Archives for category: The Big 5

I woke up early. It makes sense. I went to bed early, too. I woke during the night. No surprise there, I often do. There’s no stress over any of that. My head is a jumble of random beginnings of thoughts seeking a narrative in which to play a role. My morning is a strange sequence of broken routines and randomness. I’m not concerned about that, either. Again and again, I pull myself back to this moment, here, now.

I sit down with my coffee, eventually, some two hours after waking (which is only one of many odd random bits of altered behavior that seems without cause or purpose).

The first track on my playlist right now is an old favorite. I want very much to play the bass line; I am not yet sufficiently skilled (and realistically, there is chance I never will be). I can try to play it, and fail. I could do that repeatedly. I could do that repeatedly until I am frustrated to the point of disliking what I am doing, although I am doing it because I enjoy it… a lot of people approaching learning something challenging in just that fashion.

I take another approach, instead of “trying”… I practice. That’s it. My approach to a lot of stuff I’m not good at, don’t yet know, haven’t yet found my way around, through, over, or into, or need to do and don’t quite “get”, yet. I practice. I practice the basic skills that would be required to do the thing. Too complicated? I break those things down further, to more elemental basics, until I can begin assembling simpler behavior or actions (or understandings) into more and more complex combinations, and – if all goes well – have learned to do the thing, have gained a new understanding, have completed some complicated task… whatever it is. Most things seem to work out pretty well this way, although it is not the fastest process by which to achieve success. It’s a bit like… a through hike on an unmarked trail, while all the way along observing what appears to be a freeway almost within reach, on the other side of a fence. I could waste time trying to reach that freeway, or I can walk on.

I still get where I’m going. That’s enough.

It may be an uphill climb, some days. I still practice taking time to enjoy the journey, and to look for beauty.

I enjoyed a strangely intimate and emotionally nurturing yesterday. I hung out with a dear friend of many years. We haven’t made time to hang out in about 4 years, and it was overdue, welcome, and comfortably intimate. She is someone I love, though we’ve never been lovers. We’re at very different places in life, and that has been an interesting characteristic of our friendship all along. She was the friend who said to me, so many years ago, “have you heard of ACT?”. Words that would later prove to be another piece to the puzzle of healing and learning to care for the woman in the mirror, because they would still be lingering in my consciousness on that grim December day when I began checking off my list of things to do before I would end my own life. That last item? Try therapy one more time. Her words were a hint at a new direction; “third wave cognitive behavior therapy”. There are several, some very rigid and formal, others less so.

Have we covered this before? Sure. It’s buried in the details, in much older posts. The eagerness of this new way to experience life, more authentically, with greater self-compassion, erupts in my words post after post after post. Life happens. I write about that too. Now and then I add something to The Reading List; my journey is paved with stepping-stones made of books, and practices, and the words of dear friends.

A current favorite track on my playlist feels timed for the moment. My heart fills with tenderness, and gratitude. I’m glad I stayed. Warm tears splash my glasses, and my shoulders shake with sobbing, and I’m just fucking crying now… I’m not unhappy. I’m relieved. I might have missed this precious moment right now. I might have missed yesterday… the lovely color work I got done on my hair… the phone call with my Traveling Partner later in the day… the conversations with friends. Fuck I am so glad I stayed around awhile longer… My heart aches with a powerful need to say “thank you” or.. “I’m sorry”… or… something. Β There are literally no words for this strange strong emotion of thankfulness I feel that I chose to live. I’m okay with that too. I’m not afraid to feel.

Another good morning on which to begin again. I don’t know that I’ve done anything that changes the world, but so much as changed about the woman in the mirror. πŸ™‚

Well… I suppose it is time to let new routines become old routines, and for life to “get back to normal”, whatever that is going to be, here in this new place. I have lived here now for fully 9 days. I sip my coffee, very early, before dawn, on a Sunday work day. It is so quiet here. It is quieter, at least before dawn on a Sunday, than the place I just moved out of. There is no traffic at all at this hour. All is still, and calm, and yes, eerily quiet. I scratch my arm absent-mindedly, I notice it seems quite loud in the stillness of this quiet room.

Yesterday was when I first noticed the shift in focus from moving to living, and realized that the move, as a thing all its own, is over. There’s plenty more to do, and the garage has quite a few unopened boxes remaining to be unpacked, but I really do live here now, and these things can be done over time. The big pieces of the puzzle are all in place. Life can be what it is. The rest of the unpacking, like dealing with any sort of baggage, is just part of living life. It’s just unpacking baggage. πŸ™‚

I yawn and stretch. I sip my coffee. This is morning, here. It’s not so different than morning, for me, anywhere. I take my time with it. I sip coffee. I write. I contemplate my mortality. I consider my human legacy as an individual. I wonder where wisdom comes from. I watch a couple exciting movie trailers. I listen to the morning traffic begin, like a new section of the orchestra beginning to play in some grand symphony of noise. Life.

I’ll see my Traveling Partner soon. He’s been away a while. I am eager to hear his tales of adventure, and eager to share my own (somewhat less adventurous) tales. I will get his thoughts on placement of paintings, and his solutions for dark hallways. We will share the warmth of our embraces, and hear each other’s hearts beat. I will welcome him to this new place. πŸ™‚

This feels like “the first day back to work” after a long time away. I haven’t been “away” at all, just took a couple long weekends. It’ll be the first work week since my thoughts became distracted with an imminent (then an in-progress) move, though. It’s been just one day more than a month since I gave my notice, and only a day or two more that moving has filled my thoughts. Wow. That happened fast. lolΒ  This week, I’m just going to work, coming home, doing the things – no distractions. πŸ™‚ It feels good.

I smile contentedly. Filling my awareness with birdsong and my feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment. This was a singularly successful move. I make a point of taking time to appreciate how well it went. A good starting point for another of life’s journeys. I finish my coffee. It’s time to begin again. πŸ™‚

 

So this is home, is it? Here, now? Interesting that it feels so much so, so soon, so easily, so completely… Is it that way in each new place? Do I make myself at home, everywhere? It’s possible… I don’t take the bait when my restless monkey mind suggests I could dig into old journals and past blog posts looking for “truth”. The relevant truth is here, now, and it is enough. I feel at home here.

I woke well before day break. Dawn is still some time from now. The morning is dark in these wee hours, and the busy street I live on is utterly silent and without traffic so early on a Saturday morning. I woke early, rested, unable to sleep any longer. Easily handled; I got up and made coffee. πŸ™‚

The move is over. I live here. There’s more unpacking to do. I still can’t reliably find my way around in the dark. I’m still constantly misplacing things I’ve set down “for a moment” in some convenient spot “where I can’t lose track of it”, then wandering off and forgetting where I’ve set down… my phone… my keys… that list I just made… It’ll be some time before I really know this space and where everything is “put away” in it. I have regular reminders that I am not yet entirely unpacked, and moments of anxiety about things that may be lost, or overlooked, and actually it’s just that there’s quite a lot still in boxes. An example is that I don’t unpack books until I am certain I have the shelves where I really want them – but some of the boxes of books have some little odd other thing in the top of the box, if there was a bit of space there, but I don’t easily remember that item X is in that box of books over there – for now it just “feels missing”. Getting fully moved in is a process – but it’s lovely that I already feel “at home”, nonetheless. πŸ™‚

I notice that the pre-dawn darkness has lightened up enough to become dawn. Daybreak is here, and the sunrise will soon follow. I decide to set aside my writing, and take my coffee to the deck…

The day begins.

There is no handy view of the sunrise here, but the scent and sound of the forest so near at hand calls to mind so many mornings out in the trees, camping. The traffic hasn’t yet commenced, and all I hear are the sounds of forest life, and a breeze stirring the leaves of trees so close they seem almost within reach. I love the view from the deck. There is no grand vista here, no horizon on the horizon, no broad expanse of meadow…but there is also no busy pedestrian trail, no playground equipment, no basketball court, and no neighbors smoking cigarettes on the patio next to mine. This feels safe, and private, and comfortable. The deck gets some sun, it gets some shade – the roses are doing well here, and making a good recovery from the exposed heat of summer at the other address. I enjoy the convenience of having a water source at hand, making caring for my garden much easier. I check the yard from my deck vantage point, looking for forest creatures who may have chosen to visit, but this morning there are none. There will be other mornings. πŸ™‚

The move is over. The rest is just housekeeping. πŸ˜€ I live here. This is home. I sip my coffee as the sky lightens, and smile. Joy feels good. Contentment feels good. Feeling welcome in my own space, and in my own life, feels very good indeed. I take time to really savor these feelings – and to welcome myself home.

I’m off for a couple days to get all moved in. I woke this morning too early (earlier than needed, earlier than desired, earlier than I’d planned on) and I am sipping my coffee distractedly, exchanging words with friends who are also awake, preparing for their work days. This is a “work day” for me as well, just work done here at home, in mindful service of home and hearth, taking care of the woman in the mirror. I pause to appreciate having the time off hours available to do so.

I look out the window, through the security door, and smile at the decorative stake that will soon support my hummingbird feeders. It is the one that used to hold the bird seed bell and suet feeder next to the patio at my old place. It makes me feel pleasantly at home to see it here. It’s taken me days to decide where to place it; I wanted to be easily able to see it, from inside the house, which didn’t actually leave many options. I like the placement I selected. I take a moment to fill up on that feeling of satisfaction and contentment. Really pausing to savor those small pleasing moments helps build a substantial reservoir of emotional resilience, as well as – over time – shifting my baseline implicit experience of life in a positive long-term way. It doesn’t happen fast. Β It does require practice. There are verbs involved. My results often vary. Still totally worth it. πŸ™‚

What works in one place or circumstance may not be quite the thing in another.

I sip my coffee with a similar experience of contentment and quiet joy. Fresh coffee beans of excellent quality, freshly ground, and a carefully prepared pour over instead of the effortless lower quality mass-prepared machine-brewed single-serve drip coffee I’ve allowed myself to become accustomed to for convenience. I have missed this measure of quality and self-indulgence more than I understood. Why should I rush myself on a day off? πŸ™‚

I’d have slept in… only… I woke up. LOL It is, apparently, a day I am eager to enjoy. πŸ™‚

My ankle has been aching fiercely, more than usual I felt, and the foot (same one as the ankle) on which I’d dropped my (very small) safe still feels terribly bruised, more than I expect it too after several days, and it has slowly been turning a strange shade of blue as the bruising continues to develop. I stopped by Urgent Care on my way home to have it seen to. I wasn’t too surprised to be told I’d cracked a metatarsal bone. So… less about the ankle, actually, and more about the foot, which explains why my ankle brace was giving me so much less relief than it usually does. My foot is now wrapped up a bit differently, but no cast, and I’m still moving around with relative ease using my cane. Nothing much has changed for having a doctor take an x-ray and give me a diagnosis, honestly, but I know why I hurt, and that lets me make better self-care choices. I’m doubly appreciative to have time off for moving in; I’ll have to do it with great care, and more slowly. Totally fine. I’ve got this… after coffee. πŸ™‚

I love it here, so far…

…I can’t find anything here, yet.

So much more to do!

There is more work to be done restoring order from chaos. More verbs. More moments. More lists. More practices. My coffee is finished, and the sky has lightened from dawn to morning. It’s time to begin again. πŸ™‚

 

I’m mostly moved out of my old apartment. Β Hell, for that matter, I’m mostly moved in to the new house, thanks to the coordinated help of friends, and professional movers, and the bonus that is being able to afford to take time off to manage it. Nothing precious to me got broken, and the only box that got dropped was in my own hands when it fell, hit the sidewalk in front of the new house, and spilled its contents from the split-wide-open box into the driveway. It was a macht nichts moment; just this-n-that from the bathroom cupboards. No harm done. I did manage to startled the professional movers, though. lol I’m tired. Still tired. There’s more to do, of course, mostly of the moving in and getting settled variety. Exciting and fun and… I’m still tired. LOL My ankle gave me far more grief than my back ever did, and by Friday I was back on my cane, and had worn out my ankle brace beyond repair. More than once, I made a point to pause, rest, and give myself a moment to recover some little amount, before continuing. There is still more to do.

I’m eager to see my Traveling Partner again, and welcome him to this new, different, lovely space. My deck is big – huge in comparison to small apartment patios – and there is water right there, making caring for my garden easier than it has been for me since… 1995. There is so much excitement in this process now! I feel that release of tension as sleepiness, more often than I’d like. I smile and remind myself that fatigue is a shout out for rest and ease. I gotta remember to do that, too.

The view from my bed, feet up, taking it easy for a few minutes between tasks on moving day.

I double-check my list of things to do and tenderly add “take care of me”. Soon enough the work day will end, and I will head to the apartment to tidy up, and remove anything left behind from 4 days of moving. There are definitely more verbs involved…