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 aswhich 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.
I walked the trail to my halfway point in darkness. It’s not yet daybreak. The days continue to get shorter. My headlamp creates a small area of light around me, and a feeling of safety. I’m no “safer” with the light on or off, having reached a nice spot to stop, it’s an illusion. We are, for the most part, daytime creatures; we like to see what is going on around us, which requires light. Mostly. I turn off my headlamp and let my eyes adjust.
I have a song stuck in my head, but only a small portion of the refrain, and I can’t quite recognize it. Every time I try to figure it out by “playing a bit more”, it skips back to just the bit stuck in my head. I find this mildly amusing, but also rather annoying. I let it go.
A brief sprinkling of raindrops begins, then stops. Will it actually rain? I hope it does, but I also hope that I beat the rain back to the car before it begins to fall seriously. lol The trees are more dense on the other side of the trail, here, so I change my resting place to one with better cover, “just in case”, and continue thinking my thoughts.
It is a work day. A Monday. I am just two days away from completing my 30-day “trial period” on this new job. I like the job enough to want to stay. My boss has expressed his satisfaction with my work. Successful completion of this trial period feels like a given… and this has (perhaps a bit paradoxically) caused my anxiety to escalate wildly. I persist with calming breath work, and take steps to regain my perspective and get centered.
“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ – and she feels much bigger than that, generally.
…Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Repeat…
Adult anxieties are no more rational than any other anxieties, and they are not a reliable gauge of “threat levels” or hazards. In this case the perception of a ticking clock, a countdown, and the explicit proposition that the decision regarding whether this is a permanent position at all rests on these 30-days definitely amplifies my insecurities, which in turn cranks up the volume on my anxiety. It occurred to me days ago (and may have been explicitly stated by someone at some point), that this “pressure cooker” really is a test – of my ability to handle routine matters under pressure, to cope with high demands on short timelines, to adequately determine relative priorities, and to be resilient. Pretty good test, too, if a bit nerve-wracking. I expect to pass, but that expectation actually seems to make the anxiety worse, not ease it at all. lol
… I’ll be glad to see Wednesday’s sunrise with this first 30 days entirely behind me…
I take a few unmeasured minutes to meditate, and for a time I feel freed from my anxiety. Nice. Another handful of sprinkles passes by, and my choice to take cover under the oaks is proved a good one. Well timed. I smile at the clouds overhead. Daybreak comes, gray and moody, and I am joined by some very early robins who seem eager to see what they can find in the dampened leaf litter and softened earth. So far it’s quite a pleasant Monday morning, in spite of the coming and going of my anxiety in the background.
I inhale the damp autumn air, filling my lungs with it, feeling uplifted. It took me a long while to learn to put more attention on the good moments and small joys than on the moments of stress and doubt. It has been profoundly worthwhile to learn this practice. It’s not about ignoring stress or stressful things. Circumstances need to be appropriately dealt with, regardless how stressful. As creatures, though, we tend to get fixated on our most difficult, painful, scary, unpleasant, and challenging experiences, and if we do so to the exclusion of all else, we can easily develop a negative view of life more generally, that can begin to pull us down into despair. That was my own experience, for sure. This is better. So, I set aside any fretting over work, because the work day hasn’t even begun yet, and I allow myself to embrace these lovely moments on a Monday morning, and take the time to enjoy the dawn of a new day with my whole attention.
I sit awhile longer, here, now, enjoying this lovely moment of peace and solitude. I listen to the occasional sprinkling of raindrops on the leaves overhead. The sky lightens to a paler shade of blue gray. I think about the weekend, my Traveling Partner’s love, and good home cooking. I think about how well the Anxious Adventurer took care of the lawn all summer, how good it looks, and reflect on my gratitude and appreciation – and wonder if I have said “thank you”? I ponder how fortunate I am to have found a new job so quickly after being laid off and remind myself to thank my Traveling Partner for some excellent professional advice he gave me, in the earliest days of our friendship, that has continued to serve me well. I remember being incredibly irritated to hear him suggest that I consider cultivating a more agreeable and approachable attitude, professionally (and it was hard to hear that I was difficult to work with…) I’m grateful that I took his words to heart. Life has been better personally, and more successful professionally. Definitely worth a “thank you”.
The sprinkling begins again, and seems inclined to continue. The clock continues to tick. I sigh to myself as I get to my feet. Already time to begin again.
It’s early. A little later than usual, but it makes sense; I’m trying to shift my usual waking time to something a bit later. Even a small change can add to my anxiety, and this morning it does. I’m hopeful that I managed to slip out quietly, without waking anyone. No one needs my anxiety to be the thing they wake up to!
A full moon peeks out from behind the trees.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, and lace up my boots to walk the local trail I favor, but I arrived to a lot of noise and bright light at the trailhead. There was an event here over the weekend, and a crew has come to clean up. Well, shit… That’s less than ideally peaceful, eh? I move the car to the other side of the parking and walk to my starting point from there, well out of the way of the work crew.
… Every day we make so many small seeming choices intended to get us to a goal, or to achieve some particular result…
The morning is chilly, not yet “cold”, but hinting at colder mornings still ahead. Daybreak arrives in the usual way. Blue sky shows through dark clouds as the sky lightens, and I head down the trail.
The camera makes things at this hour bluer than they seem to my eyes.
My head is stuffy when I reach my halfway point and stop for a moment. Something in the air doesn’t agree with me, perhaps? I’m glad I stuffed some tissues in my pocket as I left the house this morning.
My anxiety has come along for this morning’s walk. It’s “only” background anxiety to do with the new job, I think. Experience tells me it will pass, and to care for myself. Self-care defuses a lot of anxiety. (I silently acknowledge that sometimes self-care causes me more anxiety, setting up a brief back-and-forth with myself over whether that is the case now, and if not why mention it at all?) Anxiety is a liar, and aside from that, anxiety is also a bit of a self sabotaging drama queen. I laugh uncomfortably to myself, and fill my lungs deeply, then exhale slowly, not quite a sigh, definitely an expression of… something. I’m a little annoyed with myself, I guess. It was a good weekend. The job feels like a promising opportunity and a good fit to my skills. What’s to be anxious over?
Change is. One of the results, sometimes, is anxiety. Feeling routines and my “sense of things” being disrupted is uncomfortable, sometimes even upsetting. I feel unsure and uneasy and reluctant to trust. I feel vigilant and as if I’m waiting for that metaphorical other shoe to drop. It’s a little ridiculous, but the awareness brings no relief. I find some relief in meditation. I find some relief in routines. I finding some relief in the distraction of a sunrise on a gray morning as summer begins to turn to fall. Little things matter. I’m grateful when my anxiety begins to ease.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit quietly, grateful to see another sunrise. Grateful for another job opportunity. Grateful for good friends, loving family, and skilled friendly colleagues. The gratitude pushes aside the anxiety, and sets me up to enjoy the day ahead. The anxiety, this morning, is dysfunctional, a broken indicator light on life’s dashboard. I chuckle to myself thinking about the Parable of the Mechanic for a moment. This morning my mortal physical body feels more “hoopty” than sports car, for sure. I’m fighting arthritis pain along with the anxiety, and it’s possible that my arthritis is actually causing quite a bit of the anxiety in the first place. Definitely adding to it.
I sigh to myself and take something for my pain.
It’s a new day. Anxious or not, I’ve got shit to do that won’t wait around for my best mood or greatest comfort. Sometimes the path we walk is paved, level, and well lit, sometimes it is rocky, uneven, and dangerously pocked with potholes or littered with obstacles. Sometimes a distracting “side quest” is truly what matters most. The way forward isn’t always clear. We’ve just got to go ahead and get on with things, walk our path, and fulfill our “destiny”, if such a thing exists at all. If it doesn’t? Well, the journey is the destination, after all, and not walking our own path isn’t really an option. Our every choice, every moment, is another step along the way.
I think about a cookbook, a map, a menu. I think about a miscalibrated scale. Metaphors worth considering. Topics for another day. For now, I hear the clock ticking, and it feels like time to begin again. The path ahead won’t walk itself – and it’s the only way forward from here, now, to… wherever it leads. I smile to myself and watch the sun rise on this new day.
Where does this path lead? Choose and find out. Walk on.
Evening Light 