Archives for posts with tag: anxiety is a liar

I woke up slowly in a quiet place – home. I made coffee. I made oatmeal, and contentedly sliced the last banana into it, chuckling because my Traveling Partner handed it to me yesterday, before he departed, and I forgot to eat it. I was busy with work (what a fucking waste of limited mortal lifetime, but it pays for everything else).

I took a comfortable seat in the living room. Ate my breakfast. Sipped my coffee. Watched the news Bubu and Dudu videos. I have the house to myself. What a crazy luxury! Better than diamonds or Louboutin shoes for me personally, the luxury of solitude at home is a favorite delight. My beloved knows this, and took his first opportunity to get away, meeting needs of his own, to give me this gift. I feel very loved lazing in my jammies, enjoying my coffee, soft jazz in the background as I write – on my laptop instead of my phone! Good grief, I could get used to this, but g’damn I’d miss my Traveling Partner…

Enjoying a moment of luxury, on my own terms.

… I reflect on that for awhile. When we maintained separate households, morning coffee together was the precious luxury. We made a point of it, often. I would not trade this relationship for solitude…or, not permanently. I do need my time away now and then, no shame, that’s who I am. Wow am I enjoying being able to enjoy that at home. I sigh happily.

Shortly, after coffee, after writing, after meditation, I’ll enjoy a leisurely shower, fold some laundry (because there are still chores to do to maintain good quality of life), and then head to the garden supply place on the other side of town, maybe, for more compost for the garden. I smile, thinking about taking my walk later in the morning, or possibly in the afternoon, maybe on a different local trail? No rush.

I feel content and unbothered, and comfortable in my skin and in my home. How lovely!

… I slept like crap, not gonna lie. With just me and my stepson (the Anxious Adventurer) at home, and considering the bridges he’s managed to burn with me due to his poor judgement and dreadful communication skills (and poor social skills), my mind refused to rest, I was restless and hyper vigilant, fighting PTSD “monsters in the vicinity” alarms clanging away in my consciousness. I slept poorly, woke often, and for too few hours. I shrug it off because this morning? Just wow. So good. This meets so many needs.

I’m grateful for this beautiful morning and the loving partnership that recognizes and supports that need. Did I say I feel loved? I definitely do. I finish my coffee. I’m looking forward to my shower. I’m enjoying these precious moments of solitude at home.

What are the little luxuries you yearn for and struggle to have or enjoy? So much of what matters most to us can feel just out of reach. That’s often because we placed it there, just out of reach, for… reasons. Choose wisely. For fucks sake don’t leave them there out of reach! Do you! What does that look like? Indulge the freedom to be truly who you are. Embrace the experiences you love. Enjoy your moment. If you’re not free to get there now, maybe begin again? These mortal lives are too short to waste time on a shadow of living, constrained by expectations, or the pressure of circumstances (or opinions). Take time to enjoy life’s simple luxuries while the opportunities last.

… Thanks, Love, 😍🥰 I definitely needed this…

I turn off the music and listen to the silence, before I head to the shower. These moments are mine – a precious treasure beyond price – I’ll enjoy them as long as they last, and then? I’ll begin again.

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

First, I’m fine. I’m okay, and there’s nothing amiss in this moment. That is an important detail.

I woke abruptly to a loud noise and a sense that something was seriously wrong. I woke fully triggered and in “overdrive”, ready to react to danger – of whatever unknown type there might be. There was nothing going on of the sort I could do anything about, it was only a loud noise. A door slamming somewhere, but it could have been anything or nothing at all; along with the PTSD, I am sometimes afflicted with “exploding head” nightmares. So… suddenly waking up in a panic, fully triggered, is not an unknown sensation for me.

I’m okay. My Traveling Partner is also okay for most values of okay, though he didn’t sleep through the night. I’m grateful that he isn’t hurt. When I woke that was my first (only) concern.

I dressed and headed to the trailhead. It’s raining. Today I don’t care at all, and I’ll feel better after I burn off this adrenaline fueled energy in a healthy way. My heart is still pounding and I was trembling for awhile. In every practical sense, though, I’m okay. Years of practice have given me more resilience. Totally worth the effort, though at the time, in the moment, the discipline of practicing practices often feels a little pointless. There’s no obvious immediate return on the effort… Well… It’s subtle and not obvious. The gains are there.

…I pull on my poncho and find my headlamp…

This is my path and I’m walking it. 😄 A little rain isn’t going to stop me. I definitely need to begin again.

Seems to be very effective so far… probably doesn’t hurt that the path is mine, and that I choose it myself.

I get back to the car a bit damp but not drenched. The rain is still falling steadily. I couldn’t stop at my usual halfway point due to that bit of the trail being flooded, and the place I often sit being surrounded by a large muddy stretch and water. Nope. I just walked on. By the time I reached that point I was feeling relaxed and merry. Ready for a new day. It’s enough.

The path ahead isn’t always smooth and well lit. There are going to be rainy days. There will be obstacles along the way, and detours. Being prepared for those is sometimes a matter of acceptance and a willingness to adapt to circumstances. PTSD screams that something is an emergency, though nothing is “wrong” in that kind of way at all. Sometimes a noise is just a noise. Being able to bounce back once I’m triggered is a pretty notable win for me.

I breathe, exhale and relax. I take a few minutes for meditation in the car. It’s already time to begin again.

Well, it’s definitely autumn in the Pacific Northwest. It’s raining steadily. I’m sitting at the trailhead, in the car, wondering if the rain will let up long enough to get a walk in this morning? It is beginning to seem unlikely. I sigh out loud and sit quietly, waiting.

…Later, I travel…

This morning, I deal with my anxiety, and I deal with a concerned email from my Traveling Partner. His own anxieties were keeping him awake during the night, and he tackled them directly, expressing his concerns with care and asking me for assurances and charges in behavior. His approach reflects our years together as partners. I read it over, a couple times, before I reply. Of all the things causing me stress right now, this email isn’t one of them. I value his candor.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I find myself vacillating between already missing my Traveling Partner (I’m not even gone yet), and hoping this trip away for work somehow also meets my need to get some real solitude, beyond a trail walk in the morning. It’s been a long time since I’ve managed to get a couple of days away to myself (and being home alone seems completely out of reach pretty chronically).

I have a peculiar sudden stabbing bit of anxiety, weirdly out of place in my experience – I find myself anxious over “what if I returned home and he was gone though?!” I have literally no reason to consider this fear a legitimate concern. No idea where it comes from. No doubt it is some remnant of old baggage or past trauma; I let it go. It isn’t real, and I definitely have enough real shit vexing me and stoking my anxiety.

The rain slows to a sprinkle. I’m looking forward to walking in the rain freshened air before spending hours on a plane. I pull on my poncho and grab my cane. It’s time to begin again.

Another morning, another walk down this familiar trail on my way to the start of a new day. Veterans Day is behind me, and Thanksgiving is ahead of me. My tinnitus is loud in my ears, and my arthritis pain is making damned certain I haven’t forgotten about chronic pain.

I head down the trail purposefully, one step after the next. The morning is pleasant, although the sun is not yet up, and it’s tough to see what sort of day it might be, weather-wise. Trying to forecast the weather based on arthritis pain is not sufficiently precise to be useful, I just know I hurt, a lot. I took my medication a little early over the pain. I hope it starts helping soon. I keep walking and distract myself from my pain by trying to see into the darkness enough to spot creatures along my way. Without a bright moon to light my way, my headlamp casts a small bobbing bright circle of light just ahead of me, or wherever I look.

I get to my halfway point and stop to write and meditate. It’s chilly enough that I wonder if I should have worn my gloves? My fingers are chilly, but it’s not actually cold this morning. It does get me thinking about the new backpack sitting in my home office – work swag sent by my new employer. It’s a nice one, and I hadn’t decided what to do with or about it. It might be a good one for my walks, which have gotten enough longer to make being more easily able to bring along things like inclement weather gear, without overdressing a win. It is a solution without a real problem to solve. I let it go; there is no reason to hurry.

Daybreak comes and I see a lone doe resting in the tall grass to the side of the trail, a few steps further on. No stars visible in the sky, so I begin anticipating a cloudy day. It’ll be a busy one at work, too, with a bunch of little things to catch up on, and one item at risk of being past due. I resolve to tackle that first, which puts my anxiety over anything work related to rest. Sometimes I just have to face the thing that is worrying me in s practical direct way, to ease my anxiety. I sneeze unexpectedly, and the doe leaps to her feet and runs off into the trees.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I could do without my anxiety coming and going all the g’damned time. It’s unsettling, and tends to provoke feelings of imminent disaster, even in conditions that clearly lack any obvious potential for disaster to occur. Subtle things stoke the feeling of anxiety, mostly things that also happen to be well-outside my sphere of influence and most definitely beyond my ability to control. If I can’t change the causes of my anxiety, I don’t have to endure it awash in a feeling of doom and futility. I have more tools in my toolbox than that. One by one I select practical tools and helpful practices from my available options, and do those things I know help ease my anxiety. I meditate. I make use of specific breath practices that calm my nervous system. I reframe the feelings and look for alternate explanations for the physical experience of anxiety. (Am I feeling some measure of excitement or uncertainty about work after four days off? Am I sublimating my pain, causing to be expressed as anxiety? Am I experiencing “second dart suffering” over world events that I simply can’t change and don’t have a personal stake in, at all?) I make a point of letting things go which are outside my control. I take steps to put things into a broader perspective. I make time for gratitude.

My anxiety begins to ease. In its place, there’s just arthritis pain, my headache, and an awareness that I’ve got a bit of catching up to do at work. I’m okay. Ordinary day and “nothing to see here”, besides the slow coming of dawn, and a new day.

I clear my throat and reach for a tissue. I’m reminded that it’s flu season and make a note to schedule a flu shot. (Vaccines are settled science, people. Take care of yourself, and your community.)

I get to my feet impatiently with the next surge of anxiety, deciding to discuss with my therapist whether going back on an anxiolytic makes sense right now, or what else I can do to fight it. I sigh, feeling some relief with my exhalation. I’ll keep practicing; it does help. It’s a good time to begin again.

I’m at the trailhead, sitting at my halfway point in the predawn darkness. I woke too early, jerked from a sound sleep by my own anxiety. I dressed quietly and slipped out of the house without waking anyone (as far as I could tell).

Anxiety, 11″ x 24″, acrylic on canvas with ceramic details. 2010

Anxiety is a liar. At least, my anxiety generally has been. I’ve struggled with anxiety for all of my life that I can remember. It was once far worse than it ever is now, and I’m grateful to have better tools for dealing with it these days. A gentle, nonjudgmental, “body scan” confirms the suspicion that developed shortly after I woke; this may not even be anxiety, actually, I’m possibly “just” in pain. Because my osteoarthritis (in my spine) begins at my fusion and extends upward into my neck, it puts most of the intensity in approximately the same general area of my body that I would experience the physical elements of anxiety. I am prone to conflating or confusing them as a result. So maybe I’m not anxious at all? Using the right tool for a given task is important to success…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each subsequent deep breath and slow, complete exhalation would ordinarily begin reducing my anxiety almost immediately. Far less effective if what I’m fighting is actually physical pain being reinterpreted as anxiety. I’ve already taken my morning medications, and hopefully they begin being helpful soon. I shift uncomfortably and sigh. Yeah, this is pain. “Just” pain. I turn my attention to more appropriate self-care strategies.

It is a pleasant morning, not particularly chilly, nor rainy. The air is mild and fresh. A delicate sprinkling of rain fell very briefly, more a soft mist really, and it didn’t last. The darkness will soon give way to daybreak, and I’m in no hurry at all. I took today off from work. These quiet moments are mine – and so is the day ahead. I smile to myself in the dark. No drama. No chaos. “Nothing to see here”, and I like that just fine. The world is in chaos, I know, but these quiet personal moments for reflection and self-care matter every bit as much as which criminal cronies the corrupt cheeto-in-chief is going to pardon next. It matters more, probably, at least with regard to this one mortal life that I happen to be living, myself. (I just have to figure he’ll eventually get around to pardoning them all, he seems the sort to abuse that kind of power.)

I sigh and let that shit go. Sure, I’m disappointed in what Americans have allowed to fester within our government. I’m outraged and offended by the level of corruption in the current administration, and the ludicrous petty cruelty being demonstrated by people one might expect to know how to do better. It’s pretty horrible – and the horror is not reduced by also failing to take care of myself. Quite the contrary. Everything going on in the world feels more extreme when I fail to practice good self-care. So this morning I focus on that. No reason at all to even glance at the news this morning.

Another deep breath, another sigh. I can feel my pain medication beginning to help ease my pain, and as my pain recedes, my anxiety is further and further reduced. Daybreak comes, and the sky hints at a cloudy day ahead. The variable autumn weather definitely worsens my subjective experience of arthritis pain. Another sigh. Each one seems to somehow ease my pain in some small incremental way. As my pain eases, my attention broadens, and my world becomes bigger than this one moment here, now. I notice the treeline taking shape along the edge of the creek, beyond the vineyard. I see headlights sweep past as farm workers arrive to begin their day. I think about Thanksgiving, only a couple weeks away. I have a lot to be thankful for. I take time for gratitude while I sit watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day.

I catch myself smiling, feeling relaxed and merry. No work today. No time pressure at all, just a woman, a trail, and a moment. Later, I’ll head for coffee somewhere in town, and poke around in antique stores for a cool restoration project for my Traveling Partner. The day is mine, and I have clearly been needing a break. I’m glad I took one.

There’s always now.

When was the last time you took some time for yourself? Not time spent running errands or catching up on chores or long delayed projects – time for you. Time for self-reflection, for being, and for resting your mind is more what I’m asking about. If you haven’t been taking that time with (and for) yourself, why haven’t you? Won’t you be more capable and resilient if you take good care of yourself? It’s just a thought (and maybe a suggestion).

The sky begins to turn a soft shade of blue gray. No colorful sunrise this morning – but that doesn’t stop me from feeling grateful to see another day dawn. I am intensely grateful; I didn’t expect to get this far. On the other side of the trail, a plump racoon ambles along. She gives me a glance, and continues on her way, a single file line of youngsters following along. I smile. I am reminded that what we notice has a lot to do with what we are looking towards. We are each having our own experience, and in many ways, we’re creating it as we go.

… Choose wisely…

I sigh as I get to my feet, ready to finish my morning walk and begin a new day, again.