Archives for posts with tag: CBT

It’s a quiet start to the day. The morning air feels subtly autumnal. I find myself regretting that I didn’t wear my fleece hoodie. The walking warms me up though.

One perspective on the morning.

There’s a low mist clinging to the ground along the river when I begin my walk. It drifts over the meadow adjacent to the trail, becoming a thin fog. It’s very quiet this morning. I don’t hear any birds, or traffic, only my footsteps and my breathing.

It is a routine work day, possibly a busy one. There is a project to be done, later, and later still an evening meal to prepare. I sigh quietly as I walk. The to-do list is long. Having the Anxious Adventurer in the household lifts a measure of the everyday housekeeping burden, but greatly increases the “mental workload” and emotional labor landing on me day after day, on top of the increases associated with caregiving for my Traveling Partner. I’m less physically exhausted than I had been…but… I often find myself very much “over” dealing with people at all, far sooner than I typically might. It’s a struggle to get enough time alone, unbothered by what everyone else needs moment to moment, and undistracted by pings, questions, or requests for my thoughts on the various topics. I often end up feeling like a bitch just trying to get a moment alone with my thoughts.

… I’m grateful for this solitary time in the mornings (and I am pretty certain it’s keeping me sane).

I turn the last bend on the trail and sit down for a moment to think and to write. “This too will pass,” I remind myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin again… I head down the trail towards the car, and the beginning of the work day.

This is a traveler’s tale, and a metaphor intended to provide perspective on a common challenge (for mechanics, travelers, and human beings, generally). 

Imagine, if you will, a person with a vehicle. The vehicle is used. The person intends to be the mechanic, and plans to “fix up” the vehicle for long-term use. The vehicle is not “chosen”, just happens to be the (used) vehicle at hand. It’s got… “issues”, some wear-and-tear, and some obvious damage. It’s the only vehicle available to the person-now-mechanic, no trade-ins, no swaps – it is what it is, and it’s got to last a lifetime.

The mechanic doesn’t have a manual for the vehicle, but other mechanics generously share what they have learned over time. He doesn’t choose to put this knowledge into practice; he’s sure he’s got this, and can simply do the troubleshooting and handle the repairs, although he doesn’t actually know much about the vehicle (in spite of having been the only “owner”, and using it regularly). He frequently complains about how crappy his vehicle is, and when offered advice generally finds ample reason to disregard it, or contradicts with some reason the advice doesn’t apply to his vehicle at all. 

This mechanic – on top of not having a repair manual for this vehicle – has never repaired a vehicle before, never done much troubleshooting, never had any training on vehicle repair (and most of what he “knows” about maintenance is incorrect). His toolbox is… empty. He has only his vehicle, which needs repairs, and his less-than-fully-committed desire to fix it (and continue to use it). He regularly swears at, and about, the vehicle, calling it names, dismissing its value to him, and expressing no particular gratitude for having a vehicle that runs, at all, even though it regularly manages to get him from place to place pretty reliably. 

Friends of the mechanic – mechanics themselves – offer the mechanic tools to add to his toolbox and make suggestions about how to proceed, based on their own experience learning to maintain and repair their vehicles. He slowly acquires some wrenches, a socket set, and assorted other basic tools for getting the necessary work done. Nothing much gets done; he doesn’t yet know how to use the tools, nor how to repair the vehicle (having overlooked, forgotten, or disregarded all the information and suggestions provided to him). He’s too embarrassed to ask how various tools work, or how best to use them. (He doesn’t want to “look stupid”.) He walks around his vehicle each morning with a frown, giving it an occasional kick, or knocking on it randomly with a wrench. He knows nothing. He’s pretty convinced he can – and must – do this entirely on his own, though all of his tools and knowledge have come from other mechanics, as it is. He doesn’t apply that information, nor learn those lessons. He stubbornly insists he’ll do this himself… then does nothing, because he doesn’t know what to do, which tool to use, or how to proceed. 

…He’s not even really sure what’s wrong, he just feels “everything is worthless and terrible”, without recognizing that much of his situation is his own doing… 

The mechanic continues to drive his damaged vehicle which runs poorly. He continues to bitch constantly about what a piece of garbage his vehicle is. He becomes angry with the frustration of mechanics around him who don’t understand how it is he feels so helpless…and they become angry with him. (Have they not provided the information? The tools? Some guidance? Haven’t they offered to help?) He’s sure they “don’t understand” his situation. His vehicle is a broken piece of shit that is worthless!! How do they not see that? Why don’t they tell him how to turn his broken vehicle into a luxury sports car in three easy steps?! Why didn’t he get a better vehicle in the first place?? How is it not obvious to every mechanic around that he’s at a unique disadvantage that surely they can’t understand!? Each morning, he wakes up, goes to his broken vehicle, and crossly goes about his business, frustrated and filled with despair. He often wonders if maybe he just sucks as a mechanic – but he’s yet to actually undertake any repair work, or try to repair his vehicle. Mostly, he just uses it and complains about its condition. Sometimes he lets it run out of gas, then complains about how the vehicle let him down, again. Sometimes he parks it carelessly, then complains about new damage when rolls downhill and hits a fence post or a tree. Sometimes he performs some maintenance task, but rejects all the instructive advice he was given, does the task incorrectly, and then complains that it “didn’t work”. 

…Doesn’t he deserve a luxury sports vehicle..? 

…Sure seems like everyone else has a better vehicle than he does…

It’s a metaphor. We’re the mechanics of these vehicles that are our mortal lifetimes. This fragile mortal vessel succumbs so easily to illness, injury, or simple fatigue. This delicate soul which inhabits our mortal form is easily damaged by trauma, disappointment, and sorrow. If we don’t practice good self-care, our experience over time degrades. We develop poor practices to cope with unpleasant circumstances. Our health may fail. Life happens – a lot – and there is much to endure. If we don’t “read the manual” (in whatever form that sort of information is available to us), we’re at risk of not caring for ourselves skillfully. When we don’t have the tools to care for our bodies, minds, and hearts, we may find ourselves broken, and feeling pretty lost and beat down. When we don’t practice the skills we do learn, those skills degrade and provide less value. When we reject help, or tools, from those around us who care and who have greater knowledge or experience, we slow our progress on life’s journey. 

…The journey is the destination…

We don’t know what we don’t know. There’s a lot to learn. Life is short – so short. I’m not saying being a mechanic is easy. We don’t even get to choose our vehicle! We get what we get – and it’s used by the time we realize we’re the only mechanic available to service it! 

  1. Practice using your tools. 
  2. Read the fucking manual. (And pay attention to useful information when offered.)
  3. Use the most appropriate tool for the task at hand. 
  4. Keep your tools organized and ready to use.
  5. Ask for help. 
  6. Accept help when offered – especially if you asked for it! 
  7. Do your best. 
  8. Take a break when you feel overwhelmed.
  9. Be grateful for the vehicle you have – it could be worse. (You could be walking.)
  10. Enjoy the drive. That’s the whole point. 

Becoming a skilled mechanic takes time and effort. Maintaining your “vehicle” in peak operating condition requires real work. Give yourself the time, and do the work. Mastery requires practice – a lot of practice – and there are no shortcuts. When you fail (and you will), learn from your mistakes – and begin again.

My morning is off to a rough start. I slept poorly (my Traveling Partner slept poorly, too). I woke with my headache, worse than usual, and although I slipped away quietly, early, for my walk without waking my partner, the Anxious Adventurer was up soon after. He rattled about sufficiently noisily to wake my partner, who commenced pinging me with information about his pain, his responses to new medications and details he’d like communicated to his doctors. It’s a new day.

… It was good weekend, generally, but there’s a lot of bitching coming up in this bit of writing (maybe skip it)…

After finishing the conversation with my partner, I could finally get out on the trail. Nearby construction had already gotten going. My tinnitus is loud in my ears and the morning seems a very noisy one. I feel irritable and frustrated.

… I breathe, exhale, and relax. I pull my focus back to the rising sun, the silhouetted trees, and the scents of summer meadow flowers.

… My Traveling Partner pings me again…

I sit down to handle the additional communication. Looks like it is going to be a steady effort through the day if I’m going to get what I need for myself from the limited time a day has to offer. It’s the most complicated detail about caregiving for me, personally; continuing to manage my self-care and support my own needs. I don’t get much help from my partner on that presently; he’s pretty consumed by his needs and also needs my help. He’s injured and his surgery is still weeks away. It’s a hell of a puzzle. I feel inadequate and wholly made of fallible human stuff.

… This solitary morning time is so precious to me. It has become an essential component of my self-care, and is often literally the only time (outside a bathroom break) that I can call my own over the course of a busy work day. Today, it’s looking like I’m not going to get much out of it…

…Ping…

I resume my walk, feeling distracted, as if waiting for the next ping. The sun is up. Daybreak has passed. The sun rise is over. I missed my chance to watch the full moon set. Fuck. I take notice of my negative thoughts and aggravation, and let it go. Again. I breathe. Exhale. Walk on. I pull my focus back to my steps, my breath, the sensations of this body, my awareness of the world around me. Clusters of yellow and white flowers sway above the meadow grass. A turkey vulture rides the air currents overhead. The oaks along the trail stand tall overhead as I walk through the grove at the edge of the meadow.

I take my focus off my pain and irritation, and focus on the trees, the horizon, the colors of the morning sky. I keep walking, making mental notes, observations, for later writing when I get to my halfway point – I can just see the bend in the trail up ahead.

…Ping…

Pain is a difficult challenge. It’s very much part of the human experience and it also very much sucks to experience it. Pain “shrinks our world”, and unmanaged pain is a pretty horrible experience to have to endure. Do OTC pain relievers help? Sometimes. What about Rx pain relievers, do those ease pain? Sometimes. Even so, it’s more a reduction in pain or loss of awareness, than any kind of real solution. In fact, just about every potential remedy for pain is only somewhat helpful. Pain tells us something is wrong with this fragile vessel, and it’s pretty fucking difficult to silence that warning without fixing the underlying cause (which may not always be possible at all). Physical therapy, chiropractic treatments, meditation, acupuncture, CBT… 100% of all of these have helped someone at some point, and I promise you that none of them is 100% effective, ever, for anyone living with chronic pain. I personally use most of the available options, based on the circumstances of a given day, trying to find the best balance, trying to strictly limit my use of prescription strength pain killers, because…consequences. There are reliably tradeoffs. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I walk on.

…It doesn’t make things easier that American healthcare is so completely broken where treating pain is concerned…

I do my best to manage my pain skillfully. Sometimes I just have to “look past it” and do my best to prevent pain from calling my shots. I’m not even saying I’m always successful. My results vary. I live with pain. A lot of people do. Sometimes all I have available to manage my pain is pure seething rage, resentment, and force of will. It’s hard. I keep at it. My results vary.

… My Traveling Partner pings me again, I stop again to read his message…

My partner’s whole world is his pain today. I find myself struggling to prevent his pain from also becoming my whole world. (I’ve got my own to deal with too.) Another breath. Another step. How do I get the emotional distance I need to maintain my resilience for this marathon…? I tried to communicate a boundary regarding this time that is so critical to my wellness… I definitely don’t feel heard*. My irritation competes for my attention with my love and sympathy for my partner. He’s suffering and there’s so little I can really do. It sucks.

…”Put your own oxygen mask on first.”… Super good advice, but if the traveler next to you is clawing your mask out of your hands while you try to put it on (metaphorically speaking)… What then? I mean, in a legit air emergency whereupon oxygen masks are required, that would be a very different question. Here, now? I rather frustratedly allow my self-care to be completely undermined in order to care for my partner. It’s not healthy or sustainable, I just can’t see myself not being there for him. Caregiving is hard.

I sigh as I write. My Traveling Partner pointed out that I could have chosen to ignore all his messages until I finished my walk. It never even occurred to me; he’s home injured. It doesn’t sound wise to ignore a message if there’s potential he could have fallen…

Today feels like the sort of day that will require every practice, every moment, and may test everything I have learned about managing my pain, my mental health, and my ability to care for another human being with love and compassion. I don’t feel ready for this sort of test, and I know my results vary.

… Maybe I should take the day off work to deal with this shit…?

… I can at least begin again. Sometimes that’s enough. (Your results may vary.)

*Later, after I got back to the house, my Traveling Partner made it very clear he did hear me, does get it, recognized the boundary I set, supports my need to set that boundary, understands the necessity of my taking care of myself and the value of that quiet morning time for my emotional and physical wellness… all the things. He’s also having his own experience, and doing his best. Sometimes this shit is just hard. I feel heard, supported, and loved. It’s a journey, and we’re on it together.

My week started out pretty rough. My sleep health wasn’t good. Nightmares (again), and disturbed rest. Flare ups of emotional volatility, partially due to the poor sleep, partially due to “whatever” was driving that. I mean, I’m not unfamiliar with my own issues, I know what’s up. Political and legislative attacks on women’s health care options. Political shenanigans (seriously??) regarding basic good sense medical care during a pandemic (the heights of ignorance are astonishing). I’ll admit I’m offended that medicine, medical care, or the healthcare system are politicized in the way that they are. (Although, just being real here, I’m also offended that those are “for profit” industries, too.) Then, on top of the stressors this background crap presents, we’ve got people objecting to ending our endless war in Afhganistan. What the fuck?? I get it, it’s hard watching those media images of terrified people trying to get out of their country – away from war – against limited time, and limited transportation resources. My PTSD flared up hard. Rough. I don’t really want or need to deep dive the details; ruminating on the start of a downward spiral is not especially helpful (for me, now).

I’m okay right now. Yesterday was pleasant, too, and Thursday was better than Tuesday, so… “nothing to see here”. 🙂

The “downward spiral” of a flare-up of a mental health condition isn’t new for folks who deal with it. It’s frustrating. Terrifying. Causes a deep sense of futility and despair. All the work to heal… all the therapy… the expense… the effort… and then… still human. Still capable of suffering. Still wounded. Still struggling. It’s hard. It’s also super real. Are you in it? Sliding down? Scrambling for any possible hand-hold to slow the progression downward? I feel that. I see you.

This time was better, for me. I didn’t slide as far as fast. I didn’t get mired in my own bullshit, blinded and deafened to anything else. I was able to ask for – and accept – help. I was more clear, with my words, about what I was going through, and be more open. I was able to stall the slide – which still kind of wows me, sitting here this morning, with my coffee and my contentment. I’m pleased to acknowledge the very real progress I’ve made that I could not see, sense, or appreciate on Tuesday. Was it Tuesday? Monday? Earlier this week. 🙂

My Traveling Partner was taken by surprise by my flare up. He was a support super star, after the initial chaos rocked him off center. I not only stayed open to being supported – which was hard for me – he also stayed committed to supporting me. I know that couldn’t be easy. Apologies were exchanged, where appropriate, and the love we wrapped each other in was authentic, and deep and abiding.

I guess I’m just saying… don’t just give in to the slide down. Breathe. Take a nap. Drink enough water. Handle your self-care. Walk in the sun. Take a day off work. Get some exercise. Let it pass – it will, eventually, but let that happen. Don’t hang on to the pain and the chaos. Distract yourself from your ancient pain, don’t just sit there picking at the scabs. I mean… I’m no expert, I’m just saying, you have options. 🙂

You’re stronger than you know. You’ve been through a lot. You’ve got this. Begin again. ❤

Sometimes I have to remind myself (yeah, and this at 57) that most uncomfortable or unpleasant situations I may find myself in, and very nearly all difficult interactions with other people, have within them an opportunity to learn and grow… if I can sort out what exactly the lesson is. Sometimes I find it less than ideally obvious what could be learned from some challenging moment.

I take a break from working to reflect on how conversations flow. I have a long-standing personal challenge with interrupting people. I’m sure it is a byproduct of impaired executive function, one of many pieces of my TBI puzzle. I’m not saying that to excuse it, I’m just pointing out that it persists for reasons that seem likely to be associated with the underlying nature of the issue. I continue to work on it. I continue to interrupt people. It continues to be unpleasant for those who are being interrupted – I know that with certainty, because I myself also dislike being interrupted (and as a woman in America often speaking with, among, or to, men, I experience it regularly, I promise you, but it’s not the topic today).

…I continue to work on it.

…I continue to interrupt people.

Fucking hell. I know that it’s necessary to begin again. Practice deep listening. Slow down. Find the balance point between considering what I’ve heard for so long that I’ve forgotten to reply at all… and jumping in to respond before someone has actually finished their thought. Make a point of really noticing, observing, when I “get it right”, and a conversation flows naturally, everyone feels heard, talking is in turns… savor the successes, to build an implicit comfort with that timing and cadence, generally. Breathe more. Speak in a measured, comfortable pace that allows me to continue to breathe.

…So much to practice…

I rather expect I’ll be working on this one until my actual last breath… but my results have been known to vary. I do begin again, pretty reliably, and we do become what we practice… eventually. 🙂 Consider this one a bit of self-nagging on the way to beginning again. 😉

We become what we practice. Now to practice not interrupting… 😀

It’s a journey with a lot of steps.