Archives for category: Sleepless Nights
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5:15 on a Saturday

December 13, 2025 //
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A noise woke me. It might have been a noise I made myself. It wasn’t loud, just some quiet but audible knock or clunk or bang, like something small had fallen to the floor. I got up and dressed after checking the time, and got the day started as quietly as I could.

“This is more like it,” I think as I walk a familiar trail in the darkness. It is 05:15. The scent of the air, the dark silhouettes of the trees against the cloudy sky illuminated by the suburban lights below, this is not San Francisco, nor any other notable urban place. This is home. This is Oregon wine country. The pace is slower here, and I’m grateful. Walking the city sidewalks before dawn in a big city may not even be safe, depending where I am. I feel safe here on this familiar trail. I never felt unsafe walking in San Francisco, but I also didn’t find any opportunity for peace, balance, or meditation on those walks, nor any solitude, really. There was always some traffic, and other people also walking (or standing, sitting, even sleeping in doorways).

….It feels good to be back. To be home.

My homecoming was delightful. There was a hot meal waiting for me. The house was quite tidy. The newest episode of South Park was available, and we watched it together as a family. The laundry (other than my own) was done, and only needs folding. The household felt peaceful and harmonious. In spite of travel fatigue, I stayed up a bit later than usual, enjoying my Traveling Partner’s company. He welcomed me with loving words and kisses, and a useful and beautiful box he made for me. While I was away, the Anxious Adventurer brought my art home from storage to be more safely stored at home. Working together, they even found suitable placement for the rolling cabinets that store many of my smaller pieces. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fond and warm welcome after being away from home, in any relationship. I feel really cared for. I feel appreciated, understood, and respected.

I walked smiling, slowed down by a slight limp; my left foot is very sore for some reason, as if the bottom of my heal were bruised, and my spine is stiff with arthritis. I laugh when I think, momentarily, how this must “age me”, but I’ve had the arthritis since I was 26, and the messed up left foot and ankle since I was about 33, hardly a youngster, but certainly not “old”. (Barely “older”.) I’m smiling because I feel joyful and appreciated, and for now the pain is inconsequential. It doesn’t matter. I do get to my halfway point relieved to pause and sit awhile, grateful for the mild dry morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I slept well, and feel rested, although it was a short night. I generally retire much earlier, because my body (or mind) reliably wakes me very early (either long practiced habit, or sleep difficulties, it’s hard to be certain which, sometimes). The result of my “late night” is that I only got about five and a half hours of sleep last night. I’m grateful that it feels like enough, this morning. I sigh contentedly, at the recollection that I’ll be showering in my own shower this morning. I didn’t realize how much I am looking forward to that.

My paycheck hits my bank account a couple days early, a quirk of timing. The notification ping is my first communication with the world, this morning. In Trump’s fucked up terrible economy, it really makes a difference though, especially so close to Giftmas. I feel something I hope doesn’t become a feature of future holidays; relief. I wonder for a moment how often my parents may have faced Giftmas knowing three little girls eagerly awaited a visit from Santa Claus, dreading the knowledge they might have to choose between a little girl’s happiness and paying some bill? I didn’t understand then what goes into Giftmas magic. I do now, and my heart fills with gratitude and love and warm regards; they may not have been fantastic human beings, or great parents, but g’damn did they understand Giftmas.

I sit with my thoughts and my contentment and merriment. I’m grateful to see another Giftmas. I’m grateful for each chance to begin again.

I get to my feet to finish my walk in the stillness, as daybreak comes. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, women, Words

Breathe in the Moment

December 12, 2025 //
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I sip my morning pod coffee in this hotel room. It’s been a strange break from some things that have been vexing me and wearing me down. I say “strange” because it hasn’t been at all (physically) restful. Not in the slightest. The pace has been fast and could have felt stressful. It didn’t feel stressful because I got a real break from being worn down, exhausting my resilience, day after day. There’s something to learn there.

Still a luxury.

I reflect on that awhile, sipping my coffee. How do I more carefully protect my peace? Preserve my energy? Care for this fragile vessel? How do I more skillfully set boundaries without creating conflict? These are important questions worth answering with some measure of experience-informed wisdom… I hope I find some.

I haven’t taken many pictures. I haven’t done any sightseeing. I haven’t even taken any walks through beautiful places, although I’ve been on my feet and walking from here to there, often. I don’t feel any heartbreak over that. It’s just a detail. I’m grateful for the rest I’ve gotten, in spite of the pace. Here, in this “strange place”, I have slept well and deeply, and even slept in, once. I feel rested.

I’ve gotten to meet and get acquainted with some amazing people on this trip. It’s been worth it.

I’m eager to return home to my Traveling Partner. I check for messages after I turn my notifications on for the day. I am not so eager to return home to drama, emotional bullshit, or the interpersonal friction of cohabitation. Humans being human. It’s often (mostly) nothing to do with me. I sigh to myself and reflect. I have enjoyed the solitude. I’ll soon be home to love… and also laundry, housekeeping, cooking, running errands, helping with whatever, and trying my best to find any time for myself to enjoy some quiet time when I can sit with my own thoughts, or read, or paint. I miss my Traveling Partner so very much. I don’t miss caregiving or housekeeping, drama, or emotional labor.

I remind myself that having the Anxious Adventurer move in was always temporary, and as with all things temporary, it will end. We’ve all agreed that he’ll move after the holiday season, nearer to Spring, when the weather is predictably safe to drive through distant mountains and isolated highways, to wherever his chosen destination turns out to be. I’d love for him to be able to stay in the area, he seems to like it, and it’s clear my Traveling Partner enjoys having him nearby and seeing him often. The cohabitation doesn’t work comfortably. I don’t think I’m even surprised,  when I consider things more deeply. It hasn’t significantly improved over the 16 months he’s been here, even with coaching and encouragement (and sometimes raised voices and frustration). I sigh to myself. Communication can be difficult. Accommodating each other’s needs, limitations, and boundaries can be hard. I already know I don’t prefer cohabitation – it’s a lot of fucking work. I can’t force either man to change his approach to the other, to listen more deeply, to make changes in behavior, to be more considerate, kinder, quieter, or be anyone other than they are. (It’s not my place to do so; they’re both grown-ass men, who ideally already know who they are and where they need to improve themselves.) I can set boundaries, myself, and do my own best to be the woman I most want to be, and to be accountable for my decisions and my actions, that’s it. We’re each having our own experience. I’m not inclined to allow these father-son difficulties so far outside my own experience dominate my thoughts, time, or to-do list.

… I’m also not inclined to sit around seething over it, if I can simply stay out of the way and let them figure it out. That’s not always possible; sometimes I’m invited to help, or reframe or rephrase in some heated moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. That time is not now. I’m alone in a quiet hotel room, and it’s almost breakfast time. I miss my beloved Traveling Partner – and I know what matters most (to me). So… I let it go, at least for now. I’ve got this moment here to live.

I look around the room… everything is packed. Breakfast next, then the office for a couple hours and a noontime departure to the airport. On the other end of hours of airports and flights, I’ve still got the drive home…more solitude. I’ll fill up on it while I can. Soon enough it’s back to the familiar routine, and time to begin again.

I settle into a comfortable position. I have time for meditation before breakfast…

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

All This Rain

December 9, 2025 //
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Well, it’s definitely autumn in the Pacific Northwest. It’s raining steadily. I’m sitting at the trailhead, in the car, wondering if the rain will let up long enough to get a walk in this morning? It is beginning to seem unlikely. I sigh out loud and sit quietly, waiting.

…Later, I travel…

This morning, I deal with my anxiety, and I deal with a concerned email from my Traveling Partner. His own anxieties were keeping him awake during the night, and he tackled them directly, expressing his concerns with care and asking me for assurances and charges in behavior. His approach reflects our years together as partners. I read it over, a couple times, before I reply. Of all the things causing me stress right now, this email isn’t one of them. I value his candor.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I find myself vacillating between already missing my Traveling Partner (I’m not even gone yet), and hoping this trip away for work somehow also meets my need to get some real solitude, beyond a trail walk in the morning. It’s been a long time since I’ve managed to get a couple of days away to myself (and being home alone seems completely out of reach pretty chronically).

I have a peculiar sudden stabbing bit of anxiety, weirdly out of place in my experience – I find myself anxious over “what if I returned home and he was gone though?!” I have literally no reason to consider this fear a legitimate concern. No idea where it comes from. No doubt it is some remnant of old baggage or past trauma; I let it go. It isn’t real, and I definitely have enough real shit vexing me and stoking my anxiety.

The rain slows to a sprinkle. I’m looking forward to walking in the rain freshened air before spending hours on a plane. I pull on my poncho and grab my cane. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Friction

December 7, 2025 //
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The first hints of daybreak touch the sky as the rain starts again. I waited out the darkness, after getting to the trailhead early (so early). It was raining, then, and may be raining when I finally start walking. I don’t know. It’s not the most important detail.

Daybreak on a rainy autumn morning.

My mind is cluttered and full of chaos. I half-woke ridiculously early, to the sound of my aggravated Traveling Partner swearing about something (probably about being awake). Some brief time later, (minutes or seconds, I don’t know), he specifically wakes me to check on me. I get up to pee, just to be certain I could just go back to sleep and not have biology waking me prematurely in another hour or two. The next couple of hours pass restlessly; I’d fall asleep, be wakened by some noise or other, and drop off again. At some point I remember beginning, finally, to sink into a really deep sleep. “At last,” I remember thinking contentedly, “sleep. Real sleep.” I woke again, when my Traveling Partner went back to bed. Fuck. I knew I wouldn’t go back to sleep, even as tired as I was. I could feel my brain getting going, preparing for a new day, and I was suddenly aware of an owl hooting loudly somewhere nearby. G’damn it. I went ahead and got up, dressed, and left the house.

… How the absolute fuck is my sleep this g’damned bad even after all these years and so much careful practice, good sleep hygiene, treating my apnea, adding a  noise masking device to my sleep space… Part of me wants to be really angry about this – but part of me recognizes that the anger itself only further impairs healthy rest (for me). I let it go, but resolve to ask my beloved to please just not wake me when I’m sleeping unless there is some emergency. I’ve got to get some fucking sleep (and I know he understands, as someone with sleep challenges, himself). I rarely have the opportunity to go back to bed later on, and get that lost rest. Working a full-time corporate job really limits that potential.

This morning I’m very tired, my head aches, and my eyes feel gritty. I have errands to run, and a business trip to prepare for.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning is a bleak foreboding gray. I listen to the geese overhead, and the tinnitus in my ears. This morning the tinnitus is so annoying that if I thought pithing myself with an ice pick might be helpful in a practical way, I’d probably do it. (Do not do that!!) My tinnitus definitely gets worse and louder over time as I lose sleep. I remind myself that tonight is another night, tomorrow another day; this will pass.

I sip the hot (now only warm) coffee I picked up at the gas station on my way out of town after filling the gas tank. It’s a genuinely bad cup of coffee, acidic and somehow vaguely sludgy. It’s still coffee. Who the hell knows how long real coffee will still even be available? Instead of pouring it out wastefully because it’s terrible, I sip it slowly, letting the caffeine (and the ritual of morning coffee) do its work. I stay in the moment, present, aware, sipping this coffee and appreciating that I have it. Dawn comes. A new day. I’m cross and tired and vexed by physical pain. I look down the trail irritably, aware that I’ll likely feel better on the other side of my walk, in spite of the lack of sleep, and I’m stupidly also managing to be annoyed about that (which just makes no damned sense).

… I try not to dwell on this fucking headache or my arthritis pain…

I look back over my writing, checking for spelling mistakes and incoherence. (Huh. I bitch too much.) I sigh to myself, impatient with my very human limitations. I stretch and grab my cane and my rain poncho. All I can do is my best, and that path begins right here, now, in this moment. It’s time to begin again, again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Dawn and a Hot Cup of Coffee

December 4, 2025 //
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I’m at the trailhead with a hot cup of coffee, waiting for the rain to stop. I’m a little cross and don’t feel well-rested. Sometimes that’s the way it goes for me. I’m not cross because I woke up early in spite of hoping to sleep in a bit. I’m cross because the noise that woke me was triggering, and I didn’t manage that sufficiently well to avoid also exchanging harsh words with my Traveling Partner before I left the house for my walk. I’m disappointed, and this makes me cross. It’s my beloved’s birthday and I want only good experiences for him.

… I can do better…

I’m not in any hurry, at least. I took off work today, and after my walk I will pick up the birthday cake and head home to enjoy the day. I’ve got time to sort myself out before the day really begins.

The soft sprinkle of rain that is falling isn’t really enough to stop me from walking. I’m enjoying the freedom to choose my timing and my experience, and waiting for a little daylight. I’m hoping to give my beloved time to get back to sleep for awhile, too. I meditate. I breathe, and let my thoughts pass by like clouds. “Nothing to see here”, it’s a quiet moment on a quiet autumn morning. It’s enough.

Yesterday was a strange one, and I reflect on it awhile. It was the sort of day when it seemed each attempt to focus on a single task was interrupted multiple times, with the end result that the one task I kept returning to never actually got started. I’d have to begin all over again each time I dealt with some distraction, and each time my focus was broken with a ping, a request for my attention on something, or some other thing someone else wanted done… I ended the day mentally exhausted, and feeling like my time and consciousness are not my own. It was super annoying. On the other hand, my Traveling Partner and I cooked dinner together, and that was fun, in spite of me being so tired I couldn’t easily tackle dinner without his help, and had to rely on the Anxious Adventurer to do cleanup after dinner. I went to bed early, too, and still woke feeling like I didn’t get any real rest.

A steady stream of headlights sweeps past, on the highway adjacent to the trailhead parking. G’damn, I’m so glad it isn’t me, this morning. I chuckle to myself thinking about my last visit with my Granny on the Eastern Shore. That would have been… 1995? Something like that. I was in my early thirties. She was some age between 65-75, and seemed ageless to me. I remember being surprised any time her response to a suggested outing or adventure of some sort was being “too tired for all that”. I definitely get it now. Fucking hell, life is exhausting sometimes. I “run out of spoons” much sooner these days, and things seem to require more of me than they once did. I often fail to account for self-care needs, beyond this quiet time in the morning, and my well-being and quality of life are slowly being more and more degraded by that. It’s poor planning, poor boundary and expectation setting, and also fairly fucking stupid – because I am aware of the negative consequences and also actually know better through direct experience. I could do better, and I’m going to end up paying a high price if I don’t treat myself better.

… I still, often, find it difficult to put my own needs high on my list, in spite of so much growth and progress. I should work on that…

I sip my coffee, struggling to rephrase my thoughts to avoid “should…” in favor of more emotionally healthy language. I don’t benefit from joining the queue of demanding voices pinging on my consciousness. I can do better.

The first hint of daybreak lightens the sky. I think of my beloved Traveling Partner hopefully sleeping at home. I sip my coffee contentedly, listening to the patter of raindrops and watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day, full of opportunity.

One mortal woman, limited capacity to do the verbs, limited opportunity to create change, limited ability to do more, better… I’ve only got so many spoons, and this brief mortal life to live. I sigh, still pressing myself to “do more, better”, aware that more often than not I am already doing my best. It has to be enough when we give all we have, but an unfortunate truth seems to be that sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, and there’s no more to offer. Still… I guess “everything” is more than nothing, and as unsatisfying as that sometimes feels, it’ll have to do.

The rain keeps falling.

I sigh to myself and stretch as I get out of the car and pull my rain poncho, scarf, and gloves out of my gear bin. I can make out the trail now, in the predawn gloom. I’m so tired… and it’s already time to begin again. That’s okay; I’ll do my best.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, women, Words
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