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Nightmares, Still

September 26, 2024 //
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Noisy restless night. I’m awake, for the moment. I listen. I hear the reassuring sound of my Traveling Partner, sleeping. I had been struggling to find deep sleep in a restless household. Now? I’m awake with a ferocious headache, a pinpoint of pain on the side of my head above my left ear. In between… sleep… and nightmares.

… I woke in a panic, responding to the soft frightened sounding voice of my partner calling out to me, “Honey…?”. I sat upright suddenly, shaking. The house was quiet and dark. Just an “exploding head” dream. Fuck, I hate those. The fear persists awhile. Before that, I was dreaming that I was in a large granite sarcophagus, polished smooth, very dark. The lid was askew enough for air to easily reach me, and I could get a comfortable strong grip on the smooth cold stone, but I couldn’t move it. No light, just a sense of the narrowness of the stone box. Huge. I was standing upright easily. I tried to gauge other dimensions and walked the length of it,  which somehow extended onward…onward… onward… into the darkness…or was I walking in place? I felt trapped and breathless. Heart pounding. I hear footsteps, not my own, and freeze. “Don’t move,” I think. “Control your breathing and for god’s sake don’t move.” I hold myself so, so still in the darkness. That was when I heard my partner call to me, “Honey..?”, and woke, shaking, frightened, heart pounding. Is he okay?!

He’s okay. Sleeping. The house is quiet around me. Just fucking nightmares, and a headache, and pain. I sigh quietly and breathe. My pounding heart begins to slow to something normal and comfortable. I get up to pee. Take an antacid. Lay back down. But I’m not sleeping. Not now. It’ll be awhile before sleep “feels safe” again. The night is half gone. Split by nightmares. I try meditation. Reading. Finally just write a few words; I know the recollection will dim as dawn approaches.

… This will pass with the night…

Tomorrow, I can begin again.

Foggy morning, waiting for the sun.

I eventually slept, some. I woke abruptly, frightened and triggered, by furious yelling in the hallway. My Traveling Partner had a bad night himself, going off one problematic prescription and beginning another, the experiences overlap. He is angry, tired, and unhappy about the hall bathroom light being on, keeping him from sleeping. 04:18. I get up, dress, make coffee for my beloved partner, and leave quickly, before I can (too easily) also be provoked to becoming angry. My heart is still pounding as I leave the house. I’m shaking. I remind myself to slow down, to breathe, to do my best. Getting killed on the highway in the fog driving stressfully wouldn’t be a helpful turn of events at all. 

Now, I wait for the sun. I sit quietly with my thoughts and my tinnitus, heart heavy with questions. Breathing. Letting shit go that’s not really anything personal to do with me. Reminding myself that my own fragile state is as much to do with my difficult night as it is to do with my unpleasant “wake up call”. Reminding myself to stay on the path, and to be my best self even under these circumstances (maybe especially under such circumstances). I’m not a perfect person. It’s not a perfect effort. My results vary.

… But doing my best to be the woman (person) I most want to be isn’t about anyone else, at all; I do this for me. My failures, however humbling, are part of the journey. I know to reflect on the experience, learn from it, and begin again. Life is brief – too brief.

I sit quietly, thinking about my Traveling Partner, this complicated man who I love so deeply and enduringly. He’s very human, too. Tough time for him. I remember having to come to terms with having become disabled, myself. G’damn that was…hard. I think about recent pleasant moments together and loving words shared; it makes it tough to get mired in stress, hurt feelings, or anger. It’s a practice I value greatly. It’s pretty hard to be angry when I am practicing gratitude.

Gratitude, even in this moment, after a difficult night, is pretty easy. My Traveling Partner is “a bit of a handful” lately, and caregiving is fucking hard (and relentless) – but I love this man for reasons (and through shared experiences) that go so much deeper than shitty bad tempered moments under trying (and temporary) circumstances. Hard is hard. Okay. Love still matters. So I turn to thoughts of our enduring love to comfort me right now. Heavy questions can wait for lighter moments when I am more likely to face them clear-headed. That just seems wise – although, wisdom isn’t really my area of expertise. I’m am simply a human primate doing my best to learn from my mistakes, practice useful (helpful) practices, and begin again when I struggle.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I focus on self-care for now, and sit here in the fog (actual, not metaphorical), waiting for the sun. This too will pass. There’s a new day ahead. I watch the morning commuter traffic rolling by on the highway and silently wish my partner well. I hope he gets some rest and I’m glad he’s not having to drag himself to work feeling wrung out from sleeplessness and changes to his meds. That’d be rough. I sit wondering for a moment if he felt the love that went into making his coffee with such care before I left the house?

…Fuck, I love this man so deeply, and very much in spite of the shit we’re going through right now, (which likely won’t seem significant a few years from now)…

Daybreak is slow to arrive on this foggy morning, but it will, and I’m grateful to see another sunrise. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, Uncategorized, Words

Prose and Comms

September 14, 2024 //
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I woke gently after a restful night. I made coffee for my still-sleeping Traveling Partner, and slipped away quietly into the pre-dawn darkness, headed to the trailhead and another walk at sunrise.

Not quite daybreak, still a new day.

My Traveling Partner wakes before dawn, and pings me a question. This is two mornings in a row that abrupt communication without any sort of greeting or preamble have interrupted my only reliable opportunity to take a little quiet time for myself that doesn’t require me to take that time away from some other purpose or person. I’m momentarily irritated that I’m not important enough in the moment to at least rate a greeting or a “good morning” before questions and complaints. I’m feeling moody over the lack of consideration for this precious self-care time and puzzled by the lack of awareness that I need this for me. None of my partner’s questions or concerns seem so urgent that they couldn’t have waited until after my walk. I sit quietly after the conversation ends, wondering whether to bring it up, and how I could do so without making drama. Is it worth the potential discord? I could have chosen to ignore the pings until later… seems rude to do that when I know he’s home recovering from surgery and could need help. I feel a bit trapped between circumstances and manners.

…He sets boundaries so easily. Why is it so hard for me…?

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and work on getting back to me, after our conversation ends. This quiet time, meditating, reflecting, writing, and walking, is very much part of how I care for myself and maintain my emotional wellness, and build resilience. It has become comfortably routine, and almost “non-negotiable”. Yesterday’s lack of a walk ended up being something I felt all day.

Daybreak comes, and an opportunity to begin again.

I sigh to myself as I lace up my boots. No colorful sunrise this morning, I guess. The sky is cloudy, and hues of blue and gray. The air is mild and scented with meadow grasses and wildflowers, a very particular fragrance both spicy and sweetly floral. I enjoy it. It reminds me of Oregon, which doesn’t surprise me; that’s where I am.

… I head down the trail, intending to finish this at the halfway point…

I get to a nice spot to sit for a little while. It’s a quiet morning and I have the trail all to myself – a pleasant luxury, and rare on a Saturday, even so early. My neck aches ferociously, and my headache is an 11 on a 1-10 scale this morning. I am grateful to have an appointment with a skilled practitioner later this morning. I’d like to enjoy the day without being in this much pain. It’s very distracting. It pulls my focus away from these words and this world again and again. Most unpleasant.

I thought I had something of more substance to write about this morning. It had begun to take shape as I drove to this place, but distractions and conversation with my Traveling Partner caused my thoughts to unravel too quickly to capture even a loose idea of what was on my mind at the time. No matter; I began again. I tend to “write where I am”. Whether that perspective is geographical, metaphysical, or emotional isn’t all that important. In any case, it is the moment I find myself in.

I sit awhile with my thoughts, not writing, and without any particular direction or theme. Pain sucks. I have difficulty recalling a time when I was living pain free more days than not… How long ago…?  I think I would have to measure in decades. The arthritis in my spine set in sometime in my mid-twenties. It’s been with me awhile – much longer than my headache. I distractedly rub my irritated neck. 9 or 10 years for the neck, I think… Fuck pain. G’damn there’s too much of that in the world. I snarl quietly to myself and yield to the demands of my pain, and take an Rx pain reliever earlier than I usually do. I glare at the cloudy sky thinking it’s likely the weather making the pain worse somehow. I laugh at the thought; it sounds stupidly primitive and superstitious, and not very rational. What do I know about it? I’m just a fucking human primate trying to cope with my pain any way I safely can.

I hear voices up the trail. By the time I get back to the car, it’ll be time to head to the city for my appointment. I think about my Traveling Partner, and remind myself to stop by the pharmacy for his prescriptions on my way home. I feel like I am forgetting something, but I don’t know what. I’d love to spend the day painting, but I don’t see that happening today… I hurt, and I’d just as soon go back to bed.  “Fuck pain.” I say out loud to myself. I don’t want to give in to it. There’s so much I’d like to do.

I get to my feet, and stretch, and rest my weight on my cane for a moment, making certain I’ve “got my feet under me” before I head back up the trail. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

It Builds Character

September 8, 2024 //
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I drove to the trailhead this morning thinking about Stoicism and (secular) Buddhism, and assorted other philosophies and schools of thought that seek to promote becoming “a good person” or living “a good life” through specific thinking and practices. My thinking is inspired, in part, by a video I watched last night on the topic of Stoicism and the problematic way it has been co-opted by “the manosphere” and silicon valley tech bros for profit and personal gain – not unlike the way secular Buddhism and mindfulness practices have been co-opted for profit and personal gain by a broad variety of influencers, brands, and e-commerce sites. It’s certainly disappointing when a powerful message, system of thought, or practice is distorted or diluted in this way for nothing more valuable than cash. Human greed is honestly pretty gross. (In my own opinion, one of humanity’s ugliest and most destructive traits.)

Beyond all that, which is certainly worth reflecting on, I find myself thinking of words I heard often as a kid, and rarely hear in discourse anymore; “it builds character”. I don’t think I actually understood, as a kid. I only knew it was something I was likely to hear from one elder or role model or another if I was heard complaining about some task or activity I didn’t want to be doing, but somehow found myself obligated to. “It builds character”, someone would say, sometimes dismissively. I don’t think I had any clue then what exactly “character” actually was, nor why I would want to build it.

…Thinking about it this morning, I don’t think it’s any surprise that so much of the prevailing civil and political discourse seems wholly lacking in ethics and “good character”. There doesn’t seem to be any particular emphasis on these things in our culture or society, presently. Consider, specifically, our politicians and pundits – how many of these would you say are truly people of “good character”?

What defines good character? This seems to me to be a very important question. I sit quietly reflecting on this question, and wondering why my elders would have expected me to become a person of good character through actions described as “building character”, if I had no idea what “good character” actually is. Did they have any idea themselves, or were they merely silencing the complaints of a child with words that had once been used to silence them? I think we both know the likely answer, eh?

… What will we do about it..?

The pre-dawn darkness lingers and I sit with my thoughts awhile longer. Worthy thoughts for a Sunday morning. I find myself considering re-reading Marcus Aurelius and Zeno, and also Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, and Ignatius of Loyola. Flawed human beings all, I don’t doubt, but aren’t we all? I’m just saying there is more to learn about what makes a good person, and very little of it is to be found on Instagram, Tik Tok, or an influencer’s merch site. Some of the answers we human beings seek, again and again, have already been found, if only we’ll shut up a minute, read a fucking book, listen to wiser voices, and actually put into practice that wisdom in an honest and humble way. None of this shit is easy. None of this shit is found in an expensive subscription or online course. Spending money on shortcuts doesn’t actually provide an actual shortcut; it remains necessary to do the fucking work. lol It builds character. 😉

A new day, and and chance to begin again, and to be the person you most want to be.

Yesterday I took time to paint. It was satisfying soul-nourishing time well-spent. I’m considering another afternoon of painting, between loads of laundry. I flipped through recent photographs in the evening for inspiration and found much to be inspired by. Perhaps I will find my way to making a couple hours of painting a regular practice each week? I like the idea of treating myself so well.

Inspired by a recent sunrise view at a favorite trailhead.

Daybreak comes. A new sunrise begins and with it a new day full of opportunities for reflection, practice, and… building character. I probably need a better understanding of what that really means to me, and how best to put it into practice. We become what we practice (good or bad). It makes sense to choose wisely.

It’s time to begin again. This path isn’t going to walk itself!

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Categories Allegories, Art, art and the artist, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Practicing Gratitude

September 6, 2024 //
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It’s a new morning. A new day is beginning. There will be new opportunities ahead and new moments to enjoy. Yes, I’ve got this headache and my tinnitus is shrieking in my ears, but… I’m also grateful. I’ve got this new day.

Breathe, exhale, relax.

It’s a work day. I’m grateful for the job I have and the colleagues working with me. I’m grateful for every payday, and my Traveling Partner’s support of my professional endeavors.

It’s a Friday. I’m grateful to see the weekend arrive, feeling inspired and having made a firm commitment to myself to spend some time painting this weekend. I’m grateful for my Traveling Partner, who supports and appreciates my creative side.

I’m grateful that I have an appointment planned with my chiropractor this weekend for some myofascial release work that reliably gives me some real relief from this headache, however temporarily.

The bills are paid, the pantry is stocked, and the housekeeping is mostly pretty caught up. I’m grateful to have been able to sustain the energy to get shit done over days, weeks, and months that my Traveling Partner has been dealing with his injury. I’m grateful for how hard my partner works to stay pleasant and level-headed, in spite of pain and discomfort, depression and inconvenience, and dealing with his injury ceaselessly. My gratitude for his persistence and endurance are hard to overstate and I count on him more than is fair under the circumstances.

I’m grateful for my steadfast friendships. However far away, and however long it has been since we’ve seen each other, I’ve got some amazing friends, and I am so fortunate to know some truly lovely good hearted people.

I’m grateful for the love between my Traveling Partner and I. I’m grateful to love and to be loved. I’m grateful for the love I have learned to show myself. I’m grateful that love exists in the world at all – it’s a special thing. I am grateful for every chance to be more loving.

I’m grateful for this sunrise. I’m grateful for modern conveniences like running water, electricity, and internet connectivity, and this car that gets me where I want to go. I’m grateful for clean clothes to wear and sturdy boots that let me walk so many miles. I’m grateful to be able to walk. Yes, I am sometimes stressed that I may be losing my hearing, but I am also grateful to have it, now. I focus on the gratitude… and the now.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I put my focus on the positives, and all the many reasons I have to be truly grateful. It’s not that there’s nothing to be irked by, disappointed over, or dissatisfied with, it’s more that those feelings and experiences are by far the lesser portion of my experience, generally, and if I am willing to take a moment for gratitude I see that so clearly. So, this morning I do.

The morning is pleasant and mild. It’s a good one to walk with my thoughts. It’s a good morning for gratitude. It’s a good morning to begin again… I’m grateful to have the chance.

Every sunrise is a new beginning.
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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

Taking a Moment

September 4, 2024 //
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It’s a quiet start to the day. The morning air feels subtly autumnal. I find myself regretting that I didn’t wear my fleece hoodie. The walking warms me up though.

One perspective on the morning.

There’s a low mist clinging to the ground along the river when I begin my walk. It drifts over the meadow adjacent to the trail, becoming a thin fog. It’s very quiet this morning. I don’t hear any birds, or traffic, only my footsteps and my breathing.

It is a routine work day, possibly a busy one. There is a project to be done, later, and later still an evening meal to prepare. I sigh quietly as I walk. The to-do list is long. Having the Anxious Adventurer in the household lifts a measure of the everyday housekeeping burden, but greatly increases the “mental workload” and emotional labor landing on me day after day, on top of the increases associated with caregiving for my Traveling Partner. I’m less physically exhausted than I had been…but… I often find myself very much “over” dealing with people at all, far sooner than I typically might. It’s a struggle to get enough time alone, unbothered by what everyone else needs moment to moment, and undistracted by pings, questions, or requests for my thoughts on the various topics. I often end up feeling like a bitch just trying to get a moment alone with my thoughts.

… I’m grateful for this solitary time in the mornings (and I am pretty certain it’s keeping me sane).

I turn the last bend on the trail and sit down for a moment to think and to write. “This too will pass,” I remind myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin again… I head down the trail towards the car, and the beginning of the work day.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words
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