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Nightmares

September 18, 2015 //
1

I woke during the night, in a panic. Drenched in sweat, shaking, heart pounding, sobbing – a nightmare. I still have them, although they are far less frequent. I am immobilized while I get my bearings; my bedroom is hung with paintings that remind me I am safe, and are characterized by the use of glow-in-the-dark paints, too, so that in the literal ‘darkest moment’, I am still illuminated softly by love, by hope, by inspiration, and all manner of gentle reminders that life is quite a separate experience happening outside The Nightmare City. I remember to take deep breaths, and fold myself into a comfortable cross-legged position (I can’t quite manage Lotus posture unless I have been doing yoga for some minutes). I meditate for a few minutes until my heart slows, and the trembling stops. I check the clock – I managed only about 90 minutes of sleep before the nightmares hit. It happens. It used to herald hours, or days of nightmares to come.

How will I

How will I “find my way home”?
“Daytime in The Nightmare City” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter and micaceous oxide. Indoor light, charged. 2014

I got up long enough to get a drink of water – a childhood ritual of wakefulness that still soothes me – and walk calmly through my small home; there are no places for monsters hide, here. I am quite safe, even within this fragile vessel if I allow myself to be aware of how much of content of my conscious mind is chosen, and created. I am not empowering my nightmares by considering them in detail after I wake, and they slowly dissipate. (Seriously, they do. It does require literally letting go of thinking ‘about’ them; thinking about them in the moments after waking only gives them significance and power.) I think of my traveling partner, sick at home, hopefully sleeping. This, too, helps calm me. I don’t focus on the distance, or that I can’t just crawl into his arms for comfort – I breathe, and consider him sleeping comfortably, himself, safe and undisturbed, and allow my own feeling of security and safety to continue to build on the awareness that much is right in the world, in the quiet of night, here, now. I am okay in this moment.

I stand in the twilight of my kitchen, lit by the walkway light just outside my window, filtered by the closed blinds, and finish a second glass of water and smiling, thinking it would be likely to wake me later needing to pee. I don’t give that another thought, instead feeling the cool water in my mouth, and enjoying the awareness of indoor plumbing and running water, and being in the moment. That’s another thing I find very calming after bad nightmares; savoring the awareness of the comforts of life, whatever they may be. Don’t they have more real substance than a nightmare? 🙂

I returned to bed, filling my thoughts with things that feel good, but perhaps not intensely so…things that would be gentle on my consciousness: clouds drifting across a blue sky, soft autumn breezes, the sound of peeping frogs, memories of fireflies… I woke at the sound of my alarm, feeling rested and undisturbed.

It has been rare for me to have just one nightmare, and follow that with restful sleep. Incremental change over time is a thing – and  yes, there are practices to practice and verbs involved. I expect my results will vary. Hey, my results do vary and there are verbs involved; living in the midst of stress, drama, and turmoil resulted in nightmares almost nightly, and weeks of disturbed sleep at a time, and terrifying isolation because there was no safe outlet for discussion, with no particular emotional support available, interrupted by just days of restful sleep. Yes, the choices matter – and they are not always easy ones. I now live alone, because at least for now even living with other people presents enough additional stress for me that I find managing my symptoms more challenging, and they are far more likely to flare up (much of my PTSD is related to trauma in the context of relationships, and domestic violence). (And no, I’m not saying everyone with PTSD should live alone – that’s ludicrous; I’m just one person, making my own choices, and following my own path. This is what I need for me. I don’t even know that this is what I will ‘always’ need – since ‘always’ is incredibly unlikely, ever.)

Even though I am having my own experience, I'm not really alone in this; music reminds me how much of this experience is really shared.

Even though I am having my own experience, I am not alone.

Turns out to be a lovely morning. I’ve got my favorite playlist on, because sometimes the demons need to be reminded that I’m going to bounce back, and I need to remind them they don’t tell me. lol Yep – the songs on my playlist aren’t just catchy tracks that I enjoy dancing to – they tell me stories, remind me of truths, and help me drive my demons back. Mornings after nightmares are best with music. 🙂 [Your results may vary.]

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Categories Anxiety, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War

What If?

August 28, 2015 //
0

I am grooving to a Petey Pablo track, waiting for water to boil, and thinking how very reasonable that there is rain in the forecast; my traveling partner is out-of-town for a few days, and it seems reasonable to me that the very skies would have an emotional meltdown over the lack of his good company. I’m okay, because he’s merely traveling, and love has no proximity requirement, or expiration date. The moody cloudy threat-of-rain skies seem mildly appropriate, is all – or at least, entirely understandable. 🙂

I woke in the middle of my dreams, which isn’t my favorite experience. They seemed ‘relevant’ and potentially ‘insightful’ or ‘eye-opening’, but once my eyes did actually open they dissipated too quickly for further consideration…there were people…saying things…with emotional subtext…somewhere. Dreams are rarely urgently worthy of my attention, although it took me a lifetime to recognize that the headgames my conscious mind sometimes plays with me (to my detriment and disadvantage) are not off limits to my sleeping consciousness, and my demons dance regardless; it doesn’t necessarily give them significance, or meaning that is useful.

My coffee is very nearly perfect this morning – and tempting, although too hot to drink. The cup is too hot to hold comfortably…I found that out the hard way. The coffee is too hot to drink, and the tempting cloud of whipped cream I topped it with as a treat this morning tempts me overmuch – my tongue and the roof of my mouth paid the price. Lesson learned? Well…maybe. I’m still a primate, doing my best, and in the mornings my decision-making is at its daily ‘quality low point’ until my brain is really fully awake. I give myself the courtesy of refraining from self-deprecatory hassling or mockery – I don’t need it from me, really, I already know my fingertips are a bit sore from trying to hold that cup, and my mouth is already scorched from trying to sip too-hot-coffee. I think I’m good there, no further berating needed. lol

A paragraph later, and some fun dancing to Gangnam Style – I love how random my morning playlist is – my coffee is finally sipping temperature. I dance across the living room, coffee in hand, headed for the open patio blinds to watch the dawn…my neighbors probably think I’m mad. I don’t find value in self-consciousness or shame being a part of my daily experience – certainly, even being over 50, and not ‘dancer fit’ at all, I am disinclined to give one moment to whether a woman my age/weight ‘should’ be dancing where people can see me. That’s such obvious bullshit it was urgently necessary to put it aside as soon as I woke to the understanding that it is indeed bullshit. Dancing feels good. A quick exploration of dance styles and fads over the many decades of humanity will reveal that some of it is definitely more about how that must feel than what it looks like. 🙂

A favorite Crystal Method track turns up – and I turn it up; I’m excited to see them live on Saturday. There’s definitely that moment considering the concert when a feeling of self-consciousness does arise; I feel it most when I consider how much younger ‘everyone else’ may be, how more easily they may move, how beautiful and sexy youth is… Youth, I remind myself gently, is very much its own thing, with its own fears and doubts. Nothing to be concerned about for me – over 50? I have a lifetime of experience and perspective, and I am having my own experience. For me, it’s sort of the point of that favorite track in the first place.

Detail from "Emotion and Reason" 2012

Letting emotion lead on life’s journey may not be ideal…

What if everything were suddenly quite different? What if my traveling partner didn’t make it back? What if I woke up utterly unable to dance because my arthritis had become so severe that my spine wouldn’t move at all? I live alone now; what if I have a stroke and there’s no one here to help me? What if my resources run out before my life time does? “What if” is some nasty stuff – it quickly becomes anxiety if I give it a chance to grab onto something I can’t shake off. I’ve learned something sort of interesting about the emotional ‘what if’ scenarios, though; if I go ahead and allow myself to consider the extreme fully, frankly, and in a truly practical way – without the emotions that so urgently want to have their say being the focus of attention, it usually becomes quite obviously both fictitious – like so much of what my mind offers up – and manageable if it played out in real life along the most likely trajectory. For example…what if my traveling partner didn’t make it back? I would grieve, no doubt there, I would grieve a long while. The fear of grief and grieving is what drives the anxiety, but the fear isn’t even real fear – it’s a projection of an emotional reaction to a situation that has not happened. So, I comfortably set the fear aside, along with the recognition that I would grieve. Then I take a look at what life would be without my traveling partner, and come up with… living. Outside the fear of grief, there’s little to cause stress…I would live my life, working, paying bills, painting, writing, gardening, investing in other aspects of my social life, eventually (most likely) cultivating another satisfying adult romantic sexual relationship with a worthy partner… Nothing could ever change what my traveling partner and I have shared so far, and that would always be mine, and part of my experience. “What if” scenarios tend to be this way, for me, explored they are harmless – but there’s the rather practical matter of refusing to allow the fear of my emotions to become the fear of my potential imagined circumstances.

"Emotion and Reason" lit differently - how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.

How I view emotions, and how I use reason, makes a difference in my experience.

Isn’t it strange that emotions can be so scary? It seems odd when I think about it; they have no more substance than my thoughts, although they are a more commanding experience in the moment. I find that my reactions and attention reliable turn toward my emotions first and more attentively, than to my reason. I try to be mindful of that, because they are also quite intense, and not particularly tied to ‘reality’. Emotions are often driven by assumptions, expectations – or something I ate, or the ebb and flow of my hormones, or…nothing I can directly observe or be certain of. Sometimes they are more similar to the experience of taking a mind-altering substance than they are to ‘reality’ in any real sense. They are most certainly not to be trusted in life’s driver’s seat for long.

Perspective matters. "Emotion and Reason" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012

Perspective matters.
“Emotion and Reason” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012

Today is a good day to breathe, to feel, and to be mindful of the content of my thoughts; they have only the substance I give them. Today is a good day to be present, to be okay right now, and to walk on – fear has trouble keeping up when I do. Today is a good day for love, and for living. Today is a good day to notice how very small the world actually is, and how little distance matters to love.

Starting the day thinking of love - it's a very good start.

Starting the day thinking of love – it’s a very good start.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Fiction, Free Will, grief, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Moments

August 23, 2015 //
0

I’m on my second coffee. I am enjoying it with local low-temperature pasteurized non-homogenized half-n-half, and half a teaspoon of date sugar. The beans are a freshly roasted medium-roast Brazilian, ground immediately before making use of them. The music in the background is rather louder than many people prefer their ‘background’ music to be. It is later in the morning than I generally write; I slept in this morning, and took my time with waking up. I enjoyed my first coffee before meditation, letting the cup warm my hands, breathing the scent of it deeply, and simply being right here. It’s that sort of morning, on a weekend filled with moments.

Yesterday, after planting the one full-size rose that will be in my patio garden, I sat quietly letting the morning unfold around me, and feeling the chill morning air tickle my bare toes. The air, then, was soft and still. I enjoyed the distant, uninvolved companionship of the neighborhood squirrels, robins and crows, enjoying their morning repast. They are aware of me, but unconcerned.

One of my neighbors enjoying breakfast al fresco.

One of my neighbors enjoying breakfast al fresco, on another morning.

Later, in the evening, I again sat on the patio, wrapped in the strange golden light of evening, distant wildfires coloring the evening light, and changing the taste and scent of the air. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze that brought the smoke. I listened to the rustling for some longish time. A pair of ducks lands in the swimming pool just across the lawn. I watch them awhile. The female hops out of the pool, and slowly makes her way my direction. I sit quietly, surprised to see her being so direct about it. She steps up on my patio, and up to my feet. She looks at me. I look back. She turns and nibbles some bugs off a potted plant at the edge of the patio, looking at me over her shoulder as if wondering if I mind sharing. She sat a moment, observing me, then headed back to the pool. I sat awhile longer as the golden glow of evening became twilight, and the rustling of leaves became a chorus of peeping tree frogs in the distance.

The sky filled with the haze of distant wildfires.

The sky filled with the haze of distant wildfires.

This morning, after my first coffee, sometime before my second, I stood in the patio doorway, closed this morning because the haze of smoke from distant fires continues to present a modest health concern. I watch the morning light brighten to day, and notice a squirrel on  my patio, checking each pot for hidden goodies in the soil. She looks at me over the rim of a blue and white china pot with a miniature rose in it, and for a moment we hold each other’s gaze as she thinks over whether to stay or go, having noticed my presence. I stand very still – stillness is where my head was, anyway – and she gets back to the business of checking each pot, rummaging through the dirt, moss, leaves, and bits of things that have fallen. Now I know why some of my plants are regularly uprooted in some way; I had had my suspicions, but now there is no doubt. As I continue to watch, she reaches up and grabs a young, newly opened rose, and appears to rifle through the petals, turning it this way and that, and finally nibbling at…something. I watch intently. She pauses, and standing tall looking at me, I see that she has a small green worm or caterpillar in her tiny adept hands. She quickly munches it, then bounds away.

Each of these moments lingers with me, and I allow myself the joy of savoring them, letting them become a more permanent part of my recollection, and sitting contentedly with the feelings; the more time I spend immersed in positive emotional experiences, the less negative bias exists in my thinking, and my implicit assumptions.

An excellent source of information on this and other good practices to improve one's experience.

One source of information about the practice of savoring positive experiences.

There’s not a lot more I know how to say about this. There’s science to support the practice of making a point to savor positive experiences, and linger in those moments, as a method of reducing negative bias…but…even if it was 100% bunk pseudo-science, when I simply consider the feel of it, as a practice, and how it enriches my quality of life to actually make a point to enjoy living, I find that I no longer need to ‘prove it’ to myself – and certainly, there is no requirement to ‘prove it’ to you. You can give it a try as a practice, or don’t, or already are…and the decision you make to continue, or disregard, will be your own. I’m okay with all that; results vary, and you are having your own experience. I’m just saying, as choices go, I do enjoy making a point to really feel the lovely moments that happen so often.

Today is a good day to enjoy each moment. Each moment we enjoy changes the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Discovery

May 13, 2015 //
2

It’s a lovely morning. There are birds singing outside my window, and my coffee hot and tasty. I slept well and deeply through the night, and woke with little distress to the alarm clock, which sounded less strident than usual and more of a friendly reminder that a new day has begun.

This is a flower - and a pause.

This is a flower – and a pause.

I woke angry. No idea why, and it didn’t last; as soon as I woke in emotional distress I took appropriate action, and gave myself a moment to breathe, to stretch, to become more present. My waking emotional state is more often related to my sleeping consciousness, than it is to my waking environment, and taking inventory of ‘now’ assures me that all is well, and I am okay. The anger dissipates quickly – in a sense it wasn’t real in the first place. If I had gone a different direction with it, and invested in the anger, deepening it, justifying it, and feeding it, I would be having a very different day right now. I mention this because it is quite a lovely morning, and I am not angry, frightened, or sad. Yes, there are verbs involved. Positivity and some breathing didn’t handle the whole of it, and I made use of an excellent practice to finish off the anger; curiosity, novelty, and a sense of discovery are awesome tools for emotional intervention or resetting. I took time to explore something I knew little about, and experienced lingering curiosity over. Study time!

Take a moment to consider all the vastness of the unknown...there is so much yet to be known, I can't even describe how much I don't know!

Take a moment to consider all the vastness of the unknown…there is so much yet to be known, I can’t even describe how much I don’t know!

Engaging my intellect, my curiosity, and the parts of my brain and consciousness that learn new things tends to have a very uplifting, and emotionally balancing result for me. Yes, there are choices involved. It remains critically important to choose my experience, and to invest willfully in the things in life that feel good, and on which I thrive. My traveling partner is often an exciting source of new experiences, new ideas, and creative inspiration. That was true this morning, too, and I used a shared moment yesterday that sparked my interest in something exciting for me as an artist, and invested in myself this morning in a positive way, exploring different sorts of artistic support that exist in the world now – that didn’t exist pre-internet. No I’m not listing them, this morning, this is not about that – it’s about the process of engaging my thinking elsewhere to reset my emotional experience quickly. It’s an effective practice. 🙂

I hope you don’t need a practice like this one, today – and I hope you enjoy it, anyway. Learning, I hear, also keeps us young. 🙂

Study is a bit like following a path carefully built by others who have gone on ahead; I still don't know where it may lead, but there is some comfort in knowing I am not alone on the journey.

Study is a bit like following a path carefully built by others who have gone on ahead; I still don’t know where it may lead, but there is some comfort in knowing I am not alone on the journey.

Today is a good day to learn. Today is a good day to embrace new ideas, new thinking, and a sense of discovery. Today is a good day to explore the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Roses, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Simple Enough

April 26, 2015 //
0

I find it interesting to notice how much longer a weekend feels when I really take the time to invest in exceptional self-care, and really make a point of relaxing, and savoring the simple sweet moments that are often so common – and so easily overlooked. Is life ‘perfect’…well…no – and yes, mostly, sort of… It’s a matter of perspective and sufficiency, and making a point of treating me well, myself.

Enough.

Enough.

It’s been a lovely weekend. Simple enough, and I am content with it. Perhaps it’s simply that I slept well and deeply, two nights in a row, or maybe it is that I feel comfortable and certain of my current trajectory in life, at least for the moment, and enjoy the feeling without complications because it is truly my own? Does it matter why contentment is, when it is? Is it enough to enjoy the moment, to be, in fact, content? At least for now, it seems that it is.

I have been attentive to my self-care. I have been attentive to myself. I have been awake, aware, and able to observe the world, and my own interactions from a place of compassionate non-judgment most of the weekend. Most of my choices have been sound. Most of my interactions with others have been harmonious, and enjoyable – pleasant, moment to moment, most of the time. The handful of challenging moments didn’t seem particularly noteworthy, or confrontational, and generally they were not at all about me – and that was something I understood at the time. As I said, it’s been quite a lovely weekend. Even my pain didn’t seem worth slowing down for; it was merely a nuisance.

Incremental change over time? Well, perhaps – or maybe just a good weekend. Is sorting out that distinction worth taking the time away from savoring what a lovely weekend it has been? I think not; this is a moment for being. For loving. For lingering in this joyful contented place… That’s enough.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being
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