Archives for posts with tag: caregiving
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Like the Weather

June 1, 2025 //
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Change is. Like the weather, moments are ever-changing, evolving, not static things the way our recollections sometimes make them seem. They are not that snapshot in our memory, somehow more lasting than the moment itself could ever be. This morning the weather reminds me that change is, and that moments are brief, and impermanent. After yesterday’s warm sunny day, this morning’s chill feels unexpected. The mist clinging to the meadow and the edges of the marsh is a surprise. The morning begins with sunshine, but already it looks like it may rain – quite soon.

Sunshine as my walk begins. It doesn’t last.

I have no particular concerns over the weather, although I didn’t think I’d need my rain gear and didn’t grab it for the walk. I may come to regret that decision. For now, sitting at a favorite spot along the trail watching the sky turning dark and stormy, I’m content to watch and wonder and just be. Moments are what they are, and like rain showers, they will pass on by. I can wait them out, walk on, or find joy in them. Choices. One choice I just don’t have is a choice to halt change or stop the flow of time. Moments will come and go, without regard to the sort of moments they happen to be.

I sigh to myself. I am fine with this moment just as it is. I am rested and my pain is well-managed. The trail is not crowded, and it feels like I have it to myself although the parking lot had several cars in it when I arrived. I sit with my thoughts.

The day ahead is housework and laundry, and a bit of gardening, a pretty typical Sunday. I have a short grocery list – ingredients for dinner. My Traveling Partner is making dinner tonight, and I am eager to be helpful not only because I’m happy to see this positive milestone in his continuing recovery from injury,  but also because he’s an excellent cook and I enjoy what he brings to the table any time he’s in the kitchen.

I think about the housekeeping that really needs doing and remind myself that working from home reliably a couple days a week now also means some tasks can be put off to those days quite easily without adverse outcomes. Maybe do the laundry Tuesday? It’s a relief to be as focused on not exhausting myself as I am on getting things done. That six months of intense, sometimes round the clock, caregiving following my beloved’s surgery wasn’t just exhausting, it was emotionally trying and I often felt completely inadequate. I still find myself coping with that experience, even though it’s behind me, and hasn’t been a thing for months. I still feel the treadmill of endless tasks and too little capability under my feet, emotionally, and it’s taking practice and will and mindful presence to let that go. That moment has passed. I sigh again, feeling the intensity of my relief wash over me.

I hear footsteps coming up the trail slowly. I look up and see deer stepping along gently. They pause, watching me. A trio. A young buck and two does. I wonder if they have new fawns? I don’t see any. I consider taking their picture as they slowly approach me on the path, but when I move ever so slightly, they stop, stiff, alert, and wary. I relax and just watch them. When they get closer, I turn my head away, hoping to communicate that they’re no concern of mine, and that I am not a threat. The larger doe approaches very near me. There’s something tasty growing near my feet apparently, and she’s willing to take a chance on approaching quite closely. I could reach out and touch her, but don’t want to risk starting her. I let her breakfast in peace, and just sit quite still.

Voices coming up the trail get my attention. I look up, as the deer do. The deer bolt, and trot off into the trees. I sit where I am, and when people emerge around the bend in the trail I wave and nod. They are no concern of mine, and they walk on past.

Moments don’t last. Sunny afternoons may be followed by rainy mornings. Threats may emerge in one moment, and disappear in the next. Tears dry. Trauma heals. The clock ticks on.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I get to my feet and look up the trail. The future is ahead of me, and this path won’t walk itself. It’s a good moment to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

Green On Gray

May 15, 2025 //
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Cloudy morning. The deep dark green of the oaks dressed in Spring foliage dominate the view as I set off down the trail this morning. My head is full of vaguely grim musings, like “how many more sunrises?” And whether or not human life is sustainable on this planet at all, or how many idiots it takes to destroy democracy as astonished others watch it fall? My head aches. I woke with the headache and my tinnitus loud in my ears. I walk anyway.

Oaks along a well-maintained local trail, on s gray Spring morning.

It’s a workday. For some reason I feel cross and moody every time I think about my upcoming birthday. I don’t know what to do about my moody bullshit, but I guess I know more or less where it comes from. Change. I feel childish and stupidly emotional over it. Change is, and there are much more serious things going on in the world to be moody about than the details vexing me now. I’m just still dealing with it, I guess.

In spite of making tremendous progress recovering from his injury and the surgery that followed, my Traveling Partner, my beloved, is still healing, adapting, and working to recover skills and mobility that were lost or impaired. (We made dinner together last night and it was wonderful to see him back in the kitchen, cooking!) I’m incredibly impressed and proud of him for the sheer will and commitment he’s shown. I know how hard it is; I’ve been there (though I was in my 20’s when I broke my back, and that’s a very different age to deal with such a thing). So I want to be clear about my angsty nonsense; it’s not about him, or in fact about the current circumstances. Not really.

Love matters most.

I catch myself thinking about my 60th birthday. We’d just gotten the Ridgeline, and we were happily purposeful and excited, and eagerly exploring the local wilds together. The physical intimacy in our relationship was connected, deep, and joyful, and we “had the house to ourselves”. Him getting hurt wasn’t even on our radar. A year later, my birthday was mostly caregiving and preparing for his surgery with him, and doing the needful to help the Anxious Adventurer relocate to move in and give us a hand with all that, whatever he could while also building a life here for himself and working. Then another 6 months or so of crazy intense caregiving that exhausted me and pushed me to limits I didn’t know I have, before my beloved really started to “be himself” again. I’m not complaining. I’m just saying that these are the circumstances and changes that brought me to this weird and moody place, facing a birthday I mostly wouldn’t care much about under other circumstances. 62? Not even a milestone (and I don’t “feel old”, generally speaking, in spite of chronic pain). I just have feelings. Very human. I don’t know what to do with or about this particular birthday. I simultaneously ache with poignant feelings of loss and strange regrets, and also don’t give a fuck and want to put it behind me.

I have planned taking the week after my birthday off work, but I have no actual plans. It’s just all really weird and the emotions have piled on, and I’m having trouble sorting myself out. It’s annoying.

“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details, 2012

I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s so much to appreciate and to be grateful for. I focus on that as I sit at my halfway point, writing and reflecting. Things could be much worse. Change is, and this too will pass. I can count on that. lol I will find small joys to help me past blue moments. The clock will tick on, regardless. A week off spent sleeping in, painting, and puttering in my garden, reading books, and walking local trails, is time well-spent and needs no elaborate planning at all. It’s even enough, truly. Ah, but I do have these feelings, and the way out is reliably through – so I give myself room to experience and process my emotions, without taking them personally. Just feeling the feelings and reflecting on those. They’ll pass. They’re only emotions after all, not truths, not requirements, just their own sort of experience. I give myself a break and let them come and go like gray clouds on a Spring morning; yes, they appear to cover the entire sky, but they will move on, and there is blue sky beyond.

… Clouds make a nice metaphor for emotions…

I smile to myself. I’m okay for most values of “okay”, and this is a good life. I am indeed fortunate. Emotions are so very human. I sigh and chuckle to myself as I get to my feet and stretch. This path won’t walk itself. There are practices to practice and the clock ticks on. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

The Routine and the Strange

March 31, 2025 //
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Huh. Just for a moment I had the strange sense that I was completely wrong about the day, and that instead of the Monday I was thinking it was, as I sat here in the office, it was – perhaps – only Sunday, and I did not need to be here at all. A quick double-check of the calendar (and then my phone, and then the tiny date/time at the bottom right of my computer screen for good measure) reassured me that indeed it is Monday. I may not be overly enthused about that, on its own, but I am at least not incorrect about what day it is. lol

A perspective on some orange flowers.

The morning has been a slightly odd one. I woke much earlier than necessary, but got up and made coffee and hit the road anyway. I didn’t have quite enough time to return to sleep, and definitely did have time to make a point to remember my packed lunch, and to make myself some good coffee. Even the commute was somewhat strange and definitely not routine in any way aside from the route I took. I hit every traffic light green, and there was almost no traffic at all. I drove the speed limit, feeling unstressed, unbothered, and unhurried (which makes sense since it was quite a bit earlier than I am usually on the road). The office is chilly in a Spring sort of way, and my thoughts linger in my garden, in spite of the darkness beyond the window. Funny thing; the weekend was quite productive, and I seem to recall it feeling “busy”, but… at least for the moment, I don’t really recall anything that stands out as eventful or special. No, I’m wrong – one thing does stand out; my Traveling Partner rebuilt, refreshed, and enhanced our household automation, updating and correcting some out-of-date programming and making upgrades that had been planned before his injury. Quite successful and useful, and delightful to use. There’s that. That stands out. Nothing much that I did comes to mind at all, but damn I’m sore like I did a bunch of stuff. LOL I also didn’t do a bunch of stuff – I was supposedly “taking it easy”, but I don’t feel like I actually managed that trick. Feels like I just did other stuff, instead of the usual stuff.

Same flowers, different point of view.

I rub my eyes, yawn, and sip my coffee. I still don’t feel quite awake yet, which is strange; I’ve been awake now for almost 3 hours. Groggy. Foolish. Mind wandering. Feeling vaguely purposeless and “out of focus” and caught in a sticky web of random thoughts and distractions. My sleep was restless, interrupted, and filled with strange dreams. I may not “need” more coffee…but I’m sure going to have more! lol The morning feels a bit surreal, so far. And chilly. It’s chillier in the office than it has been. As if in response to that observation, I notice the small heater that was left in this office space at some point. I sip my coffee and consider the option to use it, without acting on the thought. I could, though… If I choose to.

A different angle on the same theme.

I sigh to myself, and try to shake off my grogginess by literally trying to shake it off. The sight, reflected back at me in the window makes me laugh. The laughter does more to wake me up than the shaking did. I sip my coffee, now at that “perfect drinking temperature”, and think about my Traveling Partner sleeping at home. I hope he gets the rest he needs – he has a day of work planned (and specific projects in mind) with the Anxious Adventurer’s help. He’s recovered from his injury and surgery to a point that he has begun “picking up where he left off” on all manner of tasks and projects that fell to the side when he got hurt, although he still has a way to go before he will be “at 100%”, maybe a long way to go (there’s quite a lot of work involved in fully recovering from a spinal injury and surgery). I feel relieved and delighted to see him doing so well. I can’t even describe how worried I was at some points, and I don’t like to think about it.

It won’t always be flowers and garden paths; sometimes it’s an uneven path, an uncertain destination, and a distant horizon.

Being a caregiver has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever undertaken. I give myself about a “C” on that endeavor, if I’m honest. Even with all of my best effort, I lacked experience and skill, and I fucked up a lot (and I was exhausted all the time), and I could have done so much better given time and training and more practice – but that wasn’t how things went down. I did my best. I can say that, and for most values of worth, it was enough – but fucking hell I wish I could have done more/better for longer. Caregiving is fucking exhausting. If you know someone who is a caregiver (or, frankly, a parent), be appreciative, considerate, and kind; that’s a lot of fucking work they’re undertaking to do, on top of trying to live their own life and manage their own self-care, and possibly also working a full time job (especially if they are committed to doing all of it well). Fuuuuck. That’s a lot. Sometimes it can feel like an inhuman amount of effort is required, and it can feel like the stakes are “too high”. Be helpful if you can – and for sure just don’t be an insensitive jerk about the situation, most especially if you’ve never had to provide full time caregiving yourself. It’s a hard mile to walk. I worried the entire time. Worried about the future. Worried about my beloved. Worried that I wasn’t good enough or capable enough – and painfully aware that things could be still worse.

Walking my own path, one step at a time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s just a routine (mostly) Monday. Things are okay for most values of “okay”, and the day begins well (if a bit groggily). It’s time to get on with that. Another beginning. Another day. Another mile to walk on my path. Time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Well It’s Not Raining Now

December 16, 2024 //
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In spite of it having rained through the night, this picnic table I’m sitting on had a dry spot pretty much just the right size to comfortably sit for a few minutes. I can see the full moon peeking from the clouds as they drift past, under this natural awning of evergreen boughs. Nice spot to sit awhile in the pre-dawn darkness. I turn off my headlamp and enjoy the quiet moment. Somewhere in the distance I hear traffic, and the sound of human endeavors.

“Enjoy it while you can.” I think to myself. The world is messy and complicated and frankly a little scary. Talk of curtailing banking regulations that explicitly protect consumers and the potential withdrawal of approval of the fucking polio vaccine just terrify me. (Why would anyone even want these kinds of terrible changes?!) Not gonna lie – these are trying times, and I feel it. I make a point to take time to sit, to reflect on the things in life that matter and bring me joy, and to feel gratitude for the many advances humanity has made. The risks and problems that plague us all too often get all the attention.

… It’s important to give myself a break from all that…

I grin in the darkness, swinging my feet like an excited child when I think about Giftmas. The holiday is almost here! The shopping is done. Presents are wrapped and waiting under the tree. I’m eager to share that joy with my Traveling Partner. It’s good to see his progress as he continues to recover from his injury and subsequent surgery. I find myself “missing the man that he was” much less often, because I find him standing beside me once again so much more often, now. Feels good. Feels safe and encouraging. I fucking love this man, and he has become part of me. I’ve been tremendously worried for the past year, and it feels good to finally feel some relief from my fear and worry, and to feel truly hopeful again.

The moon appears again, fat and round and luminous, as if to say “I see you”. A spattering of raindrops fall from the branches overhead, shaken loose by the breeze. My heart feels full of goodness and hope and gratitude, and it’s a lovely feeling to start the day with. I glance at the time. It’s a work day. Time to get back on the path and head back to the car. Time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Feeling the Cold, Feeling the Moment

December 9, 2024 //
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Cold morning. Above freezing, though, and I’m dressed warmly. I walk the trail in the pre-dawn darkness, grateful for the circle of light cast by my headlamp bobbing along with my steps. It rained during the night and the trail is slick with wet leaves in some spots, and in others there are puddles to avoid. I step along with care, feeling the cold, grateful for gloves and a scarf, and my warm fleece over a favorite sweater.

Clouds illuminated by city lights before dawn.

… This morning writing would wait until I’m back at the car…

It was a good walk. It’s a Monday morning. I’m in the kind of pain that only seems to come around in cold damp weather, unpleasant for sure, but I’m more angry about it than suffering from it. I resent the imposition on my abilities and my will. I’ve got shit to do, and a life to live. “Fuck pain,” I snarl quietly to myself as I warm up in the car after my walk.

Monday isn’t my busiest workday, generally, but today any sense of ease has been overcome by errands that need to be run, which bookend my day; early errands to drop off items being returned, and packages being posted, and at the other end, running my Traveling Partner over to his PT appointment. In between? Work, yes, but since I’m working from home, also anything else I can wedge into the day… taking out recycling, laundry, dishes… sometimes the notion of “a day off” dissipates like fog as the sun rises. I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s no point being mad about it; I’m the one doing it to myself, and could certainly do a better job of managing my time and setting boundaries. It takes practice.

…I keep practicing…

… I’m tired as the holidays hurtle towards me on the calendar.

The VA sent me a “sound machine” after my audiology appointment. It arrived yesterday. It’s supposed to help with my tinnitus. I wonder if it will? Am I noticing any improvement after one night? I don’t know. I don’t think so? But, the shrieking of my tinnitus in my ears wasn’t the first thing that had my attention this morning, and when I got up to pee during the night, it didn’t keep me awake. So… maybe? How is success measured? I found the sound I selected very pleasant as background noise for sleeping… maybe that’s enough?

… I’m more eager to get my hearing aids…

I laugh at myself when I realize I’ve projected myself into a future moment only to feel discontent that it is not now. That’s just fucking dumb. A waste of precious mortal lifetime for sure. I pull myself back to now. This moment right here is quite a pleasant satisfying one, deserving to be enjoyed. I reflect for a moment on how easily I allow some new momentary difficulty to create chaos in my experience by letting it overwhelm a very pleasant moment I’ve been enjoying. That’s the entire point of practicing savoring each small joy and pleasant moment; to learn to refrain from twisting chaotically with every little thing, and to build emotional resilience.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Lovely moment, this one. I take time to enjoy it. To meditate. To enjoy the steady progress towards the soggy sunrise before I begin the work day. It’s useful to let each new beginning be preceded by a quiet moment of reflection. So… I do that. Then I’ll begin again.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being
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