Archives for category: Sleepless Nights

Becoming aware that a particular old fear or point of insecurity no longer has any power over me is a peculiar moment, simultaneously “powerful” and somehow… relaxing? Like a weight lifted from the baggage I’m dragging through life. It’s a profoundly positive feeling, without being specifically joyful or happy. An achievement unlocked. A new “special move” in life’s game obtained. I sit with the awareness awhile, feeling something, and lacking the words.

I sip my coffee contemplating life and love, feeling this strange new feeling of security and comfortable self-reliance. We’re all in this together. We’re each having our own experience. We are mortal creatures, sometimes sharing the journey, sometimes not. We’re all travelers on this journey that is itself the destination – and there is no map. It’s helpful to avoid becoming attached to a particular outcome.

No one really has any fucking idea what they’re doing, and chances are, the more an individual clings to how right they are, the more potential there is that they’ve overlooked something and are very wrong indeed (about something). Be humble about the potential limits of your knowledge. I mean, that just seems smart. It’s hard to know what we don’t know.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The threat that a relationship may be ended over some moment of discontent or drama has no power over me these days. Why should it? I’m not here by force, I’m here by choice. If a partner, friend, or associate feels unsafe or that their mental health is at risk, why should they stay? Walk on, I say. Take care of yourself. I’ll be okay. I feel pretty safe with myself, even in my loneliest moments, and I don’t think anyone should feel obligated to continue in a relationship that lacks value – or worse, is painful or damaging. We’ve all got options.

There’s no need to force ourselves to stay where we feel unwanted, ever. Change can be scary and difficult, but damn, it’s never helpful to cling to something that may be tearing you down. There’s no point using the end of a relationship as any sort of threat or leverage with me, though. I’ll help you pack. It’s not personal; if you don’t want to be here, don’t want to share this journey with me, go. Your choice. I certainly won’t try to force you to stay.

… Funny thing, I feel as if the work of processing grief and loss “got me here”; we are mortal creatures, and these cherished relationships between each other are so fleeting. It doesn’t make sense to waste precious mortal hours in a terrible relationship. Walk on. Begin again. Respect yourself and show yourself some consideration.

My dreams last night were full of fire and rage and heartbreak. Inescapable anguish chased me down corridors without doors. I woke angry, seething, ahead of my alarm, and got up to start the day drenched in sweat and feeling as if I had literally been running. My head ached with the effort, and it aches still. My arthritis pain is a serious annoyance. It’s a rainy chilly day, no surprise that I’m in more pain than usual. My feet crunched the leaves and gravel along the trail to my halfway point and back; short walk today. Early meetings. I feel purposeful and resolute. I’m okay right now, and my anger receded into the background as I walked.

By the time I got back to the car, I felt mostly pretty good. Demons slain. Attitude adjusted. Heart filled with gratitude. It’s a good life, generally. I’m grateful for my Traveling Partner and hoping he has a good day.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m here because I want to be. I’ve got options. When shit vexes me, I can walk it off, and begin again.

I’m sitting at the trailhead listening to the rain drumming on the moon roof of the car. I can see clear skies here and there in spite of the rain and the predawn darkness, so I’m expecting this to be a passing shower and hope to wait it out before I hit the trail. I enjoy the sound of it, and for the moment I can imagine life without my tinnitus.

The drive this morning was delightful. There was no traffic. I don’t mean to say there were very few cars on the road, which is generally quite pleasant. It was better than that. I had the highway entirely to myself, aside from one car going in the opposite direction. The soaking rain storms in the night left the highway glistening. Autumn leaves clung damply where they fell. A sliver of moon peeked from between pearly puffs of clouds scattered across the night sky. It was quite wonderful. Still is, as I sit here waiting for a break in the rain and enough light to safely walk the trail. Even now, there’s very little traffic passing by on the nearby highway, and no one else here in the parking lot of the nature park. Lovely quiet solitary moment, and I sit within it, joyful and at ease.

… For a few joyful moments my background stress recedes to nothing and I am truly content, joyful, and calm…

I haven’t been sleeping well. Last night was unexceptional in that regard. It’s a combination of work stress (very busy time), life stress (my Traveling Partner is going through a lot and it requires much from me to support everything he needs), and election stress. I admit it, I’m really struggling with that last one. I so earnestly want to believe that we’re smart enough and have learned enough, not to put a treasonous, dishonest, mentally impaired, lying, misogynist, rapist, fraudster back into the oval office, and that surely – if nothing else – Americans don’t hate women enough to put us through that? But I honestly don’t know. Is misogyny still so prevalent that we’ll use any excuse to avoid electing a highly competent woman – even if it means putting the nation in the hands of an old man so clearly in the throes of serious mental decline? Scary. So very very scary. It’s actually wrecking my sleep, I am that worried about it.

I sigh. I’m so grateful for this quiet moment of real joy dropped unexpectedly into this stressful time. I really need all the joy I can find right now. The smallest moment of delight is worthy of my attention.

I sit with my thoughts. I am thinking about love, and how much it matters to me. I am thinking about my Traveling Partner, frustrated by the slow progress of his recovery, and wondering how I can be more encouraging, a better partner, and what other things I could do to be helpful. Recovering from an injury and surgery is hard, and demands a lot. I sometimes worry I’m failing to do my part to foster a hope-filled and uplifting environment in which recovery feels inevitable. I’d definitely like him to have that feeling. Caregiving is complicated and I still have so much to learn.

… I find so much joy in this relationship. I’m glad we’re “sharing the journey”…

The rain stops, then starts. It’s still quite early. I smile to myself. I’m okay right now. This is a delightful moment. I accept it as it is, and savor the experience. It’s enough, at least for now. Later, I’ll walk the trail, and run some errands on my way home… And begin again.

It’s a rainy Saturday morning. Autumn. The rain isn’t a surprise, the very mild almost warm temperature is. This morning I’m overdressed, with too many layers, anticipating a colder morning on the trail.

Waiting for the sun, and a break in the rain.

My Traveling Partner was explicitly clear he wanted time enough to sleep-in undisturbed this morning, so I’ll take my time on the trail, maybe go farther, and go to the store on my way home. Maybe I’ll stop for a coffee and sit watching passersby passing by, for a little while? The morning is my own to enjoy at my leisure and I’m very much okay with that after a very busy work week that left me feeling thoroughly overwhelmed by cognitive fatigue and quite fragile by the end of it.

When I arrived home last night, I didn’t even make an attempt to mask my excessive fatigue, I just stated rather matter-of-factly that I was going to “go meditate and cry awhile” before hanging out. My partner was careful, considerate, and kind to me. We enjoyed a pleasant evening with the Anxious Adventurer, listening to music and watching videos, after I’d provided myself with the necessary self-care.

New day, new challenges – only, generally speaking, they’re mostly the same challenges I tend to have: physical limitations that need to accounted for, pain that must be managed, emotions to experience and process, and these finite mortal hours. Today my headache is an absolute motherfucker, but I do my best to avoid letting it become my whole world. So far so good. I’m facing more than expected fatigue on less than hoped for rest. All things considered, it’s a pretty ordinary rainy autumn Saturday. My coffee is good. Right now that’s enough. I sit listening to the rain fall and thinking about “the distance between”…

…The distance between “then” and “now”, and how very different life is, than I once expected it to be.

… The distance between what I thought I wanted out of life before I’d lived enough of to know what I might want, and what I want out of life now.

… The distance between moments, how short that really is, and how far it can sometimes seem to be.

…The distance between loving hearts that sometimes develops, though love endures, and what it takes to get closer.

…The distance between two strangers, however close they stand together.

… The distance between now and the fucking election, which I’d very much like to be over with, already.

… The distance between the money and resources available and the things I want to do with those.

… The distance between where I am, and where I’d like to be.

…The distance between where I find myself on this ball of rock and mud and sorrow, and where my dearest friends are.

…The distance between where I am sitting, on this quiet trailhead, and where the bombs are falling instead of raindrops.

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts, listening to the rain fall, and waiting for the sun. There won’t be much of a sunrise this morning, but I’ve got this quiet moment, this good cup of coffee, and there are no bombs falling, here. I let my mind wander, grateful for the life I am fortunate to live, and the love I am fortunate to experience. I sit grateful for a partnership that supports my wellness and gives me freedom to enjoy quiet solitary hours. I’ve got a lot to be grateful for.  I sit with that thought, until it’s time to begin again.

I’m sitting quietly with my thoughts, sorting the real from the unreal, and working to process troubling details of both. Emotional work still feels like work, sometimes.

Sooner or later someone you care about deeply, someone you love and loves you in return, is going to say some terrible shit to you, hurt your feelings, or create turmoil and sadness in your heart. That’s just real. Humans being human. That’s generally more about them, and not about you at all, regardless what was actually said. How you respond to it, how you deal with it, that’s the bit that’s you, and it defines your character. Just saying. Forgiveness, empathy, kindness, and compassion, can all be difficult to practice under trying circumstances. Still worthwhile for someone you love, right? It’s hard sometimes. Human beings can be pretty spectacularly vile – even towards someone they say they love. I sit and think about that for awhile.

Lately my disturbed sleep has been more likely to include nightmares – genuinely horrific, emotionally loaded, inescapable proper nightmares. I’ve begun experiencing reluctance to return to sleep, and experience suggests I need to take steps to break this cycle before I develop a more serious sleep aversion that could quickly undermine my mental health. Visits to the Nightmare City don’t become less frequent with increasing sleep deprivation, I know this. Self-soothing becomes more difficult over time.

“The Nightmare City” 11″ x 14″ acrylic w/glow on canvas

I remind myself to rehang “The Nightmare City” where I can see it if I wake during the night. Seeing it helps anchor me to the here and now when I wake from traumatic nightmares. There’s so much chaos in the world right now: violence, genocide, femicide, and murder. I guess the nightmares aren’t so surprising. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Pain complicates things, too. Stress over my Traveling Partner’s wellness and recovery from his injury and surgery adds to the emotional load. Yeah… not surprising. What matters most, now, is dealing with all of it, supporting and caring for myself skillfully, and taking appropriate self-care measures.

It’s hard to know where to start sometimes. My “inner demons” dance in the shadows of lingering chaos and damage, taunting me with the shards of lasting trauma that fuel my nightmares. Tears start pouring down my face just recalling some moments of “then” and I tremble with ancient fear and anxiety that I’ve somehow “saved for later” from so long ago. “It’s not real, it’s not now.” I mutter out loud through clenched jaws. I force myself to breathe. Exhale. Relax. I set the pain and recalled trauma aside. I’m okay right now. I feel like I’m having to “handle it alone”, which feels incredibly sad and lonely, but… aren’t we all dealing with our own bullshit and baggage mostly alone? Making our own journey out of the mire? Walking our own path? Having our own experience? It’s not “personal”, just human.

The first moments of a new day; steps on a path.

I sigh and dry my tears. Nightmares aren’t “real”, and anxiety is a liar. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and lace up my boots. It’s daybreak. A new day. I’ve left the Nightmare City behind, and I’ve got this path ahead of me to walk. It’s time to begin again.

I had some trouble sleeping again, last night. My anxiety flared up in the background, too. I managed to get enough rest, and eventually slept the rest of the night. What’s up with me, I wonder? Could be nothing. It’s a very human sort of experience.

I sit with my thoughts. It’s early. A new day unfolds ahead of me. Stuff to do. I sigh quietly. I’m having to manage more pain with greater attention (and medication), now that fall has come. Rainy chilly days reliably mean more pain. It is… routine. My morning alarm goes off. Time for meds. Another sigh, then a big breathe and slow exhale.

My head aches. I try to ignore it and think about how lovely yesterday evening was, in spite of my fatigue. I watch the traffic rolling by from my vantage point at the parking lot by the trailhead. I’ve got time to get a short walk before work, though I’ll be on my way to the office before the sun rises.

I sigh and stretch and finish lacing up my boots. It’s enough to begin again. I’m fortunate that I have that chance.