Archives for posts with tag: begin again

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…

The soft beeping almost didn’t wake me this morning. I had forgotten to set an alarm, but that is rarely of any consequence, since I also rarely sleep past 04:30 or so. This morning the quiet beeping alarm that goes off at 06:00, my morning medication reminder, was what woke me. I slept in! I even “overslept”, if I want to call it that.

I smiled through my shower and while I dressed, half humming some merry tune. I feel good. Rested. It’s a nice feeling. I let myself feel it without resistance or argument, savoring the moment. I make myself a cup of pod coffee in the hotel room, and double check that I’ll be ready to join my colleagues at breakfast.

There’s a pretty long day ahead, although much of the afternoon and some of the evening will be the office holiday party. I wonder how well rested my colleagues will be? They continued the evening after dinner, heading to some local favorite for cocktails. I rarely drink, and wasn’t inclined to join them. It was around 19:00 when I got back to the room, as it was, and I was already too tired for much more.

City lights, a view from a taxi.

… But I’m not seeing much of SF! 😆 Sightseeing isn’t the point, though.

It’s a strange journey, this thing called “life”. Meeting some of my colleagues in person has been an experience of it’s own. There are some very smart, creative, kind people here, sharing this professional journey, and making their own ways in the world. I feel fortunate to meet them and be received and accepted as their equal. I’ve had some great conversations and many chances to practice listening. I even tried shawarma for the first time!

I tidy up the hotel room. Meditate. Take time to write a few words, and wonder how my Traveling Partner is doing this morning, and hoping he slept well and deeply.

Somehow it’s already time to begin again…

I’m in an altogether different place this morning. I woke slowly, to the sound of an audible alarm. Strange enough (for me), and it jangled my nerves a bit; I was deeply asleep and had forgotten where I was (a hotel room in San Francisco).

I got up and dressed, fussing around in a most disorganized fashion, finally starting some coffee brewing before I left the room for a short walk in the morning air. Once around the block, and then back to the hotel room for coffee.

Each journey starts somewhere.

Yesterday was an interesting adventure in travel. Nothing really went “wrong”, it was simply unexpectedly tedious. The taxi from the airport to the hotel was fun; the driver was skillful and made interesting conversation (at half the price of an Uber, as it happens). He even pointed out various sights along the way. It was almost an hour, in heavy traffic. Yeesh. Big cities have familiar big city problems (Like needing an hour to go 17 miles).

Oh look! A sight to see.

By the time I was in the hotel room it was 5:30 pm. How was I “already” so tired? I mean, new city, and I’m in a hotel in a location with a lot to do (Fisherman’s Warf). My feet ached. I was tired. I slept poorly the night before and fatigue was clearly taking over. My Traveling Partner reminds me to eat something in a message, while we catch up and exchange pleasantries. I unpack and get my stuff rearranged such that my backpack is longer luggage, just a computer case. Handy. In the process I delight myself; I had carelessly put three little stuffed kittens onto my backpack “out of the way” while I was packing for the trip and didn’t realize they’d dropped down inside. There they were, soft friendly reminders of home, I chuckled happily and snapped a picture of them.

Small moments of joy are precious.

I spent the evening in silence, just sitting quietly for some little while, before admitting I was just done for the day. By 7 pm, I was asleep, waking only once and promptly returning to sleep. Now, it’s a new day, full of promise. The morning is quiet. I am alone. The only sounds are traffic beyond the window, and my tinnitus. This coffee is okay…pod coffee. It’s generally neither bad nor good, but completely acceptable and of reliable “sameness” every time. I find myself struggling for a moment to find the correct word for that idea. Consistency? So many useful words available to choose from!

A colleague who is also staying at this hotel pings me about breakfast. 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.

I get to the trailhead as a drenching rain begins to fall. Weather reports have identified the system passing through as an “atmospheric river”, and the temperature is mild (almost warm), and the rain has been frequent and sometimes quite heavy (as it is now), but this won’t last and it’s still dark outside. I can wait for a break in the rain.

I consider reading the news as I wait, but my news feed is filled with obvious slop and clickbait. I have no interest in “mental junk food”. The content we consume (in whatever medium, from whatever feed or channel) really matters. If we become what we practice, then it seems both reasonable and likely that our media consumption will change our thinking over time based on quantity and frequency (“practice”) – and with very little consideration of the quality or truth or accuracy of the content. (I say “likely” , but it has been pretty well tested and demonstrated that this is the case.) It has been shown that if repeated often enough the stupidest lies may begin to be believed. Politicians and advertisers count on it.

Your attention (and mine) has real (monetary) value to platforms, apps, and media companies. Those clicks and views are worth so much that any strategy seems fair (remember Facebook manipulating users’ emotions by making algorithmic changes to see what kinds of content get more views and engagement? remember Cambridge Analytica?). This hints at the potential that any one piece of media content in any format may be poorly fact-checked, or deliberately false or misleading. Just for your attention. Your interests are not being served in any sincere way; you have to look out for those yourself.

I do my best to protect myself from time-wasting or potentially damaging content. It’s not reliably obvious sometimes and I’ve settled on some basic questions about articles and videos to help me sort it out (and am fortunate to be able to count on truly important matters to reach me through my Traveling Partner and friends who have shared values, even when I don’t look at the news at all). Here are the questions I use to evaluate quality content:

  1. Does it rely on a clickbait headline to get your attention? (I avoid these.)
  2. Is it fact-based with citations provided, or an opinion piece? (I avoid opinion pieces, for many reasons.)
  3. Who wrote it? What qualifications do they have on the topic? (I avoid AI “authorship”, and writers of poor quality or poisonous content.)
  4. Who paid for the piece? (Why did they want it written? How does it serve their interests?)
  5. What is the purpose of the piece? (Is it factually accurate? Is it seeking to distract or mislead?)
  6. Who gets the most benefit from swaying readers to this opinion or understanding? (Where are they geographically located? Is the topic directly relevant to the goals of some special interest? Is this made explicitly clear?)
  7. Is the piece filled with affiliate links or banner ads? (I’m just not going to be subjected to that, and will block the source, the whole channel or platform, if it is common strategy there.)

The quality of what we fill our minds and time with really matters. I’d rather rewatch episodes of South Park than waste my time on some affiliate link filled misleading clickbait AI slop. (South Park is often surprisingly deep and usually very socially relevant.) Sure, it can be tempting to reach for a piece of candy or swing through the fast food drive through… but it can’t be called nutritious or healthy. It’s a pretty good analogy. I sit thinking about it for a few minutes.

The rain stops. I grab my cane and throw on my rain poncho as I step out of the car. I stretch and breathe the rain-fresh air. Daybreak soon. I start down the trail.

I get to my halfway point. The trail is soggy and I am grateful to have missed stepping in the puddles. The bench I like to sit on is wet, but the rain poncho makes a dry place to sit. I sigh contentedly. I am feeling rested and unbothered, which is a nice change from recent mornings. I start to think about work, but it’s not yet time for that, and I let it go. This time is for me.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I give myself time to reflect with gratitude on the things going well – like having more of my Traveling Partner’s help around the house as he continues to recover and grow strong again. I feel so much more capable and effective with his help than I do struggling to try to get it all done alone. I’m grateful to have a job that pays the bills and grateful for the cozy and safe house we call home. As this or that aggravation surfaces in my thoughts, I throw an “and I’m grateful that…” on the end of that thought, and defuse my irritation with acknowledgement of some detail that has value, and for which I am sincerely grateful. (Example: the rent on our storage unit has gone up, again, and I’m annoyed to have to move all that stuff to somewhere more affordable… And I’m grateful to have many local options to choose from, even on short notice, making it feasible.)

I sigh a bit impatiently. I am legitimately annoyed to have to do a storage move on a tight budget right before the fucking holidays. There really are other (better) things I could be doing with my time, effort, and resources, but greed doesn’t take holidays – it exploits them. I inhale the fresh morning air, filling my lungs, and exhale slowly, letting my irritation go with my breath. Better. Circumstances are what they are, and we make the best decisions we can to deal with them.

Daybreak comes. The sound of HVAC units on top of buildings some distance away mingles with the sound of my tinnitus until I’m no longer certain which I’m listening to. It is a new day, full of new possibilities and opportunities, and new chances to make doing my best a little better than it was yesterday.

… I guess it’s time to get started on that new beginning. I look down the path as a sprinkling of rain begins to fall. I smile to myself in the darkness, and begin again.