What a beautiful morning to wake up to, plump stockings laid carefully on favorite seats, the tree lit and merrily keeping watch over the wrapped gifts, stacked to look plentiful in a season of limited resources. I even slept in! (Though I am still first to wake, somehow.)
… I don’t recall that I’ve ever slept in on Giftmas morning…
The rest of the house still sleeps. I put on soft holiday jazz, and make a cup of coffee. I look out on the morning…gray and rainy looking, here. I open the door and breathe the cool fresh air.
“…we wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy new year…” I smile listening to the music. An unhurried, relaxed Giftmas morning? Wow. It’s like a gift all its own.
Later, things will be busy with unwrapping gifts and sharing oohs and ahs of appreciation and delight, then, later still, family phone calls, brunch… and dishes. 😆 I’m not bitching; all the things we want most to enjoy require something of us in return. “You gotta pay for your thrills,” an old friend long ago used to tell me (and I miss you still, Trouble.). I know there are definitely verbs involved – and choices.
I sit with the quiet, joyful and content with the moment just as it is. I can begin again later.
…May be an obstacle. Sometimes it’s a matter of perspective and expectations.
I’m sitting quietly in my meditation/studio/office space, which also serves as my “anything specifically me” space, and has a comfortable couch well-suited to sleeping, napping, reading, and meditation along one wall, my work desk on the opposite wall filling the space from the door to the corner. I’ve got the lights dimmed. I’ve got noise-cancelling headsets on, set to “quiet”, and no music playing. Just quiet. All around me, little things my beloved Traveling Partner has made for me, built for me, done for me, suggested to me – that’s a lot of love in this small room. Even the “do not disturb” sign presently hanging from the door knob as a cautionary suggestion was made for me by my Traveling Partner.
…This afternoon, I am “enjoying” a rare hour home alone by “dealing with” my PTSD. Not what I had planned, for sure, but it is the set of circumstances in front of me. Maddening – and thus, I am soothing myself through the madness. So far, so good. (The solitude is helpful for me – well-timed – I am most successful at managing my symptoms and nudging myself back to a grounded emotional place if I am not also having to interact with other people.) The muffled quiet and the heavy embrace of the headphones feels comforting, like a boundary being respected. I breathe, exhale, and relax – well, I make the attempt. It’s going to take some practice. My shallow breathing, tight chest, and trembling begin to diminish a little at a time, breath by breath. Progress. I keep practicing. Meditation works pretty reliably for me.
(Before I begin writing, I split my display into two windows, and keep messages open in case someone needs to reach me, this only works because I’m in an environment where boundaries are generally respected with care. I’m not trying to be hurtful by stepping away, just taking care of myself.)
In 2013, a similar situation might have resulted in a major emotional meltdown, yelling, tears, hysterical rage, finishing with some sort of physical collapse, often followed by succumbing to illness and not being able to bounce back emotionally for days or weeks. I lacked emotional resilience (that’s putting it very gently!). My PTSD and my anxiety were out of control. I teetered on a precipice and got a lucky break when one more attempt at seeking therapy finally paid off in new tools, and real improvements. That’s not the point though, the point is – I’m still me. I’ve got some “issues”. I manage them better than I’ve ever done before, and it has been a worthy journey. Therapy, treatment, for some mental or emotional issues (or even for some physical ailments or injuries) isn’t going to be 100% a “cure”, or fix that fixes everything in some permanent way. Results vary. Years of trauma often don’t have a reliable permanent “fix”, at all; those experiences change the way we’re wired. For some people, that’s exceedingly hard to change for the better, in adulthood. We do become what we practice, though, and given better tools and more effective practices, it has been possible to get pretty fucking close to “fixed”, and that’s amazing. It’s also something I recognize as feeling like it “isn’t enough”, now and then, when I find myself fighting my demons in the darkness, again, or fall through some thinking hole when I’m fatigued beyond my capacity to reason, or get triggered by a circumstance (or someone dear to me who would never do me an intentional injury). That’s hard. It’s also only an emotion, and potentially unreliable. Today? Today I’m just dealing with my bullshit. I’m okay for most values of “okay”, just super irritable and doing my best not to let that reach beyond this room.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m okay. Moments are fleeting. Perhaps the next will be much better, filled with joy and laughter and love? I’m open to that. It’s time to begin again.
When I originally planned my holiday time, it was with consideration of being new in my role, leading a team through a very busy season, and expecting I might still be scrambling to finish some holiday task or another. As it has turned out, my team is stronger than I knew and capable of getting the job done when I’m unavailable. I’m also finished with the holiday preparation. I don’t really need “more time”, but I did get quite sick after I returned from traveling for work. Turns out my plan to work half days this week (and taking the Eve and Giftmas Day off entirely) is a much appreciated adjustment to my work schedule as I get over being ill. Convenient.
Yesterday after work I focused on self-care. I feel a bit more better this morning than yesterday morning. The first thing in the morning congestion and coughing didn’t last as long, and my sinuses required fewer tissues. Small win, but still worth appreciating. I’ve got another short day today… for which I am deeply grateful. I may not actually have an entire work shift in me, quite yet. I am at least able to get a walk, and add a mile or two on these boots before the work day begins. The walking seems to help clear the congestion in my lungs.
The morning is another mild one. It rained more during the night, but for now the cloudy sky is only that. The trail is dotted with puddles. Slippery leaves are scattered here and there. I walk carefully, with my cane keeping me steady. I breathe – as deeply as I am able – filling my lungs with the rain-fresh “winter” air of the Pacific Northwest. Everything smells clean and fresh and healthy. Holiday lights on apartment balconies shine through the trees from across the creek that meanders past this section of the trail. The morning is quiet and dark. Daybreak won’t come for another hour.
“Morning! Coming up on your left!” I hear, behind me, the voice of a stranger. Another walker – the older gentleman I spotted a few mornings ago. “Nice morning for it,” I reply as he approaches and begins to pass me. “I hope I didn’t startle you, Miss, I tried not to.” He sounds friendly and not at all threatening. We walk abreast momentarily. He shares that he’s seen me walking in the mornings and admits that it inspired him to walk more.
Turns out he’s the night security guy for the construction site on the other side of the parking lot, and began getting a walk in at the end of his shift, on this trail so convenient to the job site. He wishes me a good morning as he walks on ahead (at a faster pace on longer legs). I return his well wishes, grateful to have my solitude returned, and appreciative of a stranger’s consideration. Nonetheless, as I walk I feel for the knife in my pocket, and move it to my left hand, keeping my sturdy trekking pole in my right hand for balance. Oh, I’m not any sort of intimidating character or threat, nor am I inclined towards violence, but I’d take advantage of a lifetime of suppressed ancient rage to make an attacker rethink their life choices by defending myself, in order to enjoy another mortal day in the arms of my beloved Traveling Partner.
My hyper-vigilance is aroused by this passing stranger in the darkness, which seems unsurprising. I don’t take it too seriously; I’ve come a long way over the years, and this won’t wreck my day. It barely qualifies as “triggered”, and mostly seems useful, reasonable, and manageable. I keep walking, until I reach my halfway point and stop for a moment, to meditate and write.
Even in the darkness, sometimes there is light.
The sky has a familiar faint glow of the light of human communities reflecting back from the clouds overhead. I enjoy the silhouettes of trees and buildings and partially defined shapes of things that seem less obvious. I sit with the quiet, breathing, exhaling, relaxing, and filling up on the feeling of peace and stillness of the moment. I enjoy the feeling of being free to take my time. I enjoy feeling unrushed, unharried, and unbothered.
… Happy Holidays, however you celebrate the season…
I smile, remembering that I need to pick up a holiday pie, later this morning (then find myself wondering if I’m supposed to pick it up tomorrow… and suddenly wonder what day it even is? (Then double-check the date). I chuckle to myself. A human being, being human. A soft sprinkling of rain begins to fall. Predictable. No surprise in rain falling here, this time of year. I pull my folded rain poncho from my pocket, where I had shoved it as I got out of the car “just in case”, and put it on. The rain stops. I’m grateful to be prepared.
A small herd of deer steps shyly from the trees and walks across the trail into the grass at the edge of the vineyard, a short distance away. They are aware of me, but don’t seem concerned. I watch them. They watch me. When the rain begins again, I stand and stretch, and the deer walk away slowly, down the grassy strip along the path, before veering more deeply into the vineyard. I turn the other direction, looking down the trail towards the too-bright lights of the construction site around which the trail eventually wraps. (I wonder how this trail will change after that hotel is finished?)
I sigh quietly, contentedly, breathing the damp winter air, grateful for the mild morning. I enjoy these moments… and it is time to begin again. There are more, other, moments to enjoy… further down the path.
I woke too early, but there was no going back to sleep. I’m feeling generally some better, after being ill almost a week now. By afternoon I’m likely to be thinking I feel much better, but another morning will come around, and I’ll be feeling much worse… again. That’s how it’s been so far with this sickness. I feel worse first thing, better later with considerable self-care. I sigh to myself which sets off a coughing fit.
I am better, enough to walk a mile or so of this trail on this chilly, damp morning, if slowly. It is winter now, and a mild one so far, which seems fortunate. I welcome the rain. I’m glad the days aren’t freezing cold. I sip hot coffee and wait for daybreak. It is a work day, but I’m on half days this week, if I can keep up with the workload on those minimal hours. I’ll be off on Wednesday and Thursday for the Giftmas holiday.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The weekend was restful, mostly focused on whatever housekeeping essentials I could do, and on getting well. At this point, I definitely have some regrets about traveling for work in December. It seems like a pretty stupid idea looking back, but at the time it seemed… fine. The plan is not the experience. I remind myself of errands I’ve agreed to run today, later. My thoughts are fragmented and chaotic, each cough or sneeze becoming a distraction. I will do my best with the day ahead of me.
I sit with my thoughts awhile, waiting for the sun. There is no hurry. There is only this moment. I let that be enough.
My stuffy sinuses and foggy head distract me from noticing an actual fog developing over minutes, seeming to well up from the nearby creek bed, and gathering in the vineyard, before beginning to obscure the trail. It happens quickly, and now it is quite a foggy winter morning, though not a particularly cold one, just foggy and damp. Low hanging storm clouds on the western horizon are a luminous pale faintly orange-y glow, lit by the lights of neighborhoods below, with nearby trees silhouetted darkly against that strangely bright sky. I sip my still-hot coffee, contentedly. Sure, I’m sick, but it could be worse.
Above the clouds, the sky is clear and starry. I sit gazing on one particular bright star in the northern sky, wondering what it is. A quick lookup suggests it may be Capella, which is not ideally useful information; I know nothing about any star by that name. Having a name for it, then, barely amounts to knowledge at all! I chuckle to myself. One human being human, nothing to see here. I sigh and get ready to begin again; this trail isn’t going to walk itself, and this is as good a time to begin (again) as any.
…I wrap my scarf around my neck and step out of the car…
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.
Evening Light 