Archives for category: Post Traumatic Stress
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No Words

July 20, 2024 //
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Well… Not literally “no words”…cuz here I am, eh? Words. I’ve got a fair few of these fuckers (words) laying about. May as well use them…but… This morning I’ve nothing much to say, really.

… I’m tired, and there’s this damned headache and this ringing in my ears…

“Anhedonia”. Now there’s a fucking word. Anhedonia is more or less simply a loss of delight, of interest, of the will to engage with pleasant and interesting things. It’s not “boredom”, and it most definitely is a “mental health issue”. Sometimes it’s simply that circumstances grind me down until I just fucking give up on a “just don’t give a shit” level that transcends even irritation, leaving me without the will to resist or try to overcome it at all. Here I am this morning.

… I’m just that tired, cognitively and emotionally…

Caregiving is hard work, and I’m learning that a great deal of the work involved is in the form of emotional labor. I have profound respect for people who are caregiving a loved one for years. I’ve only been doing it for months. It’s fucking hard, and it’s draining. 8 days until my coastal getaway, and I definitely need it, but… I’ll also need to really get away from the emotional labor of caregiving to get the rest I need so badly. Most of the brief opportunities for downtime since my Traveling Partner’s injury haven’t given me the rest I really needed, because I failed to leave the emotional labor behind, and returned home to still more. I didn’t understand that I needed to put that down, and didn’t understand what a large portion of the caregiving it really is. (I’m pretty new to taking on a caregiving role, and have never had a child.) I failed myself in this way, and by extension ended up also failing my Traveling Partner – in two ways.

1. I failed my Traveling Partner by not taking care of myself sufficiently well to ensure I am up to the challenges and requirements of caregiving over time. It’s an endurance race, not a sprint.

2. I failed my Traveling Partner by not setting clear boundaries with regard to emotional labor generally, or communicating clearly when the burden is too great for my limited human capacity.

I can see how these are both also failures of self-care, too. No wonder I’m fucking exhausted.

This morning I got to the trailhead and just sat in my car weeping quietly for some unmeasured amount of time. I really didn’t feel like walking, at all. Anhedonia is a difficult challenge to overcome, but eventually I got out of the car and trudged down the trail irritably. The rising sun only annoyed me and my sour mood followed me down the trail. I spitefully didn’t stop to sit and write in my preferred location, choosing instead to annoy myself by sitting uncomfortably elsewhere. (Good grief, really?! Fucking stupid.)

I’m sitting. Writing. Feeling irritable because my back aches, my head aches, my tinnitus is loud, and my Traveling Partner is injured. From the perspective of this moment it feels very much that there is “no end in sight”, and despair threatens to rear its head. I sigh deeply, and just let the unwanted tears fall.

This shit is hard.

…It could all be so much worse…

This shit is hard.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Eventually, I even stop crying, and even mostly stop feeling overcome by anhedonia. I clearly need to get some downtime, some relief, a real break… Which makes me feel like an asshole; my Traveling Partner gets no break from being injured and in pain and needing my help. Fuck.

… Did I mention that this shit is hard?

I’m okay for most values of okay. My Traveling Partner is, too. He’s got surgery scheduled. This is, thankfully, a temporary situation, and we’ve got the additional help of the Anxious Adventurer now (which is greatly appreciated and very much needed). I make a point to reset my perspective, my expectations, and my awareness. It’s not helpful to become mired in pain – particularly someone else’s, and especially when I’ve also got to manage my own. It’s hard, sure, but it truly could be worse, and in some respects it isn’t even as bad as it sometimes feels. We’re fortunate: I’m employed, we have health insurance, we’ve got help, and this isn’t a terminal health issue.

If I were better at this caregiving stuff, I might be more easily able to lift my Traveling Partner from his pain-focused funk, when he gets stuck there. I sit with that thought for a few minutes. I think about the many years of therapy and skilled mental health care I’ve been fortunate to receive. I think about mindfulness practices, meditation, and CBT.

… I remind myself that I can’t do the verbs for anyone else, and that we’ve each got to walk our own hard mile…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sometimes the best thing I can do to care for my partner is to care for myself. I think about the day ahead, and the things I’d like to get done. I think about my partner, and what he may need today, and consider how best to be there for him.

It’s a new day. The sun is warm on my back. I hear voices coming down the trail. It’s time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, health, loneliness, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Surfing the Wave

July 18, 2024 //
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Yesterday went sideways fast, mostly a byproduct of pain (mine, and his), and associated emotional volatility. Mine. His. It sucked and generally speaking the entire day was pretty much wrecked by it. Oddly, from an outside perspective, apparently, the details of the day amounted to “a great day” characterized by numerous successes, but the emotional qualities of the experience were wildly out of touch with any of that. Being human is complicated sometimes.

As bad as the day seemed, generally, it began and ended well. Not my usual experience, and it seems (on reflection) somehow associated with the addition of the Anxious Adventurer to the household dynamic. Interesting. Looking back on the day it “doesn’t seem so bad”, but good grief I am glad it’s behind me and I am hoping for better today. I’m in less pain… A promising start.

Here comes another opportunity!

I hit the trail just at daybreak. The morning had a slight chill to it that felt refreshing. The sunrise began as a smudgy streak of a reddish hue, like a wound becoming infected. The air was still, and hazy in the distance. My tinnitus was far louder in my ears than the sound of distant traffic. I walked along, listening to my own steps, thinking my solitary thoughts.

…10 days until my coastal getaway…

The case I purchased to hold, protect, and transport my pastels arrived yesterday and I took a moment to put the delicate sticks of colorful pigments into their new home. No more small boxes – just one tidy case. I’m delighted with the result, and feel more prepared for my upcoming trip to the coast to paint. I sit at the halfway point of my walk, thinking about art, love, and inspiration, and watching the sun rise. The work day will begin soon enough, and I’ll turn my thoughts to work when it does. For now, my time is my own.

I’m looking forward to the weekend, though it seems likely to be quite a busy one. I’ve got a number of boxes set aside, filled with small objects and items quickly packed and moved out of the way to make room for the Anxious Adventurer. Now that things are settling down, it’s time to take a closer look, to dispose of what lacks value, to display noteworthy curiosities and decorative things, where space permits, and more carefully pack those things worth keeping but for which the time is not now. Then whatever boxes there are will go to storage for a while. It’s a process that can be a bit emotional, and although I am not dreading it, I’m also not looking forward to it.

I breathe exhale and relax. The sun is deep luminous orange as it rises above the horizon. I save my draft and turn back up the trail. The sunrise dazzles my eyes as I walk through the oaks.

Don’t stare into the sun!

The air is already warming up. I’m thinking about coffee and new beginnings, and change. I’m feeling pretty good this morning, aside from the headache that accompanies me most days.  Getting to the car, I sit on a nearby picnic table to finish my writing, change my boots for softer shoes, and sit for a moment, just being. I watch the sun through the trees and contemplate how I would compose the scene on paper and how that might work in pastel. Old thoughts, new medium.

…Fuck, my tinnitus is so loud. I make a point to listen to myself breathing, which helps “put the tinnitus in perspective” and anchor my awareness to externally audible sounds.

…My Traveling Partner pings me…

It’s hours later. My plans were upended pretty quickly. My morning walk had served to give my partner a bit more time to get the rest he needs, but the Anxious Adventurer has his own routine, and his own work hours, and his own plan, and my partner was awake earlier than he’d hoped, with no likelihood of getting more rest if I were to be working from home, as I’d intended. It was early enough in the morning to make a change, easily, with no particular stress and I offered to do so, and hastened home to grab my laptop and head to the office. It’s nice to have the option. My day ends up starting a bit later than I planned, which means it will end later than I’d like, but if my Traveling Partner gets the rest he needs, it’s a win for both of us.

…The necessity to begin again comes in a lot of forms. The willingness to make a change based on circumstances is a useful first step. Then, by beginning where I actually am, I can proceed to the next thing, the next need, the next plan… the next moment. So far, it’s still a lovely day – and all I had to do was begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Endurance

July 17, 2024 //
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Short walk. My ankle aches. My back aches. My head aches. It’s okay, it’s physical pain, and aside from that the morning is a pleasant one. I sit listening to the sound of distant traffic through the buzz and whine of my tinnitus. The sky is a threatening assortment of stormy clouds, blues and grays, but the forecast has no rain in it, just a summer warning about heat and wildfires.

No rain expected today.

I sit quietly with my thoughts. Another work day. Weirdly, I simultaneously feel surprised that it is “already Wednesday”, and also annoyed that “it’s only Wednesday”. lol Human primates are hilarious and not wholly rational about such things. Time is kinda “made up” anyway; there’s only “now“. I chuckle, entertained by my own foolishness. It’s that kind of morning.

We’re seriously the sort of creatures that would think up some dumb shit like this. 🤣

I catch myself picking at my cuticles and make myself stop. I watch the clouds move sluggishly across the sky, colors shifting as the unseen sun rises. The leaves and branches of the trees within view are tossed on a lazy breeze that I don’t feel.

… I remind myself to go by the store on my way home, later…

I had the trail to myself. The park is still deserted. It’s just me, here, on a quiet morning. On the other side of the vineyards adjacent to the park, migrant workers are already working. I wonder to myself who would do all the agricultural work, if we stopped allowing migrant workers to come here for that purpose? I don’t know many people willing to work that fucking hard for so little pay. Another solution would be to pay farm workers a living wage… But I don’t know many people who could afford what groceries would cost then, and I am damned sure the big food conglomerates aren’t going to trim back their profits. It’s a hell of a problem. I think about it pointlessly for some minutes. I have no solutions to offer.

… Human greed is some ugly shit…

My mind wanders this morning and I don’t make any particular effort to be more disciplined. I sit quietly and let the thoughts pass through my awareness without interfering. (Breathe.) It feels good to enjoy the stillness. (Exhale.) These few solitary moments are so precious. (Relax .) I savor the quiet time alone with my thoughts. I try but fail to recall quite when my tinnitus developed and when it became so bad… I feel certain I didn’t have it as a child. I definitely had it when my Traveling Partner and I got together. My outburst of laughter makes me choke on my coffee – that’s “only” a span of some 35 fucking years or so to sift through! lol

… The clock ticks on…

Things are starting to settle down at home.  The Anxious Adventurer is moved in. The household is pretty much restored to order. New routines are beginning to develop. I feel genuinely comfortable with taking a couple days away for myself, knowing my injured Traveling Partner won’t be alone. 11 days? 11 days left to wait. I’m counting them down. I’m excited to spend some time alone with my thoughts and my pastels and see what comes of it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s an ordinary enough Wednesday, and a pleasant summer morning. I don’t need much more than this; it’s enough. I glance at the time and think briefly of work. It’s not yet time…soon though. Another day, another beginning, another opportunity to be the human being I most want to be.

… Another chance to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Beginnings

July 12, 2024 //
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Yesterday had a pace and intensity I don’t generally prefer, but a lot got done, and what got done is behind me now. Some details in our living spaces are being refreshed and updated, partially triggered by the arrival of the Anxious Adventurer, but some of it simply completion of long-planned projects that had been delayed too long (life happens).

The dark somewhat monolithic secretary that has sometimes been a computer desk, sometimes a “mini office in a box”, and sometimes a cabinet to hold stray things is finally out. All the way out. It has served its time and I am grateful for all of that, but it didn’t really fit the aesthetic of any room it stood in. Glad to see it replaced with beautiful natural birch bookcases, into which the books have been unpacked. We had planned for this for four years. Overdue.

A finished project.

Other things got done, bathroom cabinets added, and things moved out of the way ahead of changes to come. It was a labor intensive day for everyone, each of us doing our best at maximum capacity. By the end of the day we were all exhausted, but also feeling quite satisfied with the outcomes.

Growth works that way, too. It’s sometimes necessary to dig deep, do more in a moment than we think we can, and push through the things holding us back. It’s often necessary to discard things that don’t work and begin doing something quite different. Growth can be incredibly uncomfortable, in spite of satisfying outcomes. It’s quite a bit of actual work and there are no guarantees of immediate success.

Another perspective on growth.

…It can be so hard to let go of things to which we have become attached over time…

Reassuringly, I find, incremental change over time is generally “the way”, and we definitely become what we practice. (What are you practicing? Will it get you where you want to go?)

… Let go of what does not work…

It is pleasantly cool on the trail this morning. I feel lighthearted and at ease. It’s Friday. It’s payday. The heat has substantially abated. Almost all of the work involved in getting the Anxious Adventurer moved in and settled has been done, now. He’s here. He’s unpacked. Now things can truly begin to settle into a new normal.

… There are still a handful of details, but my to-do list no longer scrolls for several seconds. Progress.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely morning to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

A New Normal

July 11, 2024 //
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Life is beginning to develop a “new normal”. Change is, and it won’t be argued with. We adapt. Shift gears. Adjust routines. Change our habits. Resisting change, generally, is fairly pointless (especially if we chose it). How we cope with it says a lot about who we are.

My Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer seem to be enjoying the new arrangement generally speaking. I’m okay with it, too. It’s pretty nice having some help while my partner is injured. I can now see a time on the horizon of my future when I won’t be chronically exhausted and on the edge of hitting some emotional or physical limitation that shuts me down and reduces my capacity to be helpful. It’s encouraging.

Having still less time to myself and less space of my own to retreat into takes getting used to. This is offset, though, by how much better things can be for my Traveling Partner, how much more skillfully his needs can be met by the two of us splitting up the work of caregiving, and how this makes it so much easier (for me) to also focus on my partner romantically and emotionally (because I am not completely run down by physical labor). Caregiving is more difficult than it may appear to someone not involved in caregiving, themselves. I’ve certainly got a newfound depth of understanding about it, personally!

I sigh quietly to myself, sitting alone on a bench along the trail, watching the sun rise. Pretty morning. Maybe less hot than it has been? I’m grateful for these quiet solitary moments.

As often happens with me, changes in my environment (and living situation) have disrupted my sleep. I wake briefly at odd times, responding to a new noise, or turning over and somehow noticing my orientation in the room is different than it had been previously, or just different than I expect. Sometimes I actually wake, maybe sit up for a moment, or read for a little while. It’s fine. It’ll pass. Annoyingly, one of these new “wake points” is at 03:00, too close to my typical time to wake up such that I can’t easily get back to sleep. lol It’ll pass. Change is, and I do adapt.

Another work day. Soon the weekend. 16 days to my coastal getaway. It’s nice having that to look forward to. There’s quite a bit of work and change to manage between now and then, but… It’s fine. Truly fine. I feel pretty good this morning, in spite of arthritis and headache pain. Pleasant morning.

I find myself missing my Traveling Partner, though we’re separated only by a handful of miles and the few minutes of travel time from finishing my walk to returning home. Humans are strange creatures prone to attachment. lol

The sun continues to rise. It’s time to finish my walk and get on with the day. It’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being
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