Archives for category: Uncategorized

I will not ever be described as ‘a woman of few words’. I use a lot of words. I don’t, myself, mind that I tend toward verbosity in both speech and text; I tend also to attract people who similarly enjoy words. My traveling partner once noted “you have a lot to say”. Maybe. I certainly say a lot. Sometimes it gets in the way of saying what I most mean to say, or need to say most urgently. I can take a while getting to the point. I seriously overuse metaphors. I sometimes don’t notice the glazed look in someone’s eyes when they are finished listening before I have finished talking. It makes asking ‘do I ever actually finish talking?’ a worthy question.

I spend a great deal of my time these days not talking. Living alone, and not being the sort to talk to myself, generally, there are often hours where there is no sound of human speech in my living space. I don’t talk to my fish (very often). I don’t talk to inanimate objects, or my Barbie dolls (yes, I said it, and it’s true; I still play with my Barbies). I am not in continuous communication with other human beings, or in regular daily communication with any but my traveling partner…and you, right here. Facebook gets a share of my attention, but it rarely feels like ‘conversation’ as much as it feels like passing notes in class. I am, oddly, not at all talkative – until you place another human being in front of me. Then… yeah. I don’t seem to even notice how continuous the flow of words are then. Eventually, I may become aware that I’ve gone on too long, but… I lack sensitivity to those cues. I am a beginner, still working around the edges of life’s curriculum, and hoping for a passing grade reflected in good quality of life, and good relationships over time. I am learning to be patient with myself – it’s slow going on some points.

I interrupt a lot. I’m working on it, however it can be slow going when I lack continuous awareness of my tendency to snag any breathing space between someone else’s use of language to continue my own. It’s rude – admittedly so, but without ill will, I assure you. My brain injury doesn’t excuse the resulting poor behavior, just puts the challenge in front of me (often) to be addressed over time. What’s so irksome for me is that I really enjoy listening to other people – they have stories to tell, a different perspective and history than my own, they are a living record of their slice of the human experience – and I love hearing about it. I want to know more…If I can only stop myself talking.

I was concerned that living alone would worsen the tendency to talk over people, to interrupt people, or to ‘talk too much’ (I define ‘talking too much’ as exceeding that point at which people no longer want to listen, or having crossed some boundary by continuing the discussion). Interestingly, that seems not to be the case in conversation at all; I’m finding it somewhat easier not to interrupt – perhaps simply losing the habit of continuous speech because I am not with people almost 24/7? On the other hand…my writing tends to be somewhat more verbose these days, exceeding 1k words in almost every post. Seems harmless…you can always set it aside and come back to it later. Or not.

I think my point this morning is that I had some expectations of myself and my behavior in the context of living alone that seemed well supported by what I understood about myself, and those expectations proved to be every bit as unreliable as any other untested expectations. I was incorrect. It seems instead that living alone is doing something positive to help me build the skills to bridge the communication gaps that have gotten in the way for so long. (I’ve wrecked some valuable relationships because someone dear to me just couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Ever.)

"Taking Another Look at Me" 11" x 14" acrylic on canvas w/mirror 2011

“Taking Another Look at Me” 11″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/mirror 2011

Part of my commitment to myself this past Independence Day is to allow myself – to require myself – to step away from my own assumptions about who I am, and take another look at the woman in the mirror – change is, and perspective matters. What about you? When was the last time you took a look at who you are with beginner’s eyes, really accepted the changes that have molded you over time, and paused to reflect on where you are right now, with yourself, with who you are, and with what  you really want of life? When was the last time you swept away the expectations and assumptions that hold you back, and limit your decision-making freedom, or your growth?

What could be more worthy of study than communication? Even though we are each having our own experience, we are all in this together.

What could be more worthy of study than communication? Even though we are each having our own experience, we are all in this together. (detail from “Communion” )

Today it won’t take 1k words to be this woman I am, and to be open to the vast number of options, decisions, choices I am free to make. If I can let go of my assumptions about myself, if I can set aside my expectations of myself based on those assumptions… can I similarly do so in all my interactions, with each person…today? It’s a good start on changing the world. (I just need to give the world room to get a word in edgewise!)

My first couple weeks living alone I struggled with what felt, physically and emotionally, very much like… withdrawals. It was puzzling, and I rode it out confident that all such things pass with time. I practiced good practices, treated myself with compassion, and sort of … kept an eye on it, from the perspective of a lifetime living in this fragile vessel, and a certain wonder… somewhere between “omfg – what’s wrong now??’ and ‘huh, this is sort of odd’. It did pass, and my heart settled down with settling into new routines. Yesterday, I realized more fully what was driving those sensations, that experience of ‘withdrawal’, and had to admit with some amusement that it was an experience only the digital age could produce…loss of near-continuous communication through digital media of a variety of sorts. Living in my own space now, there is simply less back and forth delivery of words…words about packages, about picking up things from the store, about arrival times here or there, about delays in this or that, expectation setting words in a household of multiple adults… it initially created a feeling of isolation and sometimes of loneliness to lose all that. That, too, passed.

Yesterday, I was enjoying the day on this entirely other level, something I haven’t felt in a very long time. A decade or more, maybe – certainly something that precedes all existing/recent romantic or sexual relationships, until yesterday. The feeling got my attention – I had missed it, I know, because I felt that thought pretty early in the day. “I’ve missed this!” as I smiled through my morning. “I’ve missed this!” as I walked to work. It nagged at me; I didn’t have the words for what I was feeling. Something like happy, something like eager… something with a connection…something with power and delight… present, aware, self-assured, confident… and less about an event or experience I have already had – more about something I might experience soon. I felt it in my skin, in my smile, in the colors of the day…

Sometimes the path is not obvious.

Sometimes the path is not obvious.

I’m not sure I have all the right words for it, even now. I have some words, though. I got my “juice” back. I know, I know… how helpful is that? Not very. Still, it’s a start. I even ‘get it’ – technology took my juice when it put real-time communication in my hands, during a relationship with someone willing to use it nearly continuously. Habits develop over time, and whatever we practice becomes part of who we are. Over the years I got used to constant check-ins, updates, and expectation-setting real-time, even developing skill at and preference for deeply emotional conversations via email…and lost my ‘juice’. I lost the delight and intensity of anticipation. I lost the utter confidence in someone else’s affection. I began to rely on continuous reassurance and trickling information on tap. It became a character flaw.

Enjoying a busy work day wedged between a delightful evening with a wanderer, and a delightful evening with my traveling partner, and not hearing from either during the day, I realized I didn’t need any additional communication – I was enjoying the anticipation of our next meeting, our future time together, other days, other nights, other dinners, other dips in the pool, other laughter… and I was reminded how much I once thrived with the yearning and anticipation that filled my days before email, before instant messaging, and before smart phones. Oh, I’m not setting aside my pocket brain – I rely on my smart phone quite a lot, and the technology delights me, too – but I am suddenly free of the attachment to the faux connection of continuous near-real-time communication. In letting it go…I got my ‘juice’ back. Fueled by anticipation, by desire, by joy – the very real joy of real connections, with conversation, eye contact, and touch, and the very real desire to feel those things again, without the methadone of less satisfying digital connections, I created the very real excitement of anticipation, and the mammalian urgency to connect, to touch, to talk. There’s power in real. I enjoyed a fantastic day.

I love digital media for connecting across miles, and years. I wouldn’t give up Facebook unless something came along that connects me with faraway friends more efficiently – but the here and now of love and lust are damaged by continuous pinging, and the badminton of trivial words. I get it. As much as anything, this is a thank you note to the wanderer and my traveling partner. I am free! 🙂 I am also laughing – it’s perhaps just a bit silly to celebrate something so small as such a big deal…only…this is a wonderful state of being, and I do love it. The excitement of yearning, of anticipating, of daydreaming…without the insecurity of ‘hasn’t gotten back to me yet’ is really quite deliciously lovely.

Thanks guys, I’ll be pinging on you a lot less. I get it, now. Thanks for the run way lights. I landed safely on the tiny private island of my own ‘now’, in my own experience.

 

 

I woke this morning, groggy, smiling, slow to roll over and untangle myself from blankets and pillows, to shut off the ceaseless beeping of the alarm. I’ve had this same alarm clock, a small black travel clock, since…seriously? Wow… since 1987. It’s cheap black plastic, and aside from replacing the battery now and then, it’s been terrifically quiet (no ticking) and reliable (with the exception of the occasional inexplicable failure that may have been mine; I sometimes shut it off in my sleep, I think). My thoughts careen carelessly through trivia as I wander haplessly through my morning routine, entirely out of sequence. Aside from being groggy, and I am in a very pleasant state of mind that feels less like a good mood and more like a state of being.

With some discipline, I pull myself back on course, take morning medication, make coffee, do yoga, meditate. I smile considering the evening behind me, and the evening ahead. In some hard to describe way, I feel as if I am ‘getting my life back’ in some way that reaches beyond the chaos and damage and finds me whole and well and making the choices that suit me best and meet my needs over time. I try not to get too excited about it, and just coast on this feeling of being. This smile on my face has lingered since I woke, and it reaches deeply into my heart, coming from a place of contentment, joy and love.

Life isn’t ‘perfect’ (whatever the hell that is) and I am very human. Change is – and it demands my attention, my will, and my acceptance; it isn’t ‘good’ or ‘bad’, and forcing it into such a definition will definitely deliver the experience I choose. That freedom of choice thing? Free will? Yeah – that’s a very big deal, because so much of my experience is indeed entirely self-selected (except the bits that someone else is selecting in their experience, that may ripple across my own). Sure, there’s room for linguistic parlor tricks in life, and conversations about whether free will is ‘real’ or ‘truly exists’ can pass the time most entertainingly…but…I choose my coffee black, and brew it using a pour over method, and it’s a choice I make using my free will, based on my preferences and desires (and resources)… how does it matter in any practical way if that sense of free will and decision-making is somehow somewhat different than I understand it to be, on some metaphysical level that my human cognition is not truly able to grasp with any ease? I assure you, it does not matter one wit. I chose my brew method, my beans, and what I put in it once it was brewed. Those choices are entirely real for me, and entirely my own. Not all of the questions that can be asked benefit from attempts to answer them. Some of the answers don’t provide lasting value… at least… that’s how it looks to me, generally. I like the questions, though. 🙂

Blue sky, perspective, and the freedom to choose.

Blue sky, perspective, and the freedom to choose.

It is a lovely summer morning. There is music playing in the background. My coffee this morning is exceptionally good. I suspect that my evening with a friend, and the excitement of the evening I will spend with my traveling partner tonight, are responsible for the extraordinary morning, more than any particular quality of the morning itself. I enjoy living alone, but I am confirmably a human primate, a social creature, and greatly enjoy the connection and contact of an evening in good company. Living alone can be a tad short on touch and eye contact – this lovely morning is gently wedged between evenings rich with the warmth of companionship, and connection; the smile is a giveaway that those qualities matter a great deal to me.

Today is a good day to enjoy the day just as it is. Today is a good day to smile, to dance, and to love. Today is a good day to choose good practices, and to face the world with a smile. Today is a good day to look the woman in the mirror in the eyes and say ‘no problem, I got this’.

 

Another lovely morning – I’ve had quite a string of them, and I’m enjoying it without expectations of future such lovely mornings. No dread, I just find it a poor choice to attempt to force the universe and circumstances to comply with my whims by assuming it will be so. It hasn’t worked out well in the past to take that approach. 🙂 I found myself beginning this blog post with such enthusiasm – yesterday – that I got to 5k words and didn’t finish. This morning is another lovely one, my Traveling Partner dozing near by, my coffee hot and tasty. I pare down the words a bit and wonder if I should publish this one at all… it seems to strike a fairly serious tone, which wasn’t my intent when I began it…still, there are some things worth saying about the recent string of ‘easy’ pleasant mornings… there are verbs involved. 🙂

Flowers are a lovely metaphor for growth over time.

Flowers are a lovely metaphor for growth over time.

I have been finding it easier of late to ‘merry meet’ when I interact with someone, and similarly easily ‘merry part’ when the time comes to walk away – even if that departure is heralded by some moment of stress or OPD in my vicinity. (If you are just joining us here, ‘OPD’ is ‘Other People’s Drama’.) My gentle mornings and evenings seem to cuddle busy productive work days that are, while not entirely stress free, quite enjoyable moment to moment. I am learning not to immerse myself in the difficulties of others. It’s a good time for me, and I am generally content.

Does any of this make it sound ‘easy’? I sure hope not. I mean well, and I benefit from my writing – which is why I do it, honestly – and some of you reading have shared that you find value in my words, or pictures. I sure don’t want to set expectations that these changes in experience and quality of life have been effortless to reach, however well received, however simple sounding; there are verbs involved. I am putting in a lot of time and practice to discover the difference between ‘wish’ and ‘will’. They are very different. 🙂

Imperfectly perfect is as perfect as perfect gets.

Imperfectly perfect is as perfect as perfect gets.

The changes in my experience, in my emotional resilience and self-sufficiency over time, and my enjoyment of life generally have not only not been ‘easy’ to reach – they are not promised even now. I know I am likely to have the occasional bad day. I’ll have difficult times and frustrating moments. I’m likely to struggle to be understood now and then, or to have an interaction with a loved one that leaves me feeling mistreated. Practice, in my experience so far, does not make ‘perfect’ – it just doesn’t, and I highly suggest letting that old trope fall by the wayside. Practice is practice; choosing good practices, and practicing them because the practices themselves add a positive quality to my experience has ‘moved the needle’ on my quality of life. I am experiencing an improvement over time – with continued practice. Your results may vary and there are verbs involved – and choices. The practices I choose for me are most effective when they are the most effective practices I can choose for myself – the ones that resonate with me, and meet my needs over time, providing me with the greatest value. I think that’s where I’ve ‘gone wrong’ in treatment before…trying to force practices to work for me that either didn’t address my needs well, or just weren’t the practices with the outcome I sought. The effort was wasted, not because it lacked value, but because it lacked the value I expected it to have. If I had been, then, more easily able to accept the value that any one practice or change in behavior or thinking actually offered, as it was, I might have gone farther, faster, sooner… I lacked the wisdom and experience to understand that good practices are not ‘One Size Fits All’. So. I try new ones, and share what I can of the experience. There’s a lot to learn in life’s curriculum.  And I sure hope this does not sound like a lecture. 🙂

Prescription strength mindfulness has been the best Rx for me...and it can be taken as part of any treatment plan!

Prescription strength mindfulness has been the best Rx for me…and it can be taken as part of any treatment plan! 

There’s a common and peculiar notion that a magic pill might save the day, spare the effort, provide a short-cut…and I think I got lost on that detour, too. For a long while I took powerful mind-altering prescription drugs on the recommendation of my clinician at the time, in a rather desperate willingness to ‘try anything’ that would ease my suffering, and balance my volatility… only… what I felt stated in a more honest way was a desperate willingness to try anything that did not require actual effort,  or an investment in will, practice, changing behaviors and thinking, investing in my time, or making a real commitment to the lengthy process that growth can be. That all sounds like real work…I wanted a magic pill, and no arguments. I wanted to be personally validated as being ‘the good guy’ and assured that because I had been victimized the world had an obligation to put things right somehow. I told countless therapists who asked me what I hoped to get out of treatment that what I wanted was ‘happily ever after’. I’ll tell you it’s worth saying so to a therapist at least once in one’s life – just to see the look on their face. It is not a reasonable goal. No magic pill. No short cuts. No happily ever after. I dutifully took my pills though…and then other pills to address symptoms those pills caused…and more therapy because the pills weren’t really fixing things, just muting them a bit…and then other different pills because the pills caused side effects…and more pills because those pills didn’t do quite what other pills did that I thought perhaps needed to be done… The pills were wrecking my health, and not doing my cognition or emotional balance any real good, either. Seeking a magic potion did not replace the effort required to learn to live and love skillfully, in the face of chaos and damage. (And the no short cuts rule seems pretty universal.)

I am not a doctor, and this is not medical advice. (Please don’t just wander off and stop taking your medication! Doing so over a blog post seems a poor approach to good self-care.)

I share what works for me because it was so hard for me to find, in the first place.

I share what works for me because it was so hard for me to find, in the first place.

Why am I on and on about how this is not easy, and that the journey requires taking steps, and that will requires action, and that there are verbs involved if I am enjoying my experience lately, with seemingly such ease day-to-day? Because I, myself, could be mislead by the ease in my experience lately, and find my way to problematic thinking and assumptions that could wreck my heart nearly instantly if something goes sideways unexpectedly.  I find it incredibly painful and discouraging to embrace expectations of ease and effortlessness, and have my contentment yoinked out from under me suddenly, not through any great tragedy, but simply because I lost sight of how much practice goes into living well, and how much time I invest in good self-care and taking care of me. “Easy” doesn’t describe it… and when it feels ‘easy’ I generally find that the sensation of ease is related more to developing skill over time, rather than to any lack of effort. I’m still practicing. There are still verbs involved. I am learning to undermine the demons of discouragement and futility lurking in the darkness by being accepting and aware of the commitment I make to practicing, and the necessity to continue. Doing so results in fewer of those terrible moments when it feels like it wasn’t worth trying at all; they are an illusion, and have no greater value than any other fleeting thought or emotion, and choosing differently is possible. You know I’m going to say it again… There are verbs involved. I also know there will be days when I struggle to understand why I have to practice so much or ‘work so hard’ at what seems so effortless on other days. Perspective will matter. Maybe on that day, these words will matter, too.

Each having our own experience, and all in this together; like flowers, we are also blooming in our own time.

Each having our own experience, and all in this together; like flowers, we are also blooming in our own time.

Today is apparently a good day for a lot of words. Today is a good day to practice good practices that are effective for me, personally. Today is a good day to try new practices with an open mind, and a will to explore what they may offer. Today is a good day to brush off discouragement with a smile and say “you’re not my supervisor!” Today is a good day to observe the suffering of others and choose differently myself, without being any less compassionate about their experience.

It’s Mother’s Day. It could as easily be Father’s Day, Family Day, or Administrative Professionals’ Day; we make a point to set aside time to appreciate what we value…or do we? Do all these seemingly celebratory days exist on the calendar because we’re so fired up to appreciation one another that we need additional time to do so? Maybe, maybe not. I don’t see many people celebrating the experience of motherhood with the enthusiasm of Mother’s Day very often. Hell, I don’t see people show appreciation for each others efforts openly very often, whatever they are. I see a lot of coaching, a lot of feedback, tons of criticism, plenty of boundary setting – although I’m not sure I see that last one done well very often out in the world – and just maybe, once all that is behind one human primate or another, the occasional thank you, or expression of regret. I guess I’m not surprised that learning to treat myself well has been such slow going, or is so fraught with anxiety sometimes; the messaging received from others is so often lacking in appreciation.

Today is Mother’s Day. It’s safe to appreciate mothers today, and thank them for the effort involved in motherhood. That’s a lovely thing. What about the other 364 days on the calendar? Is motherhood only worthy of appreciation 1/365 of the year? That hardly seems reasonable, considering the work involved. I thought about making a cheeky joke right about now…something about the bad moms out there bringing down the global average appreciation due to mothers everywhere, but even considering it, and knowing that there really are some less-than-ideal mothers in the world (and some human beings who ought not have undertaken the matter at all), it smacked of disrespect to the multitude of fine mothers everywhere, doing their best but being appreciated, often, just the once each year. So…no jokes, because actually… It isn’t funny.

"Circus Clown" ... ...A picture of a rose won't set off my Mother's allergies. :-)

“Circus Clown” …
…A picture of a rose won’t set off my Mother’s allergies. 🙂

Seriously? Saying thank you more often than we offer criticism seems likely to create a more pleasant world we can all enjoy a bit more than the one we’ve got. “Please” is another nice useful word. I’m also a big fan of “I’m sorry” – although it is currently somewhat out of favor, with articles queuing up about how women ‘apologize’ too much. (Has everyone forgotten that “I’m sorry” may also be a simple expression of sympathetic regret, not exclusively a statement of responsibility? Is being terse, dismissive, or rude about painful experiences that we didn’t personally cause actually a good thing?) I also feel appreciated when I hear kind words, words of recognition and acknowledgement, and insightful questions that foster deeper dialogue about topics I find engaging, novel, or create an intimate connection. I enjoy being invited to share time or experiences – and I feel valued and appreciated to be invited. Feeling appreciated, like ‘contentment’, is a powerful positive emotional experience often overlooked while I am tromping around life and the world seeking ‘happiness’.

Appreciation is a big deal. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in feeling nurtured by the feeling of being appreciated. I found myself contemplating the nature of appreciation, and these many assorted appreciation days on the calendar for this group or that one – each and every one seems reasonable inasmuch as appreciation, sincere, genuine, real appreciation can’t be ‘overdone’. There is, I assure you, no surplus. The thing is, though, it doesn’t seem to truly elevate or value anyone to set aside a single day to say ‘oh, by the way, thanks for all that…’ and then return to treating people poorly, without regard, dismissively, discourteously, or simply overlook them for the rest of the year.

Sitting here wondering about all that and I return to thinking about how I treat myself, how I appreciate my own efforts, how far I’ve come as a person… It suddenly struck me that I tend to treat my own birthday as a sort of ‘Me Appreciation Day’ each year. I can do better than that. Today is a good day for appreciation – every day is. Today is a good day to enjoy the things I do well, and appreciate my skills in life, and the qualities that make me who I am. Today is a good day to appreciate love and kindness and the new start presented with each dawn. Today is a good day to treat myself with compassion, and take good care of this fragile vessel I live within.

Today is a good day for Mother’s Day, and I will most certainly appreciate mine. Today I will honor her work further, by also appreciating myself – the woman I see in the mirror certainly puts in the time and effort to be worthy of my every day appreciation, too, even if she only has one day on the calendar. 🙂