Archives for category: Sleepless Nights
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Well, There’s That…

June 3, 2014 //
0

I woke from a very long night, short on sleep, and with a headache. That sucks, by itself, but just beyond the edge of the desire to bitch about that is the awareness of something so much bigger.  I also woke, you see, filled with resolve, and contentment, and acceptance, and calm. Those are all good things to feel. I feel strong, and I feel experienced in life. I feel ready to face the world with eyes wide open to the endless possibilities, and comfortable with my basic good sense about which possibilities amount to something potentially truly great, and which may not be so promising.

I have been at this self-study-personal-growth thing with real dedication for almost two years now. A few things have improved, and some really useful personal skills have developed, and I find that without really seeing it happen, I may have become a woman I can count on.  Even beyond that, I have become a woman I can count on to take care of myself, and make choices that meet my needs over time – if not ‘fearlessly’, then certainly with determination and great resolve, and a willingness to be aware, present in-the-moment, and to learn from my experiences.

Today is a good day to be the woman I am, becoming the woman I hope to be, one choice at a time.

IMAG1258

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, women, Words

Words Are Like Bullets

June 2, 2014 //
0

Sometimes life is easy, sometimes it’s hard. Tonight, I sit sweat-soaked, tired, worried, strained, tearful, confused, and honestly – just not happy to be away from home.  Hotel rooms, many of them, have a certain… ‘quality’. Let’s be honest, more a ‘characteristic’ than a quality, perhaps? It is easy to become immersed in the dreary, the grim, the fatiguing, the sad, the low… I wonder how often someone has sat, morose and alone, in a hotel room and written great tragic poetry, gritty urban thrillers, or words of disconnection, loneliness, and pain? Probably a lot.

What it is, what it isn't.

What it is, what it isn’t.

I’d rather not succumb to the dingy yellows and ochres of the decor, and hoping to provide some relief from the strangeness of the air, the windows are thrown open to breezes and the sounds of traffic. I am, nonetheless, very much alone.  The sweat that poured off me so freely in the afternoon heat as I made my way to the hotel is now chilling me through the dampness of my shirt. My head aches.  I was as efficient as I could will myself to be in the moment, purposeful, gentle, wasteful of neither time nor movement; there were other needs to meet than my own. Still, efficiency is only as useful as it is skillful, and my ankle throbs quietly reminding me that my ankle brace is still in my pack, from yesterday’s hike, forgotten in the joy of achievement and fun, and overlooked in my purposeful rush to pack and make a timely check-in to this solitary, rather cramped room peeking at the street below, through fluttering leaves.  I like the view much more than the room.

The world waits outside this room, and the world has no stress over any concerns of mine at the moment. I’m hungry. The evening is pleasant. There is no need to succumb to sorrow and pain by an effort of will, and I realize that I’m hungry.  The bottled water in the room is ‘courteously’ provided at a ludicrous mark up. There is a grocery store down the street, and in the frenzy of human beings handling human affairs I may find, too, a moment of kind contact, a brief connection, a reminder of all the good that is…

Do I take the red pill – or the blue pill? [cue Matrix theme, cut to clip of sexy people in shiny black clothes doing stuff in slow motion]

I will watch South Park tonight, and I’ll laugh – and in laughing is perspective, and healing, and a reminder that we’re all in this together, each having our own experience, each doing the best we know to do, mostly, when we can, generally, or at least…we’re probably trying, and god damn – all most of us want is to be heard, to feel visible, to know that the people who matter to us find that we matter as well.

Today is a good day to wonder ‘what can I learn from this’.  Today is a good day to consider this woman I am, and who I want to be. Today is a good day to be the change I want to see in the world.

 

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, women, Words

About That Verb…

June 1, 2014 //
0

Strange night. I crashed pretty early, and pretty sleepy. I woke fairly frequently, returning to sleep with minimal effort. I experienced the night as alternating unpredictably between ‘frozen wasteland’ and ‘sweltering tropical swamp’, a common enough experience these days as I trudge the last mile of real estate in Hormone Hell.  It wasn’t ‘a bad night’, just strange.

I woke abominably early, especially for a day off, and figured I’d go ahead and get up; my first choice of activity was meditation, and I spent quite a while practicing Savasana; it’s exceptional for a deep down level of relaxed awareness. It’s also exceptional for returning to the land of dreams, and indeed I found myself ready and able to cash in that token for another hour or two of sleep, and dreams.  I woke later, made coffee, and settled in for some quiet study time in the twilight of dawn. Books and blogs, catching up on old favorites, and exploring new ones. I do love words.

I woke with plans to explore a local nature park on foot with my new hydration daypack, getting used to the weight, and encumbered movement; I prefer to travel light when I’m out and about, sometimes eschewing even a handbag, in favor of a lighter, smaller, card case or simple folding wallet (or my id and a handful of badly folded bills shoved into a pocket, let’s be honest).  My partners recent interest in outdoor fun got me excited, too. Yesterday I shopped for a pack, and eventually found what I was looking for to get started with.

It's purple!!

It’s purple!!

I am amused by how often one partner or another has to remind me I am not in the Army now. lol. I am delighted by this compact hydration pack and it’s very very purple color; it is not OD green. 🙂  It’s also not a man’s pack and fits me better than anything the Army ever issued me.  It’s not a big pack, and it isn’t intended for weeks of forward deployment. What it is, is large on water at 100 oz, and compact at 10 liters of volume. I was so excited that as soon as I got home I filled the reservoir, fitted it, packed the few odds and ends from my basic gear list that I’ve already got and wore it around the house for a while, like a kid with new super hero pajamas.  I eagerly planned, then, to spend much of today out and about, walking the trails of a nearby nature park, and getting acclimated to walking with weight on my busted up back; safety first.

There is so much to explore...

There is so much to explore…

Real life is not what our desires and expectations dictate, it is what it is. I woke this morning, early. I woke this morning content and serene. I also woke this morning with stiff knees and ankles and a noteworthy backache. So. Maybe not today; there are more days ahead on the calendar, and time for life and love. Today, perhaps, is a better day for reading, writing, laughing, and for laundry, and gardening, and a second cup of good coffee. Today is a good day to be patient with myself, and to enjoy life gently.

Today is a good day to change the world.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, Uncategorized, women, Words

Taking Steps

May 29, 2014 //
0

As recently as 5 years ago, my mobility (and joy in life) were incredible limited by my weight.  Over time I had continued to gain weight for a number of reasons, certainly including the very important reason that I really just didn’t do very much.  Between fighting my demons, taking medication to make that less difficult for those around me, and the slow descent into profound apathy toward life, in general, I gained weight at a predictably steady rate. When I started losing that weight, and slowing gaining some sort of motivation regarding life, if not actual joy in it, it was a process of choices and actions; progress was made over time.

I routinely walk between 5 and 8 miles a day, these days. I’m still heavier than I’d ideally like to be. My personal goal and sense of ‘this would be the most beautiful me’ are not particularly tied to cultural norms for beauty, over the years I’ve gotten past that bit of baggage, thankfully. I’d like to be healthy, fit, and able to live a long time.  Still, these knees and ankles don’t make it effortless, even now, and I’m not close enough to my goals to rest easy. There is more work to be done. I like enjoying my life, and for me that means freedom of movement, as much as I can manage. So, I walk. I do yoga. I get fitter. I get stronger. I make small gains in freedom of movement, gait, and comfort.

I still have a journey ahead of me, and with my partners eagerly embracing a new-found interest, or rekindling an old interest, in outdoor fun: hiking, kayaking, camping – I am struggling with a feeling of ‘falling behind’. It’s still a journey. It’s still my journey. The temptations of what I do not yet achieve with ease seem to be dangling in front of me, just out of reach. It’s hard not to be frustrated by that, sometimes. My journey, however, is my own, and it isn’t the same journey as the journey each of my loves, my friends, my associates takes; their journey is their own as well. I don’t grudge them their joys; I am human enough to experience envy and frustration at the tantalizing bits of those journeys I would like to share.

It isn't always obvious why the path is what it is.

It isn’t always obvious why the path is what it is.

So I wake this morning, quietly, hoping not to disturb the sleep of a partner heading into adventure today. I do hope for pictures, although I don’t expect them; life is best lived, full on, attentively, and in-the-moment. I wouldn’t ask him to sacrifice one second of that experience just to grab a photograph. I yearn to go along, sometime, and feel a poignant moment of recognition that I am not ready, yet.

So…more miles, walking, and it’s time to vary the terrain and stray from pavement. I’m shopping for a good daypack, and when I find the best fit, I’ll start walking with that, too. Every step forward, however small, is progress along the journey. It’s been a long time since Nijmegen, and I may never be fit enough for something like that again… but I’d love to be walking up a mountain trail with my loves, with my friends, to a destination in the wilderness, even if it isn’t very wild, or very far away; there’s a lot of beauty in the world, and I’d like to see more.

I spent the morning shopping for gear, feeling hopeful and encouraged, and ready to take another step.

Today is a good day for forward momentum. Today is a good day to experience life with eyes wide open, and an eager curiosity. Today is a good day to change the world.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, Words

Love Potions & Miracles

May 27, 2014 //
0

Are we all secretly counting on miracles to make things right? Are we all after some sort of patent nostrum, magic potion, or a pill to make everything better? It’d be damned convenient, wouldn’t it? I mean, compared to having to build skills, habits, work through baggage, be accountable, and make good choices… a pill seems much simpler.

I’ve tried the pills; they don’t work. Well, they work, if by ‘working’ we agree to mean ‘have an effect of some kind’ for ‘some people’. Sometimes the effect they have fits the loose definition of ‘working’. Pharmaceuticals didn’t work out for me, personally. They tended to be too much, or too little, or had other more pronounced effects that were uncomfortable, unacceptable, or needed medication of their own. Over time I ended up taking a lot of pills, and for a net effect in improvement so slight that I was little more than a poster child for giving the medical community ‘a chance’.  I still struggled. I still suffered. I still hurt. I had a level of emotional volatility that wasn’t comfortable for anyone who had to live with me, and threw tantrums rivaling the most highly irritable three-year old, and did so with a ferocity and frequency that raw honesty requires me to admit was abusive to live with. I wasn’t okay.

This past weekend was a walk down memory lane, and serves to highlight how generally good the past year has been. Practicing mindfulness, meditating regularly, and learning different skills to identify and communicate my emotional experience in an appropriate way has done far more than any pharmaceuticals ever did. Still. This is a journey – and I’m far from reaching my destination.

So… pills don’t work. How about those miracles? Well, frankly, after this morning, I’m wondering if I should sign on to the miracle side of the argument… I woke early, damned early, crying in my sleep. The hot flashes the last couple weeks have been… extraordinary.  Over and over again, I find myself drenched in sweat, and right on the edge of freaking out because I’m overcome by feeling ‘too hot’.  Beyond being socially a bit awkward to be dealing with it so openly, it’s just seriously uncomfortable.  Take something for it! Sure! Except that medical science lags so far behind the hopes, dreams, and needs of women that it is little more than comedic at this point (are scientists even trying?). I mean, seriously? ED drugs are widely available, but in spite of the pure misery of billions of women dealing with their hormones and the effect that has on their relationships, there’s not shit of any real effectiveness available to deal with symptoms of menopause. Nope, we can all collectively go fuck ourselves, science is content with ‘bitches are crazy’ and leave it at that. Sorry. I’m feeling a tad bitter about the state of medicine and womanhood just at the moment.

I got distracted… by hot flashes. Go figure. The hormone thing is pretty attention consuming, honestly.

So. How about those miracles? Yep. Sitting here this morning, finding a moment of comfort staring at my monitor in the dim light of early morning, just sitting.  Taking a few minutes to calm myself and shush the infernal demons that woke me ahead of schedule. Feeling very alone. Feeling incredibly insecure about the future. Feeling pretty sad and overwhelmed. Wondering what the hell I could possibly ever do to make it up to people who love me, then feeling mired in suppressed rage that being female should feel like something I need to make up for… it was a rough start to the morning.  There was a quiet scratching at the door; at 5 am we’re all pretty cautious about keeping things quiet; everyone in the household has their own sleep challenges, and we all know how much it matters to get the sleep we can.  A wakeful partner checking in, a quiet ‘how did you sleep’ and a follow-up ‘are you up?’ from me.  Ordinary love, aside from Love never being at all ordinary… he headed back to bed, hoping for more rest. I resigned myself to continuing to face my challenges until the time came to leave for work.  I was settling in to breathing, being, meditating… and he quietly returned, crossed the room, and just stood near enough to touch, his tenderness palpable.  He said “I feel so helpless to do anything to help you with the menopause thing.” Honest. True. Loving. He headed to bed, and now I am writing about miracles.

It was a simple enough miracle of love; I felt lonely, my love connected with me, intimately, gently, honestly.  I need that, more than a cure, and feeling it matters so much this morning.  My demons have no real defense against love.

Today is a good day to love.

What time is love?

What time is love?

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, women, Words
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »