Archives for category: Post Traumatic Stress

I woke to a gray morning, cool, overcast, threatening rain without yet raining. I didn’t take time to fully wake before throwing the windows open to the cool breezes, and filling the place with birdsong and fresh air. I had dressed, still not yet quite awake, and fumbled with my phone before losing interest in the clumsy comedy. It was while I was making coffee that I actually started to wake up, becoming more aware, first, of how awake I was not, initially. I took my coffee to my meditation cushion and sat a while, watching the morning become a day from that vantage point, without actually meditating, at all.

I’m not sure I’m quite awake even now. There’s time for all that. No rush. I’m off work today.

The meadow and the park beyond are a lush assortment of shades of green: bright, dark, yellow-y, more blue, browning at the edges, neon on the tips. It’s beautiful. So much of what lives is a shade of green. I sip my coffee and observe. Still working on being actually awake. Starting with being aware. A bright-eyed red wing blackbird stops by to check on my progress with some skepticism. He has a bite of breakfast, and calls to his buddies in the neighborhood, perhaps about the quality of the meal, before departing.

I sip my coffee and breathe, simply existing in this moment of contentment and calm without letting it slip away unnoticed. I can’t overstate how much it has mattered to do this – just this simple thing. Savoring the simple joys, the sweet moments, the easy times, and really giving in to allowing these sweet pleasures to be important, to be as much of everything in their time as I ever allow something moment of grief or ire to be… then… Then moving on in life to this new place, where it is the sweetness that is by far the more valuable experience, cherished wholly as it exists, looked back upon more often than I look back on tragedy, and shared as words, as memories, and indeed being appreciated in an active way. Verbs. It’s a journey; there always seems further along to go than the place I am standing right now, however far I have come.

Speaking of journeys; my Traveling Partner will likely return sometime today. I smile thinking about it, even though I know there is a chance we won’t actually see each other. The turn-around time between this thing and that thing is quite short this week, and I think he’ll be headed out again with only the briefest opportunity to see each other, if any exists at all. lol I grin knowingly thinking about last year’s promises to spend so much more time together through the autumn and winter months. It didn’t happen that way. We snatched what time we could from busy lives. I have rare bitter moments about it, but the freedom we give each other to go, do, and be, on our own agendas rather than living lives constructed by some recognized cultural framework, penned in by other people’s expectations of love, is part of what makes loving each other so precious in the first place.

I break out in unexpected laughter, startling the birds away from the feeder. Damn I write long, weird sentences! LOL I very much write the way I talk, actually, and the commas tend to fall where my speaking the words would place them…but… If you don’t know the rhythm of my speech, how would you “hear it”? Do I leave readers struggling to make sense of things because I happily (sloppily) mix metaphors – and tenses? What about this major overuse of ellipses? This can not possibly be librarian or linguist approved. πŸ˜€ Shit. Still happily grinning at myself, my fingers continue to tickle my keyboard, and words continue to flow. We’ll get through this, together, yeah? πŸ˜‰

Today is a good day to begin a journey – or begin it again.

A picture of a rose in my garden, on a sunny day. Beauty needs no excuse. πŸ™‚

It’s a lovely morning. Cool without being chilly. The sound of birdsong is carried over the meadow on flower scented breezes. The apartment begins to cool off quickly. I sip my coffee and wonder why I am anxious, without really digging at it ferociously…more a gentle sort of “Huh, that’s peculiar…” sort of a thing.

Beginnings are not all the same.

I slept restlessly, but I did get the rest I need. It’s a very short work week, since I have Memorial Day off, but also had planned my first camping trip of the year for next weekend. This “short week” is the likely source of my anxiety; there is still the same amount of work to do. I’m excited about my camping trip. I am overdue for really getting away, setting everything down, and taking my ease for a couple of days of unrestricted leisure out among the trees. I find that the same time spent at home doesn’t work out to quite the same result as time spent out there, surrounded by trees and plants, no device connection, and plenty of quiet time to meditate, to read, to hike, to sketch.

I sometimes find myself anxious out among the trees. My results vary there too. There’s no escape when it hits, it has to be mastered in some way, or at least endured until it passes. It always does pass. It is a lesson in beginning again. It is a lesson, sometimes in a literal way, in “turning the page” on my own narrative and resuming things just a bit further on. I have resorted, even, to simply writing “I am anxious in this moment”, then actually physically turning the page in my notebook or journal, and continuing to write. Sometimes this obvious trickery works. lol Most of the time it doesn’t, but peculiarly even in those moments when it doesn’t work so well, I still find comfort in turning the page on my anxiety.

Anxious moments are pretty horrid. They do come up with fair frequency, even now. The change, mostly, seems to have been that they no longer just grow and grow until they take over my entire experience, backing me into a corner, making me small. They remain, generally, moments. This is a bigger deal than words convey.

I look my anxiety this morning in the face with some wonder; it neither gets worse nor gets better to be so frankly acknowledged. In this moment, it merely exists. I breathe. Check my posture. Gaze out at the lovely meadow as the sun rises. Sip my coffee. Again notice the anxiety. Another deep cleansing breathe. The softness of the meadow breeze on my skin creates a smile that tugs at my face, competing with my anxiety for my attention. I yield to the smile, noticing the precious breeze. I keep at it, observing the simple delights of the morning one by one, between deep full un-rushed breaths. My anxiety begins to recede, initially as a peculiarly tidal experience, at first coming and going, coming and going, with my breathing. Over minutes it fades into the background altogether. If this were a bound paper journal, this would be the point at which I would turn the page…

It’s time to begin again. πŸ™‚

I slept well and deeply, I woke “too early” out of habit. No stress there. I got up, took my morning medication, opened up the house to the pre-dawn breezes, and gently wondered at how light it is these days at 4:19 am before returning to bed. I love summer sleep. πŸ™‚ The mild early morning breeze and scents of the meadow fill the apartment, and I nap a little while longer before waking to greet the day. A wholly lovely start to a summer morning of sunshine, and dewdrops sparkling on the lawn.

I will brave Memorial Day weekend traffic at some point today… but I might ride the bus downtown for my salon appointment… The convenience of the car is not sufficiently enticing when I fill out the details with the holiday traffic, the fuss and bother of finding downtown parking… I vacillate. Car? No car? Convenience? Ease? Quick? Low stress? It’s a small enough choice, one might expect it to be an easy one. lol

A lot of life’s choices seem to work this way; seemingly simple until I look beyond the superficial if/then, yes/no elements of the decision. Life can sometimes seem an elaborate prank. I find value in shifting my thinking to consider it more as a “choose your own adventure” game… and as it happens, it very much works that way. I make a choice, the choice dictates what other choices, experiences, and opportunities develop in my new, altered, future… another choice, another change, and so on. At any point, I can completely alter the course of my life with a choice. I think I implicitly know this on a very fundamental level, because when I feel life going sideways, spiraling out of control, or need to “back track” to sort something out, I go looking for the choice that brought me to the place I’m in. I think, though, that I’m pretty terrible at being correct about which choices lead to which outcomes. I mean, some are easy; I got married, therefore I am married to my Traveling Partner. Choice, outcome, done. It’s just that easy…only… is that really the choice I made that was the one that resulted specifically and directly in having that opportunity? In being in that place at that time? In being situated in life in circumstances that put the idea in front of us both in a positive way?

It’s hard when I’m existing in some unhappy distressed moment, or feeling discouraged and beat down, or when I am grieving, frustrated, or raging, to be mindful of how much of my experience is legitimately within my control. That’s not a moment in which I want to be reminded of it, either, honestly – like a child, I need to “have my moment” and get over that bit, but once my head clears, and I’ve taken time to process my emotions and settle down to dealing with things properly, it’s generally my own choices that lead the way to relief, to contentment, to change, to fulfillment… to the place I choose, wherever that may be. Life is interesting in this way; we have this immense power all along, but it takes some of us a lifetime to be aware it was ever ours in the first place, and then we’ve still got so far to go to learn to use it well, in service of our needs over time, in service of becoming the person we most want to be, in service of greater good in the world – or other less savory choices. It is a choice. Actually, it is a lot of choices.

What will I choose today? Where will the journey lead me? How will I become more the woman I most want to be? How will I right wrongs in my life? How will I change the world? Where will my story end? Will the narrative of my life be an incredible adventure? Will it be lovely poetic prose? Will it be a rousing call to arms? Will the narrative of my life foment revolution or beg for change? What about yours? Right now, right here, this morning – are you the person you most want to be? What will you do about that?

Neither too early nor too late.

It’s time to begin again. πŸ™‚

Remember that day I said I need to get some rest? (Was that only yesterday?) I eventually arrived home from work, bone tired, brain tired, so tired… that down deep, long gone toward stupid & clumsy tired. I careened around the apartment for some little while. I don’t recall when I went to bed, but I can gauge my cognitive fatigue, specifically, by the disarray I woke to.

My cell phone was left on a side table and never recharged, fitness tracker carelessly left on its charger and never put back on, half a dozen coffee mugs left behind pretty much everywhere I paused thinking I’d have a cup of decaf…tea…broth… forgetting as the short evening proceeded that I’d already made something, and left it elsewhere. As I changed from work clothes to comfy clothes, I carelessly left things laying about, which is not my habit. My hiking boots in the living room, my socks oddly left draped on the shoe stand by the front door, my jeans draped over the side of the bathtub (?!), my top dropped on the floor and left there, my earrings on a bookcase… I can follow the path I took, from the front door, to the neatly stacked yoga pants and t-shirts in my closet, back to the kitchen – the cupboard with the coffee mugs was left standing open. When I did I go to bed? I don’t recall that at all, but I don’t guess my state of mind counts as “awake” to begin with. lol

I woke at 5:15 am. I slept in! (Yep, it counts.) I slept deeply, dreamlessly, restfully, and I had no intention of getting up so early… so I went back to sleep. When I woke again, to sunlight streaming into my room between the slats of the blinds, I eagerly got up for coffee… no coffee. I’d meant to go to the store last night. Clearly, though, I was in no condition to be operating a car, so I’m rather glad I didn’t. I throw on some jeans without any particular effort to be particular, and grab the nearest clean top and drag my brush through my hair, step into my sandals, and make a quick trip to the store for coffee, salad greens, and… tangerines. Why the tangerines? Why the hell not? (Actually, it is in part a rather practical thing; they are the right size for a serving without being cut in half, and they are quite delicious in recipes, too.)

I returned home, wandered about the place putting things right, and getting myself organized for a day of… getting organized. LOL I find creating order from chaos very relaxing when there is no deadline or agenda, so a day of tidying up, laundry, and housekeeping sounds just the thing for a relaxing day. At some point, the windshield replacement technician will show up, do that thing that needs to be done. I hear a contented sigh in this quiet room. Me. A side glance confirms what my lips reported last time I took a sip from my coffee cup; it’s empty. It’s a good time to begin again. πŸ™‚

By the time I got home last night, my brain was just… done. I don’t even have any particular recollection of the evening, aside from a brief chat with my Traveling Partner. I crashed out a little earlier than “on time”.

I wake this morning to a gray storm-cloudy not-quite-sunrise of a dawn, after an interrupted night of otherwise deep sleep. The morning seems both very ordinary, and also a little strange, and a bit surreal. I have the peculiar subjective sense that I’m seeing things differently than usual, but can’t pin down anything obvious. A potential sign of mental fatigue requiring better rest than I’m getting. I’m not surprised, if that’s the case; I’ve been giving a bit more than all of myself at work for the past several days, working to complete a complex bit of analytical work in advance of a deadline. I haven’t been sleeping particularly well. I dream about work. I’m super glad this is the last work day in my week. I’m ready for some rest.

I pause to appreciate a small change that has developed over time; I am more aware of the rhythms of my experience. I more easily observe when poor quality sleep becomes, over time, an impediment to cognition and emotional balance. I am more likely to be aware when the pattern of my emotional “weather” changes over the course of the day, in such a way as to indicate I am more deeply fatigued than I may realize. I am more able to recognize when – and how – I need to step up my self-care, to support and nurture this fragile vessel for further lifetime’s enjoyment. It’s nice. (It took – and takes – practice, and my results vary.)

I think about a friend I know is suffering right now. I think about how far I’ve come, and how little certainty I felt then that my experience would change. I had no understanding that change could bring me to “now” – or that “now” could be this good. I still have some shitty moody angst-y despairing or angry or irritable, frustrated, rage-y moments. That’s what they are, too. Moments.

One moment of many.

Lately, for the past 2-3 days only, I’ve been waking feeling pretty generally content but finishing the day feeling moody, disappointed with life, frustrated, and angry without any particular cause that makes sense. It was last night, sitting quietly with my fatigue and making no point to distract myself from it, that I became re-aware that deeper, prolonged mental fatigue, tends to also coincide with that pattern of slowly losing emotional resilience over the course of the day. I am more self-aware and inclined to observe my experience without judgement these days, and it’s delightful to note that the pay-off seems, in this instance, that I will be able to avoid some unfortunate meltdown or freak out, that would ordinarily go down just at that point that I am not aware how deeply fatigued I am, at the end of some long (probably joyful and exciting) day, because instead I’ll get some damned rest this weekend. πŸ˜€

…I make a point of checking my calendar, of course… Well. Obviously, a weekend which I am counting on for rest is that rare weekend fully booked with events, errands, and tasks. LOL Shit. I sit smiling under my furrowed brown, chewing on my lip, mildly frustrated, a tad annoyed… I’m replacing the car windshield; a non-negotiable errand that needs to be done. No room for change there. An appointment with my stylist for Saturday… I could cancel a haircut and reschedule… but it’s hard to get those Saturday appointments. So. A great opportunity to point out how good self-care intentions go sadly wrong. You can say “I told you so” when I’m cross and moody on Monday morning. πŸ˜‰

I won’t be running myself ragged this weekend, in any case. I’ll make a point of resting, and treating myself with care, gently, because I matter to me. Camping next weekend. My birthday the weekend after that. I suddenly feel tired before those events even get to “now”; my brain is reminding me to take getting some rest seriously. I sass myselfΒ silently with a smile and daydream about relaxing out among the trees next weekend. I’ll certainly get the rest I need then, but I know that doesn’t change how much rest I need, now. πŸ˜€

Fatigue changes the emotional weather, and the emotional landscape. Just saying. I have become more aware how important it is to get the rest I need.

Speaking of rest… it’s already time to go and do and be. One more work day – then rest.