Archives for posts with tag: breathe

That Itch

August 21, 2017 //

…Or is it a tickle? I’m not sure, and really, does it matter? (Okay, okay, I won’t be flippant; it would matter were this medical, rather than metaphorical. 😉 )

The soft fine nearly invisible hair that surely must grow on my shoulder (cuz the tattoo artist made some point of running a razor over it) is starting to grow back. It itches ever so slightly, ever so temptingly. As soon as my fingertips touch the tender skin, I jerk my hand back as if I’d touched a hot stove; I don’t want to scratch it, and risk damaging either skin or artwork. I know the sensation will pass. It’s good practice to resist the potential comfort and satisfaction of mindless scratching. I like this new art too much to do that, so I commit to awareness with real ferocity.

Most likely unrelated, the mental or emotional “itch” of restlessness and discontent – something like a strong craving for, say, french fries… only not at all about food. I want. I hunger. I yearn. I’ve no idea what it is (yes, I do), though, although it feels vaguely urgent (it’s not vague at all), and just out of reach (oh, I could reach it… ahem… but that’s not what satisfies, is it? lol)… as if… if I just could name it, I could have it. But… what is “it”?

…I’m pretty sure I know… lol. I totally know. I’m a fairly simple creature in some respects. More than likely this is either frustrated artistic inspiration (not quite moved in enough yet to break out the paints, honestly, and no it isn’t), or… something… else. Still quite human. 😉

Lust

Ah but there actually is more to life than that particularly excitingly deliciously fun bit that occupies far too much of my attention; it took me awhile to catch on. Still, if it’s a physical sort of urge, I do find physical sorts of solutions to be most helpful. I get home from an early shift at work, and before I sit down to write, I take care of the woman in the mirror. Yoga. A lovely cup of tea in the garden. A shower. Dinner. Great music. I don’t try to bullshit myself that any of that can in anyway really meet the specific need, but it’s lovely time, well-spent and pleasant, and for now that’s enough. It has to be; at least for now, I’ve only got one partner. lol It may be awhile before I see him, although I do have plans to head down his way soon… it doesn’t feel soon enough.

The music continues. The stereo is hooked up, and I dance through some evening chores and tidying up, singing along with favorites, feeling energized by what I can’t have in this moment, instead of feeling beat down by my frustration. Lovely bit of progress, that. It’s enough. 🙂

Tags be here now, be love, breathe, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, I want you, it's better to have loved and lost, love, love and lovers, love and lust, love me do, Lust for Life, meditation, mindful love, mindful loving, p.s. I love you, relationships, The Art of Being, there are verbs involved, unsatisfied lust, what matters most?, yearning for love

Categories Allegories, Art, art and the artist, Brain Injury, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, Words

How it Works to Choose

August 18, 2017 //

The news? Pretty nearly all bad. The song in my heart? Pretty much, most of the time, all good. The way I get that done? I choose. You can too.

But wait – am I so cruel and clueless as to suggest that people struggling with mental illness can just “choose” to be okay? “Choose” a happier song? “Choose” to get over it? Omg – no. Not really. When we’re sick, we need care. We may need appropriate medicine to treat our illness or injury. We may need a visit with a doctor, or a stay in a hospital. We may be offered a treatment plan to follow… and a different one when that doesn’t quite work out… and another after that… and then… more verbs. Fuck. And results will vary. We each walk our own hard mile. It’s so not as easy as “pick a different song to sing“… except… It’d probably help though, and why would we not, if we can make the effort, choose to do the things that help?

So… I choose. I am, myself, among the “mentally ill”. PTSD is a real thing. My TBI on top of that (or underneath it, as it were) complicates things. I struggle with anxiety. I struggle with emotion, generally. I’m very human. This is a journey in progress. I have hard days. I also choose better practices than I once did. Meditation really works well for me, helping me find that chill space in my own head that prevents me descending into despair on some spiral of tears and rumination. Taking better physical care of this fragile vessel has been of value; I am less likely to quickly exhaust myself due to lack of sleep, or poor nutrition. I have fewer nightmares, and I have learned better “sleep hygiene”. Developing better emotional intelligence has incredibly worthwhile; my relationships are more fulfilling, and less fraught with confrontation, because I am more able to take time to listen deeply, to avoid becoming fused with someone else’s emotional experience, or to be manipulated by their expectations and assumptions. I am more able to avoid coloring my experience with an internal narrative built on my own untested assumptions or implicit expectations. These things have value. All of these improvements required making choices, and changing some behavior and thinking. Turns out that isn’t so hard, in most cases – although it also isn’t as easy as just saying words, either. There’s been quite a lot of practice involved – there always will be. I’m even okay with that. Incremental change over time is a real thing; we become what we practice.

It makes sense that choosing our practices in a willful way, understanding of our needs, and who we most want to be, would result in eventually getting to that place. It ends up also being very helpful, along the way, not getting overly attached to that vision. Outcomes don’t always look quite the way we planned them out in our heads. 🙂

I have an appointment with my therapist next week. Yep. It’s a journey. I still make choices. I still practice practices. I am still walking my own hard mile. Sometimes I still need help. 🙂 I’m okay with that too.

My “stay-cation” destination.

I sip my coffee and consider the short work shift ahead. Change is a thing. I’m back to Monday through Friday, but I have firm plans for today (at the start of the week, it was my day off), so the weekend begins at 11 am, and is a bit longer than usual. 🙂 I hear sleeping in is nice – I’ll try that sometime. Maybe tomorrow. 😉 The weekend unfolds ahead of me rather gently. It feels good to contemplate staying home, doing some more moving in stuff… maybe a walk to the Farmer’s Market (it’s time to start trying to put reals miles on these feet, again)… morning coffee in the garden on the deck… just generally saying “yes” to life.

I’m ready to begin again.

Tags ACT, anxiety, be here now, be love, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness matters, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, the new cold war is working on my mind a bit, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, grief, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

Stuck

August 17, 2017 //

Crap. I’m stuck on finding a particular item, post-move, and it is most likely still packed in one of the few remaining boxes. I’ve been stuck on it since yesterday evening after work, and I woke with it nagging at it me. An old “day planner”…

Remember having a “day planner”?

It’s not what’s in that old day planner that I’m looking for, though. It’s the cover. I painted on the plain coarse fabric cover. I’m looking for that original piece. The ideas and inspiration behind it persist in my consciousness, even going on to become other pieces of work on those themes, using similar colors, similar compositions. Iconic. Metaphoric. Allegorical. I’d share a picture… but… that’s sort of the point just now; I can’t find it. LOL

Wait. Stop. I need “do over”! I haven’t found it yet. I will though. Or… I won’t. There’s always a slim chance that in some moment altered perspective, or left brain/right brain weirdness, I looked at it with new eyes, finding it lacking in value – being just an old day planner – and tossed it. Oh yeah. I totally do that shit. Regrettably often.

I keep looking in the same boxes hoping I over looked it. Fucking hilarious. It will take unpacking every one of the remaining boxes…but… I want it before Friday. I guess tonight I am at least opening those two boxes I just keep hoping I won’t have to open prematurely; breakables. It’s not time to unpack those. I may have to open those boxes nonetheless – just to quiet my mind. I’ll almost certainly be unable to refrain from unpacking the remaining boxes of books – in spite of the lack of shelves for them. Damn it.

“Stop it.” The sound of my voice in the stillness startles me. Right. Let it go.

I sip my coffee. Breathe. Relax. Let the music in my ears reach my attention. Remind myself that satisfying the compelling idea I’m stuck on is not actually the sole solution to this aggravation – and possibly only a second best solution. Letting go of attachment to finding that day planner is a first-rate solution, also, and doable. Meditation is the verb I could be reaching for there. Helpful. Yeah. I put myself on pause. I give myself that precious gift of time, my own awareness… and I let it go. Really let it go.

Maybe I find it.

Maybe I don’t.

Maybe I choose to open those boxes.

Maybe I don’t.

…And hey… Hasn’t the intention been, all along, to unpack all the fucking boxes, at some point? 😉

Imperfect circumstances and impermanence are part of the experience. I breathe, relax, sip my coffee and begin the day again.

My schedule is suddenly Monday through Friday again. Less than ideal for me, personally, but I adapt to the changes as they come, as comfortably as I can. There will be amusing moments when colleagues offer expressions of appreciation, relief, or recognition of some ‘good fortune’ involved (“Well, at least you get weekends off…”), but for me, this is a shitty change. Sure, sure, “everyone” I know (not everyone at all; it’s a misperception) has weekends off. I like having weekdays off and working the quieter weekend days – and the commute on weekends is definitely more pleasant. Having days off that permit doctor’s appointments, errand-running, and provide more retail options is just a better fit for my lifestyle. I don’t find it helpful to miss work to go to therapy – it’s adding stress to the process of relieving stress. It’s inconvenient to be in the middle of a large painting and discover too late that I’ve run out of a particular color that I won’t be able to replace on the weekend. Stuff like that. Monday through Friday work schedules? Keep my share. But… it’s what I’ve got, starting yesterday. Yeah, I’m kind of bitching about it. Sorry. I’m cross over the whole mess. I’ll get past it. Find the good in it for myself – the good that matters most to me, personally.

(It’ll make visiting my Traveling Partner a bit easier. That’s something.)

The point, really, is that there is work to be done; this affects all my planning for the next… 4 months. Yep. I’ve got plans on the calendar – shared plans – 4 months in the future. Damn, I’m glad I hadn’t yet planned the winter holidays. lol Another point? It affects this coming weekend, and the weekend after that; both weekends I’d made firm plans. Well, shit. So… some plans will change, other plans will require changes to my time off planning… it’s a good think I enjoy planning. lol

Was there really a point to any of this? I take a sip of my coffee, brow furrowed, acutely aware that my attention was on something else as I made coffee this morning, and I considered not writing a blog post in favor of writing to a dear friend… then, this. How strange.

…I really want to find that day planner…

I head back to my meditation cushion to begin again.

…

…Funny thing about meditation…

… I couldn’t quite let it go… but… I also found it.

Tags be here now, begin again, breathe, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, how did I get so good at finding things?, I am my own cartographer, I lose things, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, there's a day planner in a box somewhere, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being

Beginnings and Endings

August 16, 2017 //

Tough day at the office.

I put on a new playlist, one with beats and edges and emotions – all of the emotions. I let it carry me from here to there. It covers a lot of emotional ground, highs and lows and inbetweens. I dance. I manage some housekeeping along the way. I medicate. I cry a few tears that weren’t at all about me.

I dislike endings, even though they are no more permanent than the beginnings are, and with few exceptions, generally precede beginnings. I take time to feel the weight of the truth of it. This too shall pass – a helpful thought. Change is. We don’t always choose it, sometimes it just shows up to the party uninvited.

I don’t mean to be vague-book-y at all here, truly I don’t. There were some organizational changes made at work. I lost a team member. Funny thing about that, though; I’ve grown. Some of my colleagues are my friends. He’s one such, and so – my heart loses nothing. I dig working alongside this guy. He’s sharp. Get’s it. He’s got a good heart, and a lot of commitment and skill. It will suck not seeing him already working when I get in each Tuesday. I will have to go digging each Monday for the information he always provided me in his hand-off each week. But, and this is real and so important, we’re friends. There’s nothing lost there. I’m still here. He’s still here. We’ve got each other’s numbers. lol There’s nothing to see here, besides change, and change is always with us.

I still cried. I did. Yep. (I’m grateful I didn’t have to break it to him. I had it easy.) Change is a thing, but fucking hell – we’re a fantastic team at this. I miss him already. I worry whether he’s okay. We are friends; I want to help. I smirk at myself in a moment of honesty; now I have to do verbs to maintain this friendship. I can’t just show up to the office.

Tomorrow will be different. It also won’t be the end of my work week. So much change for one week… I gotta get some rest, though. Soon I’ll have to begin again.

Tags are you going my way?, be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, experience, gently now these are people, I am my own cartographer, I appreciate you, listening deeply, MBSR, meditation, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, RIF, taking care of me, TBI, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, try again, what matters most?

Categories anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, grief, Logic & Reason, loneliness, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Big 5

Home Making

August 11, 2017 //

I slept in today, which was lovely, even though I woke with a stuffy head, a headache, and aching joints. I thought maybe I was coming down with a cold, but as I woke up, moved around a bit, showered, and got myself going for the day, I began feeling better. So… maybe not a cold.

I had a clear plan for the day, it unraveled almost immediately. If I were deeply emotionally invested to the details as planned, I’d be struggling with disappointment, frustration, and feeling aggravated. I’ve learned a lot about contentment over the last couple of years, and generally speaking, lasting sustainable contentment requires a couple of simple-but-harder-than-they-appear practices, in my own experience. Firstly, refraining from becoming emotionally invested in an outcome is super helpful. Then also, it’s a good practice to avoid holding implicit unstated expectations (of myself, events, or other people). Then, one more, sometimes super challenging, practice; letting go of attachment, just generally. Doesn’t mean “nothing matters”, that’s not it at all, it’s more that however much something I’ve planned may feel urgent, important, or necessary, circumstances can and do intervene, other people are human and also have freewill, and sometimes – no, seriously – sometimes I’m just mistaken, or lacking in complete information at some point that results in a plan breaking down.

So, today, when I woke very much not feeling like doing a lot of things, at all, I took a look down my list and noticed that grocery shopping properly, getting fresh produce into the house, and restocking the pantry of some exhausted supplies seemed to be overdue. So – I went to do that, figuring it would be a simple enough errand to run, in the early morning.

When I started the car, the “low tire pressure” warning light came on. Huh. Well – okay, there’s a tire place right up the road, quite nearby. Easily handled. Since I’m doing that, I’ll get the oil changed, and the tires rotated – on the way to the grocery store. Nice. I’m feeling super efficient and adulting with skill, now, yeah? 😀 I did the shopping. Got my nails done. Got home… and now that list doesn’t seem so daunting. I check off all the things I’d just done (all of which were on my list, anyway).

I continue to assemble a new updated weekend “bug out bag” for spontaneous road-trip-ery; having the car opens a lot of interesting doors. I check my calendar for upcoming weekends to spend with my Traveling Partner down south where he is working. I add some calendar events to my calendar, and find myself wondering about the holidays. Is it too soon to send him an invitation for the Yule holiday hear at home with me? (Not for me, it isn’t! lol)

Right about then is when I realized why the day was feeling so terrifically satisfying; I feel at home. I’m “home making”, today. I smile. Pause for a coffee break and a few minutes to write. I shrug off my utter failure to score tickets to see Macklemore in Portland in October (those tickets went fast) and send my Traveling Partner a calendar event to spend that weekend with him. Nothing to regret about the way that turned out. 🙂

I move down the list, and around the house, checking off tasks as I complete them. I water the garden. Feed the fish. Do the dishes. Start a new batch of sprouts. I’ll probably just keep at it until I hit the 6 hour mark or so, then call it a day well-spent, put my feet up, and relax. 🙂

…I still haven’t hooked up the TV or stereo. lol I guess I could do that too, at this point, with very little risk of over-indulging in “brain candy” (videos, anime, YouTube content…) or derailing my productivity. Taking a break from all that for a couple weeks now and then seems a healthy choice for me, particularly while I am rebuilding broken or bent routines affected by a change in circumstances – or address.

This is where I live. This is “home”. It’s not an instantaneous thing, and there are verbs involved here, too, and a commitment to “make it my own” in so many little ways. That continues, I suppose, until I can find my way in the dark, until I can step into the studio and immediately begin painting, until I can step on the deck and cut fresh herbs for cooking, until each and all of my friends and loves know just where I am on a solitary night, and whether I would welcome them… there is so much to do. I sometimes forget how much I enjoy doing it. 🙂

My coffee is done. I still have several things to do on my list. I guess I’ll begin again, then – it won’t change “the world”, but it certainly makes this wee corner of it more comfortable. 😉

Tags be the change, breathe, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, MBSR, mindful living, my home my rules my way, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, so very much in love, sufficiency, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, this one's mine, thriving on my own terms, walking my own path, what disappointment?, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, gardening, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

That Itch

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How it Works to Choose

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Stuck

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Beginnings and Endings

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Home Making

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