Archives for posts with tag: being and becoming

On a whim, yesterday, I put aside my doubts and concerns and hit the trail for a few hours. I definitely needed that. I arrived home tired, feet aching, and feeling renewed, and more “aware of myself” in some hard to describe way. It was a good day for it, and I found the deep feeling of peace and contentment I was yearning for. This too shall pass. 😉

Today has not yet begun, and there’s little to say about it at this point; my coffee is terrible. Yep. I wasn’t really awake, muddling around clumsily. This carelessly made cup of coffee is both bitter and insipid…but it’s hot, it’s got some caffeine in it, I made it for myself, and there’s no one here to impress. I sip it slowly (it’s still quite hot), unconcerned about those other details. I… just don’t actually care this morning that this particular cup of coffee is pretty awful; I made it for myself, and I’m appreciative that I have it now. 🙂

I am struck by a question; do I treat myself better when I hike regularly? I think over yesterday’s journey.

Bees enjoy roses also.

Bees enjoy roses.

I began at the rose garden, picnic lunch in my daypack. I got a later than usual start and the idea of having my lunch among the roses sounded lovely. It wasn’t really… it was crowded with tourists there, even on a weekday. I shared a shaded bench with an elder traveling from afar. We talked of roses, gardens, grandchildren, sunny days, and love.

Roses love sunshine.

Tourists also enjoy roses.

I wasn’t looking for company, and when I’d finished lunch I offered my well-wishes to the human being sharing the bench with me and continued on my way, seeking… something. At that point, I didn’t have something specific in mind.

I set off through the trees.

I set off through the trees.

My frustration followed me up the trail at first, in the form of inescapable children’s laughter from the playground area I’d passed by. As the trail became steeper, and wound away from the sounds of the road nearby and the playground now in the distance, the world grew quieter.

What am I seeking? Does it determine what I am able to find?

What am I seeking? Does it determine what I am able to find?

I kept walking, having fairly quickly reached a seeming ‘the way out is through’ location on the trail. I took fewer pictures than I often do; this one was for me, in that moment, and savoring it was urgently more needed than saving it for later. I listen to myself silently bitch awhile… about the weight I’d gained and haven’t lost, about my feet aching, about the distant sound of traffic (barely audible at that point), about feeling reluctant to return to the work force, about how much harder a steep hike is than I’d like – I was really working at this one!! Then, I really heard me. I stopped at a likely looking log suitable for sitting, and I took some time for that, too.

I’d reached a point in the journey well-suited for stillness. Quite a luxury – no sound of voices, no sound of traffic, and having stopped walking, even the sound of footsteps and self faded from memory. No clock, no timer, no agenda, just one quiet moment to embrace stillness under the trees. I had “arrived”.

Enlightened

Bathed in light, wrapped in stillness. Walking on.

Some time later I resume hiking the trail, considering myself more or less ‘half way’ – since I had “arrived” at a “destination”. It was a lovely day for it, neither too hot nor too cold, and no hint of rain to muddy the trail.

I walked on, contemplating emotions, thoughts, the nature of those things, how they work with or against each other, and in what context. I thought about how much effort so many of us put into forcing ourselves – or others – into tiny well-defined boxes of characteristics, almost insisting that if a being has any one of them, that being must therefore have all those that we have associated with it. We make ourselves crazy forcing our expectations and assumptions on one another. Silly monkeys, we’ve so much room to grow, to live more skillfully, with more heart… “I’ll get right on that” I assure myself, and smiling, I walk on.

That looks painful...

That looks painful…

I walk past a tall tree with a spectacular wound, its lifeblood flowing down to the ground, without visible motion, timeless, enduring. I wonder if that hurts? I can’t imagine having such a wound and not being in pain. I think about how we treat each other, as if our wounds don’t pain us, as if we are not suffering together. I stand in silent gratitude for the lesson, and feel that immense sense of age and wisdom, grand experience, mighty tolerance and perspective that I so often feel present, deep in some forest. Small stuff seems pretty small out here. “What are they thinking?” I wonder – I always wonder.

There's further to go.

There’s further to go.

I walk on. I walked a good while, actually, covering about 3.5 miles of decently steep well-maintained trails. Once I entered the Hoyt Arboretum, I enjoyed winding around from this trail to that one without much attention to my map, enjoying short bits of trail through distinctive groves. I was alone throughout, without even passing others on the trail, until I got quite near to the end point of my hike, at the light rail station.

I stood waiting for the train, content and still quite alone, enjoying the stillness that seemed to so completely ‘belong to me’, a sort of distillation of satisfaction, contentment, and ease that felt rather similar to post-coital bliss in some way that I found mildly unsettling, and therefore also somewhat amusing. More than “okay right now” – I even felt “happy”. 🙂

There were verbs involved... some that needed doing, some that needed to be discontinued.

There were verbs involved… some that needed doing, some that needed to be discontinued.

I wonder if I’ve learned anything? I wonder what today holds? I wonder if my second cup of coffee will be better – and I wonder if I’ll care if it isn’t? Today is a good day for wonder. 😉

I woke feeling strangely out-of-sorts, not quite cross, but not feeling buoyant, merry, or joyful. I rested well. I even slept in and woke some time after the sun was heaving himself into the sky again. My coffee tastes good, and for the moment I am not in any noteworthy amount of pain. I feel subdued, nonetheless, and not as enticed by the prospect of the morning as I have generally grown to be. I can’t quite force an understanding smile, though the intent to have one is there…

My traveling partner arrived last night later than he often does. It’s been a busy week, and he’s got busy days to come, in preparation for an upcoming festival. It’s still days away, and it’s likely we’ll see each other once or twice before he departs. He’s busy getting ahead on work in order to vacation comfortably and he made the choice to return home at the end of the evening, rather than stay over with me. There’s no stress in that, no aggravation, no sense that I am in any way less important to him – but I miss him on this sunny Friday morning. There’s something about sharing our morning coffee that isn’t like any other moment.

I’m not yet entirely awake. I sat down to write first, because missing my traveling partner had overcome me, before I woke. My routines broke with my implicit expectations. I sip my coffee and wonder about the day… the song in my head isn’t a sunny one…but it is one that I strongly associate with a tender moment with my traveling partner, wrapped in love. I put it on the stereo (the only way I know to vanquish a musical “earworm” is to play the song) and let the tears come – and they do. They aren’t hateful, contemptible, bad, wrong, or weak, they’re just tears; they are a sign that I feel. I totally do. This morning I feel love – just more of it than I can contain.

Tangentially, isn’t it strange how powerful music is? I can sometimes change my mood – a lot – by changing the music I am listening to. So, I try a little of this and a little of that, and watch the sun continue to rise. It’s a new day. It feels good to begin again. 🙂

IMAG8161

This has been, so far, a very complicated weekend, emotionally. That’s neither good news, nor bad, it’s just damned peculiar and quite unexpected, although each time some challenge is met and passes by I find myself thinking “how could it not be so, all things considered?”  It’s quite uncomfortable nonetheless. Some of the difficulties that have come up [for me] have been catalyzed by my traveling partner’s presence, which is just… so not okay with me. Other difficult moments have been dropped on my experience by OPD (Other People’s Drama), which could be avoidable, when I see it coming. In all cases, it’s been incredibly precious to have my traveling partner here for support, encouragement, and love. Even the difficult bits that were more to do with him than not are significantly eased by his presence, although I am not easily able to appreciate it fully in some emotional moments. I’m glad he’s here.

Sharing the journey can help me navigate obstacles more easily.

Sharing the journey can help me navigate obstacles more easily.

It’s clear, after a couple days dealing with me, that I’ve “hit a bad patch of road” on this journey, and my partner is my lover, my friend, my ally, my buddy, my confidante… but one thing he is not? He’s not my therapist. He suggests, and I agree, that it’s a good time to make an appointment with my therapist to discuss some of life’s recent… “inclement weather”.

Yesterday, quite unexpectedly, a Facebook friend (and long-time historical associate, someone who once resided in my home briefly), unloaded a quantity of emotional poison in the comment(s) on a post. The post was an innocuous seeming political post – I’ve been working on taking a more positive approach, instead of locking step with alarmist negative campaigning and media frenzy – and I wasn’t actually expecting anything from it (no likes, comments, views); I seriously expected it would be disregarded in the storm of shock-value headlines being shared, and angry rants about what isn’t okay today. Instead, someone I have long considered quite dear to me – a friend – just went off on me in an angry verbal outburst that crossed over to multiple threads, took many comments to write, and was just… It was the verbal equivalent of assault, and I definitely felt attacked. Viciously. Over a positive Facebook post supporting a presidential candidate. Ugly stuff – the sort of things that end up making the news because women deal with so much of it on the internet. I haven’t had to wade through much of that kind of thing – this time it came from someone I thought a friend. I was immediately overcome with horror, sadness, panic, fear; my PTSD flared up hardcore. It happened on the way to the farmer’s market. It could have gone very badly indeed. It wasn’t pleasant as it was.

My path is mine to choose.

My path is mine to choose.

I did my best not to panic. I read enough to recognize, appreciate, and deal with the practical matters; I deleted the comments, first (don’t leave spoiled poison on food prep surfaces). Threats, crazed hateful accusations, intimidation… this is not the sort of stuff that ought be left lying around Facebook where people could be hurt by it. I blocked this person who had once been dear to me; it isn’t in my best interests to excuse, tolerate, or justify someone’s ill treatment of me, or to permit it to continue. I was still in shock, shaken and frightened. PTSD is a bad-ass, and doesn’t back down easily. I finished my shopping with little enthusiasm, and headed for the safety of home. On the way, I logged into each social media account I have, of all types, and blocked the person who attacked me. Mistreatment is a very good reason to end a friendship.

I got home and sought space and isolation, seeking emotional safety. My traveling partner and another friend were hanging out, and when I attempted to excuse myself, asked me gently to share, instead, and be supported. I did. I didn’t expect much; men don’t deal with some of this sort of thing as much, or in the same way, or as often on the internet – their haters use different language, or maybe it reaches them differently, or… no, hell, that just sounds sexist. The simplest truth, I felt wounded and alone, and I didn’t expect anyone would really understand, and that I’d be told to ‘get over it’ and ‘move on’, and told to minimize the impact, or calm myself without regard to my actual experience. I was so wrong! My partner and my friend listened, looking angry and appalled, using words as first aid to help me past the worst of it. I cried. I let my hurts be soothed. It was very human, humane, kind, compassionate, loving – the sort of thing one expects from friends.

My traveling partner is right, though; in the space of such a short time, to hear from exes, to deal with internet haters and trolls, to ride out life’s storms in a dingy is a lot of work, and I could likely use a bit more help. I “need an oar” with which to row; it’s time to make an appointment with my therapist. My emotional experience, at least lately, is sufficiently volatile to evoke a question about hormones from my partner at one point; it’s an easy answer to “what the fuck?”, before menopause. There’s no shame in needing medical help, and having both a TBI and PTSD I am well aware that mental health care is “medical” in nature… so it’s off to the appropriate doctor I go. 🙂

It’s been quite wonderful to share the weekend with my traveling partner. To need him emotionally in some dark moment and actually have him right here is powerful. To want his company, and enjoy it without crossing town, is a treat. The pleasant moments have been by far the most plentiful. I try not to deal with myself overly harshly that I am so human, having made that remarkably clear this weekend with my difficulty managing my emotional life skillfully. I pause to really appreciate my traveling partner’s insight, and new awareness that I’ve been treating myself poorly on a couple points – it isn’t necessary, nor an accurate reflection of “what it is”. Attachment issues again? Oh yeah. So human. 🙂

Today starts well – most days do, actually, regardless what direction they go from there. I haven’t had enough sleep, and the sleep I got was restless and disturbed. I’ll probably crash early tonight, sometime after my traveling partner departs. Maybe not. I thought I was both tired and sleepy last night when I went to bed; I laid awake well past midnight, and woke at 4 am. I managed a nap until not-quite-six. The morning is cool and overcast. My head aches. I’ve no idea where the day will take me…but I know I am my own cartographer, having my own experience. I know I am not alone. 🙂

I didn’t sleep well, and woke too early. I feel generally okay, and it was nice to open up the patio door, and do my ‘sunrise yoga’ as the sun actually rose. I make a point of acknowledging and embracing gains in strength, flexibility, and overall fitness, hoping to limit the discouragement that can so easily creep in when progress feels so slow.

Begin again.

Begin again.

I’ll admit I face the new day earnestly reaching for a new beginning; the evening ending awkwardly, after some difficult moments there toward the end of the evening. I won’t berate myself and insist it was “all me”, that would be inaccurate, although perhaps in many circumstances involving my emotions, it likely wasn’t a 50-50 thing. I tend to keep a tight grip [too tight?] on my emotions when my traveling partner is with me… It’s not a value add, at this point, and I don’t do myself any favors to keep it up… but we so easily find ourselves mired in my bullshit, even now, over some momentary shitstorm of strong emotion that it’s more than tempting to try to ‘keep things in check’ minute to minute, and it’s not really something that works. I probably don’t have to explain that trying to hold back emotions by force of will has a pretty common outcome of unexpectedly strong emotions spilling all over the damned place, spreading across small issues, creating large issues, complicating communication; the signal quickly becomes the noise.  When my TBI-related challenges cross paths with my PTSD symptoms… well… it’s not pretty, and I’m frankly not at my best, and it is a thing that has everything in the world to do with me living alone. I don’t know how else to ‘protect’ the people I love most, but of course… there’s this. What a fucked up mess.

Love matters most.

Love matters most.

We found our way, more or less, by the time I made my way to bed. My partner moved the fan into a window, and tweaked things to keep air moving during the night, and ensured the apartment was secure. I didn’t have to ask, and it’s lovely to be able to count on him for small things that feel urgently important to me (whether they are important ‘in real life’ or not).

My restless night didn’t continue to distress me after I woke, and my “nightmares” weren’t terrifying; it was just my brain finishing up the day’s processing, reconsidering this and that, and shoving new information into long-term storage, I guess. No noteworthy content. I woke to birdsong, and a small amount of lingering bitterness that I suck so hard at managing my issues in the company of a human being with whom [for me] it matters most to do so.  I’m frustrated with myself. I’ll keep practicing. I’ll keep taking care of me. I’ll keep learning more about loving well. Then… I’ll keep right on being quite human. Awkward.

Anyway – the weekend is here. I get a fresh start with each new dawn. There’s nothing on my calendar for the weekend except love and loving. Today is a good day to dust off The Four Agreements, and begin again. 🙂

Stick with the basics - it's a great place to start.

Stick with the basics – it’s a great place to start.

Yesterday, in the heat of late afternoon, I took a dip in the pool. Not a big deal; some people swim every day. I went to the pool to beat the heat and the smooth clear surface looked so refreshing… and still. The pool was entirely empty. I looked at the sign on the fence “Do Not Swim Alone”. That’s good practical advice… and on some other day I might have trudged back to my apartment and postponed my dip in the pool for another day. Yesterday, I disregarded the sign – after making eye contact with the landlady on her patio, who smiled and waved a ‘go ahead’ my way. Well… second best, I supposed, someone knows I’m here.

Some people jump into a swimming pool. Some people wade in slowly. Some people only wade. Some people swim quite well, with good attention to form. Some people are splashers. Some people just drift lazily by on rafts or tubes. I happen to be the sort who wades in slowly, and enjoys the water fairly gently. I am cautious about joining in water games, and don’t prefer to be dunked “playfully”. Chaos and damage, even in the pool. Yesterday, though, there was no one there but me. No one to tease, or nag, or splash me, just me – surrounded by cool clear water, and blue sky over head. I stepped into the water, and slowly walked deeper, feeling the water rise around me, cooling me. I continued to slowly step deeper, until I was poised on my toes, swaying with the current of the filtration, and my own movement, water lapping at my chin. I was refreshed, cooled, and buoyed, rocking and swaying, effortless, weightless… it was quite lovely and peaceful. I paddled several times from one end to the other – no one giving me crap over preferring to keep my face from actually being under water. (I can’t breathe it, so I’d prefer generally not to be immersed entirely in it, just saying.) I floated endlessly, on my back, watching the sky turn. Confident in my buoyancy, just floating. I watched the ripples shift and change in the pool as I moved through the water. I watched the lattice of light and shape on the bottom of the pool shift and rearrange itself. Eventually, completely cooled down and refreshed, I returned home.

I’ve not had the chance to just utterly relax and enjoy a swimming pool entirely to myself before. It was lovely. So relaxed and peaceful. I’m definitely going to do that again – and the result of doing so once is that I feel considerably less hesitant to use the pool, generally, and less reluctant to enjoy it ‘my way’.

Tonight is ‘date night’… perhaps my traveling partner would enjoy beating the heat of late afternoon in the pool with me? (No pool where he lives.) That could be fun. Ah, but if he doesn’t care to do so, it isn’t going to stop me going back some other day, another time, and whiling away more of the summer heat in the cool blue water under hot blue sky. 🙂

Beginning again.

Beginning again.

Sometimes, the things that seem most healing in the moment are not very fancy at all. 🙂 Today is a good day to enjoy summer. Today is a good day to “be like water“. Today is a good day to float.