Archives for category: women

Yesterday I didn’t write. I woke seconds ahead of the alarm, and a bit disappointed it was morning. I enjoyed quiet, unmeasured stillness, meditating in the holiday glow of the decorated loft and found myself feeling incredible balanced and content as the day began…

Ornaments as metaphors; love is a lighthouse.

Ornaments as metaphors; love is a lighthouse.

…It all went wrong very quickly, in that way that mornings so easily can.  I spent the remainder of the day feeling stuck – and angry. I have challenges with anger, and I carry around a lot of baggage that is related to anger, and the strange double standard I perceive between what is permitted of the anger of men versus the anger of women. Gender bias issues of that sort generally function implicitly, and it has always been an area of my experience in which I have struggled to be heard, to be accepted, or to make progress with my challenges. I run from anger – mine, too – until I explode unable to contain it any longer. It’s unhealthy. Yesterday sucked quite a lot, and probably didn’t have to. I have work to do in the area of anger. I’m sure life will continue to provide curriculum for the needed learning experience. 🙂

I did not expect that when I woke this morning, I would feel insecure and reluctant to experience morning at all. Yesterday apparently managed to be a pretty big deal on that level, and I find myself feeling fretful about it, and I am unsurprised that tears fall, and then stop, only to start up again for no apparent reason. Tinkering with implicit memory has, over time, resulted in me being somewhat more sensitive to, and aware of, how intense experiences create change in ‘the way things feel’. This morning my anxiety is needless, and associated with the hurt-sad-angry moments of mornings that are not this one. How unreasonable!

I don’t generally write when I am angry. I struggle to communicate comfortably at all, and I’m often unsure quite what to say; I want to get words out that have meaning, are reasonable, and communicate well, and gently, what’s on my mind…only…anger. I didn’t write yesterday. I did go to my therapy appointment, and it ended up being by far the most important conversation of this lifetime about anger. I’m hopeful about the content and significance. I’m anxious about it; change can mean turmoil, and anything to do with anger is actually pretty terrifying for me.

This morning I went straight to writing after meditating, as if the deviation in my routine yesterday was the thing that was problematic. It isn’t likely that meditating in the loft yesterday, and not writing at all, was in any way associated with the blow up later…but “it felt wonderful and calm and delightful, and then things went wrong, therefore I can’t have that” is sort of how my brain broke it down to me this morning. I feel my anxiety increase just contemplating enjoying quiet chill time in that colorful holiday space that I love. What a mess. I am so very human, and sometimes the chaos and damage are more obvious than others.

Would I be easier to love if I never spoke?

Would I be easier to love if I never spoke?

This morning is a whole new day. I’ve got a great shot of espresso. It’s a birthday (Happy Birthday, Love!!). The work day ahead looks to be a good one, and I anticipate spending those hours engaged in tasks that excite me intellectually, in an area of work in which I feel very sure of myself and valued. My pain, today, is quite manageable. I woke without a headache. I find myself feeling hopeful and enthusiastic between stray moments of anxiety. I avoid setting expectations of the day as much as possible to limit my stress, and prevent setting myself or my love up for failure, this morning or later.

Today is a good day to take care of me. Today is a good day to love. Today is a good day to understand that anger isn’t an enemy, and that I have an opportunity to learn and grow from it, and make use of it as a tool, and an alert system. Today is a good day to step right over my fears and doubts and love without reservations. Today is a good day to see the best in each person I interact with, and reflect that back to them by being the best person I can be, myself. Today is a good day for consideration and kindness. Today is a good day to change the world.

It’s late, and the house is quiet. The weekend is over, Thanksgiving is past, and this moment right now is the space between waking and sleeping. I’m not quite ready to let the weekend go. I’m also not particularly in need of an audience, or someone with whom to share this quiet moment. My sharing, for now, is handled and this moment, now, is my own. It’s a very nice quiet one.

An annual celebration of light.

An annual celebration of light.

The loft has been transformed into a holiday paradise. There are very personal, particular, even… ‘magical’ qualities to the holiday season for me, that go far beyond jingles, sales, advertisements, tradition, marketing, habit, or expectations. I made the winter holidays my own, a very long time ago. Today, I sipped my last coffee of the day surrounded by colored lights, and fantastical glass ornaments of all imaginable sorts, quite content to enjoy the things about this holiday season that move me so much. I’ve tried hard for so many years, and in so many relationships, to share this particular experience, this magic, this wondrous transformative understanding of the winter holidays that is my own experience of it… I’m not sure that I’ve ever really succeeded beyond communicating with some modest success that these are holidays that matter to me. That’s enough. It has to be. We are each having our own experience.

Ornaments as metaphors; love is a lighthouse.

Ornaments as metaphors; love is a lighthouse.

For me, preparing the house for the holidays, decorating, setting up the holiday tree are more than tradition, or habit, or expectation; they are in important ritual in the cycle of my life, letting every year end on a note of warmth, love, generosity, appreciation, gratitude, and value – no matter how bad the nightmares, or how traumatic the reality. Each year I unpack the ornaments and treasure the moments I recall as I handle them, and look them over in the light. I place each one so carefully, considering even ‘now details’ and how the precious memories it holds fit the context of my life; I place some prominently, and tuck others around in the back where they are less likely to be seen, or asked about. Each year the tree is a monument to life, to emotion, to memory – to the content and meaning of life and love, experienced over time. Bits of sentiment, souvenirs, and trophies, too, perhaps; my life in glass and glitter cherished through the season, and packed away ever so carefully once the new year arrives.

Some ornaments are purchased, others are handmade.

Some ornaments are purchased, others are handmade.

I sat, hands warm and wrapped around my coffee cup, enjoying a moment of stillness and waiting on our evening meal, it finally became more real…how little need there is for any one else to ‘really get it’, so long as I am true to myself, my values, and I am accepted and valued within my relationships such that I can enjoy the experience that is my own without any particular hindrance.  A lovely moment, a gentle lesson in life’s curriculum; I almost managed not to wonder if I feel exactly precisely all of this every year, without being able to understand that I have, that I do, that I will… I did manage not to be frustrated with that thought, it too passed, and I enjoyed the stillness.

Holiday magic - everyone makes their own.

Holiday magic – everyone makes their own.

These simple harmless pleasures contribute to this amazing journey, enjoying them is part of who I am – and it’s one of the very best parts, too – I woke up to a better understanding about ‘experiencing’ and ‘sharing’ and how distinct from each other those ideas can be, and how utterly okay that actually is. It’s a nice idea on which to end such a nice day, such a good weekend.

I woke with a headache this morning, and I woke several times during the night, returning to sleep with relative ease. The headache matters, and it is necessary to maintain awareness of the impact of disrupted sleep over time; my reactivity tends to increase over days and weeks of disrupted sleep. The headache, like much of my day-to-day pain, also doesn’t ‘matter’ in the sense that I make an effort not to be limited by it or allow it to call my shots, this can also put me on the path of lost balance, and lost perspective; I try so hard my own frustration becomes the bigger issue. Menopause or not, it seems I am lingering at the gates of Hormone Hell, too – or at least driving around that neighborhood in circles, lost. Night sweats. Hot flashes. Irritability. Difficulty maintaining a comfortable emotional connection to another.

Today is still an entirely new day, all potential, choices not yet made, reality not yet fully determined… I will do my best with it. Making the best choices in each moment is not the easy thing it sounds like it could be; I observe that whether something ‘sounds easy’ sometimes depends as much on the words as their meanings, which can be misleading. (Is there anything at all in my experience that has no potential whatsoever to be misleading?)

My coffee is good – and it was easy. I find myself being critical with myself, momentarily, for ‘not drinking it fast enough’ as I yawn through the morning, thus far. Day-to-day I can be ludicrously hard on myself, demanding far more of me than makes sense, or is even needed. The damage I’ve done to myself with the constant internal bullying, berating, and lack of satisfaction or encouragement has piled up over the years, and become part of the chaos and damage I fight now. I take a moment to adjust, to back up off of pressuring myself to drink coffee faster, and remind myself how lovely a leisurely morning, unhurried, unpressured, really feels.

Yesterday was challenging, not horrible, and had some wonderful moments to it. The finish was difficult; I was volatile after therapy and tired, and that can make me pretty unapproachable. People who like and love me still make the attempt and while I love that people are willing, and value me that much, it comes with risks and I ended up in tears over something fairly mundane, and feeling hurt and angry on a level that far exceeded what the event could possibly require. I took a walk in the night, enjoying the feeling of the icy rain pelting me for a couple of miles, and filling my lungs with the fresh cold air. Self-soothing, for me, often requires a combination of exercise, distraction, meditation, and distance that a long walk really captures; I sometimes feel as if I am ‘walking away from what is hurting me’. I contemplated how difficult it must be for my traveling partner to discover through the outcome alone that I am sometimes not as strong as I appear. It is one of the peculiar challenges of pursuing change and healing; change happens fast, but I am making active choices and using verbs, and my demeanor and affect do not always give away the contents of this fragile vessel, or the effort involved in being the change.

I made the wise choice to take a sick day yesterday, with some urging from my partner. I’m glad I did – and I think it sucks that the world, in general, benefited thereby, and he still ended up dealing with the grief and bullshit, himself. That seems particularly unfair. (I keep ‘checking the contract’ for life and living – there’s nothing at all about things being fair; this, too, seems unfair. lol)

Today’s okay so far. I’m tired. I have a headache. The increase in my Rx pain medication has been helping, but doesn’t really kick in for about an hour after I wake. I hurt, and I am patient with myself about that, at least so far.

Today is a good day to be less hard on myself. Today is a good day to remember that acknowledging where I am is necessary to get somewhere better. Today is a good day for good choices, and mindfulness that the good choices themselves have value, whatever the outcome. Today is a good day to remember free will is shared equally; we are each having our own experience…

Love in the World

Love in the World

…I wrote those words as the yelling started in another room, not even 6:00 am. OPD. (For the unfamiliar, that’s ‘other people’s drama’ – but often those ‘other people’ are those dearest to me). It wasn’t the raised voices of anger as much as the raised voices of frustration, hurt, and confusion, and it conveyed powerful stress in seconds. I add to my own stress and anxiety my concerns about the safety of the household in my absence while I am at work; today suddenly feels less safe, and less secure. I haven’t seen physical violence directed at people by anyone living here, but one member of the household is a destructive force to be reckoned with when upset nonetheless – and I do mean seriously destructive. The destruction of several door frames, doors, drawers, dishes, and a 25 year-old mahogany sideboard I lovingly hauled around the world for years testify to that. Many of my paintings can’t be hung because falling to the floor would damage them, and the risk is too high; doors have been slammed so hard here that paintings popped right off the walls and crashed to the floor. I don’t like discussing it, but it is real, and it is part of my experience; these are, in fact, experiences I promised myself I would not endure again. It’s wanton destruction of an utterly inappropriate nature (from my perspective), and it’s hard to determine whether anything at all is sacred; setting explicit boundaries about what is sacred to me hasn’t been effective. The sudden lack of household calm says a lot, and for me at least it amounts to a substantial loss of quality of life because it recurs with regularity. I dislike emotional weaponry; it tends to be both imprecise and very damaging, regardless who it is pointed at, everyone in the vicinity is feels the impact. This morning it’s my traveling partner who is ‘down range’, but we’re both stressed and concerned, and we’re both affected. I will go to work anxious and trembling, and my traveling partner will be working at home, dealing with his stress and trying to remain calm and productive after the difficulties of the morning. Doubtless it will continue to stress and trouble everyone involved for some hours, and my writing feels constrained and self-conscious as I struggle with my words. I know from experience that secrecy begets continued problem behavior, as well as isolating me from support and the comfort of being heard; I struggle on, hoping to say only enough to feel heard, and to be accurate about my own experience of the moment.

This moment is harder than others. I don’t know what’s next, at all. Also hard. This too shall pass.  I will continue to do my best, practice my Big 5, take care of me, treat others well, make the best choices I can, and hope that these are ‘enough’, somehow.

Today is still a good day to be less hard on myself. It’s still a good day to do my best. Today is still a good day to take care of me, and make good choices – hard choices, too, some days. We are each having our own experience, sure, but we’re all in this together. Treating each other well may be the one thing we can all easily do to save the world from our own destructive power.

What do you see when you look at the patterns in your life; your choices, or circumstance?

What do you see when you look at the patterns in your life; your choices, or  your circumstances?

Losing weight – like growth and change – sometimes happens faster than my self-perception can keep up with. It’s a decent metaphor, this morning; I may not recognize myself, or treat myself well in the context of who I am, and find myself sort of stuck, treating me like some other person than this being, right here, now. Character, and qualities of self, can be difficult to see in a mirror, and the mirror of our relationships and associations is a bit of a fun house sort of mirror with everything reflected back being filtered through that persons experiences, expectations, and understandings of the world. The idea of a mirror completes this apt metaphor in this moment.

How accurate is a mirror, or a photograph, when time passes, and people change? I guess...as accurate as it ever was, and that's a matter of perspective.

How accurate is a mirror, or a photograph, when time passes, and people change? I guess…as accurate as it ever was, and that’s a matter of perspective. 

It’s important to pause now and then to take stock of who I am, now, what matters to me, and what I value. Fall seems like a good time for that; I can imagine the autumn leaves fluttering to the ground as misperceptions falling away. I can ask “who am I?” and comfortably answer the question without fear or panic these days. I enjoy that. [Warning: ‘I statements’ ahead…]

When conditions are right, growth happens; it may be necessary to make a point of noticing it.

When conditions are right, growth happens; it may be necessary to make a point of noticing it.

I like relationships in which I feel heard and considered. I thrive when I feel respected, valued, and encouraged as a person. I feel most motivated to commit emotion and effort, and to work at love, when the efforts feel reciprocal, and the investment – emotional, and otherwise – feels balanced. Reciprocity is important for love – at least, for my love, and so is equanimity. I favor openness, and gentle frank explicit communication – of needs, of boundaries, of limits, of hopes, of plans, of desires, of successes, of failures, of complaints, of fantasies, of values… of self. I prefer kindness and compassion to sarcasm and mockery. (Actually, I prefer kindness and compassion to a whole bunch of other things that crop up in relationships I’ve had.) I like pleasant homecomings, and easy departures. I prefer a relationship of equals. These are the qualities I seek in relationships – and not just by looking; I seek them by choosing, by building, and by being willing to acknowledge their lack. I practice them, too. Every day, every minute – sometimes with less success than others; I know to begin again in each new moment, and that practicing over time becomes being. I am learning not to compromise what matters most to me.

I like sex, too. Hell – I love sex; it’s been a very big deal for me for a very long while. It’s a basic need for human primates, and I associate the feelings that follow sex with love and romance. I’ve done it enough to know that without a connection that matters to me, sex isn’t worth the time spent, or the calories burned, at least not now that I understand there can be so much more to it than a copulatory act. I am learning not to compromise on that, too.

This is who I am. This is the way I love. These are the things I value in my relationships and in life.  I’ve come a long way to understand these things about myself, to acknowledge and respect my values, and to practice them with commitment, intention, and will. I’m still human, and I still err…right now, though, the view in the mirror is pretty okay with me.

One singular autumn moment in the company of my self.

One singular autumn moment in the company of my self.

Today is a good day to be who I am, and whether I am content with who I am and the journey I am on, or find myself lacking; no one can be me as well as I can. Every journey we take begins precisely where we actually are. Today is a good day to take a first step. Today is a good day to think on all the steps taken thus far. Today is a good day for contentment, and a good day to recognize the tremendous value we have to ourselves and our own experience.

Take care of you today; you matter. Be kind and compassionate to those around you; they matter, too. Today is a good day to change the world.

Last night when I settled down to meditate, I found myself faced with a fairly child-like challenge; I was restless. I found my mind had wandered from meditation again and again, and I would bring it back to my breath each time. I also found, more than once, that I had changed positions, was actually fidgeting like a child, or in motion on my way between fidgeting and having changed positions. Suddenly, meditation was hard.  I felt distracted, and easily distractable. I paused and set a timer, and committed to being disciplined with my practice for that time period; neurons that fire together, wire together – the practicing itself matters.

When time came to sleep, I had a similar-but-different experience; I kept finding myself in a state of meditation, instead of drifting off to sleep!! Funny primate.

I didn’t sleep through the night in any continuous way; my brain stayed pretty busy. Hot flashes, night sweats, and surrealistic dreams helped pass the time between wakeful moments, and the rest I got seemed of good quality in spite of the weirdness. I woke twice in a way that somehow required me to get up, and ‘check the house for monsters’; I know that’s not really what grown ups think we’re doing when we wake in the night, prowl the house once, get a drink of water, and go back to bed, but if you can tell me how it’s actually different, I’ll be impressed. I just go ahead and call it ‘checking for monsters’. 🙂 There were none to be found, and I easily returned to sleep.

I woke fairly easily, to the alarm – that’s getting to be fairly common these days – and the morning has been pleasant enough. My coffee is very good. Everyone else is also awake, in the background of my consciousness I am aware of it, but the house is quiet in spite of the activity. I ache, the dull continuous ache, and crunching and grinding of arthritis sets a standard of tolerance for the headache, and the throbbing and burning of my ankle; none of it is enough to be truly noteworthy, but as a matter of awareness and perspective, I take note and make a point to take care of me by being compassionate, and alert to my needs. It would be nice to wake without the aches and pains…I don’t remember when the last time was that I did wake entirely pain-free. Has it been that long? Do we always hurt?

Building perspective with questions, and awareness; I have doubts about answers.

Building perspective with questions, and awareness; I have doubts about answers.

I find myself noticing that it is actually a challenge to take on a perspective I just don’t have…and as a curious exercise in thinking, I am wondering if building perspective can be harnessed to somehow be more aware of not being in pain, when it does occur; is a negative bias tending to overwrite those pain-free moments in my recollection? Now I am also thinking about carts and horses, chickens and eggs, and mathematical orders of operations, and other such things that don’t permit argument. lol

Hell of a beginning to a Thursday.

Today is a good day to think, and consider, and wonder, and take notice. Today is a good day to be open to something new, or fantastical. Today is a good day for whimsy, and novelty, and creativity, and the joy and delight of what is strange. Today is a good day to observe and enjoy the world.