Archives for category: Sleepless Nights
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The Way Things Are Going

November 8, 2026 //
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I woke feeling angry following a night of terrible dreams and repeatedly waking to find that I had pulled off my CPAP mask in my sleep, again. (I say “again”, but it is quite uncommon generally. Last night was unusual.)

Note: I notice after I finish this, it’s mostly fairly pointless bitching about physical pain and this shitty mood I’m in. Maybe you’d prefer to skip it? Figured I’d give you that chance right up front.

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

I woke angry, yes, and I also woke aware that I “wasn’t feeling like myself” in some fashion. As I reflect on the experience, my suspicion is that the combination of yesterday afternoon with my Traveling Partner (fraught with contentious angry conversation) on top of not taking a opiod painkiller this morning, is the root cause of my irritable mood. Bad moods, like bad dreams, are temporary, fleeting, and I know they will pass. In the meantime, I’m sitting irritably by the side of this favorite trail, content with the solitude and darkness, and definitely okay with not being around anyone else right now.

My tinnitus is shrieking loudly in my head. The high pitched whine and cicada-like buzz are more than usually annoying. My osteoarthritis is raging up my spine from its origin near my fusion, and climbing vertebrae by vertebrae from about T13 to the base of my skull. It has taken it 40 years to make that journey, one inflamed crunchy joint at a time, over years. Yeah, if you think arthritis is exclusively a disease of aging, you would be mistaken. Each year, the pain is the worst where it is the newest development. I guess I’m grateful I still have a few joints that are not obviously arthritic. Was it last year or the year before that it got to my collar bone? (I know, right? I didn’t know that was a thing until it happened!)

… This year the slow progression of my osteoarthritis reached my thumbs, that first joint, where the thumb connects to the hand. The pain is remarkable. I have no words to describe it. Some days, it robs me of my ability to hold a pen, a pastel, or do anything much that requires a grip.

… What a downer, I know…

Daybreak comes. So far I have managed to beat the rain. It followed me up the highway, and stopped shortly after I arrived at the trailhead. I have the trail to myself. I’m glad. I honestly don’t want to deal with people at all, this morning. No errands to run, and I’ll stretch this morning time out as long as practical, to give my beloved some wakeup time before subjecting him to my pain and my shitty mood.. I will probably duck into my studio and paint, while my hands permit it.

How long will I still be able to paint, and what comes after that? I sigh to myself. Slow tears slide down my face. I don’t know what they are really about; this morning is hard. I pay them no attention, I allow them to fall.

“This just in; middle-aged woman sobs by the side of a lonely marsh trail on a rainy autumn morning. It isn’t very interesting. Back to you.” 😆

… I still have my sense of humor, such as it is (which is, generally, not actually funny to anyone else, but it will suffice)…

Look, some of this angsty bullshit is almost frighteningly mundane. Emotional baggage combined with chronic pain, fear of losing my ability to paint (and the sad  feeling that it may be inevitable), on top of a difficult night, and not taking an opiod this morning (after taking them for several days) seems like a lot to deal with – it would be an incredible stroke of good luck if I didn’t feel like hell this morning in one way or another. That it feels like “all the ways I could feel like crap” is unfortunate, but not my first time dealing with it. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Part of good self-care is taking a minute to observe, acknowledge, and let go. No, it isn’t easy, but it is a shorter path to feeling better again than… not.

… Still gotta do the verbs. PT stretches. Healthy exercise. Regular medications on time. Meditation. A shower, clean clothes, healthy calories. Drink water. Be present. Be kind to myself. Rest when I need rest. Ask for help when I need help. Accept that these mortal bodies are only good for so much. Do what I can, and do my best, and only that.

… And paint. While I am able. Less fucking bitching, more g’damned painting. 😂

I watch the ducks and geese floating on the marsh ponds. The ponds have begun to refill with autumn rains. The meadow is becoming marshy again. I sit enjoying the solitude awhile, grateful for the unseasonably warm weather, and the pause in the rain. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’ll just enjoy this moment, here, now, until it is time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, 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, women, Words

What Weather?

October 27, 2026 //
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I had a restless night, but managed to get enough real rest to begin a new day gently. I woke from strange dreams feeling mostly pretty well-rested. I woke with a song in my head.

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

The morning is off to a comfortable start, although the song in my head hints at more. Likely nothing more than a busy Tuesday at work, but it will definitely be that.

The weather forecast a few days ago had suggested freezing or near freezing weather this week, and probably our first frost, around here. Not even close. The morning is mild and rainy, and feels almost warm. (Warm for the season, if not more generally.) I’m glad I put my rain poncho on. The morning is drizzly, and I am spattered with raindrops as I walk. Feels nice to be outside, actually. I breathe the autumn air deeply, and exhale slowly. I feel refreshed by each breath. I keep practicing as I walk; breathe, exhale, relax.

Shooting the moon.

I try to catch the moon as she peeks from behind dense clouds. I’m successful for some values of “success”. 😆 I’m fine with it. I keep walking, eventually stopping at my halfway point to write.

Over the years, as I have become more positive, more accepting, more adaptable, while learning the practices that would bring me so close to being wholly emotionally “well”, one of the most complicated challenges to emerge has had to be… being okay. Just that; learning to accept and enjoy the feeling of utterly ordinary days, pleasantly uninteresting moments, and the ordinary inconsequential mundanities of living well, has been complicated. I didn’t anticipate being emotionally well and enjoying fairly lasting contentment day-to-day might be more difficult than the process of getting there. 😆 Wild.

…Do you ever find yourself “starting shit for no reason”, or creating “drama” in the middle of a peaceful moment? Could it be that maybe you don’t feel ready to be okay after all this time…?

I breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the stormy clouds churning slowly as they sail across the night sky. It’s still awhile before daybreak. The moon has disappeared behind the clouds. I sit quietly, enjoying the darkness. I swing my feet and wonder what’s next? The year has gone by pretty quickly. 9 Tuesdays left after this one (in the calendar year).

I sigh to myself and get to my feet. Soon it will be a whole new year. Right now it’s enough to have this path (and day) ahead of me. The rain begins to fall more steadily. Time to begin (again).

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Anticipating the Sunrise

October 22, 2026 //
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After a pretty poor night’s sleep, I got up early, my usual time. My Traveling Partner woke me, to ask if I would mind going ahead and getting up and starting my day, so he could sleep. I hadn’t slept well, but he hadn’t slept at all. I mumble “sure” and sit up.

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

I was dressed and gone in 15 minutes.

I was groggy and still a bit stupid as I left the house. I wasn’t sure what I’d do; not yet fit to resume my early morning walks, although mostly over being sick. I stop at the gas station and fill my tank, yawning. I drive to the local trail I favor, and park where the street lights won’t shine in my eyes and nap in the car awhile. I could have taken a seat indoors, at the Big Chain Coffee location nearest me, but I wasn’t up to dealing with people. Not yet. Too early.

My night was fragmented. My sleep was poor quality. The two hours I napped in the car were more restful than most of my sleep that preceded them in the past 24 hours. I wake to the first hints of daybreak. I’m feeling adequately rested, but still not fully recovered from being ill. I yawn and stretch, and give myself time to really wake up.

The food truck that shows up for the construction workers building the hotel on the other side of the parking lot is open for business. I stand in the queue, in the chill of the autumn darkness waiting my turn. A breakfast taco and a cup of coffee, $8.50. The coffee is not quite “bad”, but definitely also not good. It’s strong and it’s hot, though, and it warms my hands through the paper cup. I return to the warmth of the car.

… I’m betting I don’t have a full day of work in me, and mentally juggle the elements of my day with an eye for an early out.

I sigh to myself. Meditate. Write a bit. It’s not a fancy routine, but it works for me. I dislike being sick, it nearly always breaks my routines. Did I remember my computer? Yep, there it is. Computer glasses? Got ’em, no problem. Tissues? Power brick? Yep. I’m ready. I chuckle realizing I did forget to bring along a bite for lunch. I shrug to myself, thinking “it’s always something”.

A new day, a new beginning.

Daybreak comes, a hint of blue at the edge of the eastern horizon. The background noise fills with construction sounds. Machinery. Trucks. Shouted exchanges of information and instructions. I twist in my seat and stretch, as I yawn. The clock ticks on. I hope my beloved is getting the rest he needs.

I reflect for a few moments more, not on any one detail, more on the general ebb and flow of emotions, the changing season, the tick of the clock. I let my mind wander a bit.

I decide to head over to the library, to start catching up on what I missed yesterday. I can even get some work done, using the WiFi there, from their parking lot. And anyway, it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Sometimes, Just Go With It

October 18, 2026 //
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Oof. I slept restlessly, and woke often. I wasn’t sure why until I finally got up from the bed, around my usual wake up time, shaking all over, and feeling… “off”. It was a familiar uncomfortable sensation that woke me; I made haste to the bathroom.

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

I’m still trembling, a little. My nausea has been (hopefully) handled – Pepto Bismol for the win on that one. After a dreadful experience at McCarran International Airport (now Harry Reid Int’l Airport), I always have some tucked in my bag where I can get at it. One more reminder of human frailty, and even of our mortality; being ill in a hotel first thing in the morning (or during the night, which I guess this is, as it is still quite dark outside). I fight the vertigo the way I fight the nausea and the diarrhea; I don’t “fight it”. There is literally no point in trying to “fight” such things. Recognize them, acknowledge them, and deal with them as they happen. What other way is there? Oh sure, OTC remedies, that just makes sense, but it’s not the sort of thing to wish away, argue with, or defy.

I sign to myself, resigned to the annoying limitations of this “meat suit”. In spite of the trembling and the cold sweat, which suggest I’m not yet done with this (where the hell did it come from??), I make coffee. It’s not great coffee, this morning I don’t even care at all. I’m just getting through this.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Coffee? Really? Maybe go back to bed…? It’s not yet even day break, and I don’t think I’ve even slept more than an hour at a time. Why? No idea, and I’m not going to get spun up over that. It is more likely than not that my restless night was due to precisely what woke me – feeling ill. It just took awhile. I sip my coffee, grateful for the cheap-ass little single serve drip coffee machine. This one is quite clean and works well. The coffee is as good as the quality of the original beans, and having been ground sometime in the 70s (maybe not, but they are stale). It’ll do. I may yet lay down again, and maybe sleep. I decide to try my luck a bit, and cross the room to take my morning medication. I daringly leave behind the small trash can I’ve been carrying “just in case” since I woke. The room feels much larger this morning than it did yesterday. lol

Another breath, another moment. So far so good. I mean, for most values of “good” and all values of “so far”. It could be a lot worse. I look out the patio door. How is it still so very dark? I look at the time on my phone more carefully. Oh. It’s two hours earlier than I thought it was, and definitely still “night”. I laugh quietly to myself, and just go with it.

It’s been a worthwhile bit of time away to reflect and to paint. I sit quietly for a few minutes, not doing much, mind mostly empty. I’m looking forward to being home. I’m looking forward to beginning again, only… not just yet. I decide to lay down awhile. Maybe I’ll sleep? I open the curtains and the patio door (enough to let some fresh air in). I’ll wake when I wake, and then I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, health, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Practices, Sleepless Nights

Bad Dreams, But…

September 29, 2026 //
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Okay so, yeah, I’m having a lot of bad dreams lately. Even when they aren’t “nightmares”, they’re often deeply unpleasant.

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

I woke this morning, grateful for the bright light of my silent alarm; better than the dream I was having. Hell, I’m not surprised by the bad dreams – have you seen the state of the world? The shameless exploitative corporate greed? The thoroughly corrupt government? The war in Ukraine? The genocides? Oh yeah, more than one of those going on, it isn’t limited to Palestine. How can human beings be so incredibly vile?

I’m struggling to maintain perspective, I admit it. I feel disappointed (in humanity, generally) and I feel betrayed on an unreasonable personal level. I was stationed in Germany when the Berlin Wall came down. It was such a proud moment for humanity and I felt such hope for the world. I sigh quietly as I walk the dark trail with my dark thoughts.

I get to my halfway point and stop. I just stand there in the dark awhile, after turning off my headlamp, letting my eyes adjust, watching the stars. After a handful of uncounted minutes gazing into the eternal darkness of the vast night sky, I sit down and cry awhile. I don’t fight the tears. No shame. No guilt. Only emotions I can’t quite process without allowing for the grief. Grieving is powerful stuff and difficult to control or limit or reason with, and now and then I am flooded with tears over what we have all lost – all those lives, all the wasted potential, all the hurting and the sorrow.

…We could do better…

I was once a soldier in an army. I have been to war. I have looked directly into the eyes of my enemy and found that he was every bit as human as I am myself. No one walks away unchanged. We live with the consequences of our actions,  that’s just real. I sigh to myself. I’m grateful to have gotten out alive. I’m grateful to see another sunrise. I’m grateful to have my Traveling Partner’s warm, loving embrace when the weight of the world threatens to pull me down into the depths of madness and grief (and even when he’s dealing with his own shit, he is there for me).

Being human is hard. Being the best human being the resources and experience available permit a person to be is harder still, and it for sure feels like a lot of people aren’t even trying.

I’m grateful for this solitary time to just get shit right in my head before a new day begins. Most days this is the only solitude I have. The rest of my day is interacting with people at work, and out in the world, some days so continuously that by the time I get home to my beloved I have nothing left to give. That seems thoroughly unfair, to the two of us. I embrace the little bit of “me time” life permits me to have and try not to bitch about it not feeling like enough. …At least I don’t also have children.

My beloved pings me. We converse a bit. The clock ticks on. My head aches ferociously and slow tears fall for a moment and stop. At 14 I once felt very similarly, I think, sort of lost, and frustrated-angry-sad. I dealt with it by packing a small bag with everything I thought I would need (it wasn’t), and I walked away. (It would be weeks before I turned up and ultimately went back, but that’s a story for another time.) I hadn’t yet learned that we cannot escape who we are so easily. I’d hug her if I could and assure her it gets better…then wonder if I should also tell her it’s going to get so much worse, first?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The world is a pretty chaotic and sometimes grotesquely frightening place, but right here? Right now? This moment? It’s fine. A woman on a hiking trail looking at the stars. It is peaceful and beautiful. I make room to enjoy this moment as it is. A lifetime is built on moments; it important to savor the pleasant ones, whatever the circumstances.

The mild almost warm morning wraps me gently. The first hints of daybreak begin to develop. I watch the sky quietly. I think about these mortal lives and the place we hold in the cosmos. We are so tiny, so fragile and finite – how is it these moments feel so important? I sit with my thoughts until it is time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, grief, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words
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