Archives for category: women

I may as well have ordered from a menu…”I’ll have the Random Emotional Overload, please – does that come with Feelings of Not Being Heard? I’d also like extra Not Well Understood, please. Can I have that with a side of Fail Sauce? There’s no Diary in that, is there? …Oh, Honey – you should try the Accusations and Dismissiveness, I hear that’s really exceptional here…”

Yesterday, I went, in mere seconds, from feeling content, comfortable, and enjoying quite a lovely day, to… something very different. The tiniest of difficulties with communicating a very simple idea (“yes and I am uncomfortable”, versus “No, because I am uncomfortable” – quite different concepts, truly) quickly became an embarrassing loss of emotional regulation on a level that is difficult to accept, explain, or excuse without some understanding of how a disinhibiting brain injury might complicate PTSD. It is what it is. I continue to do my best and work to grow and improve on what I can’t rely on without exerting will and continuous practice… It is what it is, and what it is just happens to be my experience, which sometimes sucks rather a lot.

I moved on, the evening unfolded, eventually I slept. The damage is done, of course. There are no ‘take backsies’, once I’ve hurt someone – they hurt. It’s the crumpled paper model of regret; the apology is necessary, and making amends is important, but the damage is done.

My head hurts today. I didn’t sleep well. Hormone Hell sucks like crazy, but it’s still 100% on me to do my best to be the best person I can be, moment to moment. It sucks that a few painful moments on a single day out of many can have the potential drive pain and stress into so many other potentially entirely unrelated moments even on entirely different days, but there it is. It’s one major reason why mindfulness matters so much, why I keep harping on being in this moment, and reminding myself that we are each having our own experience; there’s just no sharing some of it, and becoming mired in what sucks is so much easier than becoming wrapped in what is warm and lovely and good. Be. Here. Now.

This moment was lovely...

This moment was lovely…

Today is a good day for practicing practices. Today is a good day to be this amazing woman I am – challenges and all – and to continue to do my best, and to grow, and heal, and walk on, until I reach a new perspective. Today is a good day to embrace all the vast character and wonder of this creature I hold so tenderly in this broken vessel. Today is a good day to stand between myself, and the world, and be the person I can count on right now to care for me, reliably well, every day.  Today is a good day to make choices that meet my needs over time.

Yesterday was a pretty good day. The evening, too, was gentle and pleasant. My overall level of pain felt manageable, and by the end of the day my anxiety had almost entirely dissipated. I enjoyed the walk between the office and the train station, taking time to appreciate the subtle colors of the cloudy sky.

Evening sky on a strangely warm winter evening.

Evening sky on a strangely warm winter evening.

Initially, it seemed quite nice to hear from a faraway old friend on such a mellow evening. Life’s curriculum isn’t always an obvious lesson at the outset. My boundaries were quickly tested with OPD (Other People’s Drama), and firmly reinforcing those boundaries resulted in conversational strategies I find objectionable: manipulation, wild assumptions used as ‘proof’, personal attacks, assertions regarding the thoughts or intentions of others unsupported by confirmation, and even deceit – followed up by a demand that I involve myself in this friend’s personal drama by taking actions on their behalf, in the context of circumstances I am not part of, have no exposure to, and do not care to participate in, regardless. I ended the conversation when it was clear it was not a frank one; hidden agendas irritate me.

Like a tree silhouetted against the sky, I see that I am no longer who I once was.

Like a tree silhouetted against the sky, I see who I am now.

I found it relatively easy not to become involved. Setting those boundaries didn’t feel as difficult as it once might have. I didn’t get sucked in – although I am contemplating the conversation, itself, even now (learning from it matters that much). Considering the potential end of a friendship doesn’t feel very comfortable – but I am not to be used, taken advantage of, or made into a tool or weapon for someone else’s gain, without my explicit consent and willingness to participate. I would have thought that was an obvious thing – but to be fair, it wasn’t obvious ‘before’, so why assume it is now?

I didn’t go on the offensive with my friend in conversation, but I did ask clarifying questions about the assumptions being made, and point out where life experience (my own) suggested specific assumptions must be verified, rather than acted upon, because they didn’t seem rational, or likely to be correct. Admittedly, pointing out logical fallacies isn’t always the most tactful choice in conversation, but it can be done gently and with reasonable good-nature and a positive approach, to further the conversation with greater clarity – and a disinhibiting TBI makes it damned difficult not to point an obvious logical fallacy, at least for me. When clarifying questions result in personal attacks, I know it’s time to set a firm boundary and walk away.

Perspective matters; we are each having our own experience.

Perspective matters; we are each having our own experience.

Now what? Well, now I have more information than I wanted to about this friend’s circumstances, behavior, and thinking on some sensitive topics – about which we clearly have very different values and understanding. Now I am aware that this friend may be more interested in how I can be useful, than how I’m doing these days. I found the conversation so off-putting in both content and outcome, that I am wondering what the state of this friendship really is…and whether it is actually a friendship, at all.  When we change and grow our friends don’t always come along on the journey; I still find that very hard to take, sometimes.

Sometimes there's more to it than circumstances; we choose much of our experience.

There’s more to it than circumstances; we choose so much of our experience.

It’s a lovely morning, and a new day. I slept pretty well, and woke feeling rested. No anxiety this morning, which is always a nice thing. Always. My coffee cup is hot in my hands, a pleasant sensation in the morning chill. The house is quiet. The weekend is only hours away. Today is a good day to accept change, and turn the page on life’s text-book to the next lesson.

 

This morning I woke with anxiety riding shotgun. I woke early, and abruptly, feeling unable to take a breath. In the face of imminent panic, I managed to grab hold of the nearest practice – in this case, simply breathing – and focused on that, instead of the anxiety.

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

With the first deep breath, in and then slowly out, I observed the quiet environment, and the lack of immediate threats to my safety or wellness.

With the second, I observed my own body and state of being, finding and gently letting go of tension, then self-soothing by improving my posture, and comforting myself with reminders to be present, now, and letting the safety and comfort of the moment soak into my awareness more fully.

With the third breath I acknowledged Anxiety traveling with me this morning, and instead of panic, I gave myself a mental pat on the back for dealing with her – and my PTSD – so well these past couple days.  I took a moment to refresh my understanding that my TBI sometimes prevents my chemistry from appropriately returning to baseline because the inhibition/disinhibition circuitry – and other executive functions – are impaired; this too will pass, but it may take longer than I’d like, and I’ll probably have to help it along.

By the time I complete 5 deep cleansing breaths, my heart stopped pounding, and the surreal terror eased. Was it something in my dreams that woke me so badly? It hardly matters. I am okay, and a new day is beginning. I anticipate the anxiety may come and go today, as it eases over hours without new stimuli. I smile realizing that it feels almost natural… almost easy… to take care of me in the face of my anxiety. It is quite deliberate, very structured, almost ritualistic, extremely practiced, and in no way ‘natural’ or ‘easy’ – but it is lovely that it feels that it easy, and that’s more than enough to bring a smile to my face, this morning as I sit with my coffee, quite alone, and recognizing anxiety as merely an emotion, rather than envisioning it as some powerful super-being capable of destroying worlds.

The tools and practices I have invested so much time and study in really do make a difference. Using SuperBetter regularly helps me stay focused on practicing good self-care practices, and reminds me of all the variety there is in self-care tools and skills, and in creative ways to break problem patterns of thinking and behavior. Directing entertainment consumption towards the educational (TED Talks, SciShow…) has proven helpful, too; the brain is a sort of ‘use it or lose it’ tool, itself, and the sharpest elders I know are people who continue learning well into their elder years as a lifelong passion.

…And then there’s love.  I don’t want to overlook or underestimate the value of supportive relationships, emotional nurturing by loved ones, the comfort in someone listening, or the emotional safety in being accepted and loved – exactly as I am.  Being loved is a bit like buried pirate treasure, though; even though I suspected it might be ‘out there’, and even with a map that had a spot marked ‘X’ to point the way, it took some searching and some persistence, mostly because I did not understand that the love I most yearned for above all others needed to come from me, and until I found my way to that safe haven, no searching would ever turn up the pirate treasure of romantic love in the arms of another (because, even if someone loved me that much, in that way, I would struggle to recognize and feel it, having no similar feeling about myself).

It’s a lovely morning, and a good day to tell anxiety to take a hike – I will choose, instead, to walk with love, deliberately and willfully. Today is a good day to practice good practices, and to take care of me. Today is a good day to enjoy what works, and improve on what doesn’t work so well. Today is a good day to change the way I deal with my world.

 

 

Strength isn't always what I expect it to be.

Strength isn’t always what I expect it to be.

Amazing things are possible with a little support.

Love and Inspiration are a lovely combination.

Love and Inspiration are a lovely combination.

Enjoy the moment; it’s the only one quite like it.

Today is a good day to encourage someone to be the person they most want to be. Today is a good day for please and thank you. Today is a good day to be kind and considerate. Today is a good day to love.

I am thinking of a hot summer day, humid, sweltering in the still air, waiting for a summer storm, or a breeze, or an excuse to retreat to any room with an air conditioner in the window. I am thinking of the past. It is a metaphor playing out a bit like a video in my imagination. Car on blocks in the driveway, hood up, and a sweat soaked mechanic head down over the engine, peering into the darkness below the machinery, gesturing vaguely with a wrench and calling out probably relevant information over her shoulder. “Yep…Here’s yer problem! Wiring’s crossed. You got no spark.”

It’s not a moment of ‘real’, it is a fiction, and I smile as I walk on toward the light rail station to head to work, thinking about the things that work, the things that don’t, and the colorful gentle humor of the way I ‘communicate with myself’ while I walk – not quite fiction, not quite memory, sort of ‘live action’, something like a screenplay, a bit like watching a ‘choose your own adventure’ video… and as useful as any other thought I might craft, truly, without the potential hurts of assuming it is ‘real’ and therefore more valid, or valued, than other thinking. I let my imagination jump the chasm across my injury to bring insights from me to myself. lol I learn some things through my mind’s eye and the Theater of Absurd Conclusions… and sometimes I just enjoy it.

Spring is approaching. My daydreams are filled with trails, trees, wee creatures watching warily as I pass, plans for hikes, and camping to come, and thoughts of home, and home making. (Go ahead, define the difference between ‘house’ and ‘home’ and get back to me; I’ll wait.) I am in a place in life when ‘putting down roots’ and feeling at home – really ‘at home’ – matters a great deal… but it isn’t something I’ve experienced very often in life, and learning good practices for building a sense of home isn’t as simple as it once seemed in the abstract.

…I am quite fortunate to be well-supported, emotionally, by my traveling partner on life’s journey (and… the secret is out – that’s why he is my ‘traveling partner’; we are traveling, together, on life’s journey). It’s quite a long trip from where I once was, to where I someday hope to be – it’s nice having some company along the way. 🙂

So for now, I walk on, still learning, still practicing, still putting intent and will (and some verbs) into finding my way ‘home’.

I can feel at home in a tent, among the trees... so home is not a building.

I can feel at home in a tent, among the trees… so home is not a building.

There's something about garden flowers that feels like home.

There’s something about garden flowers that feels like home.

Home is where the art is.

Home is where the art is. “Summer Meadow” 12″x16″ acrylic on canvas w/glow. 2014

 

Feeling at home transcends permanence.

Feeling at home can transcend permanence of place, but I don’t count on it; some places never feel like home.

Home is a feeling...

Home is a feeling… or a matter taste.

Something that connects who we once were...

Something that connects who we once were…

...and who we are, now...

…and who we are, now…

...with what matters most. "You Always Have My Heart" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow.

…with what matters most.
“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

How will I "find my way home"? "Daytime in The Nightmare City" 10" x 14" acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter and micaceous oxide. Indoor light, charged. 2014

How will I “find my way home”?
“Daytime in The Nightmare City” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter and micaceous oxide. Indoor light, charged. 2014