Archives for category: The Big 5

I am not perfect. Not even close. Hell, I’m still practicing the most basic practices, generally, as a beginner. A student. An amateur. A novice. I even try to practice very much as if I’d never done it before – with my full attention, with care, aware of the moment and the motions, deliberately, and with my whole will – and 1458 published blog posts later, I’m still practicing. Like… practicing. Because I have not yet achieved mastery – and maybe can’t or won’t, I don’t know that, and it isn’t relevant to day-to-day practicing of practices. What matters is the practice itself, and the effect it has on my experience to do so. πŸ™‚

I’m a bit woozy and light-headed from the over-the-counter remedies I’ve taken to ease the symptoms of the ick-of-the-month going around the office (or maybe I picked it up at the party? No matter, that’s not important). I’m in a much better mood than yesterday, which I rather expected; really shitty moods are not especially sustainable. I took steps to take a step back, and ended the evening quite pleasantly.

I woke during the night with the sore throat. I figured maybe I was breathing through my mouth… but no, I woke with it in the morning, somewhat worse. I didn’t think much of it, it was only a tickle. By noon, it was a distraction, by 2 pm I actually felt unwell. On my way home, with a frown, and recognition that strep throat, specifically, should not be brought into the office, I pulled into the wee urgent care clinic I favor and got the diagnostic test for strep done, and had the doctor take a look. It’s not strep. I’m glad about that… well… I was initially very glad. At this point, I just feel mostly pretty shitty and ill, and I don’t really care about it – or much of anything else. I ache all over. My head hurts. My throat hurts. The tickle is becoming a nagging, dry, hacking little cough, also very annoying. I guess I know what I’m doing this weekend. Maybe I’ll also slowly get all the holiday decor put away… but I won’t be hard on myself if I don’t. I think I could already go to bed… and it’s not yet 5:30 pm. lol

Dinner was a lovely rich Pho that I picked up on my way home. I already didn’t feel much like eating, or at all like cooking, but I knew I would need to take care of myself, too. I’m annoyed that I’m sick, but the annoyance doesn’t help anything, so I let it go. In fact, I let it go every time it comes up (again). It still comes up, of course; I’m human. I remind myself that “we’ve got to pay for our thrills”, and that breaking all my routines for a high energy holiday celebration with a horde of rambunctious friends merrily cavorting through the days and nights was sure to hit my immune system at some point, and I knew that going into it. It did. No surprise there; I specifically and willfully chose to enjoy the weekend as I did – so, also, no fair bitching about the cost. Now it’s time to pay the check, that’s all. If I deal with a sore throat for a few days, I get off pretty easy, I think. πŸ˜€

Damn I’m tired. Tired. Woozy. Feeling crappy. It’s time to put all this aside and take care of me in the real life, not just talk about it. lol Tomorrow I can begin again. πŸ™‚

I am in a fairly crappy mood this evening. No particular obvious reason stands out. Nothing really seems to be wrong. The work day wasn’t bad. The commute wasn’t bad. Just my mood. The headache isn’t helping, but I’ve taken something for it, had a big glass of water, and made a healthy evening meal of left over acorn squash stuffed with kale and quinoa. Pretty yummy. I’m okay. The house is secure and warm and quiet… so… what’s this bullshit about? That’s not really a rhetorical question – and I do know the answer. Perhaps you’ve heard the old adage “you’ve gotta pay for your thrills”?

I’m managing a smile in spite of my crappy mood, and feeling sort of… accomplished? I broke all my routines celebrating the new year with friends and loved ones. Late nights hanging out, listening to music, celebrating or grieving change, all of us together, enjoying irregular meals that didn’t conform well to specific dietary needs (sugar!!!!) – and all the over stimulation a great house party can provide have finally taken a real toll. I’m not just tired. I’ve gotten some good rest, and my sleep cycle already seems pretty well restored to the usual sleeping/waking timing, so no, it isn’t that – or, that’s only part of it. It was a damned good time, and I’m finding it hard to “come back to real life”, in the sense that merry-makers making merry don’t find much cause to have to “manage their time” – and I was really enjoying that. lol Now it’s back to planning, managing, and dealing with a steady grind that – however pleasant – is not built on my agenda, and over which I have very limited power to influence the course of events, or decision-making. Honestly, I’m just an analyst. A cog. A worker. A human being converting precious limited life-force into cash money for later use elsewhere.

Sure, beautiful…but… it isn’t “home”.

I sigh aloud in the empty still room. This too shall pass. I’m feeling a bit moody, but not particularly broken; this seems a positive change. I’m not angrily protesting the status quo, or furiously ranting about the unfairness of it all (the status quo kinda sucks, for a lot of people, and worse than for me – and frankly, we’re all pretty fucking familiar with unfairness, too). I’m calm and quiet, just sort of irritable – and I guess I’m even okay with that, sitting here quietly, after a nutritious meal, thinking of “home” – is it? Out there in the quiet countryside… among friends… out in the trees…Β Is it “home”? It could be. God damn it, I very much want it to be.

More than a beautiful view. A life.

What if I don’t live that long?

Okay, that goes too far, Brain – what’s with the vicious attack in the middle of a quiet evening? I catch myself tearing at my cuticles. So human. Shit. My mood wobbles toward frustration, fear, despair. I’m still okay right now. There is nothing going in this immediate moment that puts me at any greater risk of imminent death than I’m in at any other moment. We will all die at some point, and it is the rare circumstance when the end comes at a planned time. I sneer angrily at the lame attack on my emotional balance by my irritable brain. I seethe over my own bullshit. I’m not having it tonight. Another sigh punctuates the quiet, and I switch up my approach; I decide to “be here” for me – because I am literally the only person here right now. lol Maybe I can cut myself some slack? I really did throw self-care into the waste bin for 4 days, in the sense that my effort was half-assed at best (it’s still a lot of ass, just less than usual). πŸ™‚

I take a minute, remind myself “this too shall pass”, and think back on other disruptions to routines, other trips away with challenging emotional outcomes. That trip to Vegas? The meltdown after that must be legendary – I haven’t had to face anything like that, this time. I’m just a little moody – and not even a lot. Just headache-y, a bit irritable – and still totally okay right now. I smile, noticing how heavily I am reinforcing that awareness. Practices take practice.

Sometimes it isn’t even obvious if there’s a path to be on.

One step at a time, we each walk our own hard mile. Tomorrow, I’ll begin again.

Interesting weekend. I meant to write more, sooner, and probably beginning with events last week, as that week rushed to a hasty conclusion, filled with stress, chaos, failed planning, and forgetfulness. So much has gone on – from poignant nostalgic moments unpacking a precious box of dolls my sister had been keeping for me, (and that my grandmother had kept for me, before her – since I joined the Army. 1981?) I had honestly written them off, grieved the loss, and moved on, figuring that regardless of good intentions, time and circumstance had made the choice.

I lost track of that moment completely in the fumble and tumble of moments that proceeded from there and on into the busy, festive, holiday weekend. I made memories instead of Facebook posts this weekend. πŸ™‚

The weekend itself was so magical, connected, and emotionally nourishing that the drive home was filled with the thought of it (at least until I hit traffic about 90 minutes from my destination). I have yet to fully process it all. It was informationally and emotionally dense, filled with content – and contentment. It was a departure from all my norms – and a break from very nearly all my routines… like… a serious, total breakdown of most of my basic self-care routines, all of it. lol I haven’t yet sorted all that out, yet, either. Turns out – it’s too much. I can’t so easily just sit down and bang out some words that seem to go together and make sense of it all. I’m going to have to be patient with myself – there is more to consider. So much more. Epiphanies. Changed thinking. People. Moments. Moments upon moments of real life, actually fully lived, awake and aware and taking life on a tangent. It was… intense.

As with the weekend, itself, this picture defies me to make any sense of it. lol

There are some lovely pictures… surely I’ll share some of them… in due time. Even the words must be shared “in due time”. My time. My words. I guess it’s only reasonable that I determine the timing and the broadness or depth of the sharing. I need to soak in the feelings awhile, and figure myself out a bit more. It’s a new year – the woman in the mirror has work to do, but it’s a waste of precious limited lifetime to merely rush around randomly doing things and stuff without making some sense of where I may be headed, I think. So… I’ll take some time for all that. Meditation. Writing – private writing, I mean, actually writing in my journal. Self-reflection. Asking the questions. Listening to the answersΒ  – without judgement, objection, or excuse making. Being. Becoming. Beginning again.

Good party. πŸ˜€

Weird day at work. I’m ready to move on from that.

What’s this really about? (It’s probably a metaphor)

I had a moment of aggravating conversation at one point during my day, with a relative stranger, and on a rather delicate topic – my weight. Yikes. How does a person approach someone they don’t know well at all, and with a rather mundane mixture of erroneous assumptions and internal narrative, come up with a good rationalization to open the door on the topic of weight and weight management with an irritable middle-aged fat chick on the bus?? Inquiring minds want to know, because frankly, I know me – and I would not attempt it. I must have grown some over the years. I politely listened to the litany of “have you tried”s, followed by what may very well be Amazon’s Top Ten Self-Help Books to Read in 2018, finished off with a hearty portion of “I had a friend who…”

<sigh>

  1. Mind your own business
  2. You don’t know me
  3. Damn, I’m so done with that conversation

I think what made it most distasteful (beyond the fact that I did not solicit an opinion on the subject, nor seek conversation with the individual), was the way off assumptions – beginning with the underlying assumption that all of the health concerns of someone who carries more weight than is aesthetically pleasing to another human being are therefore to do with the weight. Keep your fucking aesthetics to yourself, please. lol I’ve got my own – and trust me, I’m already hard enough on myself without additional bullshit and baggage offered up for free by a stranger who probably needs some therapy, themselves. Seriously. Damn. Move along.

There’s already a surplus of constant nagging and criticism in the world, generally. It’s not necessary, or in most cases at all helpful, to add to that steaming pile. Let it go. Don’t think a fat chick is attractive? Well, the next step is not a conversation starter like “you know, you’d be cute if…” or “I don’t mind older gals, but…” (yes, people say this shit actually out loud). If you don’t think a fat chick is attractive… walk the fuck on. It’s that simple. You don’t find someone hot? They aren’t obligated to meet that need for you, you have options in life, and suggesting they change for you needn’t be among those. You have no claim on their time or appearance, and it isn’t even a little bit appropriate to “make suggestions” for “doing something about it”. Just stop.

It got me thinking, though, on my way home, and specifically got me thinking about The Things That Work versus The Things That Do Not Work – and how subjective that is, and also how easily led we really are as creatures. Think about it; if you are content, comfortable, and healthy and someone markets thin-ness to you sufficiently repetitively with enough catchy slogans, you may quickly find yourself wondering “how to get rid of these extra pounds” (that you don’t have in the first place) in order to meet some ideal of beauty (that no one actually measures up to) or risk being a failure… in life… in work… in the bedroom. Yikes. Heavy. (lol, Yeah, I went there.) Self-help fads of all kinds are constantly pushed on us – but first, we’re made to feel inadequate and discontent, to soften us up and make us hungry to spend our money on that shiny new life being dangled out there… just out of reach. Some of that shit works… for someone. Some of it works for “many” people. Very little of it works for “most” people. I assure you, chances are, none of it works for everyone. It just doesn’t. Buuuuuut… find the thing that works for you, whatever that is, and stick with that… change happens. Just don’t get distracted by the slow rate of change, or the lack of real impact that change may (at least initially) have… because… oops! Back to square one as you (we, I, whatever) hop right back on the treadmill, cycling through self-help tips, tricks, and techniques that helped at least one other person at least once, but possibly not you, ever… Well that doesn’t sound at all productive. :-\ (I hate wasting my precious limited lifetime; I have already wasted so much.)

I end up there, too – well, I have. “Try. Fail. Begin again. Try something else. Fail. Begin again.” Over and over – forgetting that the most effective and efficient approach is to remember what works – then “Try. Fail. Begin that working thing precisely all over again and do that. Try. Fail. Begin again with that very thing that was just working until I failed myself, and do that.” This is a path to growth and change. It looks very like a darker stranger path, though, one that leads to a whole lot of endless bottomless nowhere, which is annoying because “Try. Fail. Do exactly what has never ever worked, and do it harder” over and over looks rather similar, but does not lead to change, or growth, only frustration and eventual madness. Knock that shit off. Also avoid the pitfalls of “Try. Fail. Flail wildly through all the try-able things without committing to anything or giving anything a chance to work. Begin again – but don’t give any one thing a second chance, and if something starts to work – sabotage that shit immediately” – personal experience suggests this is also not a winning strategy. lol Yep. Done those, too. Very human. My results, as a result, have varied – a lot.

I guess sorting through all the shit to try is a place to begin again. Sift out what hasn’t worked in a frank and honest way. Reflect on what has worked – and why it worked, if that is knowable. Repeat what works best – for you. Your results may vary. You are having your own experience. How is a writer (however self-help-ish-ly they write) hundreds of miles and many years removed from your experience actually going to know with any certainty what will work for you? I mean… better than you? Well…Β  maybe. Some stuff. Okay. I get you on that – me too. I do like data. I’ve worked hard to be as self-aware as I am, and still have a lot of work to do in that area. Adulting is fucking hard. But, once you’ve tried something, and are able to acknowledge based on experience whether it works for you or not… why repeat what doesn’t work? Seems very impractical. Although…

Some stuff just need practice. For some practices, the incremental changes over time are not recognizably easy to see. Fuck – that all just got a lot more complicated, didn’t it? Do you know yourself? Can you recognize what does work, in order to rule out what does not? Based on what data? Whose opinion? Who are you – and where do you want to get in life??

It begins so simply, so often; in practice, selected changes, desired, sought changes can be difficult. It’s the “in practice” portion of the experience that I find is the challenge… What am I practicing? Is it actually what works for me? Who decided that? If it wasn’t me – why would I trust that opinion over my own experience of myself? …And am I actually practicing?

Today, the needle moved on the scale (in the desired direction, I mean). Fucking finally. Tomorrow? Of course. I begin again. πŸ™‚

I got home precisely on time; the time I arrived. It wouldn’t have mattered what time that happened to be when I stepped from the icy winter cold into the comfort of this strangely almost-not-quite-perfect-and-definitely-not-really-mine little duplex in which I reside. For a moment, it felt like “home”, perhaps simply because it is comfortable here (both temperature and environment), and it so is not anything like “comfortable” outside, today. Is that really what a feeling of home is all about? Comfort? That seems surprisingly practical – and attainable; determine what is not comfortable, make the adjustments necessary to achieve comfort. Repeat. Home! …It’s a thought worth considering further. I make myself a note.

I sit down, here, and make still another note… then find myself writing, after a couple days of just… not. I must have needed the break from all the things, and every routine, because I certainly woke to the morning, today, with plenty of enthusiasm for all the things, after 5 days of utterly willfully leaving all my routines in tatters. Planned spontaneity. lol My favorite sort.

I begin the holiday with a lovely stack of books to read.

I continue to consider comfort – both the practical details, and even as a metaphor. Certainly, I spent the weekend quite comfortable here in this small space in which I live. It was a wonderful holiday. Tender. Connected. Relaxed. Restful. Joyful. Warm. It was definitely in my top 10 Giftmas holidays ever – which still strikes me as a bit odd, since I spent it more or less entirely alone. (Alone aside from a relatively short visit with a friend, Saturday, which was a serious departure from the temporary normal of quiet and leisure spent alone.) I never felt “lonely” (your results may vary), or neglected (again with the reminder; we are each having our own experience), and it was such a deep down drenching sensuous joy to so fully relax, to read a few books I’d gotten behind on, to try new recipes without concern, to set the pace of the weekend and the holiday without having half an eye on whether everyone else’s needs are fully met, ahead of mine. It was satisfying and beautiful. I felt cared for in a different way.

A few more finished… a couple new books added to the stack πŸ™‚

I still really missed my Traveling Partner, and more than once I found myself very nearly talked into making the trip down his way, against the silent urging of my soul – which really really just wanted to sit still awhile, catch up on some reading, and… not do more things. We spoke often, and chatted enough that I still feel very much that we “shared” the holiday – which I feel pretty certain is going to lead to some amusing future moments in which I can’t remember which year I spent Giftmas alone, because I recall my Traveling Partner being part of all of them. lol Love-pollution.

It was nice coming home tonight. I’d left a light on by mistake – it was less like coming home to an empty place. πŸ™‚ I make another note to myself, about that. Work is work – but now I’m home. I smile at the much shorter stack of books I have not yet read… and begin again.