if I am too frustrated by it. I’m not bragging – I consider my laziness a pretty noteworthy character flaw, frankly. But, and this is maybe more important, I also recognize how incredibly tired I often am, and how relatively unimportant some projects actually are, and I do try to put self-care ahead of “busy work” as much as possible. The woman in the mirror is generally doing her best to balance the demands of adult life with the needs of her “inner child” in a way that feels successful, reasonable, and productive. I sip my coffee and think about that for a few minutes. I am taking this time for me.

Halloween is over, and all the pumpkins go on clearance. Is there a metaphor here?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Busy work day ahead. I got the rest I needed, but I am definitely yearning for more sleep. I chuckle to myself – humans are weird. I catch myself daydreaming about sleep, as I sip my morning coffee. A new morning, a new day, a new beginning – sleep is not even on the agenda for many hours to come.

Small town living, dressed up for the holidays ahead.

I let my mind wander to the holidays ahead. The stores are already full of Giftmas merchandise, and online retailers are already making their “Black Friday Deals” known. I’m not generally interested in Black Friday shopping because it’s typically limited to heavily advertised, marked-up goods that get marked down ahead of the holidays so the sales feel “special”, and the intent is to drive people to buy a lot of stuff they may not even actually need, but the price looks like a deal (and in difficult times, that’s quite a lot of incentive to buy). Mass-market trade goods of various sorts are not usually what I’m looking for, so the Black Friday hoopla is not “for me”. I’m okay with paying a reasonable price for the things I actually want or need, and shopping with intention and care in local shops.

…G’damn things are expensive right now, though, aren’t they? Fuuuuuuck…

I feel my anxiety level begin to rise, thinking about money. That’s not strange. I suspect most people are anxious over money matters these days. Furloughs, lay-offs, unpaid involuntary labor (um… isn’t that “slavery”?) – with the government shutdown lasting weeks, folks are not just feeling a pinch because there’s a gap in their pay – they are facing real hardships, because there’s no money for food, heat, rent, bills, medical care… you know, life. It’s hard to believe that something as fucking stupid as partisan loyalties to political parties is enough to pit Americans against each other, most especially when their fucking job is running the g’damned government. Assholes. (Sorry, this really vexes me, I guess. You, too?)

Happy holidays may be ahead; you have choices.

I sigh to myself. I love the winter holidays so much. I love the lavish sparkle of lights and ornaments, and the festive packages under the tree. It’s not so much about the money, though it does come at a cost each year, it’s purely about the delight. My Traveling Partner and I have already discussed setting clear limits and scaling way back this year, due to the high cost of … everything. That doesn’t subtract from the joy or the warmth or the delight, just means finding the shining center of that holiday spirit in something other than purchased goods. Easy enough. I’ve got recipes – books and books of them – and the basic ingredients for holidays baked goods are available, and mostly sort of affordable, with wise decision-making. It’s certainly not a good year for careless spending. (Maybe it never is?)

I think about my disappointment when I saw that the assorted old-fashioned glass Shiny Brite ornaments are all marked “made in China”. I remember when that was not the case. I remember buying beautiful glass ornaments that were made in Germany, in the Czech Republic, and in Pennsylvania. I sigh to myself. Fortunately, I’ve got so many ornaments already that there simply is no reason to buy more, other than to commemorate the year, and my beloved Traveling Partner has been making those for us each year for a few years now. 😀 Nothing lost, and my moment of disappointment is built on nostalgia, not any kind of legitimate hardship or change that affects me in some practical way. I let it go.

I look over other pictures of recent things and places, and smile. It’s nice to hold on to a memory in the form of a photograph. It feels so real.

Places and memories, captured in photographs.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. I prepare for the day ahead. It’s time to begin again.

It is early morning on an ordinary Monday. I’m awake, and feeling as if I’d slept in, but that’s more to do with the end of Daylight Savings Time than anything else. I got up and dressed and left the house without waking anyone, as far as I could tell. I reached the trailhead before daybreak and got to my halfway point before sunrise. The sky is just barely showing any hint of daylight yet-to-come.

It can sometimes feel as if my choices are very limited, or potentially even that I “have no choice” in some moment of stress or urgency. That’s rarely true. Just this morning, getting to this ordinary location for an everyday experience that is quite commonplace for me, I made many choices. Fleece or cardigan? Put my boots on while seated on the edge of the bed, or carry them down the hall and put them on right before I leave? Hair pulled back, worn in a twist, or loose? Grab a yogurt drink or a bottle of water on my way out? Do I need to stop for gas? Most of these choices happened almost in the background, requiring very little of my attention. They’re still choices.

I smile to myself in the darkness. I’m okay with my choices so far, today. If I weren’t, I could begin again, and walk a different path (literally or metaphorically). The small everyday choices may seem insignificant, but they say something about my values, and how well I do (or don’t) live them. That’s information worth having. It can be hard to correct the path we walk, if we don’t notice we’ve stepped off that path.

A sprinkling of rain begins to fall. I can continue on, until I reach the parking lot, or I can turn back. In this instance, the choice won’t be about distance; it’s about the same either way. 😂 I laugh and pull my tightly folded rain poncho out of my pocket, and pull it over my head. It was a smart choice to bring it, I think to myself. Then the rain stops, making it completely irrelevant. It rained only long enough to make my poncho too wet to shove back in my pocket. I chuckle to myself. Sometimes choices do work out that way. I don’t really mind being unnecessarily prepared. It’s far better than being unprepared.

I think about the day ahead. Am I prepared? Ready to make choices? Ready to do the many verbs awaiting me further up life’s path? I don’t know… I’m at least ready to begin. Again.

It starts to sprinkle again, and I get to my feet, ready to walk on. Prepared.

It is morning. Daybreak seems to come early, but it’s only the end of Daylight Savings Time here in the US. In terms of reality and the nature of time, or the timing of various celestial events, nothing actually changed. I walked the trail in the gloom as daybreak came, wrapped in autumn fog on the marsh, and grateful for my warm sweater and the soft fuzzy fleece I threw on over that.

Halfway to somewhere.

The trees form from the mist as I approach them. The morning is spooky and magical, and very quiet. I don’t hear any traffic on the nearby highway, only my footsteps and my breath. I keep walking, heading for my halfway point, and a moment to pause, meditate, and watch the dawn become a new day, before walking on down the trail and out of the fog.

At my halfway point, I stop. I sit. I write. I think. I observe. As day brightens, I see a small cluster of shapes out at the edge of the meadow. Deer. I think it’s likely to be the same small herd I often see here, when I walk this trail. Two mature does resting in the tall grass, partially hidden, and their young born this year, already losing their spots, are accompanied by a buck who stands alert and watchful a short distance away. He seems less concerned with me than whatever may be unseen in the trees beyond the meadow. I watch quietly. Color slowly becomes part of the view, as daylight begins to brighten the meadow and marsh. I see fall colors on the trees, now. The buck raises his head and changes his posture. Something has his attention, and his movement communicates something to his family. They rise from their resting place and join him, as he walks away. They move along quickly, quietly, and disappear into the fog.

I sit where I am, perched on this fence rail, awhile longer. I’m in no hurry. There is, sadly, war going on in the world, and where there is no clearly defined war going on, there may be conflict with less clearly defined sides. In both cases, the outcome for many innocent noncombatants is unchanged: violence, chaos, trauma, suffering, and possibly death. I sigh quietly. Humanity could already be beyond warfare if we chose to put it aside as an artifact of more primitive times. War is ugly, destructive, and there are no actual winners besides those who profit from it. Everyone else loses. War has no positive outcome that could not be more easily obtained (with greater value) without bloodshed. We’re pretty fucking stupid about some shit, as creatures go.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pull my awareness back to this moment, here, in the middle of this meadow, alongside the foggy autumn marsh on a November morning at dawn. There is no war, no conflict, here. Just the quiet and the fog, and the steadfast oaks standing nearby, partially obscured by the fog. It feels rather as if anything could be out there in the mist, waiting to be discovered. I swing my feet contentedly, breathing the chilly autumn air, filling my lungs with it, and releasing my wartime worries into the fog with each exhalation.

I remind myself to make self-care a priority.

I spend a few minutes thinking about the day ahead. There is housekeeping to do, later. I think about my untidy personal space at home. It is my office, my studio, my meditation space, and my getaway when I need a quiet moment. The relative orderliness there (or lack of it) often signals my general stress level and state of emotional health. It’s a bit less tidy than I’d ideally like, right now, and it reflects my background stress level pretty accurately. Maybe today I’ll spend some time sorting that out? I know I’ll feel better once I do, that’s just real (and a tiny bit funny).

I sigh as I get to my feet. I take a big deep breath of the cold morning air on the marsh and look up the trail where it disappears into the fog, so mysterious, so promising. I glance at the time. Just as I thought – it’s time to begin again. 😁