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Taking Care

December 17, 2025 //
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Tedium warning: this is mostly me bitching about being sick.

I ended the day yesterday feeling unwell, with a nagging irritated tickle in the back of my throat. ‘Tis the season, indeed. This won’t be the first time I’m sick near Giftmas. A lot of people are down with something, a cold, the flu, RSV, strep, measles, and yeah, COVID. Hell, norovirus is going around, too. It’s likely that the more we expose ourselves to people who are ill, or contagious, as we shop, and interact, the greater the chance of becoming sick. (This is especially true as the percentage of the population that is effectively vaccinated continues to decline – for fucks’ sake y’all, get your fucking shots.)

… Take care of yourself…

I woke during the night to a power outage. My CPAP machine shut off, which woke me. It took a moment to recognize that the deep unrelenting darkness was a power outage. I got up and called to report it, and dropped a note in the family chat. My Traveling Partner woke, as I was trying to remember where the small backup power supply for my CPAP machine was, and he retrieved it from wherever it was and gave it to me. I went back to bed. I sleep a lot when I’m ill.

The power came back at 05:00. I woke to all the lights in the house blazing – that’s the result when power is restored after an interruption. I got up and began turning them off, and went back to bed, again, after leaving my boss a note that I’m sick and taking the day.

… Take care of yourself…

I woke later, thinking maybe I felt better, only I was also feeling crazy overheated, and as soon as I sat up, I started coughing. I dressed and quickly left. No point waking everyone else with my coughing, and the fresh cool air outside was calling me. I got to the nearby trail I favor. Trees down all over. Access is blocked. Workers are putting up caution tape. I’m not actually well enough for trail walking anyway, I just didn’t want to start the morning coughing my fucking head off and waking the whole house with it. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and sort of fell back on long habit. I’m okay with that. The cooler outside air feels refreshing.

After the storm, the damage is done and the clean up begins.

I picked up a hot coffee on my way to the trail. It’s soothing on my throat. I take my medication and cold remedies for my symptoms. It’s not a particularly cold morning, and I’m comfortable for most values of “comfort”. I use up two entire packs of travel tissues, while I sip my coffee and marvel at the blue sky overhead. “This too will pass,” I mutter softly, eyeing the heavy gray storm clouds approaching on the horizon. This stupid cold or whatever is already moving into my chest. A coughing fit catches me by surprise and for a moment I struggle to breathe. ‘Tis the season. I chuckle to myself, in spite of the unpleasantness of being ill. I think about the work I’m definitely not getting done today. The plan is not the experience. I sigh and let that go.  I’ve got to “put my own oxygen mask on first” and take care of myself.

Ah, the holiday season! We stress ourselves out trying to create more delight from fewer resources, hustle and grind through year-end sprints and work that finally just has to be completed, and the resulting fatigue makes us more vulnerable to whatever passing pathogen happens to settle in to set up housekeeping in these fragile mortal meat sacks. I guess I’m saying…

… Take care of yourself…

… and happy holidays? 😆

I’ll finish this coffee, then return home and go back to bed. What was I even thinking leaving the house in the first place?! Today, I’ll just take care of myself. Tomorrow, I’ll begin again.

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Categories anhedonia, autumn, breathe, Free Will, health, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, The Art of Being, winter, women, Words

5:15 on a Saturday

December 13, 2025 //
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A noise woke me. It might have been a noise I made myself. It wasn’t loud, just some quiet but audible knock or clunk or bang, like something small had fallen to the floor. I got up and dressed after checking the time, and got the day started as quietly as I could.

“This is more like it,” I think as I walk a familiar trail in the darkness. It is 05:15. The scent of the air, the dark silhouettes of the trees against the cloudy sky illuminated by the suburban lights below, this is not San Francisco, nor any other notable urban place. This is home. This is Oregon wine country. The pace is slower here, and I’m grateful. Walking the city sidewalks before dawn in a big city may not even be safe, depending where I am. I feel safe here on this familiar trail. I never felt unsafe walking in San Francisco, but I also didn’t find any opportunity for peace, balance, or meditation on those walks, nor any solitude, really. There was always some traffic, and other people also walking (or standing, sitting, even sleeping in doorways).

….It feels good to be back. To be home.

My homecoming was delightful. There was a hot meal waiting for me. The house was quite tidy. The newest episode of South Park was available, and we watched it together as a family. The laundry (other than my own) was done, and only needs folding. The household felt peaceful and harmonious. In spite of travel fatigue, I stayed up a bit later than usual, enjoying my Traveling Partner’s company. He welcomed me with loving words and kisses, and a useful and beautiful box he made for me. While I was away, the Anxious Adventurer brought my art home from storage to be more safely stored at home. Working together, they even found suitable placement for the rolling cabinets that store many of my smaller pieces. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fond and warm welcome after being away from home, in any relationship. I feel really cared for. I feel appreciated, understood, and respected.

I walked smiling, slowed down by a slight limp; my left foot is very sore for some reason, as if the bottom of my heal were bruised, and my spine is stiff with arthritis. I laugh when I think, momentarily, how this must “age me”, but I’ve had the arthritis since I was 26, and the messed up left foot and ankle since I was about 33, hardly a youngster, but certainly not “old”. (Barely “older”.) I’m smiling because I feel joyful and appreciated, and for now the pain is inconsequential. It doesn’t matter. I do get to my halfway point relieved to pause and sit awhile, grateful for the mild dry morning.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I slept well, and feel rested, although it was a short night. I generally retire much earlier, because my body (or mind) reliably wakes me very early (either long practiced habit, or sleep difficulties, it’s hard to be certain which, sometimes). The result of my “late night” is that I only got about five and a half hours of sleep last night. I’m grateful that it feels like enough, this morning. I sigh contentedly, at the recollection that I’ll be showering in my own shower this morning. I didn’t realize how much I am looking forward to that.

My paycheck hits my bank account a couple days early, a quirk of timing. The notification ping is my first communication with the world, this morning. In Trump’s fucked up terrible economy, it really makes a difference though, especially so close to Giftmas. I feel something I hope doesn’t become a feature of future holidays; relief. I wonder for a moment how often my parents may have faced Giftmas knowing three little girls eagerly awaited a visit from Santa Claus, dreading the knowledge they might have to choose between a little girl’s happiness and paying some bill? I didn’t understand then what goes into Giftmas magic. I do now, and my heart fills with gratitude and love and warm regards; they may not have been fantastic human beings, or great parents, but g’damn did they understand Giftmas.

I sit with my thoughts and my contentment and merriment. I’m grateful to see another Giftmas. I’m grateful for each chance to begin again.

I get to my feet to finish my walk in the stillness, as daybreak comes. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, women, Words

In the Evening

December 11, 2025 //
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I’m unwinding after the office party. It is evening. I didn’t drink much (1 Sapphire and tonic, not as good as the ones my Traveling Partner occasionally makes for me), and I limited my calories and made healthy choices. I played ping pong with colleagues, and enjoyed some lively conversations. As company parties go, probably the only one I’ve really enjoyed. Ever. Making good choices was definitely part of that. The good company and the venue both also played a part. A pleasant evening out… that lasted too long.

… I’m tired…

… My feet ache, my head aches, and my tinnitus is almost deafening (noisy venue)…

S’ok. I’m fine, just tired. Tomorrow, immediately after the company All Hands, I will get into an Uber or taxi and head to the airport, homeward bound. I miss my Traveling Partner, and I’m ready to go home. Good trip, productive, although peculiar inasmuch as I simultaneously feel that I got a lot done, and also that I got nothing done. Pretty funny. Very strange.

I sit quietly after a hot shower, just relaxing and thinking my thoughts. I could watch a video…or the TV…or read a book… but I just sit quietly, listening to the heat click on and off keeping the temperature a comfortable 73 degrees F (22.7 C). Time passes. My mind idles. I’m not waiting on anything, and I don’t feel anxious or stressed. I’m just being. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Bedtime soon, meditation first. Begin again, tomorrow.

I yawn, and notice a broken nail. Inconsequential, unless it becomes a temptation to tear at my hands. I clip my nails short, and file them smooth. Better. I sigh to myself and turn the thermostat down a bit for comfortable sleep, and stretch. I put devices on chargers, and turn off lights. Sleep now…new beginning tomorrow. It’s enough.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, women, Words

All This Rain

December 9, 2025 //
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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.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Friction

December 7, 2025 //
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The first hints of daybreak touch the sky as the rain starts again. I waited out the darkness, after getting to the trailhead early (so early). It was raining, then, and may be raining when I finally start walking. I don’t know. It’s not the most important detail.

Daybreak on a rainy autumn morning.

My mind is cluttered and full of chaos. I half-woke ridiculously early, to the sound of my aggravated Traveling Partner swearing about something (probably about being awake). Some brief time later, (minutes or seconds, I don’t know), he specifically wakes me to check on me. I get up to pee, just to be certain I could just go back to sleep and not have biology waking me prematurely in another hour or two. The next couple of hours pass restlessly; I’d fall asleep, be wakened by some noise or other, and drop off again. At some point I remember beginning, finally, to sink into a really deep sleep. “At last,” I remember thinking contentedly, “sleep. Real sleep.” I woke again, when my Traveling Partner went back to bed. Fuck. I knew I wouldn’t go back to sleep, even as tired as I was. I could feel my brain getting going, preparing for a new day, and I was suddenly aware of an owl hooting loudly somewhere nearby. G’damn it. I went ahead and got up, dressed, and left the house.

… How the absolute fuck is my sleep this g’damned bad even after all these years and so much careful practice, good sleep hygiene, treating my apnea, adding a  noise masking device to my sleep space… Part of me wants to be really angry about this – but part of me recognizes that the anger itself only further impairs healthy rest (for me). I let it go, but resolve to ask my beloved to please just not wake me when I’m sleeping unless there is some emergency. I’ve got to get some fucking sleep (and I know he understands, as someone with sleep challenges, himself). I rarely have the opportunity to go back to bed later on, and get that lost rest. Working a full-time corporate job really limits that potential.

This morning I’m very tired, my head aches, and my eyes feel gritty. I have errands to run, and a business trip to prepare for.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The morning is a bleak foreboding gray. I listen to the geese overhead, and the tinnitus in my ears. This morning the tinnitus is so annoying that if I thought pithing myself with an ice pick might be helpful in a practical way, I’d probably do it. (Do not do that!!) My tinnitus definitely gets worse and louder over time as I lose sleep. I remind myself that tonight is another night, tomorrow another day; this will pass.

I sip the hot (now only warm) coffee I picked up at the gas station on my way out of town after filling the gas tank. It’s a genuinely bad cup of coffee, acidic and somehow vaguely sludgy. It’s still coffee. Who the hell knows how long real coffee will still even be available? Instead of pouring it out wastefully because it’s terrible, I sip it slowly, letting the caffeine (and the ritual of morning coffee) do its work. I stay in the moment, present, aware, sipping this coffee and appreciating that I have it. Dawn comes. A new day. I’m cross and tired and vexed by physical pain. I look down the trail irritably, aware that I’ll likely feel better on the other side of my walk, in spite of the lack of sleep, and I’m stupidly also managing to be annoyed about that (which just makes no damned sense).

… I try not to dwell on this fucking headache or my arthritis pain…

I look back over my writing, checking for spelling mistakes and incoherence. (Huh. I bitch too much.) I sigh to myself, impatient with my very human limitations. I stretch and grab my cane and my rain poncho. All I can do is my best, and that path begins right here, now, in this moment. It’s time to begin again, again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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