Archives for category: Relationships

I’m perched on this bench in the gloom of predawn darkness, just before daybreak. The world seems quiet, from here. I could pick up my phone and eliminate the darkness, and wreck the peace of this moment immediately. I like the quiet, and choose to enjoy it, instead.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m tired this morning. The last handful of nights have been interrupted. I sigh quietly. It could be worse. My anxiety used to wreck my sleep over a ticking clock, or the quiet drip of a faucet.

My relationship with sleep has been problematic since childhood. Sleepwalking at 3 years old became, over time and additional life experience, nightmares, night terrors, sleep paralysis, exploding head dreams, and insomnia. I could probably clean up on a sleep disturbance-themed bingo game. My difficulties with sleep peaked with an aversion to sleep that eventually developed out of the terror of domestic violence. That was a lifetime ago, in another place, and in the context of a relationship that is long gone and behind me. (I’m grateful to have survived.)

Sleep disorders and difficulties with sleep are pretty common for people.

In still another relationship, a threesome of us cohabitating, my sleep was commonly wrecked by OPD (Other People’s Drama). My two partners argued (loudly) often during the wee hours of the night, and the way the floor plan was designed sort of funneled all of the sound directly towards my room. When I complained,  I was told firmly that my sleep problems were my own problem and to deal with it. Rude. Also unkind, unsupportive, and one hundred percent without any regard for their actually terrible behavior, yes, I get that. The view from here is very clear. 😆 I knew the relationship wasn’t going to work, in the long run. We weren’t all on the same page about the sanctity of each other’s sleep.

… One nice thing came out of that; I got an aquarium, and enjoyed nurturing a thriving planted freshwater community tank for many years, that looked amazing in my apartment after I walked away from that unpleasant situation.

… One necessary thing (urgently so at that point) also developed out of my difficulty sleeping, and the degradation of my mental health that progressed quickly from that point; I got into therapy, and began making real progress (such that I did walk away from that abysmal and destructive relationship). My sleep improved quickly from there.

I already had the keys to unlock good sleep “in my hands”, once I was in a safe environment. My current Traveling Partner (and longtime friend) had pointed out to me early in our relationship that my anxiety and frustration about not sleeping was making my insomnia worse, and as I went without good quality restful sleep longer and longer, everything else got much worse, too. What if I could give up the stress about not sleeping and start with being okay with being awake? I would lose the same amount of sleep maybe, but wouldn’t my overall experience be much improved? He definitely turned out to be right about that.

These days, my sleep is not sufficiently poor to bother getting up and doing anything, but for a long time it was, and I did, and that worked out nicely. Even when I was short on sleep, that was no longer compounded by seething fury, resentment, anxiety, or fear of consequences, although I might still be cross about being tired, my days were less affected. It was a major improvement.

These days? Oh. Yeah. My Traveling Partner was right about my apnea, too, and I sleep with a CPAP mask. It has made a huge difference in my quality of rest and ability to actually sleep. (If your partner is griefing you about your snoring, get a damned sleep test, stop being a dick about it, and don’t make them endure a decade of poor quality sleep over your refusal to accept that your snoring is a problem. I promise you it is.)

…My beloved is right about a lot of things. 😂 It can be a little irritating sometimes…

One other suggestion? Don’t make your wakefulness during the night everyone else’s problem. Find something to do, quietly, and let the world sleep. It doesn’t improve anything to disrupt sleep environment of others in your life, and doing so will generate anger and resentment over time. Seriously. If you are seething with frustration, anxiety, dread, or anger during the night, you are compounding the problem of poor sleep with negative emotions that can linger, or worsen your outlook on life needlessly. It doesn’t help you, or anyone else. Learn to calm yourself, then tackle the issue of difficult sleep with a calm mind.

… Definitely don’t wreck a peaceful night with a lot of loud bullshit or drama for fucks sake (anything one might wish to discuss contentiously can wait for the light of day, I promise), literally no one benefits from that, and it is exceedingly unpleasant…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, grateful to have benefited from my partner’s wisdom.  I’m tired this morning, after several nights of interrupted sleep, but I’m in a decent mood anyway. Progress paying off.

I meditate. Write awhile. Breathe and exist on a chilly autumn morning, grateful to see another sunrise. Gratitude is a very pleasant feeling. I lean into it, embrace it, immerse myself in it; it is an excellent start to the day. The dawn sky is a delicate seashell pink. The dark green trees silhouetted on the horizon are edged here and there with hints of autumn, gold and rusty red.

I get to my feet, looking down the path as I stretch. It’s a good time to begin again.

I learned something over the past couple of days. Well, I mean, I had a moment of epiphany, in which a thing (or two) clicked into place and I had an “aha!” moment of wonder and delight that almost caused me to be an ass, when my partner definitely expected me to be listening. Deeply.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

So, for context, I’m pretty shit at listening deeply with great care and focus. Brain damage is a bitch. No doubt it’ll be a lifetime of practice to get even close to the goal of deep listening routinely without internal reminders and distracting silent admonishments. I’ll get there, maybe. I’ll keep practicing.

I’m definitely a considerate and caring person, with a soft spot for friends and loved ones and a desire that they not suffer needlessly, nor most especially over something I’ve done or said… Which, put that way probably illustrates a critical limitation I am still working through, rather more obviously than I would have intended. I feel a bit pained to read those words and cringe a bit. The thing is, I reason most clearly through analogy and metaphor and understanding shared experience, which is all well and good in the abstract, but…

… When someone is experiencing acute pain of some sort, they really don’t want to hear that you understand completely because of some experience you’ve had that you’re now eager to share. Frankly, I’ve probably lost some friends with that shit. Although my intentions were good, my effort to connect and heal and nurture or comfort just resulted in someone feeling less well understood and possibly quite annoyed. Not an ideal way to approach listening…

…For some reason, it really clicked last night. My Traveling Partner was going through some shit I really really do understand only too well. I started to share my experience, to communicate understanding, and demonstrate compassion… and it was like a bright light. I got it. After all this while. Shut up and listen, let the other person say what their experience is like. Ask about that. Listen more.

Holy shit. Is it that simple?? Maybe not. Whatever would be that simple?.. but it’s sure better than being an ass and talking over someone trying to share their experience with tales of some other experience they definitely don’t care about in that moment. They want to feel heard. So…um… listen.

… Listen…

I sigh to myself. I really hate when stuff I struggle with turns out to have a very simple “problem statement” that makes sense and brings clarity. Not because I don’t find value in that, it’s just a bit embarrassing to find myself on the receiving end of yet another such moment of clarity, after so much struggle, and have it sound so simple. Now the trick will be to make use of it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The night sky still surrounds me. It’s quiet out here on the trail this morning. Not yet daybreak, and a head full of thoughts already. I didn’t sleep well. My sleep became very restless and disturbed after multiple interruptions. I woke irritated and although I am not groggy, I’m also not well-rested. (The weekend is so close, I remind myself, hang in there… there’s a long weekend of deep restful sleep waiting for me.)

I grabbed coffee at the gas station while I filled the tank. It’s fairly dreadful gas station coffee, only slightly better than “waiting at the tire place coffee”, which can substitute as cleaning solvent I’m sure. I’m enjoying the feeling of the warm cup in my hands more than I’m drinking it – my stomach will thank me. I sip it as it cools, and my brain catches up as the caffeine starts working. Doesn’t seem so bad, after my brain realizes this is coffee.

… It’s still pretty bad, but drinkable…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate, and reflect. I write. After some little while,  I’ll finish this walk and begin a new day. Hopefully I can maintain some resilience and enjoy the day in spite of being fatigued. It’s a good goal. I’ll refrain from taking shit personally. I’ll let small shit stay small. I’ll refuse to drink poison. I won’t take bait. I’ll focus on being the woman I most want to be. That’s got to be enough.

With all that in mind, I begin again.

My morning began the usual way, with waking up. It seemed fine. My headache is pretty bad, my arthritis less so. I get going and get gone, and head to the trail along the river. Seems like a good morning for it.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I had the trail to myself when I got started. That’s a nice treat, for me. The morning was off to a lovely start. (Do you hear that sound? A metaphorical shoe dropping…)

I set off in the darkness, headlamp on. Cloudy morning, and the darkness is thick, the air is still. I walk, alert and present, watching for hazards within the bobbing circle of light ahead of me. The trail is muddy and slick. I skid sideways a couple times, losing my footing in some bit of mud. I slow down. Take my time. Even late in the summer, the Willamette River is very cold. If I did fall in, it’s quite likely I would drown. I keep my steps cautious, grateful for my cane.

My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning greeting. The “good” part of that doesn’t last much longer, which sucks. There’s not much point breaking it down any further. Humans being human. (And that other shoe drops.) A missed opportunity to communicate yesterday becomes a problem today. I sigh to myself. What a shitty development. Feels as if this beautiful morning was wrecked over coffee beans, which strikes me as really peculiar, since we didn’t run out, and there was a new bag of good quality coffee beans available.  My recollection is that we hadn’t yet used up the last batch. Doesn’t matter.

In any case, this morning the magic eightball says… “Go fuck yourself.”

… Fucking hell, being human is complicated…

What matters is that my Traveling Partner started his morning with frustration and annoyance, and I lack the personal discipline to ignore the notification when he pings me while I’m occupied with other activities, and as a result, my morning peace is also wrecked (or at least interrupted), and my safety is at risk because I try to walk and text at the same time. Human. Fairly stupid, to be sure, but also very human.

So… This morning all is not well in paradise. I hurt too much to deal with anyone else’s crap this morning, even my beloved, so I’ll have to find something to do that puts plenty of distance between me and everyone else. Maybe that sounds “antisocial”, I look at it as self-care on a difficult day.

Right about now 100% of everyone who isn’t the woman I see in my mirror can fuck right off. It isn’t personal, I just don’t have enough in reserve to take care of anyone else, presently. I’ve got shit of my own to do, a great mountain of which I’ve allowed to pile up unattended over the two years of intensive care my partner needed then. He reminds me regularly these days to put more energy into my self-care, and that he’s doing much better. I know he’s right – about both those things. 

I sigh to myself, sitting in a quiet glade along the trail, alone (and enjoying that). There are chipmunks playing in the berry thicket. Robins are scratching in the muddy soil looking for a convenient breakfast snack. The air smells like autumn, and the leaves are beginning to turn. The clock ticks on. The season is changing. The sunlight of a new day catches the treetops. Whatever else I may do today, I’m definitely going to begin again.

I made my plan yesterday evening, after returning from the coast. I’d take my walk in the morning, and return home, do a needful housekeeping project, do laundry, and paint. My plan has already begun to unravel.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I stepped out onto the trail and it … squished. Mud. Quite a lot of mud, actually. I guess I’m not surprised; we’ve had a couple days of rain. In late fall and winter, I don’t bother with this trail, because it becomes treacherously muddy and difficult for me. I sigh to myself. It’s not going to be that bad, but I don’t see enough with my headlamp to feel wholly secure tackling this trail that runs alongside the Willamette River for quite a distance. Sliding off some bit of river bank into that icy water is not on my list of desirable adventures to enjoy on a Monday off! 😆

I get back in the car to write and meditate and wait for daybreak.

When daybreak comes, I embrace the opportunity to see the world with new eyes.

The trail is slick in spots and muddy, but not impassably so. I slow down, grateful for my cane. The morning is cool and still smells of rain. The robins are out, calling to each other from the trees, and scurrying along the ground, looking for tasty morsels. Chipmunks, squirrels, bunnies – it’s a fun morning to spot creatures along my route. Before I got started, there was an owl calling from somewhere very nearby. I take my time and enjoy the walk.

One of many bunnies. So many bunnies. 😆

The bunnies – young from this year, I think, based on their size – cavort happily in the weeds and shrubbery along the path, now and then darting across the path to the other side. They disappear into the brush as I approach, and reappear behind me after I pass. I wonder to myself how many will survive the hungry owl I heard earlier?

I notice leaves already beginning to turn. It seems “too soon” for those changes, but the equinox is only two weeks away. I keep walking.

The sun begins to rise above the trees on the opposite bank of the river, to the east. It shines golden through the trees. Hints of gold, amber, and russet hues among the leaves and dense summer foliage are more pronounced in the sun beams stretching across the path. Seasons change. The clock ticks on.

Annoying loud voices approach from behind me on the trail. I pause and step to the side, turning to have a look. Loud older men, with fishing gear and a rather ridiculous amount of genial camaraderie, making their way to some favorite fishing spot, with as much right to be here as I have myself. They’re still fucking annoying, being all loud and stuff on this lovely quiet morning. They each raise a hand in greeting and offer me a boisterous good morning greeting. I nod, wave, and return their greeting, staying back from the path until they pass by, then continue on my way, happy that the branching trail takes me up the hill and around the other side of the meadow, in the opposite direction.

A new day will come, and with it a chance to begin again.

“Softly, as in a morning sunrise…” I begin to sing as I walk, feeling the moment differently as the golden light fills the space between the leaves of the trees along the path. Oh, to be sure, the legacy of Nancy Wilson has nothing to fear from me. 😆 I can’t carry a tune – but I love the way it feels to sing the song in my heart.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I definitely still plan to paint today, but I know the value of a plan, and I have been humbled by circumstances too often to count on a plan becoming reality. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I sit down to my easel, but inspiration won’t make the short trip from my mind to my hands, or maybe my hands won’t cooperate in bringing my inspiration to life? Maybe my Traveling Partner will ask for my help with something else? Maybe… Life is a sea of maybes and the plan is not the experience.

Practice non-attachment. Count on impermanence. Change is.

My headache reminds that this fragile vessel has its own limitations to be accounted for. I sigh quietly. I keep walking. The clock keeps ticking. The sun rises on a new day.

I get to my halfway point on this morning’s walk just at daybreak. On one side, a slope of meadowed hillside dotted with oak trees. On the other, a view across the expanse of meadow that will soon become marsh once again, as the season changes. This is my way; I wake, I walk, I clear my mind as the steps become miles. It’s not fancy or costly, and as practices go, it seems to me to be one of the easiest to start and to follow. On the other hand, “easy” is pretty subjective.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

It’s a better view in real life. Be present in your lived moment.

I hadn’t noticed until the night sky began to yield to the new day; there is an autumn mist clinging to the ground all around me and over the meadow. A couple days of rain have returned hints of green to the amber and gold hues of the dry grass. Well, and the cooler nights have resulted in some trees beginning to turn their summer greens to autumn hues of russet, yellow, and hints of red. Fall. The equinox is approaching, too.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m comfortable and content with this moment just as it is. The air still smells of recent rain, and a little bit of something musty. No breeze, really, but the slow movement of air currents brings with it a hint of a fireplace somewhere, a pleasant reminder of being cozy at home.

I consider my general good fortune in life (at least this portion of it, say the most recent 10 years, about) has been mostly pretty good, and generally getting better as things go along. Certainly, I’ve made a lot of progress, myself, and I find myself feeling grateful. I sit with that awhile.

… Everything is a little damp from recent rain, and I notice my jeans have soaked through, sitting on this fence rail. I don’t mostly care about that, I just happened to notice…

The thing about practices, whether they are to do with walking every day, or practicing gratitude, or practicing the four agreements, or practicing good self-care, or practicing anger management… “practice” is a verb. There is real work to be done. We may commit to a practice and discuss it enthusiastically, but if we’re not doing the practice..? Well, obviously, if we’re not doing it, it isn’t being done. We become what we practice. So…yeah. Got to do the verbs.

I sit thinking about my strength training. So many verbs. Very verb-y ones, too. There is unquestionably doing going in when I am strength training, even with my small dumbbells. Some practices are less visually obvious, like meditation, but the effects of the thing being done are profound. Still takes effort. What I’m getting at is that simply talking about practices isn’t enough. The doing matters more. That’s the practice.  I sit with the thought awhile longer.

No colorful sunrise this morning. The day begins quite gray and overcast. I don’t need it to be anything else. I’m just over here practicing. Self-care. Meditation. Gratitude. Anchoring myself to this moment and being present. Walking in the morning. All practices. It adds up. To what exactly? I guess that depends on the path I choose.

… it’s a very human experience. Choose wisely…

I stretch and get to my feet. This walk won’t finish itself, and I’ve a way to go to get to the other side of the nature park, and back to the trailhead. Then some errands, and maybe painting this afternoon? I sigh contentedly, looking down the trail into the mist. Seems like a good time to begin again.