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Seemingly Endless

July 16, 2020 //
0

I went to bed in pain last night. I woke up in pain this morning. It’s been days of pain more than typically severe, following days of admittedly “over-doing it” during the move. Manual labor is hard work. I mean… that’s obvious, right? It’s why people get paid for it (and should likely be paid more than they are). I’m not as up to it as I was as a younger (and fitter) woman. That’s just real. Fuck I’m tired of being in this much pain, though. It seems endless, at this point, and no real relief in sight…

…I breathe, exhale, relax, and let that go (again). I stretch gently, start my day with some yoga, and meditation. I check my posture as I sit here sipping coffee. I take a moment for real presence with my body, and ask an important question in this moment; “how do I feel right now?” There’s a reason for that – implicit memory changes slowly over time. If I become mired in my experience of pain, moment-to-moment, I slowly become more inclined to perceive pain as an “always” condition, unceasing and unchanging – and that’s not accurate. My experience (and the result of my effort to manage my pain) varies. In this moment, right now? It’s not that bad. I’ve got some chronic long-standing muscle tension/pain, and that’s there…but it’s as mild as it generally gets, at the start of the day, and that’s true today, too. I sit with that for a few moments, maintaining awareness of the lack of severity right now. Manageable. I make a point to relax my shoulders (again) and correct my posture (again). I know that “pushing myself” too far without giving my body a chance to heal and recover is a poor choice. Moving was a lot of work. Sore muscles recover, given a chance, and good self-care. Painful, but irrelevant. I allow myself to consider that “sore muscles” may be the majority of my pain, lately.

…Last night was bad though…

…I breathe, exhale, relax, and let that go (again). I pull my restless monkey-mind back to this moment, this mild amount of pain, and hold my awareness of it, present, alert, observing. As I sit, I almost don’t hurt at all… I make a point of feeling that, and holding that experience in my awareness for some moments. Implicit memory changes slowly over time.

I sip my morning coffee, watching the sky lighten beyond the window and the fence, beyond the pear tree and the neighbor’s house. It’s a new day. I can begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, Frustration, health, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Practices, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being

A Few Minutes, A Few Boxes

July 15, 2020 //
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I am inclined to think of my recent move as “over” – a past event in my life. Recorded history. Completed. It isn’t. It’s more a process, than a task, and it is ongoing.

So many boxes yet to be unpacked! Is this a metaphor?

I spent my lunch break, yesterday, taking a carload of packing boxes to the local recycling center. That seems fairly “moving” related, to me. lol In the afternoon, my Traveling Partner and I met with a roofing contractor, to get an estimate on some roof repairs. Moving related. After my shift, I unpacked 21 boxes of books and “whatnot” (objects, tchotchkes, sentimental fragments from past lives, & assorted things that had been perched on or near a bookshelf that had no other obvious box into which they could be packed). I filled bookshelves with books. Definitely moving related. I broke down the boxes, and took those to the garage. More moving-related activity. lol

I still managed to leave a couple tasks on my list of things to do very much not yet done. Fatigue and the end of the day got to me, before I got to those. lol This feels like a move that is still in progress, for sure. I look out my studio window this morning, aware of the handful of boxes yet to be unpacked that are stacked behind me. I sip my coffee lacking any noteworthy fucks to give about that in this moment right here. It’s enough to wake rested, from pleasant dreams, in this quiet haven. It’s enough to make coffee, and slowly get myself together for a new day.

New day – new list of things to do. LOL

I continue to sip my coffee as the pre-dawn darkness shifts to morning light. My “to do list” slowly sheds moving tasks, in favor of everyday household chores and errands, day by day. I frown at my list – have I forgotten something? I have. I add it.

The delicious cool morning air fills the house. After yesterday’s heat (no A/C), my Traveling Partner left the windows open through the night. I woke to a comfortably cool home. Lovely. I wiggle my bare toes contentedly, thinking about the heat of the day ahead. It’s summer, here. The pandemic’s various stay-at-home/social distancing restrictions of the past 4 months create a surreal sort of “missing Spring” in my recollection. The move itself contributes; my attention was focused elsewhere, and I missed out on blooming flowers, morning walks, and lengthening days, somehow. The move again, if I include the house-hunt. That process began in mid-April, and wrapped up (by some measures) just a bit less than 3 months later (when the move out finished). I definitely spent more of that time thinking about paperwork, than spring flowers. lol

New day – new perspective. 🙂

I sit contentedly at my desk, drinking coffee. Dawn has become day. Pretty routine stuff. This new beginning is about shifting gears from getting moved, and embracing change, to living life, and enjoying the experience. Sure, I expect change will still be a thing. I feel myself shrug. I silently count waiting boxes. I look at the time. It’s definitely time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

Defining the New Normal

July 13, 2020 //
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It’s early on a Monday morning. The alarm clock was an unwelcome sound, when it went off for the first time in two weeks. I got myself up, did some yoga, made coffee… all very “normal” sorts of workday morning things. I still don’t feel properly awake. I definitely feel “weird” about work. lol This is my first bit of early morning writing in this new space… I fret a bit about whether the sound of my typing will disturb my sleeping partner in the adjacent bedroom, and attempt to “type quietly”, aware of the sound and cadence of my keystrokes. I drink my coffee. I read a bit of the news (before giving up on that quagmire of negativity and emotionally evocative word-smithing in favor of meditation). Seems a routine sort of Monday, thus far, although I’ve yet to dive into the work day ahead.

…I’m mostly just sipping coffee and “soaking in the vibe” of this new place…

Morning coffee; same routine, new location.

There’s the most gentle vague hint of daylight-to-come visible through the view-obscuring-but-not-wholly-opaque window shade. I consider opening that up and letting in the morning light. I don’t actually do anything about it; I just sit here sipping my coffee rather contentedly. It’s enough.

There’s ever so much more to write “about” this move that is, in most respects, now behind me (us), but today, this morning, does not feel like the time to do that. It’s easy enough to celebrate the successes, to share what worked, to acknowledge what has gone well…and I’m entirely made of human. It’s a given, is it not, that more than a few things likely didn’t go ideally well, and maybe a thing or two went so badly sideways that the emotional hurts still linger? I assure you, there is much to consider, with care and with love and with compassion, before I am really up for talking about painful moments, upsets, complications, or hurt feelings, mostly because that was the rare and the few and the limited of all the many moments I shared with my Traveling Partner during this move – and we’re still getting work done on the moving in piece, even though the moving out is completed. I’m still celebrating the wins and savoring the successes – and I’m definitely sure those matter most. There is time later for reflection. 🙂

This past weekend felt more like a “regular weekend” than it felt like part of moving. Win! We grilled on the deck. We watched favorite shows. (We continued to unpack! lol) We kept things tidy. My Traveling Partner did some important household repair tasks. We each did routine chores like laundry, dishes, and taking out the trash. Humans living life. Simple, wholesome, very “normal” stuff… the new normal, here, at home. It seems enough. 🙂

New day ahead, new view, and new perspective.

I glance at the time, and into my empty coffee mug. It’s time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

Taking Care

June 27, 2020 //
1

I’m awake. I’m groggy. I’m drinking coffee. My calendar is full. My list of things to do seems as long as it has been for days. We’re definitely moving. In past moves, this is the part of moving when the self-care tasks fall by the wayside, and I typically find myself trapped in a cycle of “overdrive” and exhaustion, working unrelentingly until I collapse for minutes or hours, then back at it for every minute I can squeeze out of this fragile meat-based machinery, until fatigue finally nails me to a bed, a couch, or the floor, and I sleep for a few hours, and repeat the process day after day until the move is completed. Then, I spend days feeling disrupted, moody, bewildered, and overwhelmed, as I get used to a new place. Bleh. It’s not fun, but it’s “worked okay” for me, for many values of “okay”, generally. It’s often simply what I’ve had to work with, or perhaps I just didn’t understand it could be done very differently?

New day, new move, and a very different plan. My Traveling Partner keeps me self-care focused (“Hey, you’ve been out here working in the sun for awhile, are you drinking enough water? Have you taken a break?””Have you eaten something today?”). We each work on the things we’ve committed to with real purpose. We take time together to chill, to play, to laugh, to consume comfortable amounts of media content, and to enjoy each other. Hell, I even slept restfully last night, and woke at a fairly normal time this morning! He woke in a good mood, himself (we’re both fairly grumpy, many mornings, until we sort ourselves out and are properly awake). This move doesn’t just feel “different” – it feels good. 😀

I sip my coffee and look at my list. Nodding to myself, I double-check the details (“when does the donation drop-off open, today?”). My Traveling Partner comes into the studio, and says something pleasant, and rubs my neck for a few minutes, and reminds me about my posture without nagging. He puts on music in the other room, and I feel myself beginning to really wake up for the day ahead. There’s so much to do, and in a practical sense, with all the paperwork out of the way, the real work “begins” – building on the real work we’ve been doing for weeks, boxing and packing things. I smile to myself. There are certainly a lot of verbs involved, and this time? This time, those include self-care verbs, and verbs to do with love and loving, and shared verbs – so many shared verbs. It feels good to have my Traveling Partner’s help with this move. The last couple had some fairly poignant lonely moments (his, for him, too, I know). This feels very different.

My smile turns to a grin, and I feel filled with joy. It’s already time to begin again. 😀

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Categories Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Stacking Boxes, Counting Days

June 25, 2020 //
2

Moving day gets closer every day. The boxes neatly stacked in the garage continue to multiply. Working together on move details is creating a fun distraction from the routine, and minimizing stress, for both of us, it seems. It’s certainly the easiest, and most pleasant, move I’ve undertaken in the past decade. 😀 I’m grateful to have the driveway space to park my car; using the garage to “stage” the move was an excellent idea (my Traveling Partner has had several great ideas upon which this move is built, and I’m grateful for that, too).

So many boxes, all neatly labeled and ready to move. There’s still more to pack.

We spend some time every day packing things, moving what we don’t use every day into a convenient position to move it to a truck, and from the truck into our home. Keys in hand, we’ll be standing in our own home this weekend! I smile every time I think about reaching this milestone, with my partner.

Yesterday I was grumpy as hell. Not moving related, just having a rough day, and dealing with a lot of pain. My Traveling Partner was patient with me, supportive, and good-natured. I crashed hard a little earlier than usual, and slept deeply through the night, waking once for a drink of water after a parching nightmare, and finally rising to begin a new day only moments before the alarm went off. So far, so good. 🙂 New day.

The kitchen is packed. All the books are packed. My studio is (mostly) packed. Our computers continue to entertain us, but the moment for packing those will be “now” quite soon. I’m impatient to move through the days. A couple more work shifts, and then… moving. Understanding more about how my PTSD and my TBI affect me as a whole human being (than I once did), I’ve planned to take enough time off to get entirely moved in, and also to get acclimated to new noises and new shadows, a new route to travel from bed to bathroom, a new view from new windows… everything new. I’ll no doubt “get lost” in the new house more than once before I have the “map” in my head right. My Traveling Partner assures me with much love that it won’t take long, and encourages me to return to work earlier, if I want to. 🙂 I don’t expect to sit around the house feeling bored, in any case – there’s so much to do! 😀

…I’m looking forward to coffee on the deck on a summer morning…

…And the squirrels. The squirrels are here on my deck. 🙂

Change can be so terrifying and disruptive, most especially when it is unexpected, or perceived as a challenge, limitation, or unpleasant whim of circumstance. This move could have felt much different… the limitations presented by the pandemic, on top of my landlord telling me he would be asking me to vacate as soon after pandemic restrictions on doing so were lifted (so he could, himself, move in to this duplex), on top of the realities of finite resources… it could have been incredibly scary. My move from #59 to this duplex felt rushed, forced, aggravating, and very stressful (even though I chose it). I was unhappy to have to leave, I would have been unhappy to stay, and I was very grateful to find this lovely alternative in a seemingly quiet neighborhood (turned out to be much noisier than my initial impression led me to believe). It’s been a good place to live, in general. This move, though? This feels like a great move, and the timing feels pretty good, too. 🙂 I sip my coffee feeling grateful and contented.

I listen to the traffic beyond the window. Busy street. I won’t miss that. Noisy house. I won’t miss that, either. Listening to my neighbors on the other side of the duplex wall? Not going to miss it. My Traveling Partner? I sure won’t have to miss him – we’re moving together (and into a home that is more suited to our shared needs). 😀 I sip my coffee. It’s gone cold, and I don’t mind; it’s a good cup of coffee. A pleasant Thursday morning, a routine work shift ahead of me, and one more tomorrow… then… moving day. It’s coming. There may be a break in the cadence of my writing, as I shift from one residence to another, new routines, new floor plan, new timing. I’ll get back to the routine with new inspiration. 😀

A gray dawn lights the room slowly. I finish this cup of coffee. It’s time to begin again.

 

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Categories Brain Injury, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being
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