Archives for posts with tag: anger management
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Pain, Vertigo, Errands to Run

December 21, 2024 //
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It’s the day of Winter Solstice. Happy Solstice.

I woke during the night, and it was the strangest thing. I turned over, and the vertigo that washed over me woke me abruptly. I thought it was near time to wake up anyway, so I laid still and quiet, and quite straight and flat on my back, waiting for the vertigo to pass. Once it did, which seemed rather a long while later, awake in the darkness, I checked the time. 02:55. Definitely not time to get up. I made myself more comfortable and went back to sleep. There was a Billy Joel song stuck in my head, which seemed peculiar enough to wonder why, as I drifted off to sleep.

I woke again later, properly time to get up and head for the trail. My vertigo spun my senses as I tried to orient myself. Damn it, why now? It passes and I sit up, aware of the intensity of the pain in my neck and back. Rough. I’m feeling pretty fucking mortal this morning and find myself worrying about making things as easy as possible on my Traveling Partner should my mortality catch up with me unexpectedly… Time to focus on paying off debts and fattening up savings and having things properly in order… But… For fucks sake isn’t it always time for those things? I sigh quietly and get up. I’ve got shit to do, and the morning begins here, now.

My day begins in earnest with the kitchen sink backing up first thing. What the absolute fuck?! Are you kidding me with this shit?! I snarl quietly to myself, aggravated with someone’s carelessness. Eggshells jammed into the drain, but not down into the disposal, and the strainer cup placed over those, so it wasn’t evident that they were there. Of course they didn’t go through the disposal that way. G’damn it. I try so hard to be quiet in the morning but I definitely can’t walk away with the fucking sink backed up. I roll up my sleeves and clear the clog. So gross. First fucking thing in the morning, too; I’m barely fucking awake and I’m not ready for this bullshit. Fixed. I wash my hands and head out, still annoyed.

The drive to the trailhead is quiet and pleasant. By the time I get parked I’m over being mad about the sink, but I definitely wish the Anxious Adventurer would take a little more basic care moment to moment, particularly in the fucking kitchen and in the shop. That kind of careless bullshit gets shit broken, or gets people hurt, or creates risk of injury or food-born illness. It’s too easy to get it right. It irritates me that he makes extra work for me so often. (I know he doesn’t mean to.) I sigh quietly. It begins to rain. My tinnitus is loud in my ears. My neck and back ache ferociously, a column of pain rising from my waist to the base of my skull. Fuck pain. I don’t feel much like walking in a drizzle in the pre-dawn darkness, uncertain whether my vertigo may flare up again, so I meditate, and write a bit, and wait for a break in the rain.

I’ve a couple errands to run for my Traveling Partner this morning, and think about stopping in town for a quiet coffee and a visit to the art supply store… No reason, really, it just sounds fun and satisfying. It’s a nice day to do something for myself, too.

The rain continues to fall. I listen to the raindrops on the car roof and sit quietly with my thoughts until it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter

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

Try Not to Be An Asshole

September 12, 2024 //
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I get it. Stress. Pain. Feeling mistreated. Angry with circumstances or people. Overwhelmed by too much to do and too few hours to get shit done. Life can be damned difficult and emotions can be complicated and hard to manage. Still though, do your best to be the person you most want to be, and just fucking try not to be an asshole. I’m saying it to you, sure, and I am also saying it to me.

Everyone has their challenges. Some people struggle with pain while they struggle with everything else going on. Some people struggle to make ends meet or to provide for their family. Some people struggle with existential angst or trauma. There’s a long list of human struggles. Do your day-to-day best to be kind, agreeable, pleasant, considerate, respectful, encouraging and open with people. Yes, you. Yes, in spite of whatever you are going through.

There are people who care about you and want to help. Treat them with gratitude and appreciation, and avoid being a complete shithead even though you are in pain or frustrated or angry. Do your best to avoid destroying the good relationships you have. I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m definitely not accusing you of “doing it on purpose” – hell, I don’t know you, and maybe you are doing your best. Apologize when you hurt someone. It won’t repair the damage you’ve done, but it will at least signal your good intentions.

Remember to assume positive intent. You may be dealing with a ton of complicated shit, a lot of pain, or chaos, and it may be completely understandable that you’re having a tough time. The people around you have their own challenges and pain, themselves. Try to be mindful that they are also doing their very human best. Given a chance, they might even understand what you’re going through. Their results will vary – so will yours. Avoid burning bridges you don’t have the time or ability to repair.

… Try to remember that someone else’s experience may not be anything at all about you (quite a lot of stuff just isn’t about you at all)…

Practice being the person you most want to be. Do your best to live your values with stoic discipline and dedication – because these define you – and when you fail (and you will), begin again. Don’t take other people’s bullshit personally, and do your best not to inflict your worst on the world. Your words and actions have real consequences, even when you “didn’t mean to…”.

… You already know all this. So do I. Do your best. Keep practicing. When you fail, begin again.

… And, oh, yeah…if you think none of this applies to you…? (Maybe you think your words, actions, and behavior are entirely reasonable and justified?) You’re probably exactly who needs to hear this the most. Don’t be an asshole – you can be someone better than that. You’re making choices. Choose wisely.

The journey is the destination.
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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Shards Scattered Everywhere

September 7, 2024 //
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Well, damn. That’s more than a little embarrassing…

Yesterday was quite a lovely day. I mean, it was definitely tending to be so, and I was relaxed and enjoying the day. Work was busy, complicated, and still quite fun. The day ended well, and I just had one errand to run to finish the week and call it the weekend. Easy. Routine.

… Right?.. Right?!..

It’s pretty easy to forget, when things are going well, that I do legitimately have some… “issues”. I start feeling as if I’m “past all that”. Feeling like my chaos is neatly tidied up, the damage repaired. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a pleasantly comfortable feeling, complacency, isn’t it? Which makes it all suck so much worse when shit goes sideways in some horrifically catastrophic feeling way that scatters shards of lingering trauma, broken bits of emotional baggage, and the wreckage of good intentions everywhere. It’s pretty horrible. The emotional damage done to loved ones dealing with it is embarrassing, inexcusable, and inflicts further trauma. It’s hard to make an adequate apology, making amends is even more difficult, and the fucking embarrassment, g’damn. The shame is a heavy burden to bear, and it can be complicated to prevent that from flaring up later as still more emotional bullshit. Fuuuuuuck.

So human.

Yesterday? Yesterday went sideways over a fucking product return. Yep. That was enough to push me entirely over the edge in actual seconds, and I may never truly understand why, let alone ever be able to explain it. It was bad. I lost my temper, my grip on reality, my ability to manage my emotions or even communicate clearly at all. My Traveling Partner was trying to help, but was immediately triggered, himself by my batshit-crazy bullshit, and wholly disadvantaged by also being medicated in a way that limited his ability to manage his own emotions or to support mine. It was (emotionally) messy. Ugly. Unpleasant. And it was over a fucking package. Over a moment of confusion and doubt regarding whether I understood which specific package it was and what return code belonged to it. Fucking stupid shit. Un-fucking-believable and a completely inexcusable overreaction to the circumstances.

No, apologies aren’t always adequate, which sucks. I still apologize. I’m still sincerely contrite and regretful. The damage is done and it may take time to rebuild a sense of emotional safety and trust. The whole messy business amounts to a powerful reminder regarding complacency. A reminder that mental illness is a real thing and the practices I practice to keep my shit together and foster mental and emotional wellness are not “a cure”. I still very much have to remain alert and self-aware.

…Well, shit…

I feel bad for the Anxious Adventurer. I wanted to set clearer expectations about my mental health and what challenges living in my home could present. My Traveling Partner shut that down, at the time. (I never asked why and don’t know.) What a shitty experience all around.

Here’s the thing though…

Waiting for the sun.

… Today is a new day. I can (and will) begin again. Yes, flare ups of mental illness suck. They’re scary and embarrassing. It’s horrible to understand how I have hurt those dear to me (and it doesn’t lessen the pain or the damage done that I’m talking about emotional violence not physical violence). I’ve still got to acknowledge the circumstances honestly. Reflect on things with calm self-awareness after the fact. Restore lost order. Make apologies and amends – and also move on and let it go.

Begin again.

It’s a new day. New challenges. New opportunities. A fresh set of moments, choices, and experiences. The day begins well, as I sit at the trailhead waiting for the sun. I started a new medication yesterday, intended to ease my occipital neuralgia and possibly reduce the pain of my cervicogenic headache. Will it be effective? Don’t know yet, but so far I am tolerating well, and it seems to have a pleasantly calming effect without knocking me out. In spite of numerous interruptions to my sleep last night, I slept well and deeply. The day begins well.

…I wonder where this path leads..?

Daybreak brings a new beginning.

Scattered plump raindrops greet me as I step onto the trail. I grab my rain poncho “just in case”. The trail stretches ahead, familiar, but also unknown; each new day is different.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to get to it. We’ve each got to walk our own mile. The trail isn’t always smooth, but the choices (and consequences) are my own. When I stumble, I know I can begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

What Are You Practicing?

August 24, 2024 //
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We become what we practice. Prove me wrong. When I practice being calm, I become a calmer person. When I practice listening I become a better listener. When I practice kindness, I become more inclined to be kind, generally.

…If I practice being angry, I become more easily angered, more often, and more likely to react with anger to circumstances and people that may not warrant such a reaction at all…

When I practice perspective and consideration, my perspective on life deepens, and I become more considerate.

The next conversation you have with someone may determine whether you continue to have the relationship you do. Good or bad. More connected or more distant. The words you choose and the emotions you embody become reality. A real experience being experienced. A memory being made.

Who are you? Who is that other person to you? If you live as the person you most want to be, how will you behave? What are you choosing to practice?

The way ahead is not always clear. It’s still your path, and you choose your direction and your steps.

You have choices. Choose wisely.

I reached the trailhead before daybreak, park gate still closed. I’m okay with that. I find the quiet solitary time necessary to my well-being and sometimes hard to snatch from a busy day. I enjoy every quiet moment that I happen upon. I sit awhile and reflect before I ever reach for my device, listening to the sound of traffic on the highway, and the ringing in my ears that never ceases and rarely diminishes.

A morning well-suited to solitary reflection.

The gate opens with a sort of screeching creaking sound. This morning my plan is to walk the entire loop trail around the marsh, (3 miles), then cut over to the river trail, and walk that out and back (1 mile each way) for a 5 mile walk. Goals. I change into my boots, remembering to grab my water bottle, my cane, my lightweight collapsible 3-legged camp stool, and a beautiful tangerine for later. The sky begins to lighten, and the fog begins to lift. Nice day for a walk with my thoughts.

I stand ready at the beginning of the marsh trail, listening for a moment, before  I begin. I breathe the meadow-sweet air at the edge of the marsh. I feel vaguely sleepy under the cloudy gray sky. I sigh to myself as I step forward; no beautiful sunrise this morning and it looks like rain.  As an afterthought, I grab my lightweight rain poncho and stuff it in my back pocket, “just in case”, and head down the trail.

Weed or wildflower? It’s largely a matter of context and perspective.

Sometime later, I stop at my decision-making point, where the marsh trail and river trail intersect. Walk on? Three miles or five? I unfold my little camp stool and take a seat to rest a moment. The air is cool and fresh and scented with something that seems at once both floral and spicy. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This moment is mine to enjoy however I wish. I choose gratitude, contentment, and joy, sitting here with my solitary thoughts.

…It really doesn’t have to be more complicated. Choose. Practice. We become what we practice…

I can’t tell you how to live your life. I’m just pointing out that you have (and make) choices. If your emotional experience of life is characterized by anger, frustration, and disappointment, which definitely sucks, you have the opportunity every day to choose (and practice) something very different. Life isn’t something inflicted upon you; you are living your experience. You choose your words, your actions, and to a large degree even your thoughts. If you don’t enjoy life as you live it now, choose to live it differently. The choices (and consequences of those choices) are yours.

… Sometimes growth and progress are uncomfortable. Sometimes we have to work harder, and go farther. Sometimes we have to chuck out what hasn’t worked and begin all over again. I look down the trail ahead of me. Five miles. I choose to walk on, and go further. I collapse my folding stool and sling it over my shoulder. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets
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