Archives for category: Spring

Writing isn’t coming so easily this morning. I’ve had a number of interesting ideas take me a direction that just didn’t look like somewhere I cared to go…3 actually, amounting to something like 700 words. Deleted words now; I didn’t even safe drafts. I’m okay with that – my words, I can do what I like with them.

Other sorts of course corrections and changes are less simple. I can’t just delete a poor choice and go a different direction, once my choices are made and acted upon, the way I can when I write – no backspace button, either, for that ‘oh crap! not that direction…’ moment. In action, life happens quickly and continuously. Good decision-making, and wise actions matter – and so does self-compassion, and self-acceptance, because I definitely also manage some poor decision-making along life’s journey, or take actions that could not be described as ‘wise’ (‘fumbling in the dark’ would be more accurate, at best, some days).

Today, the writing is my metaphor. It’s not going super smoothly today, and I’m okay with that, too – there’s no pressure, it’s living life and sometimes it is more challenging than others. Today I feel vaguely… vague. A bit directionless, having dumped some errant notions that were holding me back, but having not quite firmed up the foundational ideas and decisions that will take me forward on a more valued trajectory. Camping is sounding really good from this vantage point; I need some stillness to think on what I want out of my life.

Blue skies and wonder; worth looking up for.

Blue skies and wonder; worth looking up for.

My traveling partner arrived home earlier than planned yesterday; I was in the office and aside from the happy awareness he was safely home, it didn’t change my experience. We have very little time together, partly due to my work hours, and timing. I got home and enjoyed the warmth of his greeting, and the delight of welcoming him back…for about half an hour. He crashed out early in the evening, and clearly needed the rest. I spent my evening quietly, and enjoyed an early night, myself. We’ve carved out some time on the calendar to enjoy together tonight; I plan to stay up later than usual to make it happen, because the time we share is worth adjusting my routine and losing some sleep.

I may be vague on what to write about today… I am not vague about love, Love, or my traveling partner. I hear him up for the morning…today is a good day to share love.

I’ve got my dark moments, and certainly I have occasional doubts that ‘it’ is ‘worth it’ at all; it is the struggle that still fuels so much of my writing. Emotions can be intense, unexpected, and they cover a grand spectrum of human experience, so having a few that are unpleasant seems a given. While those things are what they are, I appreciate life, generally, and actually hope to live a very long time; I’ve often said I’d like to be around for 2083…I’d be 120. That’s a lot of living. Years and years of living in fact, surely qualifying as ‘a long time’. It seems doable, given ideal conditions; the oldest person living today is getting pretty close to that 120 mark, herself, and reportedly people have lived longer. As goals go, it’s hard to beat ‘live a long time’.

With potentially another 70 or so years to go, it changes the face of my perspective on living…I spent about a decade as a child, and another 10 years honing my skills to be recognizably adult (although lacking in life experience)…finally reaching 21, which wasn’t of particular value or legitimate significance; I was already a soldier, already unhappily married, already able to drink, already owned a car and a house, already voting – and still just as likely to be discouraged from using, or prohibited from having, the decision-making power of autonomy over reproduction and sexual values – because that’s how women are often treated, regardless of age, but most especially as young adult women. I spent my 20s rather wastefully racking up experiences of a variety of sorts without any particular reflection or personal growth. I took a lot of damage. I inflicted some of it on myself.

"Broken" 14" x 18" acrylic and mixed media with glow.

“Broken” 14″ x 18″ acrylic and mixed media with glow.

I entered my 30s exiting a violent marriage, without much to show for it besides a small number of very special possessions I would cling to with great care for decades to come, only to see some of the most precious of those rare positive mementos lost to the destructive force, or disregard, of others farther along on life’s journey. (Attachment is a losing game.)

I fell in love for the first time in my 30s, and although I recognized the experience as being significant, it didn’t last. It likely wouldn’t have lasted even if I had had the skills to nurture it at the time, it was built on a shaky foundation.

Time passes. I’ve grown. Changed. Built on what seems to be working. Torn down a lot of what wasn’t working at all. I’m in a very different place than I once was…and still the journey continues.  I have a lot less to show for 52 years than many people do (and more than others). I don’t own a home of my own. I don’t own a car of my own. I am not prepared for retirement in any adequate fashion. 100% of everything I own at this point in my life will fit in a modest sized bedroom – what isn’t furniture fits in a closet, if the art is hanging on the walls. Most of my possessions are paintings, or books, and a few boxes of precious crystal and porcelain breakables that are for now put away for safety. It hasn’t always been this way, and when I am not mindful of the risk of ‘second dart suffering’ related to attachment and loss, contemplating the losses over time carries quite an emotional punch. My brain is willing to attack me on this tender spot; I have sometimes chosen poorly, and I am living the outcome of those choices.

I am walking my own path; sometimes  it seems clear, sometimes less so.

I am walking my own path; sometimes it seems clear, sometimes less so.

I am not where I want to be in life. On the other hand… I’ve got 70 years or so to get there, and I’m in a better place from which to move forward. 70 years to understand what matters most to me. 70 years to be fitter, wiser, healthier, calmer. 70 years to learn to love more skillfully, and to invest in growth. 70 years to make better choices. 70 years to build, to grow, to change… 70 years to practice. The saying is ‘practice makes perfect’ – what am I perfecting? What do I want of my life? This is not a question anyone can answer for me, and it has been a grave mistake in judgment in past moments of ennui, hurt, or chaos, to abdicate my role, or to compromise, in making the choices about what that desired life looks like for me.

Building the path as I walk it.

Building the path as I walk it; how else? No one knows my journey like I do…

I’m feeling some better this morning, though I slept badly. I’ll nap later, perhaps. I’ll spend the day doing laundry, preparing for my camping trip – if I go, the ‘last minute’ preparations [for me] happen today. If I find I am too sick to go, I will have spent a chill fun day playing with my camping gear – I don’t see that it is really any different from if I were a kid playing with any other sort of toys, housebound with a head cold on a rainy day. 🙂  I am hopeful that I’ll still be going camping – it’s the Vernal Equinox, missing out is kind of … well… missing out; there’s only one each year. This camping trip is a bit more than a weekend; 4 nights, 4 days, and a chance to meditate at length and at leisure, and to consider what I want of my life. (The future is here, and it’s always a good time to choose more wisely about the future than I did in the past.)

More questions than answers, and seeking illumination with a beginner's mind...

More questions than answers, and seeking illumination with a beginner’s mind…

This is the basic question I will be considering on this trip – in case you want to take it for a test drive, yourself: – If I could know with certainty that I will be living another 70 years, am I content with the life I am living right now? If not, what will I change to live the life I most want to live? What qualities of my day-to-day experience are precious to me? What do I change to experience more of those things? Yep. Fundamentally it the same question I have been asking throughout 2015; what do I want of my life? It is one question that simply isn’t ever about anyone but me. Life isn’t a bus ride, it’s more like a solo hike. The will, the direction, the motive power, and the resources over time, are mine. The choices? Also mine. I enjoy sharing my life with love and lovers…this, though, is my journey; I am the cartographer, the map is of my own making, the destination, too, must be of my choosing, sharing some portion of the journey does not change that.

The map is not the world...but the journey may be the destination.

The map is not the world…but the journey may be the destination.

Today is a very good day to live my life on my own terms. Isn’t it always? Today is a good day to treat the world well, while finding my own way. Today is a good day for good-natured acceptance of the humanity of others, and to be content that their decision-making is likely to differ from my own. Today is a good day for good self-care, and healthy indulgence of things that feel good – and do no harm to others. Today is a good day to be the person I most want to be – when I can – and to dust off my knees when I stumble, and keep going. Today is a good day to choose my own path, and to walk it. Today is a good day to change my world.

Is enlightenment found in embracing contentment in this precious moment?

Seeking illumination, I am content to find lightness of being.

I’m still sick. I’m taking advantage of the weekend to take care of my health. I have no other plans today. I am still hopeful that I’ll be over this in time for my camping trip in a few days…if not, I’ll have to decide whether to cancel or just go and tough it out – maybe find out just exactly what I’m made of under even more trying conditions.

I giggle at myself thinking about my middle-aged, suburbanite, white-collar self considering a few days of camping in a state park very near to home to anything like ‘trying conditions’ or a test of endurance of any sort. Somewhere in the distance of time long past, a much younger, more rugged me looks on with some measure of friendly disdain – not meaning to be mean, but me then was just not that patient with people’s notions. lol

Not quite wilderness close to home.

Not quite wilderness close to home.

So sure, today I am putting me first, but that’s not the point of the title at all. “Me First” is a practice, and it’s one that I am currently turning over in my head to add to my SuperBetter  game; I haven’t decided if it serves best as a ‘Quest’ or a ‘Power Up’. Over my morning coffee, I answer some basic questions for myself, such as ‘is this something I do for a course correction, or an emotional boost, or is it something I need to practice, reach for as a goal, and strive to achieve?’ and ‘is this an experience?’ and ‘can I put a face to it?’ Most of my ‘Bad Guys’ are issues and challenges (personal demons) that I can easily ‘face’ more effectively if they wear actual faces. lol

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

My “Me First” practice is a cognitive tool to improve emotional resilience by building a sense of perspective, improving my ability to respond to others with compassion, and to foster quick recognition of shared human experience, when I may be inclined to react in a judgmental way, or feeling resentful. “Me First” is simply the practice of observing the judgment or resentment with a high level of honesty and acceptance, and mindful awareness of how I, myself, experience a similar circumstance ‘if the shoe were on the other foot’. I put myself in the other person’s experience very deliberately, and challenge myself to understand how it may be something we have in common, and how human it is. Before I start emotionally or intellectually ‘stoning’ someone, I practice looking to myself – is there really room to criticize? (There rarely is.) Is there room for compassion, encouragement, a moment of humor or Schadenfreude? (There usually is.) Instead of being critical – and understanding that criticism is generally a poorly worded request for change – is there something I can do meet my own needs more simply (like making a clear and gentle request for change)? Can I apply that understanding and perspective to this other human being and possibly do something to meet their needs? That’s the lovely thing about my “Me First” practice – it’s not ‘me first over and above whatever you need, and go fuck yourself for your trouble’, not at all; it’s ‘let me take care of me first, work out some of these issues I’ve obviously got, get my head right and see what we can do together, to meet shared needs, and understand each other’.  Before I criticize someone else, I launch this practice and I check myself – and use the object lesson to work on me, first – because realistically, I don’t actually get to work on anyone else. None of us do. Not really – and attempting to take that power of self management, and autonomy away from someone with criticism, judgmental remarks, or intimidation and controlling behaviors is in a category of ‘bad acts’ I consider emotionally abusive. I definitely don’t want to be doing something to other people that I consider abuse.

What a wonderful thing – you get to make all your own choices about these things, yourself, and my notions of what is or is not abusive doesn’t dictate your choices! Fantastic! Ideally, it’s all sort of self-adjusting, isn’t it? If we treat someone poorly, or abuse them (physically or emotionally), surely they don’t stick around for that, and we find ourselves bereft and alone, as we would surely deserve for our bad acts…right? Well, not always, and sometimes tragically so. Learning not to stick around for more abuse is one of the things I work on, myself. It’s not always easy. My sense of loyalty is far more well-developed than my sense of when I may be over-compromising my values, or allowing myself to be mistreated emotionally. As a younger woman, some portion of my identity was wrapped up in whether my relationships ‘succeeded’, but the definition of success wasn’t my own, and I stuck around for some heinous shit. We are each having our own experience, too. What injures me, or hits damaged bits related to my PTSD, or may be of more concern because of my TBI, may not at all be what hurts you as an individual. (Clearly there are some experiences that could universally be recognized as abuse, but this is not about that.)

Learning good self-care, for me, also means learning to recognize when I am treated well, when I am treated poorly – and what amount of poor treatment is unacceptable, rather than an incidental and unintended by product of someone’s humanity. So I practice treating myself well, and I also practice treating others well; because I am not a blameless victim in my experience of life – I am living it, and I too make poor choices, or fall short of ideals, or ‘drop the ball in the big game’. I’m very human. I honestly don’t find it acceptable to criticize someone for issues I have myself, things I am also prone to do, or stuff that’s just shared human experience needing to be managed or learned from; so I am practicing doing something differently, and walking my own path to be the woman I most want to be, myself, on my own terms.

We each walk our own path, paved with our own choices.

We each walk our own path, paved with our own choices.

I’m also not smug about this stuff, and I struggle. These are my challenges, more than my triumphs, and I have more questions than answers. You’re welcome to take whatever value you find in my words; your results may vary. There are verbs involved. 🙂

I tried learning to treat others well, without taking care of me, without addressing my own needs first, without really putting in the time to learn what treating others well really meant. It was not an effective effort.  I don’t find attempting to care for me to the exclusion of treating others well to be a good fit; it nearly always feels like I am treating people poorly as a default decision. Balance wins again, and perspective; treating myself well matters a lot, and treating others well isn’t even truly possible to do with skill if I don’t start with me…but putting myself first by taking good treatment away from others turns out not to be very good self-care at all. It’s quite an interesting puzzle.  I found the realization that ‘good treatment’ is defined by the person experiencing it, rather than the person taking the action being experienced, very valuable; it’s not about the intention of the person delivering the words or behaviors at all, and that’s important to understand.

Endure the journey, or embrace it, this choice, too, is yours.

Endure the journey, or embrace it, this choice, too, is yours.

I am sick today, and it’s raining; today is a good day for puzzles. Today is a good day for first-rate self-care. Today is a good day to treat the hearts of others just as well as I treat my own – knowing that I treat my own heart very well indeed, well… practicing the practices, at least. There’s still a journey ahead. 🙂

Daylight Savings Time again, already; twice a year in the U.S. we play a cruel prank on people whose lives or comfort depend on habit, and timing. Some medications require people take them ‘at the same time every day’ – well, if they do that today, they’re probably going to experience some weirdness, and maybe for a few days to come, until their body gets used to taking their medication at a different time.

My body and brain protest being awakened early. My stomach is upset from taking my medication an hour early (our bodies do not care what the clock face suggests the time to be). The darkness in my room reminds me I have overlooked resetting the aquarium timer; the fish likely won’t care much for the disruption in their rhythms either…so do I change their timing? Or change my thinking about when their lights come on? Considering how shitty I feel every year doing the clock change for Daylight Savings Time, I am likely to just get used to when the lights come on now relative to everything else and leave the fish in peace.

I have never met one person who actually benefits from Daylight Savings Time in any noteworthy way. I know a lot of people who find it difficult to adjust, twice a year, year after year, to this arbitrary change in time. I just don’t get it.

I let my thoughts move on… in a few days I’ll be adjusted to the new timing. My heart goes out to people who find it even more challenging.

Spring sunshine downtown.

Spring sunshine downtown.

It was a lovely weekend. I couldn’t have asked for much more in the way of chill time, well-spent leisure, and good self-care. I start the work week well-rested, content, and aside from the Daylight Savings Time bullshit, I feel pretty good, overall. I’m excited about my upcoming camping trip (next week), particularly because the weather was just wonderful all weekend long; it bodes well for the conditions the weekend I am camping. I wasn’t honestly eager to embrace night-time temperatures potentially below freezing, just willing. 🙂

Today is a good day to treat people well; so many of them may be struggling with the change in time, whether they have awareness of what drives their struggle, or not. Today is a good day to be patient and kind, and today is a good day to smile and slow things down a bit. Today is a good day to show myself the same patience and kindness; I too am getting used to the change in time. Today is a good day to recognize change in the world.

One lovely day...

One lovely day…

Yesterday was exceptional.

Change is. Impermanence is. Human beings are human. We are each having our own experience. Fantastic days sometimes end with unpleasant emotional moments. I still slept. I woke to the alarm having slept through the night, once I fell asleep. My morning shower featured plentiful hot water. My coffee tastes good. I’ve got some uninterrupted quiet time for myself; morning yoga and meditation mellow me out before my brain attacks me with reminders of the unpleasantness the night before. I roll with it; more meditation.

The title isn’t literal; I don’t know people who would treat me that way in a literal fashion. I think the experience of being welcomed, then rejected later is probably relatively common. It feels crap-tacular, because rejection feels bad, and nothing more.  Rejection just doesn’t feel good.  Rejection feels even worse at the hands of loved ones, or people from whom we have any expectation of being supported emotionally. Delivering rejection to another person, though, is a useful tool for maintaining personal boundaries… Rejection from the receiving end, however necessary it may seem to the person delivering the blow, packs a huge emotional punch; we reliably take a step back from being rejected. Whether the moment of rejection seems unimportant to one person or another  isn’t relevant to someone else’s experience of the same moment.  Handled well, rejection is something small and we move on secure in the long-standing affection of the person asking for some space, or declining an invitation, or withdrawing from an affectionate moment, because that rejection wasn’t threatening in any larger sense; it probably still stung a little, and we let it go.

Delivering rejection with gentle courtesy and receiving it with gracious perspective are not the same skills. (For what it’s worth, I’ll observe that I lack skills in both areas, and this is not a blog post written from a place of hurt; it is a morning to consider where further growth may take me.)

It’s the ‘handled badly’ moments of rejection that devastate me, more often than not: the terse or angry words, the unexpected rejection, or the abrupt withdrawal of affection. I don’t doubt at all that I am perceived as stronger than I truly am; I know how I feel on the inside when I feel rejected, and I seriously doubt anyone who loves me would want me to have that feeling.  I am also much stronger than I understand, myself, because as dreadful as rejection feels – it is totally survivable. It hurts most to be rejected when I am attached to being accepted as a measure of affection or support; but we are each having our own experience. It is unquestionably going to be true that not every moment will be shared with me, and that not every moment shared with me will be lovely, loving, pleasant, joyful, or satisfying. Some moments are not for me. Some moments are not pleasant for me. Some moments will be more pleasant to contemplate than to live out. Some moments will hurt far more than seems reasonable, and linger too long in my consciousness. They are still only moments. Like so many things about thinking and feeling, although the feelings associated with rejection suck completely, they are still merely emotions; there is chemistry involved…our thoughts are chosen, crafted, built and nurtured from within – and they have only whatever reality or truth that we give them, ourselves.

Being rejected does suck…what sucks most about it, for me, is that I followed the moment of rejection almost immediately by also rejecting myself.  I followed implicit blame from someone else with explicit self-directed blame. I built on that self-directed blame by tearing myself down, and followed that by refusing comfort from the person who rejected me… it was a terrible way to treat myself, and I don’t recommend it at all.

There’s more to consider; the underlying concern still troubles me, but I am not strong enough this morning to pursue it with clear thinking. It is what it is; sometimes ‘taking care of me’ means allowing myself time to get past something that hurts before considering it further. It is a choice that prevents me from becoming mired in a negative emotional experience; a serious risk for me, and one of my challenges with my TBI. (The PTSD and TBI do not play nicely together.)

Strangely relevant; I had a very powerful, positive, growth-directing, encouraging therapy session this week…I am already having to rest on those skills, and feel sad that timing has been such that there was no opportunity to celebrate them. Even the slightest attention on those hurt feelings rouses the lingering feeling of rejection lurking in the background waiting to attack me again (I admit that I feel unimportant that this thing that matters so much to me, personally, was of no interest or consequence whatsoever to anyone else in the household that day; there were other things going on, and we were each having our own experience).  So, yeah, today dealing with feelings of rejection seems important… It’s time to take another step on the path of emotional self-sufficiency, and to learn more about counting on being accepted and encouraged by me, myself, with such strength and reliability that no external rejection can really touch me. (Hey, that’s a goal – maybe a little over-reaching, but it’s a start.)

Perspective promises so much... there are still verbs involved.

Perspective promises so much… there are still verbs involved.

Today is a good day to understand that rejection does hurt; but it’s only a moment, and an emotion. We choose to react or respond, we choose how important we allow the moment to be, and we choose whether to inflict additional suffering on ourselves as a result of rejection. Today is a good day to allow rejection to direct our attention to someone else’s needs or boundaries, and understand rejection as ‘poorly handled boundary setting’ with compassion, and acceptance. Today is a good day not to take rejection personally. Today is a good day to change the perspective on rejection. Today is a good day to change my inner world.