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Looking Ahead

August 28, 2024 //
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I’m waiting for the sun. The morning is chilly, hinting at autumn ahead. I’ll get a walk in, then head home to start the work day. So far this feels like a fairly ordinary Wednesday.

Perspective and a new day.

My Traveling Partner has a project going that he wants some help with. There are errands to run, including a trip to the grocery store. There are housekeeping tasks to get done sooner than later. And work. I’m not even bitching. I’m grateful to have the life I do. My quality of life is better than average and by far better than I’ve known in my own life at many prior points. There’s just a lot of real work involved in maintaining hearth and home and staying caught up on “everything” with very little help (right now). If nothing else, my Traveling Partner’s injury, surgery, and recovery, have served to emphasize his day-to-day efforts (and value), and his contributions to our life together. I definitely miss having his help around the house! He’s really good at some things I absolutely suck at.

Life is busy and the verbs are many. Some days I have been so tired. For now I seem to be managing to get the rest I need, mostly. Having some help from the Anxious Adventurer is an improvement (although there’s also a lot of guiding, coaching, and pointing out things which seem obvious to me, which adds to the emotional labor involved). Improving my self-care has been helpful, but also requires effort and attention from me, moment to moment. It all requires focus, balance, effort… practice. A lot of fucking practice. Sometimes, rather discouragingly, I feel as if I still very much suck at all of it, though I suspect this is bullshit created in my own head. I let that go whenever it turns up, as soon as I notice.

… I really want to be painting…

Yesterday I checked in with my Traveling Partner about his recovery from surgery, and whether he thinks he may be ready to handle things without my help every day by the end of September? I’m eager to take the pastels out to the coast again, and get another camping trip in before the nights are once again too cold for my comfort. I get his loving encouragement and find a campsite, and make reservations. New location. New perspective. New things to see. No way to know what the weather will actually be like this far in advance, but the historical details look promising and I feel enthusiastic and filled with anticipatory joy.

… I pause to hold on to the understanding that if my partner still needs me, I just won’t go…

Non-attachment isn’t about not caring about things. Non-attachment isn’t built on cynicism, bitterness, or disappointment. Practicing non-attachment, as I understand it myself, is more a matter of not clinging to events and ideas that are not happening as planned, or not happening at all, and it is a practice about letting go, generally. Non-attachment lets me more easily endure hard times by making me less likely to take shit personally. Big or small, life’s disappointments hit so much harder if I am gripping my expectations and assumptions tightly and trying to force reality to do my bidding, instead of mindfully observing my experience and the world around me, and just being okay with things as they develop. I’m not intending to “tell you how it is” or what to do with your life, I’m just saying my own experience is greatly improved when I can avoid getting trapped by my expectations and assumptions, and can simply be, as life unfolds ahead of me moment by moment.

…It still takes actual practice…

Being skillfully human takes so much work and practice sometimes. It’s harder than it looks to become the person I most want to be, and then to simply exist as that individual, living the values that matter most to me. I keep practicing. It’s a worthy journey.

I sit with the sunrise ahead of me at the halfway point of my morning walk, writing these words and thinking my thoughts. It’s a good morning for meditation, for mindfulness, for being and becoming. It’s a good morning to walk my own path. The journey is the destination.

… It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Choices and Chances

August 22, 2024 //
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I’m waiting for the sun. This feels almost like fall. The gate at the trailhead is still closed and the sky is dark, not quite daybreak. Beyond the scattered trees silhouetted darkly against a cloudy sky, illuminated faintly by the glow of suburbia beneath, the lights of commuter traffic twinkle as they pass, like a string of sparkling gemstones. The air is mild, and almost warm. Aside from the passing cars and my tinnitus, it’s quiet.

Beginning again.

Yesterday was a good day, followed by a pleasant evening spent as a family. Time well-spent, in good company. My Traveling Partner is seeming “more himself” as he heals, and I feel encouraged and reassured by this. His kindness and geniality are returning as he heals and it’s good to see. I can’t truly know how hard he has struggled to hold on to his sense of self throughout this injured time, but I do know it hasn’t been easy, and he has suffered greatly.

As for the Anxious Adventurer, he’s walking a difficult path himself, for different reasons. Embracing change is hard, and comes with challenges of its own. New environment. New expectations. New rules. Pretty much every detail of his day-to-day thrown into chaos, however briefly in the bigger picture of an entire lifetime, but nonetheless a lot to learn and to change. It hasn’t been easy to adapt, that much is clear to any bystander.

Me? Yeah, me too. This period of adjustment has been hard. Complicated by the very things that made it desirable to make these changes at all. Being human is sometimes very complicated. I don’t particularly prefer cohabitation, which I discovered rather late in life, and that is my challenge and also my opportunity for growth. Challenge accepted? I so greatly love and enjoy my Traveling Partner that I am fairly willing to make changes to deepen our bond and enjoy our mortal lifetime together, in spite of my nature. Funny creatures, we human beings. We’ll do so much for love.

… Things got ridiculously tense and unpleasant for several days and I have been unhappy with the state of things…

I took time to write down what I really need to comfortably cohabitate and thrive, at my Traveling Partner’s request. He looked it over and agreed that my “house rules” looked like a healthy way to live together as a family, if everyone “buys in” and does their part. We shared the rules with the Anxious Adventurer, who gave them serious thought. We discussed them all together, before everyone explicitly agreed that this looks like a good approach and that we’re each willing to do our part. The discussion was a beautiful “proof of concept”, itself. I’m still coasting on the resulting feeling of shared commitment and understanding. Nice moment. I feel heard and supported.

Humans are still human. We’re each working our asses off to be better human beings than we were yesterday. We’ll become what we practice. We can count on incremental change over time. This feels like a very pleasant place to be standing in life. It’s still work, and no doubt our results may vary.

Daybreak comes. I hit the trail feeling light-hearted and contented. Another nice moment. I smile as I walk. No fancy colorful sunrise this morning; the sky is gray and cloudy, threatening rain. I’m fine with it. It’s not raining right now. The air is sweet with the scent of wildflowers and meadow grasses. I’ve got the trail to myself this morning. On the other side of my walk, a stop at the store on my way home. Life being lived.

I walk on, grateful to be walking, still. I breathe, grateful for the breath of life. My heart is filled with love and the thought of my partner, and I am grateful for the opportunity to love and be loved in return. I walk and keep on walking. Once I reach the end of the trail, I’ll begin again.

…It seems a lovely morning for living life…

Where does this path lead?
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Reset, Restart, Reconsider

August 19, 2024 //
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Yesterday was… awful. Mostly. Humans being human. I was certainly not at my best. The day seemed too long, my efforts too futile, and the promises of the future too limited. Chaos and damage; once I was triggered in the early morning, my anxiety flared up on this whole almost-forgotten level and continue to struggle with it even now.

My sleep last night was disturbed by mocking nightmares of imminent demise and ruin. I woke abruptly, too early, feeling the full measure of my “baggage” like a weight around my neck. I had trouble catching my breath, so I got up quickly and quietly and slipped out into the pre-dawn darkness to “walk it off” at daybreak.

A glimpse of the full moon, an unexpected delight.

As I waited for enough light to comfortably walk the trail, I took time to meditate. I had hoped it would do more to ease my anxiety than it did. I sit with my thoughts. I breathe, exhale, relax, and take inventory of my physical wellness. Pain? Yeah. Definitely. I take my medication and hope for relief. Rested? Sure, mostly. I’ve added calendar reminders for self-care breaks and healthy calories; I’ve been letting my self-care suffer trying to stay caught up on all the caregiving stuff – and I’m just going to say it; I’m in no way actually up to the task of providing round-the-clock caregiving to another human being (even one that I love dearly).  I’ve got limitations that make that a pretty poor choice, but didn’t understand them in this context until I rather stupidly committed to providing the caregiving. My Traveling Partner needed more from me than I could realistically provide with skill. It’s been a shit show and very difficult few days for me, and more so for my partner. Stupid mistakes, and an astonishing level of inconsiderate bullshit that I honestly didn’t expect from myself.

My back aches and I feel vaguely ill, but my head isn’t stuffy anymore and I can breathe. I’ve got the usual headache and a workday ahead. I feel frustrated and annoyed in advance of any reason for it.

The chaos in the household has been disruptive for everyone. I’m inclined to bear the blame for all of it, because that’s what I tend to do. The truer truth is that there are three human beings in this together, each with their own baggage, their own bullshit, their own challenges and goals and dreams – their own values – and their own very real struggles, right fucking now. It’s hard to forge a comfortably calm genial environment together in less than 6 weeks, and do it in a time period that includes a major move, an incredibly advanced spinal surgery, and changes to medications of one kind or another for everyone involved. I don’t even know why we expected it to be any easier in the first place. (Did we?)

Daybreak comes

It’s a new day. A chance to begin again, if I take it. A new shared experience, if I am willing to be open, vulnerable, considerate, patient, kind, and able to listen with care and compassion. I wish I wasn’t having to fight my anxiety. Wishful thinking won’t change the world. Better to take time to reflect rationally on what I need and expect from the Anxious Adventurer, and on what I can realistically provide to support my Traveling Partner with skill and kindness, and then deal with those realities appropriately.

… I’ve managed to be a complete dick to everyone around me for days, and do so thinking I was behaving quite differently…

I notice the time. Although I am “officially” no longer responsible for my Traveling Partner’s medications (mostly because I have made too many mistakes, which can’t be a thing with meds, but also because he doesn’t need that with the same level of oversight now), I still find myself on alert; it’s time. My anxiety goes through the roof; change is hard. I breathe through it. Exhale, understanding that this level of anxiety over that task should have been a clear indication that I’m possibly not the right person for that task. I walk tensely, picking at my cuticles until I notice that I’m doing it. I stop the picking and keep walking, and breathing. Fuck anxiety.

I walk on, trusting my partner. He’s reminded me multiple times to refrain from jumping in and taking over or trying to do things for him without asking what he needs. (Fucking basic; “nothing about me, without me”, you’d think I’d have that down.)

The sunrise is pretty, beginning with hints of luminous pink. I walk, feeling the chill of autumn ahead. I should have worn a fleece, but didn’t think to grab it as I left, still fighting the residue of my nightmares.

… Some days I feel like I am barely an actual adult…

I walk and breathe and reflect. I pause my halfway point to write. So much to do today. Work. Getting my partner to and from an appointment. Getting prescriptions reordered. Picking those up. I start to feel overwhelmed in advance, but it’s just the anxiety talking. I let it go. I’ll just keep practicing.

… It’s already time to begin again…

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, weight loss secrets

Triggered

August 18, 2024 //
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If you have PTSD or cPTSD, what follows may be painfully familiar, and I’m sorry in advance. Maybe skip this one? I don’t want to cause harm. Consider this a trigger warning (I’ll be talking about PTSD and domestic violence).

… I honestly don’t know whether to begin “at the beginning”, or quite when that beginning might actually be. I’m writing while also still triggered, slowly working through my anxiety and stress, and trying to find my way to a calmer place. I have the tools to manage the moment, and I feel pretty confident in the potential that I can, but it’s no easy thing. My heart is still pounding, and I can feel that my breathing is irregular, shallow, somewhere between hyperventilating and struggling to breathe. The first mile of my walk passed quickly, feet hitting the pavement too hard, pace unsustainably aggressive. I finally stop, sit, and work on properly calming myself.

For some context, after a week of providing approximately 24/7 caregiving to my Traveling Partner recovering from surgery, with few breaks, and no opportunity for deep restful sleep (or even more than 2-4 hours at a time, simply due to the timing of medication), I was exhausted, struggling with short-term memory and moments of confusion. I was also dealing with grief, having lost a cherished family member mid-week, and reconfronting the loss of my Dear Friend in the spring on the date of her celebration of life. My self-care was coming up short in places, just due to distractions and fatigue-driven stupidity.

In the evening last night, my Traveling Partner very kindly proposed that he felt up to making sure to take his medication through the night, and suggested I just get some sleep. Beyond grateful (and feeling very loved) I accepted. I even set my wake up time for a little later than usual, to be sure to get the rest I needed. I didn’t manage to sleep through the night, still waking briefly each time my partner woke up and got out of bed, and once because a laxative I had taken decided to do its thing at 04:00 in the morning. (I got a lot more sleep than I’ve been getting for the past 10 days or so, and it seems enough.)

I was soundly deeply asleep when I heard a soft voice ask me to join him in the bathroom. In my sleeping state, the voice sounded “sweetly menacing”, and seemed to me to be the voice of my first husband. A cold chill descended over me, my mouth went dry even as I immediately began getting out of bed. I don’t recall whether I replied or what I said. My consciousness felt paralyzed with dread. (Had I only dreamt my life with my Traveling Partner? Was I still trapped in a living nightmare?) I was already triggered before my Traveling Partner could even speak to me. He was stressed out, himself; one of his meds had just run out completely, which he discovered while preparing his meds for the day ahead. On a Sunday. He was panicking and needed my support – but I was also responsible for him running out of the medication! I’d been tasked with – and accepted responsibility for – ensuring his meds were timely, and available, and that he takes them. His panic expressed itself as anger, or that’s how it reached my still disoriented brain. Triggered and unsure where/when I was, I panicked, too. I fled. I took immediate action in the direction of getting that Rx filled, somehow. I wasn’t thinking efficiently or clearly.

He phoned me feeling angry and left without care. Reasonable, frankly. He gently asked me to come back, make coffee, and make a clear plan, together. I did that, dragging myself through every step, still thoroughly triggered and drenched in stress, dread, terror… None of it “real”. (No one likes being yelled at first thing when they wake, and also, no one wants to begin a Sunday discovering their partner allowed a critical medication to run out!) Nothing about the actual lived experience today actually justifies the headspace I find myself in; this is mental illness. PTSD. I’m a domestic violence survivor. Managing that these days sometimes feels like an afterthought, but this morning it’s way too fucking real.

I made coffee for my Traveling Partner, we settle on an action plan, and I leave the house, again. I’m definitely a threat to his calm and healing time in the condition I’m presently in, and I need time and space to calm myself and get re-anchored to “now”. My stress and anxiety multiply with my shame over failing my partner.

… The pharmacy opens at 10:00…

I hit the trail hard. Aggressive footsteps slamming the ground at an unsustainable (for me, now) pace. I walk myself breathless. I can’t tell if my heart is pounding with the exertion or my anxiety. My first mile passes quickly, unnoticed. I’m stuck in my own head.

I stop, finally, and sit for a minute. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. “Be here now.” I remind myself. For most values of “okay”, I am okay right now. No one is chasing me. There is no imminent threat. Fuck PTSD. I hate this shit. How am I so terrified right now?

… I remind myself how rare it is to have to face this crap, these days…

I write a while. Meditate. Breathe. Work on calming myself. I reflect on the relationship I have with my Traveling Partner, his gentleness, his love, and our life together. “Be here now.” Now is okay. No physical violence. No being awakened in the night to be beaten. No torture. For most values of okay, I am okay right now. I save my draft and walk on, realizing I really need to pee.

I walk on more gently. I’m still seeking calm. I’m still pretty fucked in the head. My heart is heavy with the stress and hurt that I have caused my partner. It’s incredibly difficult to make amends for this sort of thing and it’s hard to overstate the damage it can do.

I breathe, exhale, and relax (well, I try; I’m still working on that).

I notice the sunshine, the blue sky, the birdsong. I notice the swarm of rally cars in the parking lot as I reach the trailhead. I think about how far I’ve come and how much time has actually passed since my living nightmare ended… 30 years? Hasn’t it been long enough to really let it go?

Brain damage and PTSD… That’s a lot to ask a partner to deal with. I find myself wondering why he stays, and can’t help recognizing that he must love me deeply to endure so much. I’ve managed to fail him too often over these months of injury (and now recovery), and it doesn’t seem fair to him. Good intentions aren’t enough, and sometimes doing my best won’t get the job done. That’s fucking awful and way too g’damned real. I curse my ex under my breath as I walk… but the responsibility for doing more/better now is mine, 100%.

I walk and think and prepare to begin again.

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Categories anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Frustration, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized

Lightning and Raindrops

August 17, 2024 //
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The past 48 hours are mostly a blur of smudgy unclear recollections and emotional impressions. Keeping up with my Traveling Partner’s care, particularly making sure medications are all taken on time, at proper intervals and dosages, is keeping me pretty busy. Juggling those details with work, and the self-care required to keep up with “all the things” has resulted in interrupted sleep, emotionality, and a generous helping of “stupid” moments. This too will pass; it’s a temporary situation. It’s generally enough to do my best.

… The tl;dr is that I’m tired, so tired, and haven’t slept well, deeply, or for more than a couple hours at a time these past couple of days…

Sunrise and a new beginning.

I woke ahead of my alarm this morning and watered the lawn, and helped my partner with his medication. I’d have rather gone directly back to bed and tried to get more sleep, but I also knew my partner had a difficult night of interrupted sleep himself. Better for his ability to rest for me to give him some quiet time. I slipped away to catch the sunrise on the trail, and the Anxious Adventurer left for work moments later.

… And here I am…

The sun rose a bold magenta betwixt thunder clouds. Once or twice lightning flashed across the sky. By the time I got here to the trailhead, thunder was breaking the quiet of the morning, frequently. No rain. Not right now, anyway, though it appears that some rain fell during the night. I find myself wishing for rain. (Thunder storms without rain this time of year are a deadly threat of wildfires.) I sit for a moment before lacing up my boots for a walk.

My head aches ferociously this morning, a combination of my “usual” headache, and lack of rest. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s less than ideal to let it become the focus of my day; I have too much shit to do.

My longtime friend, The Author, had planned to visit this weekend, but got COVID and if he makes it at all, the timing is yet to be determined. Disappointing. My Dear Friend’s celebration of life memorial is today, but I won’t make it; I’m not up to the long drive at the last minute, and regardless, my Traveling Partner needs my care and support. While I am considering these circumstances, a drenching tropical sort of rain begins to pound the car (I pull my feet back into the car and close the door). I think about the recent (Wednesday, 3 days ago) death of my Aunt…

…Then the tears begin to fall, with the rain…

Sometimes it just all feels like too much. I sigh, letting the tears fall without taking them personally. No reason to fight the moment. This is “my time”, and if this is what I need right now, okay. After some minutes, I blow my nose and just sit listening to the thunder and the rain, wondering about the lightning strike risk on the trail… It wouldn’t do to get hit by lightning today, I just don’t have time. lol

This morning I feel very mortal and very much aware how temporary it all really is. Life. So brief. So precious.

… I didn’t come prepared to walk through a drenching downpour, but I am sure enjoying just sitting here listening to the storm…

A different sort of quiet moment.

I sit listening to the rain, fighting the confusion and dimwittedness of fatigue. I could probably get a couple things done, since it doesn’t look like I’ll be walking… My mind feels numb. What is on my list, anyway? I scrounge around in my consciousness rather halfheartedly, instead of just looking at my damned list. The growl and loud crack of thunder along with a dazzling flash of very close lightning startles me. It seemed “just over there”, visibly, identifiably nearby. Scary. Distracting.

G’damn beginning again is easier when I get the rest I need… I don’t quite manage to laugh, and sigh again instead. I decide to quietly take my time sorting myself out, before tackling some task or another. There’s no reason to rush. I’ve got time to take care of myself. Self-care matters, too.

I sit for some unmeasured amount of time, reflecting on gratitude and joy. Thinking over the best of recent moments and savoring the recollections. I feel so grateful for my Traveling Partner, and the enduring love we share. It gets us through a lot. We’ve managed to snarl at each other far too often the last few days, as pain, fatigue, and frustration overcame our good nature in some difficult moment. We get past it. Exchange apologies. Make amends when we can. Our hearts know the way, even when we go astray – very human. All things considered, I guess we’re doing pretty well, generally. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s no lack of love. Humans being human; sometimes it’s complicated.

It’s probably time to begin again, but…

… I’m enjoying listening to the rain fall. That’s okay too.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War
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