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Something, Something, Regrets…

March 18, 2015 //
3

I am awake. Nightmares. I drifted happily back to sleep in the arms of my traveling partner sometime in the wee hours. I didn’t check a clock. Sometime after, nightmares got at me. It happens. My brain is efficient about attacking me from within; it reaches deep into my consciousness for the deepest fears, the worst doubts and insecurities, and has no regard whatsoever for the hour of the day – or night. I woke weeping.

It doesn’t matter one bit what the nightmares were ‘about’; they are an experience of pure emotion, there are no ‘facts’ involved. Realistically, they are not ‘real’. I suspect that lacking substance they try harder…or something that feels similar but isn’t quite that.

It’s shortly after 4:00 am now, and there’s nothing at all about sleep to which I would choose to return right now. I’d like not to just sit here feeling sadness and regret, though, or as though my life is slipping through a sieve very quietly, and everything I enjoy, everything that meets my needs, everything that feels so good…is just slipping away, as if I have had my share, used up my turn, and now…something else…or something that feels similar but isn’t quite that.

It is not yet dawn, the day hasn’t really begun, and I am grieving losses quietly, weeping in the darkness. A year ago I would also be seething inside, resenting the intrusion of subtle emotions and the lack of ability to regulate, control, or manage them. I would escalate slowly, becoming a spring-loaded emotional train wreck; a brutal surprise for an unwary lover first thing in the morning. By the time anyone else thought to wake and great the day, I’d be at some invisible breaking point, wounded and ready to attack. This is not that. It’s not that moment. It’s not that experience. I approach it rather differently this morning – sure, tears, regrets, and a profound sense of loss and…a clock ticking. Aging is. I will never be young again. I will never know again some of the moments I have known before…. but I knew them once. I did have my experience over time, and it is mine, and it can’t be taken from me. Grieving is not a bad act, even when we grieve things that are intangible; lost dreams, lost passion, lost… something… are still losses. Pain hurts, even emotional pain hurts. I cry when I am hurting. This morning I am also here with me, compassionately so, comforting myself in my grief, reminding myself ‘all’ is not lost and that life is, and love is, and a future that is not yet, also is.  The tears fall, sure, and while that may be regrettable – and uncomfortable – it’s okay to grieve losses.

This morning I grieve knowing that the grieving, itself, does come to an end. Regrets are what they are, and I will perhaps always feel some pangs of regret over meaningful losses, reluctant changes, and the things that just didn’t go as planned, hoped for, or intended. Attachment is a tough puzzle. I give myself time, this morning, to grieve in an honest way over meaningful losses. It hurts, but denying myself the honest opportunity to grieve hurts too, and becomes a festering wound over time. I don’t need that. I’ll take grieving and moving on, thanks.

Half empty? Half full? Why does the size of the glass matter if the contents meet my needs?

Half empty? Half full? Why does the size of the glass matter if the contents meet my needs?

Later today, I head for the trees for a few days. I need some real downtime, and although having spent a week quick sick leaves me a little drained, and feeling weaker than I otherwise might, my heart needs this time, and I can take it easier in so many small ways and still be out there, under a canopy of tiny new spring leaves unfolding to fill the sky, wrapped in sweet wildflower breezes and stillness. Perhaps the contentment and joy I seek is to be found under the stars, or along some little-used trail in the forest, or some forgotten corner I have not yet explored? I know that I carry the seeds of my contentment with me everywhere…I know, too, that sad yearnings, and regrets, are soothed with new joys and the pleasure and delight of the moment, if only I can stand firmly within it…or something that feels similar, but isn’t quite that.  I’m still working out the details of what I want of life…and even though these damned tears blur my vision of the future, I’m still aware there is one. That’s progress, right there. 🙂

I’m okay. Nightmares are a shit way to start a day, but it happens now and then. Tears dry. Moments pass. Emotions are – and reason often has to catch up later. Given time, I find my way ‘home’ to a different perspective, aware of other things. Aware that I woke without a headache this morning. Aware that my arthritis isn’t bad, and my freedom of movement is better than usual. Aware that today I head for the trees, and the feeling of eagerness to be out there in the stillness with my blue jay and chipmunk neighbors. Aware of love. Aware of this gentle moment of now that is actually quite sweet and calm and still, itself. We are each having our own experience. There’s nothing about that to imply it is a static or unchanging experience.  My experience of now is already substantially different from my experience of waking some short time ago.  Soon, a shower, a routine, the start of a new day… a new experience, different from that last one, already in the past.

Today is a good day for perspective, and a good day to walk on. Today is a good day to take care of me, and trust that emotions are part of the process. Today is a good day to practice good practices. Today is a good day for acceptance – easier when things that feel wonderful are involved, sure, but every bit as needful when it is time to accept something that hurts (maybe more). Today is a good day to embrace now, as it is, and to be reminded that seeking is not always about finding…or not about finding what we thought we sought.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, grief, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Big 5

Real – Really?

January 7, 2015 //
0

I woke with some difficulty this morning, so stiff that rolling over to shut off the alarm took effort, and the seeming ceaseless beeping until I got to the clock didn’t seem to do as much to wake me, for real, than I might have expected had I been sufficiently awake to have expectations beyond expecting to be able to turn off the alarm sooner, with greater ease. I’m still groggy.

I’ve been sitting here, gazing vacantly at my aquarium, and listening to a jazz standard that doesn’t sound quite right…even though I feel sure that the version I am listening to it the one I favor most.  It’s an odd sensation, that finds me searching YouTube for other versions, by other artists I have listened to singing this song… none of them sound the way I remember. the arrangement is somewhat different in all of them. Then…as I hum the version I expected, quietly, it hits me; I’m hearing the version of the song that is most representative of me singing it, myself. Yep. I sing jazz standards, mostly a capella, mostly in the shower, in the car, or out walking…and I rarely do so when anyone can hear me because my singing is actually pretty dreadful. lol I love the feeling that goes with whatever moves me to sing, and alone I feel no hint of self-consciousness about delighting myself in this fashion. I find it unexpected that my favorite version of any of these songs I love would be my own.

I suspect being hung up on this song this morning is a kindness my brain is offering me to distract from both pain, and the worrisome appointment later. It is convenient that the biopsy falls on the same day as therapy – however emotionally challenging the biopsy procedure may turn out to be, I’ll be getting pro-level support later. By the end of the work day yesterday, I was feeling pretty pragmatic about the appointment – and the procedure. I’m still tense about it, still a bit worried about the outcome, but it’s no surprise to me that I’m mortal, that I’m 52 this year, that aging is, or that uncomfortable medical procedures are sometimes necessary. I’m fortunate to have ‘procedures’ available that may save me from an early demise. Fear subsided by day’s end, and this morning I am…tense, yes, but unafraid. That’s an improvement.

The worst case scenarios my brain devised, of course, are dreadful – and seemingly reasonable, or at least potentially possible, but that’s sort of a requirement for a really terrifying worst case scenario, I think. I didn’t get past the fear until I allowed myself to consider these ‘worsts’ to their apparent likely conclusions, and took a moment to consider those proposed outcomes with an open heart, self-compassion, and acceptance. “What if…”  It added some things to the disappointingly long list of shit I think I need to work on, and served to reinforce an eagerness for life that is pretty positive, generally. My next step – and this one needed real will, and commitment to action, was to take some moments to consider that these worst case scenarios are just my brain running simulations – “what if” analysis – and they have no more reality at all than any other work of fiction. They are merely words, images, and projections of potential moments that are not yet, and may never be. They have no power over me that I do not give them, myself.

Perspective

Perspective

Having reached a point of emotional equilibrium about this appointment, it’s disappointing to wake up this morning in this much pain, and this stiff. My spine feels like my vertebrae are super-glued in place and lack any flexibility at all…but, hey… great day to see a doctor, even on an unrelated issue. (Are there really any ‘unrelated issues’, ever?)

So here’s a question… If you had to check out today – and I do mean end your mortal experience here in this plane of existence, no planning, no preparation, no last great experiences, just wrap things up and call it good – if you had to check out today, are you content with what you got done for yourself, and for the world? Have you left a lasting positive legacy of some kind, even if it’s only the lovely memories of having loved you that remain? Was it ‘worth it’? If the answer is ‘no’ – what will you do differently tomorrow? It was this question in mind, last night, as I arrived home that gave me insight I needed to communicate, at long last, something that had been throwing my heart’s song off-key and I was finally able to express it as a question without accusation, or grief, or baggage, and that was a wonderful moment.

Well…here it is, today, and no more stalling. Today is a good day to take care of me. Today is a good day to recognize the sometimes hurtful fictions in my thoughts are not the experience I live, unless I choose that experience, myself. Today is a good day to let events unfold gently. Today is just one day of many, and I am just one person, each of us having our own experience of the world.

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Fiction, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Big 5, winter

Counting Change

January 5, 2015 //
0

I’ve started this one twice three four times now. I had a difficult night, and I haven’t been successful, yet, at putting it behind me. I must have awakened weeping a million times, once I fell into a restless troubled sleep, and the night lasted just about forever until I woke, about 5 minutes before the alarm would have gone off. Tears streamed down my face when I rose, and as I selected my clothes for the day, and while I stood in the shower. I don’t know that there is much to say ‘about’ it. I’m feeling the weight of years, and changes, and the slow, inconvenient process of aging in the context of relationships with much younger people.

Winter. It's a metaphor.

Winter. It’s a metaphor.

Over the past few days there have been highs and lows, the everyday, the sublime – in short, a very human experience. Why is this one, today, so hard? Why do I feel like ‘giving up’, right now? What is it, exactly, that I would give up on? I guess I should admit that it’s a pretty everyday, mundane sort of complicated human experience that is probably pretty commonplace – however alone I feel right now – and bitching about it (or crying) doesn’t actually help. It’s “The Sex Thing”, you see. Yeah – pretty personal stuff. Hard to write about, for me, with comfort and clarity…too many of my eggs are in this basket, metaphorically speaking; it’s caused me difficulties for a long long time. I love sex, and generally want more of it than any relationship provides. My sense of self is pretty entwined with my sexuality, too, which complicates some things, at this point in my life. My body – and mind – are going through some changes with this whole menopause thing, and sensations and emotions feel different, my body responds differently to touch, my chemistry has changed/is changing. I’d love to say ‘only the parts of my experience that are affected by my reproductive hormones are being affected by these changes’ – but typing the words immediately becomes comedy in my head. I’m a female human primate – what part of my experience isn’t affected by my reproductive hormones in some way? I don’t suppose I’m making things any easier to be in therapy for issues that developed around sexual trauma, domestic violence, and identity, while I am wrapping things up as a reproductively viable adult, either. The challenges and frustrations just keep piling up, until… I spend an eternal night weeping in my sleep, and wake feeling…

I feel like my heart is breaking.

There's often something beyond the obvious.

There’s often something beyond the obvious.

So. I woke early, and without difficulty, which is a nice enough start to the return to work for the new year. 2015. My traveling partner was sweet to me this morning, making me a tasty latte while I was in the shower. Detail by detail, I pick up the threads of my work routine. I’ve no enthusiasm for it, this morning. It seems likely to be a day I spend in the ladies’ room between meetings, splashing cold water on my face, and hoping to drag myself through it all with some measure of grace, and acceptance. On top of tears, I hurt. I’m not surprised – crying in ones sleep must be quite stressful, which would likely result in tense muscles, weird sleeping postures, and this wicked headache I woke with. I still manage to take care of me; medications taken on time, drinking plenty of water, choosing a morning yoga sequence with calming postures, and meditating. The water will matter in the most obvious ways, and it is the thing I would be most likely to overlook, so remembering to drink more water is a win, on a difficult Monday morning.

The first work day of the new year, and I’m feeling irritable and self-involved. I’m also committed to sorting it out and finding my way to a better place. Even in the midst of tears on a moody Monday morning, I recognize life’s joy and pleasure is within reach – if only I can raise my hand to reach for it. There’s will involved. Choices. Verbs. A commitment to change and to action is needed, and it’s not always easy.

I don’t do ‘resolutions’ to celebrate the new year…but I have goals, intentions, commitments – like anyone might. It’s a season of change, and hopefully of growth, too. In 2015, I am pointing will, choices, and action in the direction of being simply the most genuine person I have within me, while also learning to be the most kind, compassionate, reasonable, considerate, loving, and good-natured genuine person I have the ability to be…and since change is, and I am embracing it, it’s my hope that as the year progresses I can be more of those things over time. Which one of those qualities is most important to me? Being genuine. The rest will come with time – because the people in my life really matter to me, and I would treat them well. I will listen more, talk less, and make an active effort to make my default setting to take an agreeable tone in negotiations, and to live well, and pleasantly. From my perspective within myself, I don’t do ‘mean’, and I don’t do ‘bitchy’… but I know that isn’t necessarily the experience everyone has with me. I am hoping to reach a point as a being when I am a woman of whom others might say, themselves, in a firm way with conviction, “Oh, she doesn’t do mean, and she doesn’t do bitchy.”  That’s not intended to communicate that the opinions of others matter to me more than my own evaluation of self, not even a little bit, but how we treat others isn’t actually defined by our intent, or what we meant to do/say – it is 100% and entirely about how what we do/say is received by others. That was hard to come to terms with, initially, but it has been an important understanding to have.  (If you find yourself constantly suggesting, or commenting, that people should ‘grow a thicker skin’, or somehow be less sensitive, you may want to check yourself – could be you aren’t the person you’d like most to be.) I put a lot of thought and words around this one, because I value being treated well, and I want to treat others well, too – because it feels good to be treated well, and kindness, compassion, and taking a minute to let the other guy get a word in are basically free. They have great ROI.

I’m no longer weeping; my tears dried some moments ago. I feel calm. Resolute. Capable. Also wary. Cautious. Concerned. Uncertain. I also feel emotionally ‘cracked open’ and raw – being kind to myself today will be important; I can’t count on the world to be kind to me in my stead, and there’s much to do, and limited time for coaching others how to care for me – I’ve got to be prepared and able to do that for myself.

Walking a winter path.

Walking a winter path.

Today is a good day to get back to work – on me. Today is a good day to be kind to myself, and to the world. Today is a good day to make choices to be the best person I can, and to grow from the moments when I’m not so awesome, and improve on my personal best, each day. Today is a good day to notice that change is.

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Categories Hormone Hell, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5, winter, women

Living, Loving

August 25, 2014 //
2

It is a quiet morning, following a quietly productive Sunday. I spent the afternoon between household chores getting ready for the work week, and tidying up the loft for improved space to paint and to create ‘guest space’, and a bit of painting, too. We have a house guest for a couple weeks, a friend visiting for work. I felt strangely aware of how loud the espresso machine really is, as I made my coffee this morning. 

This morning I had that strange vertigo again, that I had yesterday morning. It’s very unsettling, and although it cleared up quickly, I am concerned because it is new. I guess I can expect some bits and pieces to start showing signs of wear; this mortal body is a fairly fragile thing, and I’ve not treated it well over the years. 

When my partners alerted me they were on their way home last night, it was clear they’d be home a bit earlier than I had expected, and my willingness to adjust for that allowed me to greet them when they arrived home. I’m glad I did. It was lovely to welcome my traveling partner home, and feel his strong arms around me, and the warmth and love in his embrace. It was a relaxed, happy homecoming and definitely worth the later bed time. I made a point of heading to bed promptly once they had arrived home; staying on schedule and getting enough sleep really matters for me. Making the effort doesn’t always assure success, though, and I was wakeful until after midnight, aware of the presence of our house guest. I managed not to be irked with myself about it, and eventually drifted off to sleep. It was a short night. I will be mindful of that as the day progresses, and make a point of getting to sleep on time tonight. 

With just one partner at home, I’ve gotten pretty good at ensuring I meditate, do yoga, and take care of me. I’ve been easily distracted in the past, from self-care and practicing what works to maintain my emotional resilience and perspective, when they are both home. I’ve had weeks of practicing practices and perhaps over time I’ve become sufficiently practiced – comfortable with new routines – that they will be an easier fit with everyone home? I’m hopeful. 

It was wonderful to cuddle my traveling partner, now returned home, to find myself experiencing that very particular presence that is his, and to share this love we have. Quite wonderful. This morning, it feels like ‘everything’, and certainly ‘everything’ is enough. 🙂

"Compassion" Harkness 1972

“Compassion” Harkness 1972

Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day to enjoy what feels good without hesitation. Today is a good day to be the change I wish to see in the world. 

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Categories Brain Injury, gardening, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress

Having Some Technical Difficulties

April 23, 2014 //
0

Lately, my knees are making it hard to walk comfortably. I’m not sure what that’s about, certainly it could be any one of a number of things, including ‘aging’.  I’ve also been having more difficulties with spelling than I used to, and dropping words when I write, using opposites when I speak, and generally struggling to communicate simply.  More effort has been required for the same result. This frustrates and worries me. The worry shows up in other places; my manicure is not so well maintained, and I sometimes catch myself rubbing my hands, although they don’t hurt.

This is a very human experience.

Easter came and went. Earth day, too, has come and gone. Spring is quickly heading for summer, although the weather here is quite cool and rainy and not giving away much in the way of intention to progress toward summer.

Pure loveliness.

Pure loveliness.

This morning I don’t have much to say about everyday drama, or work, or growth. I’m a little too sensitive to the aging thing this morning. I am in a little too much pain to be concerned with the puzzles of being and becoming. I’m not sleeping well, although I am sleeping enough to be reasonably rested it doesn’t give my mind the downtime it needs. My dreams are filled with ancient hurts being enacted in newer symbols and a cast of characters from my present, making my waking life seem subtly colored by hidden stress, and secret pain.

I’m prone to tears. Hormones? Unresolved anger? Failure to take care of me by being willing to prioritize my needs high on my own to do list? Arthritis? Menopause? Failure to nurture my relationships well? Headaches? I don’t know. Perhaps any or all of that in some combination? I feel tired when I think about it. I can quickly go from tired to angry. I am easily provoked.  Where the hell do all these tears come from? Why am I crying so much?

Is there a storm on the horizon?

Is there a storm on the horizon?

Mindfulness still matters, still eases my suffering, still settles and calms me. Meditation still helps me find balance, relax, breathe, and give myself compassion. I’m still ‘taking care of me’ and working with my physician on matters of my health, with my therapist on matters of my mind, and with my loves on matters of the heart. Progress. Growth. Wellness.

Sometimes I feel very much like something inside me has to work very hard to keep something else inside me from just giving up. I feel sad to see those words as my fingers skip across the keys. Tears fall. Some days are more work than others.

Today is a good day to see beauty. Today is a good day to recognize the kindness in a smile. Today is a good day for strong coffee. Today is a good day to choose well, and to love wholeheartedly. Today I still have the opportunity to choose to change the world…

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, Turning 50, women, Words
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