Archives for category: Sleepless Nights

I woke to the alarm this morning, a rarity, and I woke with a sense of extreme relief to find myself awake and safe. Nightmares. More nightmares. They’ve already mostly faded from any hope of detailed recollection, although I rarely consider them in detail, once I have made my escape. I do remember a point during the night when I recognized that the strange heaving and shaking sensations that recurred in my dream world were my own unreserved sobbing in my sleep…I woke with swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, and that sensation like a desert wind had dried out my sinuses and my eyeballs. I must have cried for a long while. I dread facing days or weeks of my nightmares ramping up, eventually resulting in a deep reluctance to sleep at all, that over time becomes unsettled, disrupted sleep consisting mainly of unexpected naps interrupted by the panicked awareness that I have fallen asleep which rouses me abruptly, fearfully, and on the defensive – alert to the unseen enemy that may be lurking. I’ve been through it a few times before.  At its worst, I lived more than a decade of my life without ever having slept through a night, mostly only napping an hour at a time when I slept at all. (For now, it is not that bad.)

Sometimes all it takes to feel safe is opening my eyes to a new day.

So happy the night is over…

Do the details matter? The fear and anxiety are ugly enough without the details, aren’t they? There’s a frightened voice in my thoughts when I contemplate the ancient pain and damage in any detail…”Please don’t make me do this…” I avert my mind’s eye from my own experience far too often. I am torn apart by terror, old pain, old programming, the remnants of someone else’s will – and my own lingering rage.  Is it enough to acknowledge that my nightmares last night were populated with the faces of people who love me, whose love I recognize and accept – but the soundtrack was the voices of monsters dubbed in…and the message is clear. The damaged bits are making their own voices heard – “Don’t fuck with us!”  I know it is time, though…”time to turn and face the strange“… time to walk a path that takes me directly to the heart of who I am, and be ok with that... ok with me. It is time to slay some motherfucking demons*. It is time to fix the code, clean up the registry, uninstall the software creating the conflict in my OS…it is also, perhaps, time to find a more human metaphor for this experience. lol. (I can still laugh…even after a night of being screamed at in my sleep and assured that my life is not my own, that I have no will and no choice, that I do not deserve better, that everything – everything – is ‘all my fault’. Being able to laugh after a night like this is a nice improvement.)

I spent some quiet moments enjoying the serenity of my aquarium.  Deep breaths. Yoga. A shower than could have been leisurely, but ended up rousing my startle reflex after the difficult night. (Have you ever taken a moment to wonder what it might be like to have one or more PTSD triggers that are totally daily events? Like… being in the shower? 😦 ) More meditation.  A quiet latte using the last of an almost empty bottle of maple syrup. (I like maple syrup in my coffee…is that strange?) A few gentle minutes with myself in the greenhouse, and in the garden… it all felt so good, so serene… but my night is like a nasty bruise; I brush against it and it hurts again.  Well, hell…it’s a lovely sunny day…and there are flowers.

Tiny white flowers...

Tiny white flowers…

Untidy purple flowers...

Untidy purple flowers…

Clusters of daisy-like flowers...

Bunches of daisy-like flowers…

Flowers in the shade...

Flowers in the shade…

Flowers in the sun...

Flowers in the sun…

Flowers that may be blue...or possibly purple...

Flowers that may be blue…or possibly purple…

Flowers in clusters...

Flowers in clusters…

Flowers along the walk...

Flowers along the walk…

...and flowers on shrubs.

…and flowers on shrubs.

Flowers, gardens, sunshine, love… it all matters so much more right now; an anchor, a life raft, a safety net…hope.  Ahead of me a new day, the possibility of real healing…the night is far away for now, and perhaps sleep will treat me gently tonight…or perhaps I will bring genocide to my demons*. 🙂

*note: I do not believe in literal demonic possession, for the sake of clarity, my ‘demons’ are a metaphor for ancient pain and damage, inappropriate coping mechanisms, out of date programming, poor habitual behaviors that do not support my values, and hurtful internal messaging… you get it, right? lol 😉

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I woke to a brand new day, this morning.  I slept well and deeply – if you have a sleep disorder, or anxiety, or suffer from ‘existential dread’, or struggle with your person demons in the wee hours before dawn, you already know what a good night’s sleep can mean for the dawn of a new day.  If you don’t, please take a moment to appreciate the delight and power of good sleep.  🙂  Yesterday now feels like…well…yesterday.  That’s nice.  It wasn’t so long ago that a day of fighting hormones and tears would have lingered, mingled with regret and frustration, and become a thing all its own.  It was a gentle life lesson, as life lessons go, and a good way to really highlight the power of mindfulness in my life.  I’m ok with that.

It has been a mindful morning, so far, and a lovely one.  I feel calm and balanced.  I enjoyed the leisurely start to the day, and delighted in the brief, sleepy ‘good morning’ of a lover wandering through the kitchen, only to remark further “I’m going back to bed, I’m not ready to be awake yet.”  Warmth, and love, and tender consideration shown in his effort to wake early enough to chill together a few minutes were as meaningful as if he had actually been ‘ready to be awake’.  I smiled for a long while after I heard his footsteps heading down the hall, and the quiet click of the door as he returned to the land of dreams.

Another rose blooms...and even the bugs are happy; this one must be tasty.

Another rose blooms…and even the bugs are happy; this one must be tasty.

The walk in to work was one more delight this morning, sunny, mild, and the air is filled with the scent of flowers and the sound of birdsong… easy enough to photograph flowers, but try as I might, I can’t capture birdsong in a picture.

New life - potted annual flowers reaching breaking through the soil.

New life – potted annual flowers reaching breaking through the soil.

My garden is always the first stop on my commute to work. New seedlings reach for the sun from pots along the walkway. “Baby Love” keeps right on blooming. All the roses are fat with buds now, and beginning to open.

"Baby Love" blooming first, and likely all through the summer and into fall.

“Baby Love” blooming first, and likely all through the summer and into fall.

So, here it is Tuesday, and the smile I am wearing matches the song in my heart. It’s a very nice feeling – and if I could I would share it with the whole world.  There’s entirely too much misery, more than enough to go around, and too many people getting more than their share…but I am learning, too, that we each have to walk our own path, find our own way, and create our own solutions, however much we think we have ‘figured it out’, it is always entirely individual and unique to who we are, and we can only share our lives and successes, our ways and understandings, with people who choose to share them.  🙂

Oh, and…

Wild roses are blooming.

Wild roses are blooming.

 

 

 

I woke gently, alone, wrapped in quiet luxury.  Spending a night in solitude, meditating mostly, writing some, finds me feeling content and balanced this morning, and centered in my own self.  It is a nice treat and I used the opportunity to figure some things out about me, about me now.

Luxurious solitude and a convenient work space.

Luxurious solitude and a convenient work space.

Sometimes I feel a little challenged beyond my challenges, a little encumbered beyond my baggage, as if I am at risk of ‘out growing what I know about myself’.  Last night I took an unexpected opportunity to spend some chill time alone, really focused on me. I came prepared to paint. Prepared to write. I brought an important book I am reading. I had only the loosest plan – start with meditation, make some written observations, and go with my sense of ‘taking care of me’ for the rest.  It’s been a lovely night. I spent a lot more of it in quiet meditation than I expected I would, and it was what I spent most of the last 16 hours doing. Meditating. Being. Allowing awareness to exist. I did take moments to step outside that gentle experience a few times to make a note about something that suddenly seemed very clear to me, but again and again I returned to meditating. It was very late before sleep caught my attention; I was neither tired nor sleepy before midnight. The earliest light of the new day woke me, and so gently that it was pure bliss to feel myself slowly wake to the day, and feel the sum of the evening’s calm, peace, and progress as a firm piece of who I am.

Coffee now. I listened to some tunes in the shower, and gave a moment afterward to the technology that connects me to so many people who are dear to me.  I found myself wondering where the greater value is with digital connections in our social lives – is it with the freedom to step outside who we believe we are, or who we are seen to be, to take on a new self, a new facade, to walk in new shoes? There’s a lot of that sort of thing on the internet – hell, there are songs about it, and it has its own internet rule. lol.  Is the greater value the ability to connect real beings to each other over great distances, mind to mind, and share what is, more directly with more people? Is it as simple as how honest we choose to be as a global society?  As individuals?  It’s a hard one.  Genuine, honest, open – these are amazing values to have; harder to live up to for a world that values deceit as a tool for control and advancement.

The quiet still morning unfolds, I write, and sip my coffee.  The still beautiful place I find in myself when I meditate for long periods is vast, but not empty.  It has a similar feel, after the fact, to that sensation of getting to know someone new and exciting, finding out their favorite color, or a place they like, or discovering that you share something amazing…except it is ‘all about me’ on a level I’ve never known how to allow myself before.  How many times have I cried out in frustration and rage that I didn’t feel important or valued, that I didn’t feel heard? I am discovering that the person I likely could have cried out to, with more helpful results, was me.  I wasn’t important to me, I wasn’t valuing myself, and I sure wasn’t taking time to be heard, by my own heart.  It was a brutally painful awaking of mind to reach that place where I was at least able to recognize how desperately I needed my own attention, and how urgently important my own needs are to my own happiness and balance.  More than once since that awakening, I’ve wonder how fair or reasonable it really is to be in romantic relationships at all, if I was unable to even attend to my own needs, emotionally? Love, fortunately for anyone experiencing it, doesn’t seem to be that sort of thing. Our lovers may be demanding people, we may, ourselves, be demanding.  Love seems different than that to me, more compassionate, and accepting, and nurturing – more like a homecoming than an award show.

I am learning to hear myself, whispers or shouts, tears or laughter. I am learning to accept this amazing woman I have become over the years, and to help myself along, and reach out for the help and wisdom of others, and to walk my path willfully with my eyes and heart open.  I feel more comfortable with my body and my mind than I have before, and I am no longer afraid of the relentless gaze of cameras or mirrors. I am no longer afraid of the question “who am I?”

A lovely morning is unfolding, and soon I’ll return home. For now, there is time to meditate and grow.

Morning in the garden.

Morning in the garden.

I enjoy love songs. That wasn’t always true. There was a time – and it amounts to most of my adult life – when I thought love songs were at best saccharine nonsense, and at worst outright lies.  I dismissed them with cynical derision, frankly, often, and out loud.  I couldn’t connect with love songs – what did I know of love?  I really figured sex, and a basic mostly supportive sort of affection, were all that went into the matter of love, and all that one could get out of it.  I wasn’t lonely much, and because I enjoy solitude and can easily entertain myself for hours and days with the content of my own mind, I barely noticed how difficult it was to really ‘connect’.  I couldn’t feel the lack of what I didn’t know.

Lovers came and went (lol) and life did what life does. Time passed. I aged. I experienced events. I met people. I had relationships.  Eventually, long past the time I had given up on any notion of love as a profound connected emotional experience, I fell in love. I fell hard. I fell fast.  Initially, I struggled to understand – or even accept – my experience.  I treated it as lust – I was comfortable with that emotion.  At some point I began to understand it was truly new, and slowly let myself feel the raw power of it, to be open to it – all the way, heart and mind and soul.  ‘Powerful’ doesn’t describe it, really, and I have not yet experienced anything else quite like it.  I changed my lifestyle because love is too powerful to dismiss as a catalyst for change.  Again and again, I have revisited who I am; questions of values, of taste, of experience, of will, of intent became not only important, but seemingly truly urgent for the first time since I was a teenager… love is amazing stuff.   More than once since I fell into the warm embrace of love, I’ve found myself sitting with my lover and listening to love songs…laughing, crying, singing along, hearing precious heartfelt words being sung to me, souls connected.  It is simply the most precious and amazing feeling in all my experience… there really aren’t words to describe it, and no winning argument to convince someone who hasn’t experienced love that it is real.  In that regard, it is rather like mindfulness… and I’m finding that mindful love goes even beyond what I’ve already experienced, although I am so new to practicing mindfulness, I expect life will continue to unfold in amazing ways on a lot of levels. 🙂

Yeah…I’ve learned to appreciate love songs.

…But…love isn’t the every day experience in our lives, is it? Maybe for a rare or fortunate few, but for ‘everyone’? It doesn’t seem likely, although it does seem possible.  There’s just this one thing, though…what’s up with people treating each other so badly? Is it really necessary to bring emotional weaponry to every conversation, every moment of conflict resolution? Is the default assumption for most people that even their lovers, their families, their best friends are actually just waiting for an opportunity to fuck them over or hurt them? No? Then why do so many people behave as if that is their experience? What’s up with the defensiveness? What’s up with being mean to each other? What’s up with not taking a moment to hear that someone we love is hurting, and accepting that it is their experience, and offering our regret in a sincere way first, before leaping to our own defense to explain, deny, mitigate, deflect, or actually counter attack?  Seriously? How can any human being justify treating their loves less well than they treat the world?

We’ve all got baggage. Everyone has their turn hurting. Sooner or later even people we love may cause us pain or stress.  Does that mean we stop loving?  I don’t at all understand the lack of consideration and every day decency I see all around me.  What the hell, people? Is it that hard to treat one another truly well? Why do we lash out at the ones we love? I don’t have answers.  I am a simple student of life and love, and there is so much I do not know, or understand.

I’m very fortunate – I easily could have been someone who would never know love. I didn’t exactly make it easy for love to reach me through my walls, or find me midst my mountain of baggage.  I love, though, I love fiercely, and I love with my whole heart…and I want to master treating my loves well.  Turns out I will have to start with treating myself well, and as a result of that effort I am experiencing a love affair with a most amazing being with whom I have long been acquainted…myself.  I admit – that’s a love I never knew would also be profound.

 

 

Dawn came too early, and with it came the grosser side of womanhood, complete with spot cleaning floor, carpet, and mattress, and a shower before I really even had my eyes open yet.  Is that too gross for Sunday morning? I admit I lack sympathy…I had to deal with more than some words, and I am tired of the grosser moments of female experience being treated as unmentionable. lol. So, I mentioned it. 🙂

Coffee, meditation, some napping on the couch…later I will run the linens through the wash on the stain cycle; I feel a moment of appreciation for technological advances that result in me having a good washing machine with a stain cycle.  I find myself wondering idly how forensic scientists tell the difference between menstrual blood and ‘the regular sort’… And then wonder if sooner or later every woman wakes up unexpectedly covered in blood? My mind wanders as I doze on the couch, wishing I were in bed, asleep, and wishing being female were somehow less wrapped up in pain and blood. I bet by now someone, somewhere, is wishing I would stop talking about it. lol

I laugh grimly, silently, to myself and think ” this too shall pass”, but I don’t know why I feel so bitter, or angry, or amused.