Archives for posts with tag: breathe

He said, almost as an afterthought, “I forget about your brain damage sometimes, because you generally handle things so well.” I don’t recall where that conversation went, now, but the remark itself lingers. A compliment? I think so…? It’s complicated, like finding the right balance between just living life and reminding people now and then that there is brain damage, and that it is very much a part of my day-to-day experience.

… I continue to think about my Traveling Partner’s loving words. Those. Others. 14 years together. We’ve been through some things. This bit of chaos, here, now? Part of the journey. Opportunities to grow, to do better, to become better partners, are plentiful right now. I hope to take advantage of many of them. I see my partner embracing those opportunities, too. We’re both very human, and this is a very human journey.

New beginnings, new perspective.

I started my walk just before sunrise, at first light. My pace is improving, my strength, too. Staying on top of my self-care requires diligence and focus. Sometimes I feel like I’d rather just… sleep.  Yesterday evening, I chose (with my partner’s encouragement) to go to bed early and get a proper night’s sleep. I woke feeling rested and started the day feeling pretty good. Yesterday I also tried a capsaicin patch for a particular pain that seems caused by my neck, and is intensely distracting at its worst. I’m surprised, but it actually did really help. (Please don’t tell me if this is a placebo effect! I’d rather have the relief.)

At some point yesterday, it was difficult to dismiss my partner’s assertion that I was “holding my breath” in response to my pain. I clearly was. I caught myself several times. Annoying. It’s not at all helpful to stop fucking breathing! As I walked this morning I focused on “staying with my breath”. It seems irritating and silly to have to practice breathing for fucks sake, but here I am. Then I laugh out loud; skillful, practiced breath work is part of so many things! Why do I even fuss about it? I sleep with a CPAP machine, because I frequently stop breathing while I sleep. Why would I expect that this concern would somehow just not be a thing simply because I am awake?

A momentary traveling companion along the way.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My anxiety isn’t bad this morning. My recent “11” is a more manageable “2”, today. Win. I finish my walk, and prepare to begin again.

I take a quick gulp of my iced coffee and lace up my boots to get a quick walk in, before the work day begins. My thoughts are with my Traveling Partner. I am already dealing with feelings of guilt and regret for agreeing to come into the office today. I hope to make it a fairly short day, which causes me some anxiety. No reason for that (the anxiety), really, my boss and my work team have been very supportive of the time I have needed to take to support my partner, first while injured, and now following his surgery.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I remind myself that anxiety is a liar. I remind myself that my Traveling Partner was okay with me going into the office today, and that he’s been making great progress on his recovery, and even that he won’t be alone all day because he has a friend coming around to visit a little later. I still feel distracted by the distance from my partner, concerned for his well-being, and worried in an abstract persistent way. Perhaps this is a predictable bit of the slow return to normalcy? I sigh and grab my cane; I no longer take walks without it.

Every journey begins somewhere.

I get back to the car, fleece unzipped, warmed through from walking briskly, and pleased to have covered a good distance in half my usual time. Sunrise is just getting going. Daybreak comes much later than a few weeks ago. My back aches this morning and my tinnitus is loud in my ears, but my headache isn’t particularly bad, and that feels like a win. It’s enough to build the day on. I sit for a moment watching the clouds hustle across the morning sky, shades of gray with hints of blue. I sip my coffee and breathe the meadow-sweet air. This is a pleasant moment. I don’t rush it, instead I linger here long enough to really feel it.

Last week is a blur; too much too fast, too tense, too emotional, and too little sleep. I’m glad it’s behind me; it may have been one of the most emotionally difficult weeks of my life. It sure feels that way from this vantage point, but it’s still very “fresh”, and no doubt my perspective is skewed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let it go (at least for now; there’s more to learn from that experience).

Hints of pink in the clouds skittering by remind me to check the time. I finish swapping back from boots to shoes. I take my morning meds with a swallow of coffee and silently complain about the pain I’m in, before thinking about the pain my partner still experiences as he heals and the many months of more severe pain he had to endure to get to this point. Perspective. (In spite of the many tense moments between us recently, I miss him dreadfully right now, although I am only 20 miles away, and only for a couple hours at this point.)

I sigh and admit to myself the inevitable; it’s time to begin again.

Like it or not, you’ve got to walk your own mile.

[Some time about 2 hours later]

It sometimes feels as if “life” and “change” are entirely interchangeable words. On my way between my walk and the office, my Traveling Partner phoned. He needed my help, and it really highlighted the necessity. Non-negotiable; I need to be there. I turned the car around immediately and headed back. It’s one thing to be away an hour, maybe two, but all day? I can’t. I really can’t. Not yet. Fuck.

I reach out to my work team and reset expectations. No problem there; everyone’s good with it. I reach out to the Anxious Adventurer; can he be there sooner, and be immediately helpful while I’m on my way back? He can. I feel relieved, and alert my Traveling Partner that help is on the way – and I am, too. Change is.

It’s later. My partner is resting. I’m settled into work. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a Tuesday. I’ve got this cup of coffee, and this day plan in front of me. Routine? Hardly. It is what it is… And what it is, is time to begin again. Again.

I write a lot. It isn’t explicitly and specifically about you. …Or…well…maybe it is? I mean in the most general sense that sooner or later generalities land with us. Some particular thing or another, sooner or later, is going to strike you in a potentially eye-opening or insightful way. The odds are in favor of it. It’s literally how things like the cold readings of a side-show huckster or small town psychic down the road sound so convincingly knowing. Tarot cards. Fortune tellers. Salespeople.

I’ve got a friend who recently remarked how “spooky” it is that I so often seem to be writing about exactly what she’s going through, even though we don’t often hang out these days, and no longer work together. I pointed out that I write – often – in generalities and aphorisms that spring from a shared common human experience. Unconvinced, she pointed out that it’s “all the time, though”. (It isn’t.) When I laughed and reminded her how often she remarks quite conversely that she didn’t get my point at all, she shrugged it off and let the whole thing drop. I’m no mind reader. Most of the time my writing is relatively trivial; casual generalities and interesting (to me) turns of phrase that help me along my own journey. I’m glad there are a few folks (like you) who take time to read what I’ve written. It gives my writing a lot more meaning that it is being read.  (Thank you.)

…But. No, I didn’t write that because you… I mean, not you personally, is all. 🙂 People. Maybe you? Maybe that person over there? Maybe it was just an idea I had that sounded like something you’ve experienced for real, recently? Maybe someone you heard about through a friend of a friend? Maybe it was in a news article (that I also read) or a movie (that I also saw)? Just saying – it’s not you. More likely it’s me. I mean… I can at least try to make a useful or necessary change in my own behavior or in my own life. I can’t do that for you.

It’s very much not “personal”.

…Which is true of most things, actually, and that is probably worth thinking about further.

I tend to take observations and new learning to a bit of a meta place when I think things over, and even when I listen to song lyrics. It is the thing that makes some casual observation become a useful living metaphor (for me), or that allows me to apply some abstract idea to my own circumstances. Because I write in the same way I think, I’ve then opened the door just a bit wider that you might find some handful of words I’ve strung together to either be quite… pointed… or enlightening and useful. I’m not all that wise, actually – just another human primate doing my best to tidy up my chaos and damage and build a good life on the wreckage that came before. You, too? No wonder some of this “rings true”, eh?

Humans being human, each having our own experience, and somehow also all in it together.

I sit with my thoughts on the afternoon of what has proven to be an unexpectedly difficult day between lovers both after the same experience; a shared experience of calm, healing, and contentment. How vexing that we don’t quite get there! So frustrating to feel this unsteady and uncertain and uncomfortable. Try. Try again. Listen. Hear. Begin again. Fuck it all up. Apologize. Listen more. Try to say, but… Listen more. Try again. Do the damned thing differently. Sweep away the eggshells. Begin again. Assume positive intent. Listen more carefully. Begin again, again. No lack of love nor lack of will to try on, and listen longer. Just humans being human and sometimes failing to be our best selves. It’s hard. Caregiving? Yeah, sure, caregiving is crazy hard and demanding on a whole different level, but just now I mean more generally that simply doing our best in the face of everything we’re dealing with. Hard. At least it is for me, today.

I’ll keep practicing. Keep trying. Keep listening and growing from my mistakes. I’ll keep beginning again.

I’m sitting alone on the side of a favorite local trail. I’m tired. I’ve been crying. My head aches, and I am in a pretty grim place, emotionally. I’m also grateful to be here, now, rather than having this moment as the woman I was 11 years ago. Yes, it’s fucking hard. Yes, I’m pretty g’damned unhappy right now, but… I can also recognize that this is simply a moment. It will pass. The future is unwritten. The trail ahead isn’t always within view.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I rather stupidly try to will my tinnitus to quiet down. No surprise that doesn’t work.

My Traveling Partner’s surgery went very well and he’s home resting and continuing to recover.

The drive home was emotionally difficult, and ended on an unpleasant note. The actions leading there were mine, so the fault is mine as well. (Hard to hold someone who just had surgery and is deeply medicated “responsible” for much of anything at all, whatever the circumstances.) By the time we got home I didn’t really want to interact with other human beings. I’ve been in pain all day, no end in sight, and I am tired and still kind of angry, though, as I said, how is someone so heavily medicated responsible for their words or behavior at all? Why would I be angry? I don’t think they can be held to everyday standards for sure. Accommodations must be made. Understanding and compassion are required. Forgiveness is a good approach. But… That has to include…for me, from me.

… It’s been so very worrying for so long to see my partner suffering, I probably needed to prepare for this moment quite differently somehow…

I sigh out loud, my ears ringing so loudly it seems certain I am missing other information. I promise myself to get my hearing checked. My back aches in spite of medication. (The chairs at the hospital are not sufficiently comfortable for an all day stay.) I’m tired and the walking isn’t satisfying. I’m just going through the motions. Literally.

My Traveling Partner pings me. I respond promptly; I still have responsibilities. I think about the woman I most want to be. What would she do, right now? I sigh again and get to my feet. She’d begin again.

It’s late. Or, it’s early. I suppose it’s a matter of perspective – and expectations. I expected to be asleep right now. From my perspective, it’s quite late. Too early to be awake, by far. It’s just a bit after midnight. I could be sleeping right now… I expected to be sleeping right now… I am not sleeping.

The guest in the room next door (or perhaps directly above me, it’s hard to tell) has left the fan on in their bathroom for what now seems an unreasonable amount of very noisy time. It surprises me that anyone could be sleeping through this ridiculously noisy fan. I’m certainly not. I’m quite wide awake.

I breathe, exhale, relax… and try to “get used to” the noise so I can maybe go back to sleep… (Am I even actually still tired, after “sleeping in” yesterday, and multiple delightful naps today?) I’m not adding annoyance or any particular amount of stress to being wakeful over the noise of a bathroom fan that is not mine, so… I could potentially go back to sleep at any point, once I’ve managed to get past being wakened by this noise. By itself, the noise could be super aggravating (once upon a time definitely would have been). For now, it’s just… well, I’m awake. That’s it. lol I’m awake, and I expected to be asleep.

I sip on a bottle of icy cold water. It’s refreshing. Eventually, I’ll go back to sleep. A couple more hours of sleep, and I’ll wake, shower, have coffee, have breakfast, and get packing to return home. I miss my Traveling Partner. I’m eager to be home. I feel rested and recharged, and were it not for this rather annoyingly timed bit of human misadventure, my away time has been quite nearly perfect (from my perspective). Fucking hell, I do wish someone would turn that fan off, though. LOL I keep sipping on this bottle of water; it is both too late and too early for more coffee.

I stepped outside on the balcony for some air, and it was delightful. I could see the stars – so many stars – and even the Milky Way. Wow. I stood there quietly, breathing in the cool ocean air, listening to the waves.

…Why is there always some asshole leaving a bathroom fan on in a hotel room??…

I sigh, and let go of my expectations. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m here. Now. Yeah, there’s a fan going, and that’s not ideal, but it will, eventually, pass. Probably. Maybe. Or I’ll get used to it vibrating noisily in the background. I laugh to myself, and put on my noise canceling headphones for a while. I could probably sleep in these, they’re pretty comfortable…

…I’ll try this sleep thing again…