Archives for category: women
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

One Moment, One Day, One Week

June 5, 2013 //
3

I am feeling tired today, on a different level, as if my heart or perhaps my ‘soul’ is fatigued and needing rest. Hormones, probably. Or some other simple fundamental of being human, perhaps.  I slept well enough, although I woke once or twice briefly, and of course ahead of the alarm clock when my night ended.  I’m eating well and taking care of my nutritional needs.  I’m getting good regular exercise, and I’m not taking medications I don’t need, and those at the lowest effective dose of the most reliable Rx available at this time.  I’m staying with new mindfulness and meditation practices, and yoga, and attending to the needs of my spirit and my heart by ensuring I take time for people and things I love. 

Memories and daydreams mingle as I approach 50. "Sunset on the River" 1994 and 2011. Oil on Canvas

Memories and daydreams mingle as I approach 50.
“Sunset on the River” 1994 and 2011. Oil on Canvas

…and I’m tired.  I feel a bit like I am momentarily ‘paused’ to re-buffer… or something… When my mind is still and quiet I feel the unease of dissatisfaction more clearly.  I’m uncomfortable facing it.  What am I afraid of? Change? There’s so much of that of late I don’t see that it would be all that remarkable. lol.  Hormones. I will be so glad when the over-rationalized, highly resented, chemical driver of my experience ebbs like the tide.  I daydream that I will be suddenly ‘more sane’ and calmer… I hope not to be disappointed. LOL Maybe I am just a madwoman after all? I do wonder, sometimes…

The ‘first half’ is nearly at an end… a dear friend who heard about my new aquarium adventure remarked “one must adjust the temporal currents in ones own body and mind in order to commune with the fish.  it will be very beneficial to your journey, i believe.”  I’m sure she’s right on both points.  So, ever onward…50 staring me in the face, and when I stare back I see it pretty clearly some days.  Still…overall I’m pretty happy. Overall I’m pretty satisfied with most things. Overall I’m in good health, and reasonably rational.  It’s hard to bitch about feeling tired, or share some existential angst, knowing how many friends, family, and acquaintances are really struggling.  Harder still to deal with feeling dissatisfied about things that suddenly look awfully small when I consider the pain and turmoil in our global community. Am I finally becoming a grown up? lol.

7 days to 50…

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Art, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Spring, Turning 50, women

14…33…50.

May 29, 2013 //
2

It’s just 14 days to my 50th birthday, now. It feels ‘imminent’. Life is rich and filled with experiences, with connections, with opportunities, with emotion, and with growth. It’s quite wonderful…wonder filled…and the smallest things seem large, or important, or memorable. Things I might have overlooked quite easily at other points in my life. Small things stand out, meaningful, and cherished. I am learning appreciation…and gratitude. I am learning to recognize the affection of others, and to welcome it – even embracing a more genuine (and rather extroverted) experience of myself that finds me with a lingering smile and joy in my relationships with others.

Today, a lot of that joy in my experience is represented in a fun moment with friends – who happen, also, to be colleagues. A funny moment of solidarity and shared experience in #33 Starry Blue, which we are all wearing today. I do love glittery nail polish, and sharing the fun of it with friends is … fun, and sweet, and delightful, and… connected. 🙂

What are connections made of?

What are connections made of?

I used to shy away from connections…fearful…awkward…inept…confusing my own fears and insecurities with a dislike of ‘my fellow man’…confusing my love of safety in solitude with introversion, and running from what I didn’t understand about life and love and connecting, rather than exploring what frightened me so much.  I’m definitely not the woman I was at 14… or 33… am I ready to be the woman I am at 50?

There’s so much I am learning; I don’t know how to share most of it, or even how to determine whether sharing it is a thing that matters. Perhaps simply ‘being’ is enough? I know that I am grateful to have so many wonderful friends, and in spite of my doubts and hormones and the chaos and wreckage in my heart and my head, this is a wonderful life to share with them, and to enjoy, myself.

I wonder what the second half holds?

Tags , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, women, Words

Good-bye, Old Friend

May 23, 2013 //
2
So many metaphors...hard to choose just one. (detail from "Anxiety" 2011)

So many metaphors…hard to choose just one. (detail from “Anxiety” 2011)

I’m saying good-bye to an old friend.

A steady rain falls this morning, like a lifetime of tears falling in a day; the sort of respectable rainfall that farmers count on, and that quickly turns a pleasant walk into a test of endurance. I like rain. I especially like rain from a warm, dry vantage point with a hot cup of coffee. I’ve got my coffee, the rain, and if I want to reach into my heart and touch something that hurts, I have my share of tears, too. I also have a headache. The headache is part of this particular good-bye.

You see, after more than a decade, I am finally saying good-bye to prescription anxiety medication. Aside from this headache, and a few somewhat surreal days, it hasn’t been too difficult. I was most concerned about some potential that I’d suddenly be taken over by the level of anxiety that was my everyday experience before I embraced Big Pharm’s tempting sales pitch. A decade is a long time to take a drug, and I’m not surprised that the experience of withdrawing from it is more profound than the assurances and platitudes the literature provides; nearly all the research I’ve been able to access is based on clinical trials of short-term use (6-8 weeks), and none of it is based on a decade or more of continuous use.  Actions have consequences. A decade is a long time to take a drug.  There is too much information available, and a lot of recent reporting, regarding how business interests have resulted in a substantial amount of medical research being suppressed, or actually manipulated for a desired outcome, and similar sorts of things that frankly scare the hell out of me every time I look in my medicine cabinet. I’m painfully aware, too, that doctors are people, not gods, and just as prone to fraud, deceit, greed, error and simple incompetence as anyone else. I am serious about embracing a genuine experience of who I am – of being myself. Really being myself. So, the time had come to back up my recent progress with real trust that my experience is improved, and that I am more whole than I had been, and am capable of continuing to grow and improve my experience, and heal my ancient hurts. I decided to take care of me in a different way. Big Pharm didn’t fix my issues, and couldn’t – they had 10 years to make it happen. lol. My turn. For real. I’m learning, healing, growing…and I am happy to see 50 without having to take mind-altering drugs to endure my experience, pacify my fears, or ‘make me presentable’ for the rest of the world. The headache today is worth it.

...not going to dwell on it... (detail of 'Broken' 2012)

…not going to dwell on it… (detail of ‘Broken’ 2012)

I’m still human. I still feel anxiety. I still have things to work on, to work out, to understand more clearly. I have more to learn. I still have PTSD, and I’m still learning new skills for managing that experience more effectively. I still have a TBI, and I’m finally learning things that address that part of my experience directly, and that matters more than I ever know how to describe.

There’s always another lesson in life’s curriculum, isn’t there? My morning thoughts and contemplation are interrupted. I am finding that my concentration is limited for now, as I say good-bye to this ‘old friend’. I’m not sorry to see it go. But it is a complicated good-bye.

...each having our own experience. (detail of "Emic" 2012)

…each having our own experience. (detail of “Emic” 2012)

It is sometime later, now. The serenity of the  morning didn’t last, and while that is disappointing, I’m finding that I am ok, myself.  Anxiety is what it is, and I’m ok. My own experience, right now, right here, is one of relative calm; concerned, aware, and finding significant perspective in the beauty of a rainy day, and the many shades of green I see. Some experiences have more value than others, and for the moment a rainy day trumps anxiety and ‘what if’ scenarios.

Respect…consideration…compassion…reciprocity…openness…my ‘Big 5’ only look easy on paper. I’m finding that getting there is still a destination, and the journey requires an everyday commitment to mindful choices, and awareness. I want it to be easy. I accept that both effort and will are required; this is not about easy.

I’m tired and my head aches. That’s worth it, too. I’m giving myself my self for my 50th birthday.

"Who am I? Wait...I had something for this..." (detail of 'Kronos' 2002)

“Who am I? Wait…I had something for this…” (detail of ‘Kronos’ 2002)

Tags , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Art, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Turning 50, Uncategorized, women

Rain

May 18, 2013 //
2

I woke early this morning.  It was uneventful, and mostly due to my failure to shut off my alarm clock the night before.  I enjoyed the luxury of loitering in bed, wrapped up on warm blankets, enjoying the freedom to daydream, and muse about what matters to me. I further enjoyed the freedom to let my thoughts be on their way when I was sufficiently entertained, rather than getting caught up in a moment of distress, or allowing myself to succumb to some attack on my serenity from lurking personal demons. Eventually, morning won over additional sleep, and I have enjoyed watching the dawn unfold gently through the windows, thinking about my upcoming birthday, my life, my loves, my values, my needs, my humanity, my will, my intentions, my desires… it has been a very think-y morning.

I got done with that, soon enough. Since then, I’ve been sipping my latte and watching a misty rain gradually develop into quite a rainy morning, a drenching Oregon downpour, in fact, of the sort that defines our reputation for changeable wet weather. I love the rain. I rarely feel anything but soothed and peaceful on rainy days, and that has been part of who I am since I can remember.

“…Since I can remember…”  I can’t always, you know. My memory has been crap-tastic, also ‘since I can remember’.  That’s the TBI making one of its contributions to my experience, most likely.  Almost 50 (25 days to go) and headed for menopause, and being an artist, people in my life tend to accept the memory issues in a matter of fact way – it was by far more awkward and embarrassing in my 20s, when I was regularly accused of ‘not paying attention’, ‘not caring’, or ‘lying about not remembering’.  That would be one of the many reasons I’m quite happy not to be in my 20s anymore! lol

My birthday means more to me than makes any sense to me… 50 really seems like a big deal.  I mentioned it to a friend who is older and she smiled at me with the patience of a mother looking at the simple progress her child makes growing up; tolerant, understanding, compassionate, and from an entirely different perspective in life. I wonder if, at 70, 50 will still seem like it was a big deal? I also wonder why we tend to be so committed to a base 10 number system – so much so that we tend to benchmark our ‘decades’ as somehow more significant than other divisions of time on our lifeline… I mean… 14 was damned important to me… so was 5… and 11… 27… 9…32…40…47…clearly not all about 10s. Just a random musing on a rainy Saturday.

Someone dear to me hurt me incredibly deeply, recently.  My heart still aches with it.  The conflict between that person’s values and my own seems to stand out like a an Exit sign in a dark corridor.  It’ll have to be discussed at some point, because it is the sort of thing that matters, and speaks to the core of who I am as a being. I find myself touching the moment gently, tenderly, in my recollection and wondering ‘was that it, was that the end of a friendship?’  Not something to be taken lightly, at all. Something to ponder carefully.  I consider it, and let it go for now.

The rain falls, the household wakes… time to enjoy a rainy Saturday. 🙂

Tags , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Spring, Turning 50, women, Words

Don’t Pull That Trigger!

May 15, 2013 //
1

Wow. I dislike what ‘news’ has become.  Political corruption? Hardly news-worthy, it’s an everyday thing, and it will continue to be for as long as we elect corrupt or corruptible human beings to positions of power.  It would be nice if a politician had to accept that role with the clear contractual understanding that he or she could not ever personally profit from that role in a direct way, or if anyone in power were ever actually held accountable for what they themselves force the nation to endure by their decisions or actions.  This is not an article about politics, or news.   I found it profoundly adult to hear Angelina Jolie go public with her account of choosing a double mastectomy over her very high risk of aggressive breast cancer…and found myself dismayed and in some cases disgusted that anyone would choose to criticize her choice; it was hers to make. Period. It’s a shame that women without that level of income, or those resources, don’t have the opportunity, realistically, to make that choice themselves. This is not an article about breast cancer, or the limited health choices that women without means face, or feminist issues of gender-limited personal freedom and choice.  Not a day goes by that the news doesn’t have another story about rape, and equally heinously, another story about what women ‘can do to prevent being raped’; rape is prevented by people not committing non-consensual sexual acts against others, it isn’t more complicated than that. Don’t rape.  The news these days just isn’t worth reading most of the time.  Not because the information isn’t valuable, not because some of what is observed isn’t newsworthy, but because the presentation of so much information is tainted with bias of one sort or another to the point that it isn’t ‘information’ at all; it is marketing, propaganda, spin, color, or outright lies. ‘Fact-checking’ relies rather heavily on someone, somewhere, being able to tell the difference between fact and opinion. lol.

I’m frustrated by how easily my balance can be disturbed by the media. ‘News’ that is intended to distress, to frighten, to alarm, to ‘call to action’ rather than inform, advise, or enlighten isn’t ‘news’ at all – it is an attack on my consciousness. I avoid it. I ask friends to stop sending me links to things. Ah, but we all use Facebook, don’t we? Well, I still do – some very dear friends and loved ones use it as their primary form of communication, long distance.  It’s hard seeing some of the things people post. More and more of my friends use ‘trigger alerts’, which I value. I’m using them more, too.

28 days… one menstrual cycle away from being 50. lol.

Spring is still unfolding all around me. I love the walk to work in the mornings; strolling past each neighbor’s garden, seeing the flowers opening day by day, feeling the soft chill morning air against my skin, or perhaps a tender misty rain falling – like this morning.  I keep returning to my own garden, morning and evening, watering, watching, loving…

Kiss of Desire, kissed by a misty morning rain.

“Kiss of Desire”, kissed by a misty morning rain.

I love the colors of morning, and the surprises…

"Graham Thomas" blooms for the first time this year.

“Graham Thomas” blooms for the first time this year.

Last year we picked out some roses likely to do well in this garden. “Graham Thomas” was one, and already quite large and eager to take his place as master of the central flower bed.  I’m quite delighted, also, with “Ebb Tide”; covered with buds and blossoms of a rich deep purple.

"Ebb Tide" wowing me.

“Ebb Tide” wowing me.

Old favorites draw my eye, too, and I smile even thinking seeing “Baby Love” on the other end of my walk home tonight.  Selected with sentiment and love, she was the featured rose of my last garden, a much smaller space – too small for my grand plans. lol.

"Baby Love" will bloom like this through the year and well into November.

“Baby Love” will bloom like this through the year and well into November.

My garden is a sanctuary where ‘the news’ can’t reach me.  When I’m in my garden, I am in the moment, aware, engaged, and being on this extraordinary other level.  Still working on mindfulness practices I am hoping will one day be very natural in my experience, as natural as stepping into my garden.

A mystery rose.

A mystery rose.

…Life has a lot of lessons to share, a lot of mysteries to reveal. Perhaps one day I will find mindfulness an easy part of being, and figure out what that mystery rose is, or find the words to tell the world “You have no power over me.”

In the meantime, I meditate, practice mindfulness, consider my Big 5, learn better skills for taking care of me, and hope to ask the questions that reveal my own heart to me most clearly.  In between, I garden.  😀

 

Tags , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Rape, Relationships, Roses, Spring, Turning 50, women
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »