Archives for posts with tag: a few minutes for me

It’s early. Pre-dawn. I’m waiting for daybreak at a favorite nearby trailhead on a drizzly chilly-but-not-cold Winter morning, on a Saturday morning, a day before this year ends. I enjoy walking as a metaphor for forward progress, for momentum, and for pursuing a path. Good morning for it. It’s even seeming very likely that the rain may hold off long enough to get a proper walk in without returning home quite sodden and chilled, which is a nice bonus this morning. I’d be here, now, even if conditions were colder and wetter, but I am glad the weather is relatively mild.

I rub my eyes and sip the iced coffee I picked up as I headed up the road to this place. Good morning for that too; I’d hoped to sleep quite a bit later, and I am tired. So tired. I suppose I could nap in the car until the sun peaks over the horizon… but… I’d miss watching the sunrise. lol I do enjoy a sunrise. Another beautiful living metaphor, a sunrise speaks to me of change and renewal and new beginnings, and I enjoy each one I am so fortunate to see.

… Fuck… I could be sleeping right now, though… only I’m not. Nothing much to be done about that, however , so I make the best use I can of these precious minutes of mortal lifetime to do something nice for/with myself. That’s how I find myself here on this trailhead so many mornings, waiting for the sun. I’m okay with it. I’ve waited on the sunrise for far worse reasons in this life.

This iced coffee is very good. The barista did a great job pulling the shots for it. “Shaken espresso”, but without anything to flavor or sweeten it, and no milk or cream, just coffee and ice. On a colder morning this wouldn’t be an ideal choice, because I’d want to be able to warm my hands with the cup. lol This morning it’s 48°F, and an iced coffee seems fine. I sip it contentedly, as the waning moon overhead perks through the clouds and a gentle rain spatters the moon roof of the car intermittently.

It’s a good time for meditation and quiet contemplation of the year that is almost over. It’s a good time to reflect on what has worked and what hasn’t worked so well. It’s a good time to look ahead and wonder, question, dream, and plan. Later, the sun will rise, and it will be a good time to begin again.

I’m sitting in the car, parked at the trailhead of a favorite trail. I’ve got a cup of coffee, and I am sitting in the predawn twilight listening to the rain and feeling the wind rock the car. I’m hoping for a break in the rain as day breaks, it’s sort of the point of being here so early on a Saturday morning, but I don’t honestly care one way or the other. I’m mostly out here at this hour hoping my absence gives my Traveling Partner a chance to sleep in after a restless night, without me clattering about the house.

The winds toss the big oaks on the hillside and scatter their leaves. The rush and roar of the wind reminds me of other times and places. Strangely moving, although I don’t really get why. I sit here weeping quietly. The marsh birds seem to be enjoying the currents, eddies, and updrafts of the stormy winds. I’ve got a decent view and content myself with sitting quietly and listening to the rain fall, spattering the car.

It’s Veterans Day. I think about “then”. Complicated memories. I pause my thoughts to wonder if I am always so sad each year when it comes around, but I can’t recall with any certainty, and I’ve shredded all my old journals, and I don’t have many connections that have known me long enough to say. I did bring along extra tissues. If nothing else, I knew I would be feeling blue today. I let the tears come.

A huge flock of Canada geese passes overhead. I think of my Granny, and find myself missing her greatly right now. I miss her strength, perspective, and wise counsel. I miss her laugh. I miss long Sunday morning drives, and walks together down country lanes.

My head aches and the tears keep coming. I let them. Eventually I will either venture out for some time on the trail (if the rain lets up), or I’ll dry my tears and put on “my public face” and do the grocery shopping before I head home. My arthritis continues to feel “worse than ever” this year, but acknowledging that I am struggling with a bout of depression, I have to wonder if it’s just amplified by misery and sorrow? Would I feel better if I just felt better? Seems likely but I don’t know what to do about that.

As the sky lightens without any hint of sunshine, mumurations of migrating flocks rise up from the marsh into the winds. The car continues to rock with the strongest gusts. The grasses and shrubs flutter. Storm flung leaves fall onto the car along with the rain. It’s all very Autumn. I sit enjoying the stormy weather. It’s appropriate to my mood. I’m alone here, and no one will be made uncomfortable by my tears. They fall as steadily as the rain. I take them no more personally than raindrops, since I don’t even know why I am crying.

I sit thinking about how best to have a nice time with my Traveling Partner, without burdening him with my bullshit and baggage, or carelessly mistreating him because I am in a shitty mood. How best to comfort and support him, nurture the relationship, and look after hearth and home without denying myself the same care and consideration…? What to share and what to “save for therapy”? How to be kind when I feel wounded? How to work through the chaos and damage without creating it for my partner? How to refrain from taking things personally that sure feel fucking personal sometimes? I’d very much like to be a better person than I am. I know I am a better person than I once was. Like a child on a long walk, I find myself crying because it just feels too far.

… A harsh inner voice griefs me yet again over self-pity and catastrophizing utterly mundane real-life bullshit that everyone probably goes through at some point. I don’t stop crying, but I do take notice of how incredibly unkind my “self talk” often is. I should probably work on that. I’d feel better if I did, most likely. I know where it comes from, and I understand it to be all tangled up with my challenges with internalized misogyny – a result of so many crushingly cruel, diminishing, or abusive relationships of one sort or another with male human beings (and male-dominated institutions). I don’t know what guided the path I took that brought me here. Perhaps it just seemed easier to nod and smile and try harder to be one of the guys? There were (and are) some real benefits to being that woman. There has been a real price to pay. This shit isn’t unique to my experience.

… I could do better…

The rain keeps falling.

There’s grocery shopping to do. Meals to plan. Thanksgiving is coming and I’d really like to feel thankful when it gets here. The laundry has piled up – which should have been a clue that I was spiraling down. There are outside chores to prepare the house for winter, this weekend. There are paintings as yet unpainted and new recipes to try. There’s a precious relationship to work on and holidays coming. It feels like so much and I am fearful that I am not up to the challenge… I can only do my best.

I guess I’ve got to begin again.

I’m awake. My excessive awareness of background noise has prevented me going back to sleep since I woke, although I had obviously been sleeping through it just fine before. Annoying. It’s been an hour, spent quietly, eyes closed, mind coasting, waiting gently for sleep to catch up with me.

…So far? I’m awake.

I’m not stressed out or anxious. That’s something. I could read a while, if I cared to. I do feel sleepy, and I am enjoying spending quiet moments with my thoughts. I’m not unhappy, resting contentedly in the darkness… I’d just prefer to be sleeping.

I don’t even think the background noise is actually keeping me awake; I’m simply aware of it, and the background noise seems a bit background noisier than usual. Maybe something left on in my Traveling Partner’s shop or our noisy refrigerator? The aquarium? The hot tub or the neighbor’s A/C unit? Maybe all of those things? Hard to be sure over my tinnitus. lol

I yawn and then yawn again. Looks like sleep is going to catch up with me after all. Good enough.

I am sipping my coffee at leisure; I took today off. I know, sometimes it’s tough to sort out the days during a pandemic, working from home. Some folks may find “taking a day off” sort of pointless under those circumstances… I still find it pretty essential for my quality of life and general enjoyment and self-care. So. A day off? Yes, please.

I’m thinking about how easily loved ones can “push each others buttons”, even without meaning to. I contemplate how much more comfortable human beings often seem to be with being their most vile self in the context of their most favored or intimate relationships. (I still do not get how that makes any sense… why not, instead, be your worst self with absolute strangers, than with people you say you love? Would you not want your loved ones to enjoy the best of who you are?) It often falls to the individual to vigilantly “supervise” their vulnerable “buttons”, and to learn to be less reactive, generally. I’ve certainly found value in that, although my results do vary. “Expectation-setting” and asking any one individual to avoid pushing a given button doesn’t seem very helpful, sometimes (or within some relationships).

I sip my coffee, and my mind wanders on.

I think for a moment about the coffee, itself. A moment of comfort. A metaphor for self-care, for being centered, for self-reflection (at least for me). I so routinely take a moment of ease over a cup of coffee that having a coffee cup in my hand feels “complete” in an odd way. So… what happens when the coffee runs out? What would replace this coffee cup in my hand, if there were literally no coffee (or, at least, none for me)?

My mind wanders on. Payday tasks are handled. There is a secure comfortable feeling that comes with that, these days, especially with the holidays ahead. Another sip of coffee, and my mind moves on…

I hear the soft sound of lo-fi coffee house “radio” from the other room, over the whirr of my computer’s CPU fan. It reaches my consciousness as a sort of “wellness indicator”, telling me it’s a fine morning to enjoy life, just as it is. This prompts me to consider other “indicator dials” and gauges of wellness in my moment-to-moment experience of living life. What other signals do I send myself that “all is well”? Do I recognize conditions on a spectrum, as one might see on a gauge or dial on the dashboard of my car? Do I have an “internal dashboard” that I could quickly glance over in a moment, and correctly evaluate conditions developing in real-time? I mean… that’s sort of what all of consciousness is, more or less, I suppose… if I listen. I like the notion of an internal “wellness dashboard”. Buttons and dials. Better be careful with that. I smile at the thought of it. I have another drink of my coffee.

My mind wanders on. Not a bad start to a long holiday weekend at home with someone I love. Certainly it’s enough. 🙂

This morning is a pleasant one, if a bit…odd. I woke at my usual weekday time, although had I chosen to or been so inclined sleeping in was totally an option. I dithered a bit over my morning ‘routine’ – nothing feels entirely routine right now. I am in the midst of change. I made my coffee, started the dishwasher, and sat down to write… an hour ago. Since then, I have been quietly sitting here sipping my coffee and not doing much of anything else. Just… sitting here contentedly sipping my coffee, and watching the dawn slowly develop on the other side of the window. No words.

I have an item or two on my list of things to do today. None of it seems discussion-worthy or out of the ordinary in any way.

My appointments yesterday were that combination of concerning and reassuring that doctor’s appointments so often are, and those too seem generally lacking in interest and not especially share-worthy.

On the horizon, a vast realm of choice, change, chance, and opportunity… and I’ve only begun to attempt to sort it all out. Discussion, at this point, would be a bit premature.

The first wild roses of the spring.

The first wild roses of the spring.

So. Here I am this morning. No words. (It took me a bit more than 200 of them to say so…) Today is a good day to be present for each moment, and to live them – before I discuss them. 🙂