Archives for category: Relationships

Well, maybe, maybe not…’sexy’ is pretty subjective. Interesting concept, too; part emotion, part aesthetic, part visceral response to…someone. Sex is a big deal for a primate. I guess maybe a few people get The Sex Thing figured out pretty easily. I thought I had. I mean, The Sex Thing has always been a subject worthy of considerable contemplation (and practice), and I’ve long wondered why we don’t take it all so much more (and less) seriously. We don’t expect nuclear physicists to wake up when they turn 18 and suddenly know what is unknown, or expect educators to be born fully formed and possessing all the known information of the universe to pass on to the youth of the next generation, or expect needed knowledge or skills to be magically in our possession without taking the steps to learn them, refine them, enhance them – and share them with others. Somehow, someone somewhere got the dumb-ass idea that sex doesn’t require – or warrant – study and education and skill building. lol.  I’m still – after giving the matter approximately 39 years of contemplation – I’m still entirely bemused that as a culture we can be so incredibly short-sighted, and yeah…just not very bright, to think for a moment that sex doesn’t rate the same serious study and pursuit of knowledge that any other meaningful endeavor in life is expected to require.

Oh…maybe sex isn’t ‘meaningful’? Yeah, we can stop there. All I need, personally, to ‘prove’ the meaningful quality, the value, the importance of sex is a moment to observe the huge amount of human bandwidth that goes into getting sex, having sex, stopping other people from having sex, regulating sex, talking about sex, thinking about sex, writing about sex, video taping sex, measuring things that are relevant to sex, cataloging practices and achievements that have to do with sex someone, somewhere, is having – real or imagined. There are multiple industries that support our appetite for sex, and our sometime desire to stop ourselves from craving or pursuing some particular detail that really does it for us as individuals. If sex weren’t meaningful, we would have no need to enact laws that regulate or govern it, or our freedom to have it, or our restrictions from having it – and we sure wouldn’t be spending any of our limited mortal hours speaking in envious, or horrified, tones about the sex someone else is having.  So sure, meaningful, obviously.

Sacred? Could be…but to whom? Why? What quality about it? Does one person’s sexual take on life, the world, and ‘everything’ have any real relevance to anyone else’s? Does what we know, think we know, or once thought we knew about sex have any permanence? Mores change. Taboos change. “Normal” isn’t any more ‘real’ than the thinking that defines it.

Honestly, it’s on my mind a lot lately – sex. The whole thing; how it feels, what it means to me, what I like, what I need…and mindfulness.  The March Toward Menopause continues, slower than I’d like, but perhaps I need the time? I’m not the same woman I was at 18. I understand the world differently. I understand myself differently. Even sex is different…and I haven’t ‘figured it all out’, yet. (We’re all adults here, right? Can we talk about this?) The mindfulness practices I am learning are so helpful in so many areas of life – my overall stress level day in and day out is much lower, and I feel more comfortable living my life and enjoying my experience…and I am still struggling to figure out how to apply ‘mindfulness’ to sex. Seriously.  So far, most of my experience applying mindfulness to sex, or attempting to, results more often than not in an intensely ‘self-conscious’ experience, with far more awareness of small points of physical discomfort, concern about my partner’s experience in the moment, and ‘performance anxiety’. I’m pretty sure that last one is a pretty huge indicator that I’m not making best use of the potential in mindfulness, at least where sex is concerned. lol  Fuck, at least I’m still laughing about it. I like sex too much not to keep trying…but I do tend to be a bit on the ‘think-y’ side…so of course, I go looking for any available resource. What do I find?

A quick Google search for “Mindfulness and Sex” returns more than 5 million hits, and the first two pages include links to some excellent articles…and I’ve read them, each and every one. Hell, I took notes. I did further reading on relevant topics. It hit me today… it isn’t that mindfulness ‘isn’t working’ for me, where sex is concerned. 😦  It is working…and I am becoming aware that some of my experience includes feelings of anxiety, of performance pressure, of physical discomfort, of subtle moments of resentment or anger when things don’t go quite as hoped, and of simple self-consciousness and concern about the small details that matter, and my partner’s experience.  Mindfulness isn’t broken because my experience isn’t universally simple, easy, and ecstatic – it is working quite nicely – because my experience isn’t actually simple, easy, or a matter of getting from arousal to ecstasy quickly and without complications. It isn’t reasonable to expect it to be, is it? Sexual trauma survivor…going through menopause? Right, looking at it in print, it seems pretty silly to have expectations of sex that could be filmed in a single take, with the history I have. lol.

It’s looking like ‘dealing with my shit’ is going to include a whole new understanding of my sexual self…I’d like to embrace that as an adventure, an opportunity…no, no that’s not quite true. I’d like it not to be on my agenda at all. Seriously? How do I even start? What are the ground rules? Why can’t I just ‘take a class’ at the local community college? Why didn’t my education prepare me for this?

Well…I haven’t figured everything out, but it is still a lovely summer day. 😀

Lovely pink flowers on a summer day.

Lovely pink flowers on a summer day.

As in a morning sunrise

It is a quiet morning, beyond my common understanding of quiet. I am still and serene. I am… ok. It’s been a couple of days to take care of my fragile heart, to heal and to rest. My eyes still tear up when I think about Tuesday morning, and I hurt down deep that ancient pain can still touch me at all. That it can reach through progress and every day delight to grab hold of my experience and continue to torment me saddens me a great deal, and so much of that vague simmering undercurrent of anger in ‘who I am’ is about this…that the pain of what-has-been can still touch me.

I see the reflection of my face in the dark mirror of the unused side monitor…I don’t look broken. I don’t look like I’ve lost my mind. I see the hint of a smile, and a subtle knowing look that suggests ‘you can’t fuck with my head so easily’…although I don’t think that’s accurate, as much as how I see that reflection; a hint of a woman I am becoming, more than the woman I have been in the past. There are also big colorful earrings…which is for the moment more relevant to my pleasure in that reflection. They match my shirt. I feel a moment of familiar affection for this complicated being that I am. Becoming more…’aware’…has also resulted in some fun moments of friendly exasperation over being so very human. I’m endlessly amused by my vanity…do earrings really matter? That the purple of these bold cheap purple and green daisies is quite the same purple as the hand-me-down purple thermal delights me in a sweet and simple way. It isn’t that the purple is a match that matters, as much as the delight. The delight is more about where the earrings and shirt came from. Every material thing I cherish has a story, or holds a memory.

Today isn’t trivial. Today isn’t tragic, either. It’s just a day. It is, however, a day that has started well and for now that is more than enough to put a smile on my face. It was a tough week…strangely, and wonderfully, it’s an enormous improvement over other, older, more difficult weeks.  It’s been about resting, recovering, healing…instead of ‘more of the same’ and the pain and anger and the tears.  The mindfulness practices I am learning have helped more than I can describe; imperfect perfection. I need a lot more practice. lol. Progress, though, is enough to show me I am choosing a path that is taking me to some desirable destination. Again, that’s enough. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d have spent days bouncing in and out of horrible states of rage and despair, frustration and tears, unable to get ‘unstuck’ from ancient pain, unable to be aided or consoled, begging for mercy, unheard. Then there’d have been days and days of fatigue and exhaustion, wandering around in a blue funk, teetering on the edge of ‘more of the same’, until it all finally ran its course. This is so much better.

It is Friday, though…and that means therapy. Progress is awesome. Doing the work that supports further progress…not always so awesome. It’s ok, though. I have the support of my partners, and 50 years of life experience to remind me that my demons only have the power I give them, and that the journey is not about the goal, or measuring the distance walked, as much as enjoying the experience over time.

No pictures today, and far fewer than a thousand words.

…It astonishes me how quickly such a lovely morning can descend into complete discontent. It’s all so mundane, too, there’s really no point in providing details.  I walked into work thinking about remote cabins, and wondering how much of what I’ve got I actually need. I composed a very different blog post in my head, too, humorous and highly sarcastic, to the point of being vitriolic and potentially emotional weaponry. That’s not really ok with me, and it’s not the level of genuineness and honesty I aspire to. I decided to keep it simpler, cleaner, shorter.

I feel unappreciated, and under-valued. I feel annoyed.  My needs aren’t met. Yesterday sucked (although it actually did finish quite well as the day wore on); I was so delighted that this morning got off to such a good start.  Cynically, I now find myself wondering why I thought it would last even long enough to get to work, and I feel sad and disappointed that I don’t have what it takes to be worth simply enjoying the morning with me… or something.

The Big 5 are in my thoughts like cognitive tinnitus. The after-taste of my morning latte is now bitter in my mouth.  Oh well. Monday.  It isn’t worth saying more about it. Words will not improve my mood.  I will endeavor to satisfy myself with good work – at least I am certain of my worth 40 hours a week.

I don’t want to leave the impression that life itself sucks – I don’t feel that way, and that isn’t my perspective. I’m dissatisfied with my morning. I feel discontent and cross because I know better is possible. It isn’t a bad life and I am not the easiest person to make a life with. So…here’s something nice from this morning:

Cucumbers already flowering in the greenhouse.

Cucumbers already flowering in the greenhouse.

image

So, I woke this morning to an unpleasant vibe. It happens. I am human, and each and all of my partners, friends, and dear ones are, too. We are also all having our own experience. It got me thinking about The Big 5, and how much difference it has made to me to reevaluate my own relationship values, and to pursue them in a committed mindful way.

So… I gotta ask… Are you respectful of others? Not just when you think they ‘deserve it’, but because you are respectful? Do you allow yourself to expect and require respect in return, without being confrontational or demanding? Would you respect yourself enough to end a relationship that didn’t measure up?

How about consideration? Are you considerate of others, and able to treat them well, and recognize that their experience is their own, and consider
it when you interact with them? Do you expect and require that you be treated with consideration yourself, and communicate clearly and without aggression or hostility, when you perceive you are not? Do you treat yourself with consideration, and make meeting your own needs a priority?

Do you value reciprocity and act on opportunities to support your relationships with action? Do you expect and require reciprocity from your relationships, and refuse to invest in unbalanced relationships where servitude is expected, and resentment is fostered?

Are you compassionate toward your loved ones, and to yourself, and able to support them emotionally, and be supported in return, even when the challenges and stress are between you, and part of your shared experience?

Are you open? Open to new experiences, open to the vast potential for success, open to change and choice, and open to sharing who you really are and the honest details of your experience without shame or fear- or in spite of it? Can you appreciate and value it when facing the fearless openness of another?

Just saying…these seem better than many alternatives.

It was a hot – and delightful – weekend. It was a hot Monday morning. It looks to be a hot week, all week long.

One possible consequence of my TBI is my poor memory. I wrote rather a lot about my experience with memory, just now… and read it…and suddenly found myself rather distressingly aware of how vulnerable I sometimes make myself because of another consequence of my TBI… ‘disinhibition’. (Sometimes referred to as ‘over-sharing’, by people who would rather I didn’t. lol.) I am learning a lot about ‘taking care of me’ – and one of the things I am learning to do is make more appropriate decisions about what I do/don’t disclose, and how, and to whom, and in what detail…so, instead of a lot of words about memory, and how my memory is impaired, and what it means to me in every day life…fewer words, less over-share, hopefully still managing worthy content.

I have memory on my mind this morning… because the morning started hot, and humid, like summer mornings of my childhood.  I walked in to work with my head flooded with recollections of … stuff.  The feel of the heat, the humidity, the summer sunshine finding its way into my eyes in spite of sunglasses, the smells of summer, the sounds… all of it combined to do whatever it is that causes ‘memories’ to be spontaneously evoked.  It is a very strange thing. Experience tells me that some of these unbidden memories may remain with me, if they drift undisturbed through my thoughts; examined, enjoyed, noticed… if I ‘hear them’.

Summer heat. Summer sunshine. Summer memories. Summer love… summer sorrow.

Summer sunshine, and in the distance thunder clouds on the horizon, invisible to the camera's eye.

Summer sunshine, and in the distance thunder clouds on the horizon, invisible to the camera’s eye.

Watering the summer garden brings me face to face with new flowers.

Watering the summer garden brings me face to face with new flowers.

Other flowers aren't new, but still lovely in the heat of morning.

Other flowers aren’t new, but still lovely in the heat of morning.

Yellows and purples defy criticism.

Yellows and purples defy criticism.

The hydrangea finally starts to bloom.

The hydrangea finally starts to bloom.

My spring garden has become my summer garden, in a few days of hot weather and blazing sunshine. I spent the weekend caring for roses, watering, potting seedlings, and attending to matters of the heart and spirit. I have moments when I feel so… whole. I am hesitant to look too closely, or to question it… it feels new… and a little delicate.  I’d like to put my feet up, in the garden, with an iced coffee and a leisurely morning ahead of me to consider it all… including these bits and pieces of memories and moments that drifted through my thoughts this morning. How much time is enough time to spend in the company of bees and butterflies on a summer day, and for how long will I remember it? Is reclaiming my memories a matter of happenstance, or of duplicating key background stimuli?

For now I am content to be, and to remember.