Archives for posts with tag: busy

Whether or not whatever is causing our stress and anxiety is “real” – the stress itself, the actual anxiety is real. Strange how that works.

I sneeze suddenly and dart across the room to the corner where I’ve tucked my handbag, and scramble frantically through the contents looking for the travel pack of tissues I know is there somewhere. Damn it! Another sneeze, and now my nose is running like crazy and I dread finding myself covered in snot. I continue scrambling through the contents of my handbag a bit panicked, finally finding the tissues after I basically dump the contents onto the top of the printer in the corner. I return to my desk, feeling relieved, then my eye falls on an actual box of tissues right there on my damned desk, unnoticed, placed there by the cleaning crew over the weekend. I sigh, amused and frustrated, and astonished at the intensity of my absolutely pointless moment of stress. The stress was real. The cause of it wasn’t real at all; it was based on a misperception, a misunderstanding, an error in thinking.

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ – and she feels much bigger than that, generally.

…That’s often how stress and anxiety work; we respond to something in our thoughts or perceived experience without regard to the actual factual basis of the circumstances, and the stress builds so quickly we fail to “fact check” what’s going on around us…

I take a moment to let renewed calm sink in. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a new moment. I begin again.

My Traveling Partner had asked me (some time ago) to help with some paperwork. I have been dreading doing it, not because it’s actually all that big a deal, but because… stress. My own medical trauma and difficulties with some sorts of paperwork has been getting in the way of helping him out. He’s got his own challenges and anxiety to do with it, but it’s mostly been about the practical difficulties with keyboarding for long enough to get it done. He needs my help. I am happy to provide it – in the abstract – but the reality of the stress it has been causing me flared up yesterday afternoon, and I found myself in a moment of headache and pain and stressful tears over… mostly nothing. It’s just not that big a deal. It collided with my awareness of the upcoming busy Tuesday calendar (he has a couple of appointments to get to, and needs help getting to those) and my upcoming time off (which appears now to need to include Tuesday) and my headache, and I just… couldn’t get my head around all of it calmly. I found myself facing a huge feeling of pressure and imminent requirement to get it all done. Funny – not one detail of any of it is all that big a deal, so… why all the stress and agita? Why the anxiety? What the actual fuck, eh?

Humans being human. This morning it doesn’t look like all that big a deal. I look over the provided checklist for the paperwork, it’s not all that bothersome, actually. The appointments tomorrow? The Anxious Adventurer stepped up, agreeing to take his father to those appointments. I took it in stride this morning when it turned out I also have an appointment, scheduled in between my Traveling Partner’s appointments, and which would have prevented me from taking him to both of his, regardless. Busy day. The paperwork? It’s just paperwork. Needs to be done so it can join a queue of other paperwork submitted by other human beings to be considered by still other human beings at some considerably later date. Just not that big a deal, I guess. But the stress was real. That’s an important detail; managing that stress was its own thing, with its own needs and its own steps. A real concern, for a real human being – and I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner recognized the need ahead of my own acknowledgement of my stress (which was escalating and confounding my ability to reason), and helped me address it, enabling me to more easily self-soothe, and get myself back on track. No tantrum, no meltdown. The headache lingered through the evening, but even that wasn’t that big a deal once the stress had been managed. Stress complicates everything by clouding our comprehension and judgment, making everything look like a bigger deal than it may actually be.

This morning, I breathe, exhale, and relax. I slept well and deeply last night – I clearly needed the rest. I feel like my body (and mind) have finally made the adjustment to the change to the clocks (good grief I wish we’d stop doing that). I feel more settled and comfortable in my skin. Okay for most values of “okay”, and ready for a new day (and week). The Equinox is coming, and so is my time off. It’ll be nice to have a few relaxed days painting, drinking coffee, driving beautiful roads to lovely destinations, and doing some painting. It is time planned to be very low stress. I hope it actually turns out that way, although the future is not written, and I have no way to know what obstacles may be on the path ahead. lol It’s a very human experience.

I’d like to spend a little time in the garden, too. So much of my experience in life is based on what I’ve planted, what I tend to. I think awhile about my garden as a metaphor… there are weeds to pull, seedlings to nurture, and a harvest in the future. For now? It’s time to begin, again.

My garden is a special place for me – and a useful metaphor.

This morning I woke gently, but confused. It took me a minute to sort out what day it is, and that my plan is quite different from my usual Thursday. I struggled to wake up thoroughly, and had to trek back down the hall twice for things I forgot.

The drive to this nature park I enjoy walking in was strange, too. So little traffic it was quite a surreal (and also relaxed) drive along a route that is generally part of my commute. What little traffic there was, was peculiarly professional, civil, and safe, moving along with purposeful efficiency, and no aggression. Maybe there is hope for humanity?

As I crested a hill, going around a particular curve, the view of Mt Hood spread before me briefly, silhouetted gray-blue against a smudgey peach-colored sunrise. Beautiful. I considered stopping… I always do. Consider it, I mean. I haven’t ever actually stopped at that spot; there’s no shoulder there, really, just a private driveway and traffic is moving pretty fast for those kind of shenanigans. Still, I feel fortunate to have seen that view, those colors, and gotten to enjoy the moment as I passed on by.

Lovely morning to begin again. Even a familiar path can present a new perspective.

I walked as the sun rose, watching the sky change from peach to gold to blue. There are mists clinging to the ground in low spots along the river and marsh. I can hear the highway traffic beyond the park, and the sounds of little birds in the trees and grasses along the trail. A small herd of deer cross the path ahead of me, fearlessly curious at that distance. The morning sunlight reaches the trees and the leaves become luminous, seeming to glow. It’s a lovely morning.

I walked along grateful for new beginnings and new days. Today is, so far, much better than yesterday. I still have no idea what the hell was biting my ass yesterday, but g’damn I was in an ugly mood. I spent the evening after work willfully fighting off my inner unpleasantness and making the effort needed to enjoy my Traveling Partner’s good company. It was, for the most part, a successful attempt to fight off my shitty mood. At one point, he “caught me” in my own head, distracted by my thoughts, and asked me what I was thinking about. Rather oddly, I was considering the complex pattern of a particular rug, rather randomly. Strange. Inconsequential. Probably not very satisfying as an answer to the question “what are you thinking about “. Honestly, it was just another way of distracting myself from my shit mood, which was characterized mostly by a distinct sense of just “not wanting to have to deal with people” at all.

…I’m glad I find myself in a more pleasant place today…

I’m frankly not the most social of creatures. My brain injury results in a certain lack of ability to shut the fuck up, often, and I tend to be a bit of a chatterbox as a result. If there are people around, I have no problem interacting with them. (My challenges are more to do with controlling my speech, recognizing social cues, and listening considerately.) I cherish my solitude, and I enjoy it (and truly need it). It’s hard on me when circumstances give me no time alone. (I sigh contentedly,  sitting here by the river in the morning sunshine, writing these words… thoroughly alone, and happy to be.) Lately, and in spite of occasional getaways, I feel “encroached upon” and crowded by people and commitments and the awareness that there’s precious little time for “everything “. There’s a sense that the clock is ticking – and always has been – and I’m struggling to give myself the space I need to truly thrive.

…Maybe I need to spend time in the studio, painting?

I glance at my watch… it’s time to head back to the car. I’ve got an appointment to get to, and errands to run. I’ve got a partner to care for, and dishes to do. It’s time to begin again.