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No Words

July 20, 2024 //
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Well… Not literally “no words”…cuz here I am, eh? Words. I’ve got a fair few of these fuckers (words) laying about. May as well use them…but… This morning I’ve nothing much to say, really.

… I’m tired, and there’s this damned headache and this ringing in my ears…

“Anhedonia”. Now there’s a fucking word. Anhedonia is more or less simply a loss of delight, of interest, of the will to engage with pleasant and interesting things. It’s not “boredom”, and it most definitely is a “mental health issue”. Sometimes it’s simply that circumstances grind me down until I just fucking give up on a “just don’t give a shit” level that transcends even irritation, leaving me without the will to resist or try to overcome it at all. Here I am this morning.

… I’m just that tired, cognitively and emotionally…

Caregiving is hard work, and I’m learning that a great deal of the work involved is in the form of emotional labor. I have profound respect for people who are caregiving a loved one for years. I’ve only been doing it for months. It’s fucking hard, and it’s draining. 8 days until my coastal getaway, and I definitely need it, but… I’ll also need to really get away from the emotional labor of caregiving to get the rest I need so badly. Most of the brief opportunities for downtime since my Traveling Partner’s injury haven’t given me the rest I really needed, because I failed to leave the emotional labor behind, and returned home to still more. I didn’t understand that I needed to put that down, and didn’t understand what a large portion of the caregiving it really is. (I’m pretty new to taking on a caregiving role, and have never had a child.) I failed myself in this way, and by extension ended up also failing my Traveling Partner – in two ways.

1. I failed my Traveling Partner by not taking care of myself sufficiently well to ensure I am up to the challenges and requirements of caregiving over time. It’s an endurance race, not a sprint.

2. I failed my Traveling Partner by not setting clear boundaries with regard to emotional labor generally, or communicating clearly when the burden is too great for my limited human capacity.

I can see how these are both also failures of self-care, too. No wonder I’m fucking exhausted.

This morning I got to the trailhead and just sat in my car weeping quietly for some unmeasured amount of time. I really didn’t feel like walking, at all. Anhedonia is a difficult challenge to overcome, but eventually I got out of the car and trudged down the trail irritably. The rising sun only annoyed me and my sour mood followed me down the trail. I spitefully didn’t stop to sit and write in my preferred location, choosing instead to annoy myself by sitting uncomfortably elsewhere. (Good grief, really?! Fucking stupid.)

I’m sitting. Writing. Feeling irritable because my back aches, my head aches, my tinnitus is loud, and my Traveling Partner is injured. From the perspective of this moment it feels very much that there is “no end in sight”, and despair threatens to rear its head. I sigh deeply, and just let the unwanted tears fall.

This shit is hard.

…It could all be so much worse…

This shit is hard.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Eventually, I even stop crying, and even mostly stop feeling overcome by anhedonia. I clearly need to get some downtime, some relief, a real break… Which makes me feel like an asshole; my Traveling Partner gets no break from being injured and in pain and needing my help. Fuck.

… Did I mention that this shit is hard?

I’m okay for most values of okay. My Traveling Partner is, too. He’s got surgery scheduled. This is, thankfully, a temporary situation, and we’ve got the additional help of the Anxious Adventurer now (which is greatly appreciated and very much needed). I make a point to reset my perspective, my expectations, and my awareness. It’s not helpful to become mired in pain – particularly someone else’s, and especially when I’ve also got to manage my own. It’s hard, sure, but it truly could be worse, and in some respects it isn’t even as bad as it sometimes feels. We’re fortunate: I’m employed, we have health insurance, we’ve got help, and this isn’t a terminal health issue.

If I were better at this caregiving stuff, I might be more easily able to lift my Traveling Partner from his pain-focused funk, when he gets stuck there. I sit with that thought for a few minutes. I think about the many years of therapy and skilled mental health care I’ve been fortunate to receive. I think about mindfulness practices, meditation, and CBT.

… I remind myself that I can’t do the verbs for anyone else, and that we’ve each got to walk our own hard mile…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sometimes the best thing I can do to care for my partner is to care for myself. I think about the day ahead, and the things I’d like to get done. I think about my partner, and what he may need today, and consider how best to be there for him.

It’s a new day. The sun is warm on my back. I hear voices coming down the trail. It’s time to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, health, loneliness, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Surfing the Wave

July 18, 2024 //
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Yesterday went sideways fast, mostly a byproduct of pain (mine, and his), and associated emotional volatility. Mine. His. It sucked and generally speaking the entire day was pretty much wrecked by it. Oddly, from an outside perspective, apparently, the details of the day amounted to “a great day” characterized by numerous successes, but the emotional qualities of the experience were wildly out of touch with any of that. Being human is complicated sometimes.

As bad as the day seemed, generally, it began and ended well. Not my usual experience, and it seems (on reflection) somehow associated with the addition of the Anxious Adventurer to the household dynamic. Interesting. Looking back on the day it “doesn’t seem so bad”, but good grief I am glad it’s behind me and I am hoping for better today. I’m in less pain… A promising start.

Here comes another opportunity!

I hit the trail just at daybreak. The morning had a slight chill to it that felt refreshing. The sunrise began as a smudgy streak of a reddish hue, like a wound becoming infected. The air was still, and hazy in the distance. My tinnitus was far louder in my ears than the sound of distant traffic. I walked along, listening to my own steps, thinking my solitary thoughts.

…10 days until my coastal getaway…

The case I purchased to hold, protect, and transport my pastels arrived yesterday and I took a moment to put the delicate sticks of colorful pigments into their new home. No more small boxes – just one tidy case. I’m delighted with the result, and feel more prepared for my upcoming trip to the coast to paint. I sit at the halfway point of my walk, thinking about art, love, and inspiration, and watching the sun rise. The work day will begin soon enough, and I’ll turn my thoughts to work when it does. For now, my time is my own.

I’m looking forward to the weekend, though it seems likely to be quite a busy one. I’ve got a number of boxes set aside, filled with small objects and items quickly packed and moved out of the way to make room for the Anxious Adventurer. Now that things are settling down, it’s time to take a closer look, to dispose of what lacks value, to display noteworthy curiosities and decorative things, where space permits, and more carefully pack those things worth keeping but for which the time is not now. Then whatever boxes there are will go to storage for a while. It’s a process that can be a bit emotional, and although I am not dreading it, I’m also not looking forward to it.

I breathe exhale and relax. The sun is deep luminous orange as it rises above the horizon. I save my draft and turn back up the trail. The sunrise dazzles my eyes as I walk through the oaks.

Don’t stare into the sun!

The air is already warming up. I’m thinking about coffee and new beginnings, and change. I’m feeling pretty good this morning, aside from the headache that accompanies me most days.  Getting to the car, I sit on a nearby picnic table to finish my writing, change my boots for softer shoes, and sit for a moment, just being. I watch the sun through the trees and contemplate how I would compose the scene on paper and how that might work in pastel. Old thoughts, new medium.

…Fuck, my tinnitus is so loud. I make a point to listen to myself breathing, which helps “put the tinnitus in perspective” and anchor my awareness to externally audible sounds.

…My Traveling Partner pings me…

It’s hours later. My plans were upended pretty quickly. My morning walk had served to give my partner a bit more time to get the rest he needs, but the Anxious Adventurer has his own routine, and his own work hours, and his own plan, and my partner was awake earlier than he’d hoped, with no likelihood of getting more rest if I were to be working from home, as I’d intended. It was early enough in the morning to make a change, easily, with no particular stress and I offered to do so, and hastened home to grab my laptop and head to the office. It’s nice to have the option. My day ends up starting a bit later than I planned, which means it will end later than I’d like, but if my Traveling Partner gets the rest he needs, it’s a win for both of us.

…The necessity to begin again comes in a lot of forms. The willingness to make a change based on circumstances is a useful first step. Then, by beginning where I actually am, I can proceed to the next thing, the next need, the next plan… the next moment. So far, it’s still a lovely day – and all I had to do was begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Endurance

July 17, 2024 //
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Short walk. My ankle aches. My back aches. My head aches. It’s okay, it’s physical pain, and aside from that the morning is a pleasant one. I sit listening to the sound of distant traffic through the buzz and whine of my tinnitus. The sky is a threatening assortment of stormy clouds, blues and grays, but the forecast has no rain in it, just a summer warning about heat and wildfires.

No rain expected today.

I sit quietly with my thoughts. Another work day. Weirdly, I simultaneously feel surprised that it is “already Wednesday”, and also annoyed that “it’s only Wednesday”. lol Human primates are hilarious and not wholly rational about such things. Time is kinda “made up” anyway; there’s only “now“. I chuckle, entertained by my own foolishness. It’s that kind of morning.

We’re seriously the sort of creatures that would think up some dumb shit like this. 🤣

I catch myself picking at my cuticles and make myself stop. I watch the clouds move sluggishly across the sky, colors shifting as the unseen sun rises. The leaves and branches of the trees within view are tossed on a lazy breeze that I don’t feel.

… I remind myself to go by the store on my way home, later…

I had the trail to myself. The park is still deserted. It’s just me, here, on a quiet morning. On the other side of the vineyards adjacent to the park, migrant workers are already working. I wonder to myself who would do all the agricultural work, if we stopped allowing migrant workers to come here for that purpose? I don’t know many people willing to work that fucking hard for so little pay. Another solution would be to pay farm workers a living wage… But I don’t know many people who could afford what groceries would cost then, and I am damned sure the big food conglomerates aren’t going to trim back their profits. It’s a hell of a problem. I think about it pointlessly for some minutes. I have no solutions to offer.

… Human greed is some ugly shit…

My mind wanders this morning and I don’t make any particular effort to be more disciplined. I sit quietly and let the thoughts pass through my awareness without interfering. (Breathe.) It feels good to enjoy the stillness. (Exhale.) These few solitary moments are so precious. (Relax .) I savor the quiet time alone with my thoughts. I try but fail to recall quite when my tinnitus developed and when it became so bad… I feel certain I didn’t have it as a child. I definitely had it when my Traveling Partner and I got together. My outburst of laughter makes me choke on my coffee – that’s “only” a span of some 35 fucking years or so to sift through! lol

… The clock ticks on…

Things are starting to settle down at home.  The Anxious Adventurer is moved in. The household is pretty much restored to order. New routines are beginning to develop. I feel genuinely comfortable with taking a couple days away for myself, knowing my injured Traveling Partner won’t be alone. 11 days? 11 days left to wait. I’m counting them down. I’m excited to spend some time alone with my thoughts and my pastels and see what comes of it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s an ordinary enough Wednesday, and a pleasant summer morning. I don’t need much more than this; it’s enough. I glance at the time and think briefly of work. It’s not yet time…soon though. Another day, another beginning, another opportunity to be the human being I most want to be.

… Another chance to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Steps

July 16, 2024 //
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Yesterday was a good day, pretty much from the time I woke until I went to bed. I enjoyed the day, my work, and the companionship of my Traveling Partner. I sit with the recollection of my experience for a few moments, at the halfway point of my morning walk.

Today starts well, though I woke with a headache after a difficult night. My sleep was interrupted by my Traveling Partner’s restlessness. I had no difficulty returning to sleep, but I woke often, and when the night finally gave way to a new day, I woke feeling groggy and stupid. S’ok. It’s fine. I’m fine.

I stepped through my morning routine in much the same dogged persistent fashion as I later stepped down the trail; one foot after the other. It’s a practice. A process. If I just keep at it, eventually I get somewhere. In a few minutes, my steps will take me back up the trail to the truck (I offered the Anxious Adventurer the use of my car for work on these hottest days, since his has no AC), and then on to work. I yawn and rub my eyes. I still don’t feel quite awake yet, in spite of the sunshine making my eyes water when I carelessly look too closely at it.

… Sometimes persistence is more useful than enthusiasm…

I sigh to myself. I glance at the time, and count the days until my coastal getaway…12 days… I watch the shadows shift as the sun rises. Pretty morning… I guess I will get on with the day. Feels like a good time to begin again.

Another summer morning, another opportunity to be the person I most want to be.
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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

100% Human

July 15, 2024 //
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This content is 100% written by a human being. No AI tools are used by the author. The writing is inspired by lived experience, most of it explicitly my own. Some of it is inspired by the observed or considered experiences of others. Hell, I barely pay any mind to readily available spelling or grammar checking tools, preferring to carefully review and correct my own writing, even at the very real cost of missing mistakes that then make it to the published work. lol (And still generally manage to be better grammatically than quite a lot of AI generated garbage being promoted as “news” online!)

I’m just making a point to confirm that I am 100% made of live, real, pure human, with all the flaws and raw emotion that implies. I have no plans to change that, ever; I don’t personally prefer AI generated content, whether written, or artistic. It isn’t even about that fundamentally aesthetic preference, though. What could AI have to say, in any useful way, about the lived experience of human emotion, of surviving trauma, or details like the taste of coffee, or the sight of a sunrise? It’s way outside the “comprehension” of an algorithm, however complex, and as of 2024, what we all seem so eager to call “AI” is not “intelligent”; it lacks cognition and comprehension. AI can not understand.

…No, I am not an expert in AI. I’m a human being with an entirely other skill set, professionally. I can read, do have cognitive abilities and consciousness, and pretty good reading comprehension, and having made a point to read along and pay attention, I can summarize with clarity and simplicity (mostly). In 2024, the term “AI” is a marketing term used to generate interest (and revenue) which refers to a category of machine learning tools and algorithms which on their own are already sufficiently problematic to warrant real concern over several areas of interest. Concerns such as what role they will or should play in the workforce, and what their impact is on the copyright protections of artists and writers and creators of entertainment. We haven’t even created “real AI” yet, and we’re already in hot water of the “what have we done?” variety.

Daybreak at the trailhead.

I walk the trail with my very human thoughts, pausing now and then to make a note, before continuing. The sun rises slowly through the orange glow of the dawn. The sky becomes suffused with a lemony yellow. The summer air feels heavy and still. My tinnitus is loud in my ears. It’s a Monday, and a work day. I walk on. I think about love. I think about sex. I think about money. I think about making chicken tikka masala for dinner tonight. Human thoughts, framed in a human context. No expertise required; I’m simply living my life.

I recently heard that bot traffic is likely a larger portion of total Internet traffic these days than human traffic is. That’s a little mind-blowing and a lot disappointing. It says unpleasant things about human greed (to be fair, there’s nothing actually pleasant about human greed to be said in the first place). I figured that with that in mind, I would make a point of reassuring you that I am indeed actually human, actually writing these words, and that they are intended explicitly for a human audience having human experiences.  It may not always be reliably obvious, as time goes on, which writing online is human-authored, or which images are created by human artists. Easier to simply say so. lol

… But can you trust my words, and do you even care…?

I sigh and walk on. I’ll have to be content with living my life, writing and creating on my own terms, and enjoying the moments I’ve got. The golden sun peeks at me from between the trees as I continue down the trail. The air is already warming up. I hear the sound of distant commuter traffic, and a construction site nearby getting work started. I eventually reach a spot I like for taking a moment to sit and get my thoughts in order. It’s a lovely morning, whatever else the day may hold. A good beginning. (Sometimes a good beginning is the best I can do, and sometimes that’s enough.)

I check my writing for spelling mistakes and grammatical errors that may change the meaning of my words. I sit with my thoughts awhile before I upload my draft for publication. It feels like it’s already time to begin again… I definitely don’t know what the future holds. Mine is a very human experience.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Art, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Words
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