Archives for posts with tag: anxiety management
« Older Entries

Breathe in the Moment

December 12, 2025 //
0

I sip my morning pod coffee in this hotel room. It’s been a strange break from some things that have been vexing me and wearing me down. I say “strange” because it hasn’t been at all (physically) restful. Not in the slightest. The pace has been fast and could have felt stressful. It didn’t feel stressful because I got a real break from being worn down, exhausting my resilience, day after day. There’s something to learn there.

Still a luxury.

I reflect on that awhile, sipping my coffee. How do I more carefully protect my peace? Preserve my energy? Care for this fragile vessel? How do I more skillfully set boundaries without creating conflict? These are important questions worth answering with some measure of experience-informed wisdom… I hope I find some.

I haven’t taken many pictures. I haven’t done any sightseeing. I haven’t even taken any walks through beautiful places, although I’ve been on my feet and walking from here to there, often. I don’t feel any heartbreak over that. It’s just a detail. I’m grateful for the rest I’ve gotten, in spite of the pace. Here, in this “strange place”, I have slept well and deeply, and even slept in, once. I feel rested.

I’ve gotten to meet and get acquainted with some amazing people on this trip. It’s been worth it.

I’m eager to return home to my Traveling Partner. I check for messages after I turn my notifications on for the day. I am not so eager to return home to drama, emotional bullshit, or the interpersonal friction of cohabitation. Humans being human. It’s often (mostly) nothing to do with me. I sigh to myself and reflect. I have enjoyed the solitude. I’ll soon be home to love… and also laundry, housekeeping, cooking, running errands, helping with whatever, and trying my best to find any time for myself to enjoy some quiet time when I can sit with my own thoughts, or read, or paint. I miss my Traveling Partner so very much. I don’t miss caregiving or housekeeping, drama, or emotional labor.

I remind myself that having the Anxious Adventurer move in was always temporary, and as with all things temporary, it will end. We’ve all agreed that he’ll move after the holiday season, nearer to Spring, when the weather is predictably safe to drive through distant mountains and isolated highways, to wherever his chosen destination turns out to be. I’d love for him to be able to stay in the area, he seems to like it, and it’s clear my Traveling Partner enjoys having him nearby and seeing him often. The cohabitation doesn’t work comfortably. I don’t think I’m even surprised,  when I consider things more deeply. It hasn’t significantly improved over the 16 months he’s been here, even with coaching and encouragement (and sometimes raised voices and frustration). I sigh to myself. Communication can be difficult. Accommodating each other’s needs, limitations, and boundaries can be hard. I already know I don’t prefer cohabitation – it’s a lot of fucking work. I can’t force either man to change his approach to the other, to listen more deeply, to make changes in behavior, to be more considerate, kinder, quieter, or be anyone other than they are. (It’s not my place to do so; they’re both grown-ass men, who ideally already know who they are and where they need to improve themselves.) I can set boundaries, myself, and do my own best to be the woman I most want to be, and to be accountable for my decisions and my actions, that’s it. We’re each having our own experience. I’m not inclined to allow these father-son difficulties so far outside my own experience dominate my thoughts, time, or to-do list.

… I’m also not inclined to sit around seething over it, if I can simply stay out of the way and let them figure it out. That’s not always possible; sometimes I’m invited to help, or reframe or rephrase in some heated moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. That time is not now. I’m alone in a quiet hotel room, and it’s almost breakfast time. I miss my beloved Traveling Partner – and I know what matters most (to me). So… I let it go, at least for now. I’ve got this moment here to live.

I look around the room… everything is packed. Breakfast next, then the office for a couple hours and a noontime departure to the airport. On the other end of hours of airports and flights, I’ve still got the drive home…more solitude. I’ll fill up on it while I can. Soon enough it’s back to the familiar routine, and time to begin again.

I settle into a comfortable position. I have time for meditation before breakfast…

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Lost in the Fog

September 30, 2025 //
0

Foggy morning. I walk in it, wrapped in it, trail and trees obscured by the autumn fog. The closer I get to the creek, the more dense the fog is. There is no view at this early hour, anyway, but that’s even more the case this morning.

… I am lost in my thoughts, in the fog…

The fog adds a feeling of mystery.

My head is stuffy this morning, and I’ve used most of the pack of tissues I have with me, already. A sneeze catches me by surprise, and I step off the trail without noticing immediately. The sneeze sounds loud, but also muffled in the fog. I stop on the trail for a moment to dig around in my pockets for the other pack of tissues I think I recall being there. Yep. There they are. My fingers touch the plastic of the pack, and I relax. I also stop sneezing, and only need a single tissue, as it turns out, never even opening the other packet.

It is the time of year for autumn allergies and headcolds, and for back to school activities to expose more people to more contagion. I remind myself to take care of my health, to be considerate of others, and to practice strict hand washing and appropriate social distancing (these practices are an effective means of limiting the spread of common respiratory infections, so why wouldn’t I?). My thoughts wander back to the rude man-child in the university library yesterday with the horrific sounding hacking cough – I was grateful to be seated well away from him, with multiple barriers between any viruses or bacteria exiting from his face with every cough, but also, as a human being, I was concerned that he would even be putting himself through the additional stress on his mortal body to be trying to do work in the state of ill health he was clearly in. Why don’t people just fucking stay home and focus on getting well?

… I know, I know, “reasons”…

My mind continues to wander here and there. It’s a payday. It didn’t exactly catch me by surprise, but I’m still getting used to the changes that have come with the new job. This one is “military style” pay, twice monthly, on the first and the 15th, on whatever day of the week those happen to be. The previous one was every two weeks, on alternate Fridays. It might seem like very little difference, but twice monthly is 24 paychecks, and every two weeks is 26. It does change the cash flow and the way bills map to pay cycles. I think about that sort of thing for a little while as I walk, still wrapped in fog. I walk and think about all the many kinds of payroll systems I’ve participated in… weekly… monthly (that was hard to adjust to)… part-time… full-time… salaried… hourly… employee… contractor… commission… “The house always wins,” I think to myself before putting thoughts of payroll and paydays aside.

I keep walking.

The work day ahead feels busy in advance. It hasn’t even started, and I haven’t looked at my calendar. I feel prematurely a bit frazzled, and this annoys (and amuses) me. It’s such a human thing to get wound up over shit that isn’t even happening yet, if it ever even will. Typical bullshit, unnecessary and unproductive. I let it go and walk on.

The trail ahead of me is a bit shiny where my light hits it. It rained during the night. The fog reflects the light of my headlamp back at me. It’s a little bit irritating, and I turn it off, pausing on the trail to let my eyes adjust. Daybreak yet? Can I see the trail without my light? Not quite, not out here under these trees. I don’t really want the artificial light in my eyes anymore, though, and leave it off. I look around for someplace to sit – it’s not my usual stopping point. Where am I, actually? I look around in the gloom. Nothing looks familiar in the fog. There’s a bench nearby. Convenient. I sit down and write these words.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, watching each exhaled breath become part of the fog, until it is time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Just Out of Reach

September 29, 2025 //
0

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.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Perspective(s)

September 28, 2025 //
0

The clear night sky sprinkled with stars has given way to pink streaks of clouds across a pale blue sky. I sit at my halfway point on this trail watching the sun rise.

Each sunrise is the promise of a new day.

My anxiety commandeered my dreams at some point during the night. My Traveling Partner somehow breeched the fragile boundary between reality and dreams, calling me back from The Nightmare City with a question. I don’t remember the question, and I’m not sure whether he actually woke me (or, if he did, why). I got up briefly to pee and went back to sleep. I woke gently, without anxiety, and the morning has been pleasant and otherwise routine.

The morning felt quite mild, initially, but as I sit on a favorite fence rail, I begin to feel the autumn chill. I’m grateful for this sweater, and the fleece I threw on over it at the last minute, as I got out of the car in the darkness. I sit enjoying the sunrise, and the sky turns from pink stripes to streaks of thin white clouds and blue skies. It’s a lovely morning. I’m taking my time with it.

My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning greeting and asks about my plans. He’s enjoying his morning, too. I mention an errand I plan to take care of before I return home – having completely forgotten it no longer needs to be done. He gently reminds me. I laugh heartily, out loud – it’s the sort of thing that could frustrate me to tears under some circumstances. This morning it’s harmless, inconsequential, and amusing, and I consider the difference in perspective that allows it to be funny, this time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s been a lovely weekend, filled with loving moments and good fortune, and these stand out from the moments of stress that also occurred. It’s nice to feel so positive, and to have developed an outlook on life that allows me to bounce back from stress so much more easily than any younger version of me knew how to do. If I could, I’d go back in time and share what I have learned with that younger me. Instead, I share that here, with you.

…We become what we practice…

A small sparkling highlight this weekend was stopping for groceries yesterday morning; the Checker returned my keys to me! I’d misplaced them days ago, and hadn’t found them. I had resigned myself to the likelihood that they were lost. She had carefully held on to them, waiting to see me again on an upcoming weekend. Having them returned to me gives me a feeling of hope that probably exceeds the moment, and I’m okay with that. Feeling hopeful is far better than feeling that everything is pointless or futile.

Such a small thing.

There’s an entire new day ahead. It’s a Sunday, and most of the day will be housework and chores and getting ready for a new week – and I’ll be doing things from a hopeful perspective, and spending time in the company of my Traveling Partner. Sounds like a good way to spend time.

I look down the trail. Several small groups of people approach, some distance away on the other side of the meadow. I get to my feet – it’s time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Feeling the Chill

September 13, 2025 //
0

I slept in. I got to the trailhead after daybreak. No colorful sunrise, the morning is misty and gray, and a little chilly. Fog obscures the meadow on the other side of the highway, as I park.

Not much of a view this morning.

I head down the trail contentedly, feeling rested and ready for the day ahead. It is the weekend. I walk with my thoughts, and the sounds of distant traffic and geese on the marsh. The meadow is brown and waiting for the autumn rain to come.

I get to my halfway point and take a seat on a nearby fence rail looking out over meadow and marsh, enjoying the stillness and the misty morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking time for meditation and reflection, and making room for a moment of gratitude. There’s real joy (for me) in the simple pleasure of a moment of contentment and quiet. I savor it. The world being the place it presently is, it doesn’t do to waste a moment of contentment and joy by overlooking it.

I’ve got a project today, that fits into the needs of hearth and home, and also the garden. I am planning to tidy the garden shed, which is crowded with this and that, and no longer the convenient solution it was intended to be. I won’t need to work around the oppressive summer heat, it is a cool day, making me glad I delayed this project a couple weekends. I may even be looking forward to it.

Perspective on a moment.

From my pleasant vantage point, I sit with my thoughts a little while, reflecting on the day ahead. I feel fortunate to enjoy such moments. Grateful. I breathe the morning air deeply, filling my lungs with fresh air, and my heart with fond appreciation and gratitude. The mist begins to thicken and envelope me. I watch the trees around me beginning to fade into the mist with child-like wonder. As the mist becomes a proper dense fog, the sounds of distant traffic are muffled and begin to be lost in the din of my tinnitus.

Grocery shopping, first, then my project and time spent hanging out with my Traveling Partner. Tomorrow, all the usual housekeeping stuff, preparing for a new week. My anxiety about being laid off, and then of being in a new job, has died away completely. Things feel pretty routine and ordinary. It’s a good feeling.

I sigh contentedly, and get ready to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, Uncategorized
« Older Entries