Archives for category: women

In the quiet minutes after tempers flare and the uneasy peace that follows, I take some notes. New or unremembered metaphors, insightful analogies, deep questions, and revealed underlying hurts of times long past… Notes for meditation, for self-reflection, for discussion with my therapist. Tripping hazards on life’s path.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

It’s a very human experience, and a lot to think about. I will think about the path ahead, and also the path that has lead me to this point. I’ll consider my behavior, my choices, and my options. The menu of life’s Strange Diner is vast and the options are many – nearly always more than I can imagine, or accept.

I sigh to myself, and set my notes aside for tomorrow.

A new day, another sunrise, a chance to begin again.

I woke early this morning, from the sound sleep I had sunken into after the neighborhood fireworks finally stopped. I got up, surprised to find my Traveling Partner also already up. I started the watering and caught up on messages, then headed up the highway for my walk.

I walk along the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh this time of year. Swallows swoop and dive, chasing their breakfast. Meadow flowers bob gently in the soft breeze. The bold magenta sunrise begins to fade, first to pink, then to a softer pale salmon hue, before fading away to blue sky streaked with white clouds. I sigh and wonder what distant wildfire is responsible for that crazy magenta sunrise? It was beautiful.

A convenient place to stop and reflect.

I get to a spot that I’ll call “halfway” (it isn’t, but it is a convenient spot to stop and there is a fallen oak adjacent to the trail which makes a relatively comfortable seat). I stop with my thoughts, and my baggage, and sit with the moment for a little while.

… This is me, here, now…

I sit contemplating emotions and behavior, and what separates and defines them. Emotions tend to be what they are, and we don’t have much opportunity to manage or control our feelings, themselves. They are an internal, often immediate, experience. Behavior, on the other hand, we have clear opportunities to manage and control that (and often explicit societal expectations that we will do so effectively). That isn’t any sort of statement that it will be easy, at all, especially if we haven’t been in the practice of doing so regularly. It really does take practice. For some of us, it requires a lifetime of continued, focused, dedicated practice – and we’ll still lob some wildly inappropriate behavior into the world (or an important relationship), in spite of all that fucking practice, far more often than we expect. Humans being human. Some of this shit is a bit complicated, whether by brain damage, poor upbringing, ignorance, trauma, medication, or circumstances.

… Most of the time, most people are probably doing some version of their best in the moment, however thoroughly inadequate it may seem from our own perspective. We’re each having our own experience…

“Emotion and Reason” lit differently – how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.

I do my best to lead with kindness and empathy. I’m surprised how often and how easily I manage to fuck that up. Deep listening is a more challenging practice than it seems it would be. Practicing healthy boundaries is more difficult than I ever expect it to be, but frankly I’m a relative beginner on that topic, so perhaps that is easy to understand? I sigh and remind myself to also treat myself with kindness, compassion, and understanding. My beloved’s expressions of hurt, frustration, and disappointment in some moment may define the moment, but they don’t define me as a human being. Nor do his missteps or difficult moments define him.

I reflect on my mistakes in the context of my values. I give myself time to think about them as snags and potholes on a clear path. I visualize various moments differently than they occurred, incorporating the changes in my behavior that I’d ideally want to see. I compare and contrast with similar moments that went very differently. I let myself recognize the differences in a useful way, to build additional implicit understanding.  I remind myself to be patient and slow down, to take the time I need to do things right, and to avoid taking it personally if (when) the world doesn’t slow down with me.

… The journey is the destination. I walk the path I create with my choices. I have opportunities (so many) to change that path by changing my choices. It sounds easier as words than it is in practice – but “practice” is an ongoing thing. I’ll keep walking (and practicing).

… I keep my focus on my own behavior, because that is what is within my control, and it is what I am responsible for, myself…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t know what is around the next bend. I’m walking this path, enjoying the journey, and doing my best to be the person I most want to be. There’s work yet to be done. Where does this path lead? I guess I’ll find out when I get there. In the meantime, I guess I’ll begin again. Again.

I almost didn’t bother with writing this morning. I’m not having a bad morning, neither is it particularly good. It’s just a morning. It is a gray, overcast, mild, somewhat cooler morning than one might expect for a summer Monday. “Nothing to see here,” and nothing much to say about it.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Hell, I’m not even complaining really, just noticing. I have no particular enthusiasm for this moment, and I take some bit of comfort in its underlying impermanence. Moments are fleeting. They pass.

I sit at the halfway point on this morning’s walk fighting a feeling of ennui and vague disappointment that lacks any objective point. My physical pain is vexing but commonplace. My tinnitus is loud and distractingly unpleasant, but hardly out of the ordinary for me. My headache is no worse, but also no better, and I can’t be bothered to deal with it at all. Nothing I do seems to change it. I sigh to myself. I’d complain about this crappy morning, but it’s honestly fine. It is a Monday, and not all that bad. I’m just struggling with a weird mood fed by strange dreams and interrupted sleep.

…All of this bullshit is purely subjective, and very human…

I frown at the gray sky overhead and think about the path I’m on, the life I am living, and the woman I most want to be. I think about change, and I think about “doing better”, and I reflect on brain damage and on character. I think about practice.

… I’d rather be painting…

I sigh to myself and watch the clouds capping distant hilltops, seeming almost to become hung up in the trees as the clouds continue to drift by. Yeah, I’d totally rather be painting. Or sleeping. I sit puzzled by my utter lack of enthusiasm for the day. Oh, well. It’s not as if moods are any more permanent than moments. I’m not “stuck” here so much as finding myself here through happenstance. It’ll pass at some point.

Another sigh. I get to my feet mildly annoyed with myself, and prepare to finish my walk and begin the rest of the day. I’m open to change, I’ve just got to get started and begin again.

It’s a gray and rainy morning. I woke too early, still groggy when I left the house. I reached the trailhead ahead of the dawn by a bit more than an hour. The darkness was chilly. The trail was dotted with unseen puddles. Everything is damp and smells of fresh earth and recent rain.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I walk a bit farther than usual before I stop. I enjoy a different perspective on daybreak when it comes.

Blue morning.

… I’ll be fine after I have some coffee…

I sit awhile watching the blue hues become a rather ordinary uninteresting gray rainy day. I’d rather be sleeping. Or painting. I feel moody and cross.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, not really meditating, just thinking things over. Options. Choices. The way ahead. Life. I sigh to myself. The complexities of being human vex me sometimes. I watch the gray clouds glide past overhead. Stormy weather. Chilly enough for a sweater. I’m glad I wore one.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I look down the trail. The solitude is pleasant. Uncomplicated. I get to my feet, and stretch. It’s a new day. The clock is ticking. I remind myself to let small shit stay small – and I begin again.

Sometimes life feels pretty easy. Some other times, not so much. I could probably stop right there, it is a complete thought.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I start down the marsh trail leaning more heavily on my cane than on most mornings. Pain. It is what it is. It is mostly managed. The path ahead appears deserted, but the handful of cars in the parking lot when I arrived tell a different story. I don’t much feel like seeing or talking with people – strangers or otherwise. The stormy looking sky suits my mood and the pain I’m in.

Sometimes the path ahead is not obvious.

I walk with my thoughts until I get to my usual halfway point on this trail. There are photographers set up there. Birdwatchers, probably. I didn’t ask, I just walked on.  I give a casual wave to someone who waved at me. No one speaks; I don’t want to have conversation, and they don’t want to disturb the wildlife.

I woke too early. I woke already in pain. I’m not saying so to complain about it, it’s just an observation and a potential explanation for my shitty mood this morning. I don’t plan to let either the pain or my dark mood take over my day, although it isn’t always easy (or reliably successful) to change course. Emotions are complicated. For now, this is the experience I’m having. “The way out is through,” I remind myself, and I keep walking.

“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow. 2012

I get to a fork in the path. There’s a convenient rock to sit on, and I am alone. I reflect on paths and journeys, on beginnings and endings, and on how difficult uncertainty makes decisions. I sigh to myself and sit with my thoughts awhile. I ignore the silent tears that well up and slide down my cheeks. A brief moment of sunshine doesn’t last, and the morning returns to shades of gray.

I write for some little while, without ever nearing any sort of useful conclusion. My thoughts are mostly my own, this morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Every time my mind begins to sink into meditation, the tears begin, slow and steady. I know this is probably telling me something, but I’m less certain I want to deal with whatever emotional mess is percolating up from within. I let it go, and let it go again. It is a new day, and I’ve got options. I sigh quietly. “Choose wisely,” I remind myself. The menu of the Strange Diner is vast. I don’t have to stay in the mire.

I start to feel stiff as I sit here. No wise woman on a mountain to consult with, only a mirror, and a moment, a woman, and a path. I get to my feet feeling cross about pain and mortality. I turn and look down the path. I can’t see beyond the next bend, and reluctantly I begin again.

The morning begins gently, if a bit earlier than I’d hoped. I dress, water the lawn, and head to the trailhead.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I started down the trail as the sunrise began, walking towards the west, counterclockwise on the loop that circles the vineyard. I walk with my thoughts, still processing an epiphany I brought back with me from my coastal getaway. Something to do with time management and presence and meeting my need for solitude and creative time “on the cheap” and more reliably (and without having to upend my routine every time I need to catch a breath or practice self-care more skillfully). I am grateful for the opportunity to “reset” my understanding of my Traveling Partner’s improved capabilities, too. I feel more easily able to simply enjoy him as he is, without constantly working to anticipate (or soothe) every need and every circumstance. It feels good to be able to focus on what I also need, again.

Zoom out, see a bigger picture.

My self-care “stall points” are pretty commonplace I suppose. I enjoy my beloved’s companionship greatly, and I am easily tempted into doing nothing at all aside from enjoying his company, which definitely prevents me from getting things done. I often attempt to counter this by jumping to immediately handle any task mentioned to me, to avoid forgetting it. The result is that I am constantly spinning from distraction to distraction without making room for what I need for myself, to be well and to thrive. It’s a puzzle. Stepping away and considering my life while a bit removed from it gave me a new perspective from which to compare, contrast, and evaluate. Useful time spent on self-reflection.

Zoom in, consider the details.

I reflect on my thoughts about better self-care, and being a better partner from the vantage point of my halfway point on this familiar trail. These aren’t new thoughts, not entirely, it’s more that they have resurfaced and gained my attention at a moment when I can give them deeper consideration. Useful.

I’ve decided to add two practices to my day-to-day routine, and resurrect another that I had dropped when life was too full with caregiving. The two new practices are rather simple and mostly about time management: firstly, I’ll take 15-20 minutes after work each day for solitude, (just sitting quietly and allowing my mental buffer time enough to clear out anything still queued up at the end of the day would allow me to feel more easily able to be fully present with my partner) and secondly, I’m going to begin committing two hours on the weekends for studio art. I’ll take the time from time I often spend just chilling on the couch with no purpose in mind and which could be better spent – and giving up a portion of the weekend to artistic endeavors sounds very nurturing, to me.

As far as a practice that got dropped being resurrected, I’m going to get back to practicing yoga. Healthy movement has lasting value and I definitely spend too much time just sitting. 😆 I can begin slowly and work around my injuries gently. It’ll be good for me. (And hey, better fitness will likely mean better sex, too! Win!)

I watch the trees become filled with light. The sun has crested the horizon and it is a new day. I have a new opportunity to begin again.