Archives for posts with tag: ACT

Any Day Is a Beginning

December 26, 2016 //

I am up super early. No real reason, it’s just when I woke. It’s the day after Giftmas, I am home alone, the house is quiet, and I am unsurprisingly up early – about the time I’d usually be up on any ordinary Monday.

For now, the lights on the tree still shine.

Giftmas is over. Oh, there’s still fun and holiday to be had – New Year’s Eve is just around the corner, and Hanukkah and Kwanzaa are not yet played out. There’s something to be said for being accepting of other cultures – the holiday season becomes filled with celebrations of all kinds, and opportunities to connect with friends, loved ones, and associates of all kinds more deeply. What’s not to like?

Why the hell am I up so early on a day off work? I grin sheepishly at myself in the pre-dawn darkness. Perhaps I am just excited to get on with living these precious moments? 🙂 I’m already on my second coffee… it’s not yet 5:30 am.

I contentedly scroll through my Facebook feed again, cherishing holiday photos from faraway friends and family. It is a season when everyone puts their best moments and greatest delights ahead of all else. It’s wonderful to see. For a few days, most of the bullshit stops, people put aside most of their pettiness and drama, and just enjoy each other. It’s lovely. Let’s do more of that in 2017, shall we? I mean, really pause the clock to enjoy one another, to be in the moment, present, engaged, and deeply connected; these are the moments that linger in our hearts with the greatest warmth and healing presence. These are the moments that are the best of who we are.

Be someone's lighthouse, always guiding them toward their best self, in life's stormy weather.

Love is a lighthouse, showing the way to safe harbors in life’s stormy weather.

Last night as my Traveling Partner packed up his gear and his goodies to head home, I made sure to ready a container of fresh holiday cookies to take along for another partner. A moment of holiday goodwill, a moment when all the possible baggage and old business got set aside and my best intention – and my best self – stepped forward. Had she been on hand in person, she’d have gotten a hug and a smile, and a genuine well-wishing from me for a very good holiday, and a good year-to-come – are we not both human? Both mortal? Both very fancy fucking monkeys just doing our humble best, mostly, most of the time, as far as we each can tell, generally? I like to think so. Certainly, we’re each having our own experience, and as I am generally content with mine, and not invested in creating misery for others, why would I treat her differently? Holding old pain against her in the here and now does nothing positive for me.

Begin again. Love well. Love authentically.

Thinking it over this morning, I am more easily able to recognize how much healing has taken place over time. This seems a healthy thing. Oh, the relationship bridges were burned along the way, and there’s no going back on that journey – but why add to the chaos and damage after-the-fact? That seems silly. Has it become a Giftmas tradition in my home to waken afterward with just a little less baggage, a little more true to the spirit of the woman I most want to be in life, a little more easily able to live up to my values, even in those relationships in which my boundaries were tread upon, and my values not shared, or respected? I like the thought that it could be, and consider the verbs involved to secure its place in my ongoing holiday celebration each year.

Peace be with you, and Love, too. ❤

This morning seems a good one to begin again. Oh, any number of things could be beginning, and there’s no need to wait for the New Year (although, clearly it is a favorite date for new beginnings, generally, most particularly for the grand sorts of life changes we know we won’t actually see to completion). This morning, I’ll begin again, first, with another cup of coffee and a smile – and a merry “thank you” in my heart for the lovely holiday. For now, that’s enough.

Tags ACT, all in this together, begin again, do the verbs, every day could be like a holiday, giving, having my own experience, holiday cookies, love and lovers, love matters most, MBSR, peace offering, ptsd, re-gifting, setting down the baggage is a process, so very human, TBI, the human condition, the human experience, what is human?, what matters most?, where did all this damned baggage come from?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter, women, Words

One Thing and Then Another

December 16, 2016 //

I’m home. The busy work day is behind me. The week is finished. I sit quietly taking it in; I don’t work tomorrow. I am home. I am alone. Tonight… I’m even lonely. It happens. Just using the word, my eyes tear up a bit. I’m okay, just very human. Tired. In pain. Frustrated by the world every time I hear an adult conversation in passing, or read the news. “Stick a fork in me…” I sigh out loud, the sound of it in the room seems oddly out-of-place with the quiet.

A shower later, and a change into comfy clothes, I’m still in this strange place, poised between contentment and despair. There’s no particular reason for it, really… it’s winter. It’s been a busy week at work. Is that all this is? Am I just tired? I’m struggling to manage some of my self-care basics with the new job. I’m pushing “too hard”, taking too few breaks, getting too little rest… but I also love the job, feel passionate about the progress we’re making, and feel very valued and appreciated. What do I do with that? The long commutes make the days very long indeed, and the evenings very short.

I feel myself sort of… pull back. From everything. Closing the door on “extra people” – as if the friends and loved ones outside the workplace are not in fact far more important to me, day-to-day, moment-to-moment, than even my most esteemed colleague. I come home at the end of the day. Close the door. Sit down. Being fair to my self and my circumstances, it’s rare to feel other than contented on a quiet evening after work, these days. Tonight is different. I remind myself that the sensation of “always” that feels so dull and bleak and immovable is, itself, a part of this feeling – and every sad strained drop of it is pure emotion. Chemistry. Lacking in real meaning, or substance. It’s more a drug than an experience. Squashing it doesn’t help – never has. Venting… meh. I’ve had mixed success there, and my suspicion is that it is the camaraderie of sharing the tale, the connected moment, that results in any apparent success – and fuck, I already know that experiencing an intimate emotional (positive) connection with another human being is a fast track to losing the blues. This is not news.

…But I ache, and I’m tired, and… I’d also like very much to be alone. Now isn’t that a bitch? Feeling lonely, and still wanting to be alone. What the fuck do I do with that?? Well. In this particular instance, I light a fire in the fireplace. I put on some soup. (I made a tasty robust 15 bean soup yesterday in the slow cooker, while I worked from home. It’ll be even better today.) I put on my fuzziest, comfy-cosiest, softest spa socks. I did some yoga. Took some time to meditate. I started choosing to let the stress fall away. I looked the loneliness in the face, and let it be what it is, without piling self-criticism, disappointment, or additional demands on top of it. I lit the lights on the Giftmas tree – and grudgingly made room for the awareness that I was smiling, at least a little. One thing at a time. I started treating myself better, one thing at a time. Rather than continue down the unpleasant path of criticizing my crappy treatment of myself, I’m making a point to go ahead and treat myself better. Right now. Only that. We become what we practice.

Soup will be ready soon. It’s later than I generally have dinner, but I’m also not sleepy. Just tired… and the kind of tired that is mostly brain-tired. Giving my brain a rest isn’t always about sleep. My fingers find the edge of the book I am reading… soup first, though. Later, sleep.

Tomorrow I can begin again.

Tags ACT, be here now, begin again, choose wisely, emotion and reason, emotional self sufficiency, finding my way, good self-care, I am okay right now, loneliness, MBSR, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, practicing the practices, ptsd, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, we become what we practice, what matters most?

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

Just a Reminder

December 7, 2016 //

Be kind. Be considerate. Be careful. Be aware. We’re each having our own experience – all in this together, sometimes not completely aware that we are interconnected. We each feel our own pain, sometimes thinking it hurts the most, of anything, ever, forgetting – often – how much other pain exists, and how much suffering there is in the world, generally. We forget to be our best selves, sometimes when it matters most. We forget we can begin again.

Today is a good day for reminders, best practices, consideration, openness, and helping each other out. Today is a good day to share a moment with a friend, and to be kind to strangers. Today is a good day to be and to become, and a good day to embrace change.

Tags ACT, are you going my way?, be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, emotional self sufficiency, I am my own cartographer, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Where’d I Put That Soapbox?

December 6, 2016 //

I could write hundreds of words today about how banal and commonplace it has become to spout actual lies and defend them as opinions. There are uncountable examples of it, and it’s easy enough to demonstrate that undermining people’s sense of reality in such a fashion is beyond odious; it’s harmful. This morning, I don’t much feel like deep-diving that grotesque practice of distorting reality.

I could write hundreds of words about Aleppo. About war. About conflict. About lost lives and lost children. Would I even be heard? Would my handful of words “matter”? Verbs, actions, matter more…

This morning I have other things on my mind, closer to home, more personal… A friend, a dear friend, someone I greatly love, has checked himself into a mental health care facility. I feel… concerned. Depression is an ass kicker. Mental illness is still so completely misunderstood by such a great many people. The feelings of isolation, despair, of distance, of agonizing doubt can be actually quite crippling, however illusory. Clawing ones way from that pit of gray fatiguing encompassing bleakness isn’t even a given, however much it seems, from the outside, that it would just be a matter of choosing… something… differently. 😦 I want to fix this. I can’t fix this. It isn’t a matter of words. My actions are not the actions needed here. I struggle. I don’t have to; this one isn’t mine, and I can let it go. Only… fuck. I want to fix this.

I shift gears and chat with my Traveling Partner about modifying equipment. I refrain from making lewd jokes about his “equipment” – however amusing now and then, the chronic, continuous, often completely inappropriate for the circumstances, lewd jokes and innuendos are symptomatic of my injury as much as they are a hallmark of my characteristic behavior… each time I am aware in the moment enough to willfully choose not to make one, I experience a sensation of positive change and growth. There really are times when such things are not welcome; I am learning to recognize that, and to also be able to act on it. Incremental change over time. I think about the handful of friends who might protest that this amusing quirk of mine is something they cherish, and enjoy being entertained by – to which my response could be “so, hey, while you’re being entertained, I’m struggling to keep jobs, relationships, and have comfortable conversations with strangers… so… yeah, I’m working on this”. We each walk our own mile.

Today is a good day to begin again. Every day is. Choose one. Grab a verb. Get walking. You are your most powerful instrument of change. ❤

Tags ACT, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, checking in, checking out, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, just checking, MBSR, meditation, mindful living, mindfulness for beginners, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, TBI, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, what matters most?

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, winter, Words

Keep Practicing!

August 21, 2016 //

We become what we practice. I still suck at listening, by the way; it takes more than a day with a friend to gain, hone, refine, and maintain a new skill. It would be quite silly to expect things to be easier, faster, or simpler; practice is a verb, sometimes of the sort that must be used daily. So… I keep practicing.

Any Day Is a Beginning

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One Thing and Then Another

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Just a Reminder

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Where’d I Put That Soapbox?

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Keep Practicing!

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