Archives for category: Relationships

It’s seems true that when I become complacent I put myself at risk of failure, mostly by decreasing my moment-to-moment awareness of all the other sorts of risk. If I stop paying attention, I am more likely to misjudge distance, make a mistake, or make a choice that seems useful in that moment, unaware what a poor fit it will be for the next. Things get broken.

I don’t break very much stuff, generally, but I also live the self-perception that I ‘am clumsy’ and am (or if not now, once was) inclined to break things ‘by accident’ through careless handling. I got yelled at a lot for it (and worse). Over time, I developed careful habits and as an adult in her 50s (and as far back as my late 20s), I rarely break things. I do now and then; I am human. For so many years, breaking or losing something would just devastate me – it felt like a portion of my memory and experience were being ripped from my grasp, each possession being a sort of totem or artifact of some particular experience or memory. I learned, over time, to cling to possessions – not because having  material goods is a big deal, but each precious thing holds the power to bring my memory to life, and I don’t want to forget.

Someone else breaking something of mine has been easily able to wound me on a deeply emotional level – particularly if the damage is willfully wrought by angry hands. It has been traumatizing. Damaging. Part of that pain likely comes from the incorrect assumption that someone else has any real capacity to understand how much pain such things can cause me, and that they know how they are hurting me – it’s doubtful they do; it’s not rational-reasonable-appropriate. That thinking is part of the chaos and damage. To be so easily hurt by something being broken has long been part of who I am. The willful breaking of a lovely stemless wine glass by someone in a fit of rage permanently changed a promising long-term relationship, for example; that person never looked the same in my eyes, and I lost all ability to feel comfortable or secure around that individual, compounded by their lack of concern, lack of caring or awareness, and the lack of even a pro forma apology, the experience said things to me I could not ignore. But…

We've all got baggage.

We’ve all got baggage.

The baggage is my own, and it’s been heavy to lug around so much attachment to so many things. Like Jacob Marley’s chains. Oh, shit – is that the point of that? I just got that.

Details

Hand-crafted luggage.

Last night as I moved through the small hallway of my apartment, I noticed… my foot. I have two of them, they are right there at the bottom of my legs, and I’m often standing on them. I generally have no real awareness of the compression of feet to floor and body above, but for a moment my left foot felt strange – like I had trod across scotch tape, or gum, or… like something was sticking to the bottom of my foot. I stopped where I was and reached out for balance, standing on one foot. I grabbed the top of my desk (meaning, I think, to put my hand on the wall), forgetting that the hutch has remained free-standing all this time – because when I moved in, I was not sure this would be the permanent placement for the desk. (You know where this is going, right?) I jostled that hutch, and it wobbled a bit – and everything on top came crashing down, bouncing off the desk, off the keyboard, off the chair, spilling memories and small bits of things all over the floor. As I exclaimed, I grabbed the edge of the hutch firmly and steadied it; it didn’t fall.

Memories everywhere. Broken small breakables…everywhere. Well, not everywhere – just all over the carpet in a blast pattern from the desk to the kitchen. Something important didn’t break – and this is the point of this entire bit of writing this morning; the one thing that didn’t break, the most important thing, is my heart. No tears. No freak out. No despair or devastation. No feeling that these memories were now ‘gone forever’. No sense that I had ‘lost everything’. No fear that I would not be able to ‘fix it before anyone notices’. No terror. I wasn’t even mad. It was an ‘oh, damn, well let’s get that cleaned up’ sort of moment, and nothing more. This stopped me in my tracks, briefly . I sat down, took stock of the chaos, and then got to work picking it up, filled with a feeling of love and compassion for the years that I carried so much pain over such tiny things, and finally understanding how connected the experience was to the domestic violence in my first marriage, as much as to my injury; although I noticed the lack of sorrow and tears, what stood out most last night was the lack of fear.

There were some casualties, but it is the memories that are precious, more than the things.

There were some casualties, but it is the memories that are precious, more than the things.

I spent the remainder of the evening in a celebratory mood. It’s worth celebrating incremental change, and growth and healing over time. I savored the experience of feeling calm in the face of the sudden disarray of precious things, and I enjoyed handling each broken item with joy and contemplation of its significance and appeal. I sorted things as I went… this one can be fixed… this one turns out not to matter much… this one isn’t damaged… this one is beyond repair… this one might become something new… No tears. I wondered, at the time, if I would at some point suddenly find myself weeping with some small object clutched in my hands, hysterical with sorrow, as has happened so many times. It hasn’t happened yet. I am not that woman, now.

I think it is worth observing that while I find this a profoundly positive bit of growth, I didn’t chase it down aggressively and practice practices targeting the experience of despair and grief over the loss of small things. The improvement was a ‘freebie’ – a byproduct of practicing practices, general good self-care, improving my relationship with myself, learning to treat myself as well as I also want to treat others, and improving on my sense of perspective in life. Incremental change over time being what it is, once I had changed enough, I noticed it. Last night was like an unexpected gift from a loved one – only this one is from me, to myself (and still manages to be a surprise).

Learning to treat myself well, and take care of me with skill feels like a homecoming.

Learning to treat myself well, and take care of me with skill feels like a homecoming.

Today is a good day to take care of me. As it turns out, practicing good self-care can change the way the world feels. 🙂

It’s been that sort of day; wholly relaxed, defined by contentment, nurturing, fulfilling, satisfying…all manner of lovely descriptions come to mind. Strangely enough, I made choices to create this day, and then chance weighed in pleasantly (it doesn’t always go that way, of course)… I suspect, if I had enough practice, enough perspective, and enough awareness, I could create this kind of gentle still day on any day, in any place; the ingredients are sown, nurtured, and harvested from within.

Today I'm not making this complicated.

Today I’m not making this complicated.

I slept in, although my night was somewhat interrupted by the background awareness that this is my only day of leisure for many to come; that’s enough to make me wakeful. Still, I slept in well past my usual waking hour, and woke gently – even lingering in bed for some 20 minutes or so, stretching, breathing, and letting my consciousness catch up with the day. I’ve been kind to myself today. Yoga, meditation, a short walk, healthy meals, time spent reading, time spent writing… time spent, well-spent invested in my own company, my own joy. My traveling partner has been a delightful presence in the background, at his own place, exchanging messages and emoji with me throughout the day. I enjoy love – and I enjoy loving.

A lovely misty morning walk before the rain began.

A lovely misty morning walk before the rain began.

At some point, sitting on the love seat, watching the rain come down just on the other side of the glass patio door – which in this small apartment functions rather well as a ‘window wall’ – I really saw my container garden, again in disarray left by the crews of workmen over weeks. I went outside into the rain, without any regard for it, and changed the entire arrangement of potted roses and herbs – and why not? It’s mine. I was inspired by something I noticed in the careless placement of the pots; they formed an attractive low ‘wall’, visually, and with only some minor adjustments will provide a bit of a privacy screen in the summer – and immediately gave me space to sit under the eaves, dry even in the rain. Better still, and what caught my eye in the first place – all of the plants now receive natural rain. I’d had several tucked back against the building (based on where the sun fell), and while there are some advantages to that from the perspective of lighting, it required me to water far more often.

…I didn’t really move them around for efficiency. I just wanted to enjoy my garden. 🙂

It’s been that kind of day – a day for me to enjoy. I’ve very much enjoyed it. There are verbs involved, of course, and practices… It’s been a lovely restful day. It’s been enough.

The week ended well, which wasn’t something I expected, but I do often find that dread is a poor choice of foundation for anticipating or predicting things with any reliable level of accuracy. My back is aching, and it will be a short weekend, but I am not suffering, or struggling, or fussing with frustration over what is not, or even what is.

It was not obvious at first glance what the day might hold for me.

It was not obvious at first glance what the day might hold for me.

I am home, comfortable, and relaxed – although I am still in street clothes for the moment. Dinner is in the oven; it made sense to get it started before I shower away the last reminders of work (the tension in my shoulders, and the subtle sense that a presence of the office lingers on my skin).

I allowed myself to enjoy the beauty of the dawn uninterrupted by anxiety or dread.

I allowed myself to enjoy the beauty of the dawn uninterrupted by anxiety or dread.

I let my traveling partner know I’d be offline this evening after scrolling through my Facebook feed and realizing I could easily kill all the hours of my short weekend doing so; I choose differently tonight.

A bold blue evening sky lead me home.

A bold blue evening sky lead me home.

There are a lot of changes coming, some seasonal, some grand, some inconsequential to the point of going unnoticed were I not the person I am. I forget sometimes that this quantity of change is sometimes stressful for me in ways I can prepare for by being aware – and being kind to myself. There are as many good things about change as there are uncomfortable things about change – and there are so many changes I straight up embrace (still dealing with some of the consequences of change, nonetheless). I’m not bitching about change – there’s no point. Bitching about change is a little like complaining about spelling mistakes; the complaint changes nothing whatever, and really… it just is, sometimes. I can observe the change, accommodate the change, resist the change, embrace the change and build on it… I definitely have choices. Change is okay.

I took the scenic route; this is my life, why would I cheat myself of beauty or of love?

I took the scenic route; this is my life, why would I cheat myself of beauty or of love?

It’s a quiet autumn evening solo, and it feels comfortable, safe, utterly without anxiety in this precious tender moment of my time – spent entirely on me. It’s beautiful, and it’s enough.

Being love. Being the woman in the mirror. Being content on an autumn evening.

Being love. Being the woman in the mirror. Being content on an autumn evening.

The morning is well underway, and it is generally pleasant – coffee and jazz. I hadn’t intended to write, but finding my thoughts pulled back into a particular source of work stress in advance of the day, I decided to make a point of starting the morning from a different perspective.

I'll begin again.

I’ll begin again.

Different thinking leads to different choices, and different actions – how could it be otherwise? I can choose my thinking, and that’s a good place to begin.

I start with something easy and spend some minutes thinking about what I’ve got that works so well – small things work for this – I smile when I recall finding the small-sized food processor from a well-made brand, on sale, and in a color that suited my decor and my taste. I laugh realizing I’ve not yet used it. I listen more attentively to the music. I smile, enjoying the good quality stereo and the lifetime of experience and music that allowed me to select it with such care. It was a great way to treat myself well when I bought these speakers. I can see down the short hallway into my bedroom. I love that I have already made the bed and the view is tidy, orderly, and I can see a picture of my beloved on my nightstand. This is a good start to the day.

Now I can move on to the hard stuff – work stress. Work stress sucks. For me, it sucks just as much because it’s only fucking work in the first place – what right does it have to encroach on my time? lol I take a few minutes to think appreciatively to have a job at all, and to have one that pays adequately for my general needs. I remind myself that I’m not standing outside in the heat or in the rain, breaking my body over manual labor. Climate control. Indoor plumbing. A well-stocked break room. The work is not physically difficult or physically demanding. I’m salaried. So – yeah. All of that is worth being grateful for. The rest is just… small stuff. What I don’t do today, I will go in and do tomorrow – and the national security is not at stake, and no one is hurt if there is an error in a spreadsheet. Hell, this work has limited scope, limited impact, and trust me – limited importance. So what’s to stress over? The emotion of the moment? Fuck – it’s not worth all that. lol

It can be so easy to get caught up. It rarely feels as easy to let go. There are definitely verbs involved.

Yeah. Now I’m ready. 🙂

Should I even be writing, right now? Possibly not; something is clearly amiss, and I don’t know what. It started out as just a tiny bit of aggravation in the morning when my consciousness stumbled on an unasked question…what do I do with unasked questions? Well…generally… I ask them. Like words spoken aloud to another person, a question asked in the stillness of my consciousness lingers – answered or not. Since then, my day has seemed…off. One tiny thing after another… small, so small… the car I reserved was replaced with something different for an unspecified reason. Small.

There was less than a quarter tank of gas in the car, forcing me to detour shortly after I picked up the car, against a time crunch; the gas station attendant had never refueled a zip car. Small. He told me the card wouldn’t run; he didn’t realize that the reason I gave him two cards is that one had my ID # on it… apparently. Small. I wait to be refueled after finally sorting all that out with the very surly attendant. He comes back to the vehicle, hands me back both cards and says ‘That’s it, you’re all set.” I say thanks, he walks away – I start the car and prepare to pull out and freak the guy right out; the fuel nozzle is still in my car!! Apparently no, I wasn’t “all set” – or he and I had very different ideas of what “all set” means in the context of refilling my gas tank. Yelling at me in that nasty way wasn’t necessary. I know not to take it personally…it adds to the tone of the day.  Small.

Work sucked in some vague unsettling way; I feel like I’m defending my position every day, which is not comfortable at all. I also have a subtle sense that I am being ‘set up for failure’ which makes me uneasy. Feeling uncomfortable, unsettled, and uneasy are a poor fit for my particular issues – the result is problematic for interacting with others; I feel distrustful, suspicious, and on the defensive – not a good work environment for thinking, for detail oriented work, or for enjoying myself professionally. Nope, it kind of just blows. Is it work though…or is it me? Realistically, I do have to consider that question, too, because it very likely could be me.

See what I mean though? Small things, piling on, and by evening I am at the edge of tears – and at the edge of not wanting to go on. Yes – it’s as dire as it sounds, and I didn’t ease the strain on your own consciousness by softening the words. No, I’m not likely to act on feelings of despair, futility, and bleak resignation these days – or certainly not in any immediate way. It’s not who I am. I’m human, though, and I feel these feelings as intensely as any of the good ones – sometimes it seems these dark times are more intense, which hardly seems fair at all. It’s already hard enough to drag myself out of the muck, back into the light of hope, and promise, and tender kind self-care when I’m just struggling with pain or fatigue or a headache.

Shit – what set me off, right? So hard to be sure… physical pain? I deal with it every day – even the good ones. Blood sugar too low? That’s a sure-fire shitty mood in the making, and I didn’t get lunch calories on time – so that’s a maybe. I took care of that a couple of hours ago; it’s not the likely cause of the tears cooling on my cheeks now. Something set me off, and it started much earlier today… sometime around when it occurred to me to ask that unasked question. Are you curious? It was this… “What is my safety net if I lose my job, now that I live alone?” This was followed quickly by “Or what if I am seriously injured and can’t work any more? What then?” When my traveling partner lost a job years ago, I was there for him – he moved in with me, and I covered his expenses as long as he needed me too, we shared the load. When I lost a job, he was there for me, keeping me motivated, and taking care of anything he could to ensure that I could focus on my job search. When we shared a living arrangement with another partner, we were both there for her both times she lost a job, and for months.  Hell, I returned to the workforce, after I left one job for my health, to support our family when she lost her job unexpectedly. There was no question for me that this is what I do for my loved ones…only… what about me? If I lose my job now, living alone… what then? If I couldn’t work? What then? There is no one here to come home to…

Don’t get me wrong, things happen, and people manage all the time – some with incredible grace and skill and emotional balance. I’m sure I’d probably get by okay, (I always have) and I’ve never been out of work very long… although I’d be a fool if I thought that were a given. Insecurity and doubt don’t give a shit about data. Fear is an ass kicker as emotions go. Anxiety… yeah. Anxiety is an emotion that doesn’t fuck around – she’s out for pure destruction, accompanied by mocking laughter.

So. Yeah. This evening is hard. I’m writing about it because sometimes that changes things, provides me with perspective. I feel more than a little lost right now and it’s time to break out the checklist, and go down the list one thing at a time, practicing the practices, and letting the tears fall. My worst fears rarely prove to be ‘real’. The worst of my anxiety seldom lives up to the dreaded outcome promised. My doubts and insecurities are no more real than daydreams of winning the lottery. “This too will pass.” I know that – I do know that. I’m pretty sure that this sort of shit is called ‘mental illness’ precisely because I do know that – and still feel this. This? This right here is PTSD. Every scrap of this emotion feels completely irresistibly rational and real, and my brain wants very much to support it with ‘evidence’, with ‘proof’ – or at least some very persuasive argument. I undermine those efforts with mindfulness, with breathing, with awareness – refraining from feeding the demons is definitely a good practice, and it’s a place to start. I definitely don’t make decisions from this vantage point.

“I’m okay right now“. It’s a pretty critical observation, when shit goes sideways unexpectedly. It’s hard to argue with a quiet room, and solitude when it’s time to ask “who is responsible for this moment right now?” There are verbs involved, and it just isn’t as easy as it looks on paper, from the perspective of a better moment, on a different day. So here we are alone together, the woman in the mirror and I – and the self-care still matters, and the self-work is still hard, and the PTSD is still a thing, and my injury is still what it is (which is generally an inconvenient and somewhat embarrassing pain in the ass) – and the choices for how to deal with all of that still belong to me. I can only do my best – and that has to be enough.

I can begin again.

I can begin again.

Update: Just a bit later. Self-care basics are so huge. I went down my checklist and there it was – I wasn’t in much pain this morning, and although I took some of my Rx meds first thing in the morning, I overlooked later medication, and entirely overlooked the cannabis extract that is so important to my day-to-day well-being (it is the most effective thing for managing the emotional volatility of my PTSD). It’s a foolish mistake with consequences that are uncomfortable – but I really am okay, and that really is enough.