Archives for posts with tag: anger management

The sky is clear and starry this morning. I sit with my thoughts beside this trail, at more or less the midway point of this morning’s walk. I reflect on the weekend, the high points and the occasional “wrong notes” in life’s symphony. Generally speaking, it was a good weekend.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Yesterday my beloved Traveling Partner was dealing with a lot of physical pain, which sucked for him far more than it affected me, because he did a masterful job of regulating his emotions and kept his communication comfortably emotionally neutral most of the day, even when frustrated. It was a powerful demonstration of how much work and discipline go into that effort, and why it is worth it. I felt relieved this morning to read a message sent during the night, letting me know he had gotten some relief after a most unpleasant day of pain, because I hate seeing him suffer and want only the best for him. I am hoping he has a better day today.

… I’m seriously impressed with how skillfully he prevented his difficult experience from becoming personal, and how much work he put into not lashing out at me over being in pain. His emotions got the better of him once or twice, and I certainly can’t criticize; under similar circumstances, I think I’d have struggled more and done less well…

…We become what we practice.

This morning begins a new day, and a new week. Monday. I can’t say I’m particularly enthused about work, this morning. My tinnitus is buzzing, chiming, and whining in my ears. My head aches. My back aches. My feet ache when I walk or stand on them. G’damn, fuck aging. 😆 I sigh to myself and admit silently that aging may have some unpleasant moments, but it still beats currently available alternatives.

The predawn gloom begins to lighten a bit. Standing nearby is a small herd of deer. Two does and three fawns nibble grass and choice green leaves in the tangle of drying weeds and wildflowers at the edge of the path. They seem aware of me, but unconcerned. I shift my position, trying to escape the arthritis pain in my spine. The deer move along down the path. The sky continues to lighten. Daybreak soon.

I begin the week with a persistent feeling that I’m forgetting something. The feeling is no indicator of truth, it’s just a feeling (an annoying one, for real). I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let that feeling go. It’s common on a Monday, and I suspect it has to do with the unstated difficulty of “getting back to work”, each week. I exhale, and let it go again. It’s not even time to start the work day.

I take a deep breath of the cool summer air. I’m grateful that the wind is carrying the wildfire smoke another direction. We’re basically surrounded on three sides by wildfires this summer, and the clear sky and fresh air are 100% reliant on wind direction.

I sit quietly with this pleasant moment, savoring the solitude and the peace. I feel fortunate to have this experience at all. I feel fortunate to be able to write about it. Fortunate to have you here reading it. The world is in a sorry state these days… I think about what I can do, myself, to make it just a little better, if only in my tiny corner. (I’ll definitely be voting, when the time comes.)

The sun begins to rise. An orange wash along the eastern horizon spreads out, silhouetting the trees along the bank of the South Yamhill River, beyond the vineyard. I watch, feeling calm and unbothered. It’s a new day, suitable for beginning again.

I was on the trail this morning in the usual way. The little circle of light on the ground ahead of me bobbing and swaying with my footsteps holds my attention, which is probably a good thing. I watch my steps, one after the other, eyes mostly on the ground. Walking in the dark can be treacherous and full of surprises. (It’s a useful metaphor, too.)

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Yesterday went sideways abruptly, almost as soon as I got home. It was unfortunate, and dismaying. There were raised voices, door slamming, and an overabundance of hurt feelings. As with walking in the dark, there was more going on than we could easily see in the moment.

The resentment and anger that seethed beneath the surface lingered a long while for me. The hurt feelings, too. Still walking in darkness, metaphorically speaking. We did manage to get things sorted out. A mistake in medication, poor timing, individual frustration with circumstances had collided and become a problem. We’ve been through much worse, my Traveling Partner and I, which isn’t a surprise to me; I know through painful experience what I’m working with, and how much chaos and damage still remains on my path, creating obstacles on my path, often unseen in the darkness.

…”Wear a headlamp you silly bitch,” I think to myself as I walk in the actual darkness, wearing an actual headlamp. I think about metaphorical headlamps…

I get to my halfway point, still in darkness, and turn off my headlamp, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, before I begin to write. It must be overcast. No stars. I sigh to myself before I meditate. I feel a little out of sorts; it is recognizably the aftermath of yesterday’s unpleasantness. It will pass, I remind myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and take steps to chase the blues with something more hopeful. It takes practice.

I am distracted by the sound of helicopters. I listen to the sounds of morning and watch the sky change color as daybreak arrives. I reflect on the importance of kindness and making room for failure, whether the failure is someone else’s or our own. I reflect on the importance of restoring peace, of reconnecting, and of healing each other’s hearts after conflict arises, and is resolved. I’m not actually very good at the part of conflict resolution that is “making things right again” and repairing an emotional connection. My beloved is more skilled. I’ve at least learned to be open to that process and to be accepting and approachable and willing to make things right together.

… There’s more to learn and more to practice…

I breathe the morning air deeply and exhale slowly. I remind myself to drink plenty of water today and to take my meds on time. It’s a start. (Still listening to helicopters, and wondering what’s up.) I breathe, exhale, and relax – meditation is also a practice. Sometimes it takes a couple tries to get it right.

Somewhere in the background, a ticking clock. Somewhere ahead, an opportunity to begin again.

Today is a new day.

I woke to my alarm lightening the room. I switched it off, turned my lights to dim, and sat up. I took a minute to catch my breath and “get used to being awake”. I got up, dressed, and headed out, seemingly without waking my Traveling Partner. Nice.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

On the trail at daybreak.

The air this morning has almost a hint of autumn to the scent and the feel of the morning air. I yawn sleepily and head down the trail.

As is generally the case, the morning’s discord between my partner and I yesterday was resolved before lunchtime. We enjoyed what little time there was of the evening after I returned home from work, but it wasn’t much. He is working a job that is reaching the finishing stages just before delivery to the customer. It keeps him busy. It worked out okay; I appreciated the time with my thoughts.

I get to my halfway point thinking about Impermanence, and non-attachment. Both ideas contain useful perspective. Non-attachment makes an excellent practice. Impermanence is another way of observing that change is. I’m grateful for perspective and resilience, this morning.

… This morning, no tears…

I watch the sun rise. It is the time of year when the western states catch fire. Scary how much is burning this summer. For now, the winds are pushing most of the smoke east. Here the sky is blue – for now. The wind may change direction any time, it is in the nature of both the wind and of change itself to do so.

There is a song in my head this morning that seems relevant. I sigh to myself, thinking about changes.

Another day, another opportunity to be the person I most want to be. It takes practice – and changes. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make time for meditation by this trail on this pleasant morning. Changes. It’s time to turn and face the strange. It’s time to begin, again.

I have a splitting headache and my sleep was interrupted. I’m tired and cross, and feeling very much that I’d like to be left alone. I’m grateful for these few moments of solitude in the morning.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m sitting at the edge of this trail wondering. I take a welcome sip of the coffee I carried down the trail with me. The morning feels chilly. It’s probably me, not the weather. The coffee is warm in my mouth and down my throat. I’m grateful for the moment of self-consideration that directed my groggy decision making this morning. Coffee sooner was a good choice this morning.

Tears fill my eyes and threaten to spill over. I brush them away angrily. “I don’t have time for this weak ass shit this morning,” I snarl to myself softly, “and fuck this headache, too.” My tinnitus is loud in my ears. I didn’t get enough restful sleep (haven’t for days) and my thought processes are slowed way down. My pain is poorly managed. I’m feeling very human and very fragile. My eyes sting from tears that finally begin to fall. Too much? Not enough? I feel broken and out of alignment. Out of step. Faltering on a path that has seemed certain and clear on other days.

… Moments pass…

I’m finding little reassurance in aphorisms and platitudes this morning. This morning I am uncomfortable with uncertainty and impermanence, and I feel myself clinging. Wanting certainty so much. Yeah… good luck with that shit. I take a deep breath in, and as I exhale I find myself weeping. Just fucking crying by the side of this trail, sitting in the summer sunshine on some random Thursday morning. Wondering.

…Is the sky still blue…?

I begin again. Breathe, exhale, relax. I shift gears. Meditation. Failure. Breathe. Repeat. The morning is not off to an ideal beginning. I’m struggling with my demons, and although for the moment I’ve got some sort of tearful stalemate, I still feel pretty shitty. My pain meds begin to kick in. So does the coffee. Eventually, I’ll “mask up” – put my work face on – and begin the work day. I don’t know, maybe the utterly disappointing ordinariness of it all will anchor me to here, now, and I’ll feel less hopeless.

… The clock is ticking…

The sunshine in the oak trees is beautiful. The air smells sweet. Songbirds sing merry songs. The tidy vineyard rows are a playground for so many little birds. I watch them flitting about, and try to identify as many as I recognize, but don’t put much effort into it. I am distracted and preoccupied. I keep letting this shit go. I breathe, exhale, and relax… and find myself back in the mire again and again.

I sigh out loud, frustrated with myself and the shitty start to the day. (And also? Fuck this headache.) I watch the dawn become day. Sooner or later, I’ve got to begin again… only I don’t know where this path leads, and I lack enthusiasm for walking it.

… This too will pass. Everything does. Change is.

I head down the road to a welcoming quiet trail along the Willamette River, singing a favorite rather poignant love song out loud, acapella, and probably off key. Doesn’t matter, what matters is the meaning of the heartfelt words. Love is perhaps the most human and humbling of experiences.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

… But what do I even know? I’m just one woman living a mortal life…

I watch the sun rise as I drive to the trailhead singing love songs badly on my birthday. I arrive at this beautiful place, with my thoughts and my baggage, and hoping to do a better job of being the woman I most want to be without compromise or regret in the year to come.

Every dawn is a chance to begin again and to make the choices to be (and become) the person we most want to be.

I start down the trail and immediately find myself facing a choice. That’s often how things go. We make a lot of choices in life. Many of those will turn out to have been poor choices, once we’re further down the path life takes us, sometimes it’s hard to know when we make the choice. Ideally we learn from the experience and do something different next time. Doesn’t always work out that way… it’s a very human experience.

Go left or go right? It’s a simple choice, and either way this trail will bring me back to this place. Yes, it’s a metaphor.

I walk on. Does it matter what my choice was? Sure, it matters. My perspective will change based on my choice. I’ll see the world and my own circumstances quite differently perhaps. I walk on down the trail with my thoughts, enjoying the blue sky overhead and the many hues and shades of green. The meadow smells of Spring flowers: clover, blackberries, wild cucumber and wild carrot, various meadow flowers for which I lack names.

A robin on a fence post.

Snails, rabbits, robins, squirrels, chipmunks, a small fast lizard, a garter snake, bluejays… I stay alert as I walk. This beautiful place is home for a lot of creatures. This is a pleasant beginning for my birthday. I’ve taken today off, and also three days next week. I’ve got two of those planned for a bit of solitary time on the coast, the rest I will spend with my beloved, as much of it as he has patience for. It will be time well spent, it generally is. He’s smart and funny (and having his own experience). I’m grateful for the time we share in this too brief mortal life.

I find a pleasant spot to stop awhile, to write and to reflect on the year that has passed and to contemplate the year ahead. I could do with less chaos and turmoil. Less sheer willpower pushing me to complete tasks and more thoughtful self-care would be good, too. Doing a more skillful job of listening and loving would be a good choice, with less waiting to talk or being pissed off about dumb shit.

You know what is harder than practicing mindfulness? Living mindfully. You know what is more complicated than living mindfully? Loving mindfully. The amount of vulnerability and openness required is…much. The patience, kindness, and compassion involved are hard to overstate. The listening. The acceptance. The self-awareness. All of it takes practice. I fail a lot. I begin again over and over. I keep practicing. Incremental change over time is something I know I can count on, but it can be slow.

… And the clock is always ticking…

It’s about the journey, though, these precious mortal moments aren’t obstacles, they are the main event. I sit watching the sunlight change the green hues of the forest and the shrubs along the trail with seemingly infinite variety. There’s something to learn from sunlight through leaves. The trees and shrubs are what they are, it is the light that tranforms them. I sit with the thought awhile.

Shades of green on a Spring morning.

Three dogs run up the path, chasing each other playfully and darting in an out of the meadow, chasing each other, and the small rabbits hiding in the grass. A man approaches on the trail. “They’re friendly!” he calls to me. He’s loud. I’m not interested in conversation. I wave but don’t speak. I’m annoyed by the dogs being unleashed. The park signage is quite clear that dogs need to be on a leash, here. This man chose to behave differently. He doesn’t even have leashes with him.

… I find myself thinking about behavior vs feelings, and behavior vs intentions. We make so many choices in how we behave. I consider my own choices and behavior. How can I do a better job of reliably choosing the best behavior, moment to moment? This is worth considering.

A little while later (must be that time of morning), a woman approaches with three dogs, leashed. They are quite large, and well-behaved. They walk calmly alongside her. She stops occasionally to let them check out the scents along the trail. She waves politely as she approaches, but doesn’t break the beautiful stillness and quiet with loud greetings. I wave back. There is discipline and intention evident in her behavior and that of her dogs.

People making choices.

I watch to see which path the dog walkers will take. I’ll go down a different path, when I resume walking. I’m making choices, too. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a nice morning for meditation, and a nice morning to begin again.

I wish myself a happy birthday, and let my thoughts wander on as the sun rises through the shades of blue and green.