Archives for posts with tag: CBT

… It’s gone now. If only I had had the foresight to jot down the thought when it occurred to me. I sit thinking about that for awhile; the ludicrous number of times I’ve had a thought that seemed worthy of further reflection, set it aside “for later”, and then lost track of it completely.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Weird world. It now costs almost $60 to fill my Mazda CX5’s gas tank with regular. Craziness. Everything costs more. Wages are worth less. Billionaires get richer. I have a doctor’s appointment later that I now regret scheduling. It’s not that I don’t need the medical care, it’s that I resent the time and expense required to obtain it. Somehow my actual health is a lower priority than shareholder profits for health insurers, and I’m pretty repulsed by that, on top of the cost and inconvenience. I sigh to myself and listen to my tinnitus ringing away in my ears.

It’s a beautiful Spring morning. I pull myself back to this moment, this place, sitting in the sunshine at the halfway point on this morning’s walk.

Blue sky and green oaks.

The sky is a clear cerulean blue this morning. I sit quietly, letting these precious solitary minutes tick by. I did a completely crappy job of “taking it easy” this weekend. My Traveling Partner needed help with this and that, and I was around. It’s hard not to offer to help, and harder still to decline if asked to be helpful for a moment or a task, and the weekend ended up consumed by those helpful efforts. I’m not mad about it, nor resentful – I’m also not well rested, nor did I get fuck-all done for “self-care”. I guess I’m grateful I didn’t hurt myself, and I got the laundry done, and some basic housekeeping along the way.

Here it is Monday. I’m not mad about that either. I’m a little annoyed about the doctor’s appointment though. I feel as if I just don’t have time to be bothered with caring for this fragile vessel at all. Fuck it – use it up! Only… there’s no way to simply get a new one. This is it. This is the mortal “vehicle” that has to carry me the entire distance on this journey. I already know I need to take better care of it.

I sigh to myself and fret over this incredibly commonplace challenge; taking care of myself, and taking time for myself, when it seems the world has other demands on my time and my energy. Adulting is hard.

My Traveling Partner gets it. He did his best to ask for my help only when he really needed it. He is encouraging me to get away for the weekend, next weekend. I’m thinking about it, but also struggling with myself to justify the expense. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let all that go, again, to more deeply enjoy this moment in the Spring sunshine.

I sit awhile with my thoughts. I’m not going to rush the moment. The day will be busy enough later on. For now, I can slow down and just be. It’s enough. I’m grateful for this beautiful morning. I can begin again later.

My tinnitus is shrieking in my ears this morning. (Well, okay, more of a high pitched static in the background, if static were made up of tiny chimes vibrating aggressively, with a touch of morse code in the background that I can almost but not quite make out.) It is a beautiful Spring morning in spite of that.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

In the sunrise, all the promise of a new day.

I slept well and deeply. I woke gently. I dressed, watered the lawn, and headed to the local walking path to get a mile or two on my boots. So far an ordinary enough day. It is a Sunday, and Mother’s Day, but there’s not much to do about that around our house. I’m not a mother. My maternal figures have all passed. I sent my sister a Mother’s Day greeting and let it go. I suppose my Traveling Partner will phone his mother at some point today.

I think about yesterday as I walk. I think about today. Yesterday had some beautiful high points and some frustrating low points, too. I made a batch of excellent brownies. It was all very human. Today will no doubt also have highs and lows, beautiful moments and aggravating mistakes, failed communication and delightful moments of connection. Fucking hell, I’d like to get everything right all of the time, but I don’t see living perfection among the options on life’s menu. I guess I’m grateful that the brownies turned out well, if nothing else. I sigh to myself and keep walking.

Order, and chaos, and beginning again.

Yesterday was spent creating order from chaos. My Traveling Partner continues to move things around in his spaces, preparing for the work ahead, this week. Exciting to see. I help where I can, when I’m asked, and try my damnedest not to break shit, forget something, or misunderstand something obvious – with mixed success. I had expected to spend the weekend relaxing and focusing on my own needs, and my own spaces, and taking care of myself, but it didn’t play out that way; my partner asked for my help. Today, I have less to give. I’m not in as much pain, but my mobility is more limited. Today it takes longer to get to the halfway point on this walk. I’m actually fatigued when I get here. (I’d take a nap right this moment if that were convenient. It isn’t.)

I take a seat on the bench that is next to the trail, under the trees. My legs ache. My back, too. My head spins for a moment with unexpected vertigo and I half wonder if walking was a terrible idea, after all, but I’m here and the Spring air is sweet with the scent of flowers. I breathe it in deeply. The soft scent of joy is in the Spring breeze, it seems to me. I stretch and groan from the sensation of muscles protesting, and stretch again. In each movement, I feel yesterday’s effort.

I make a point of letting all my yesterdays go. This is a new day, and a new moment, all its own, to be lived and savored and enjoyed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I commit silently to reviewing my to-do list and tackling the tasks that most directly support self-care in some way, and hope that my Traveling Partner doesn’t need much from me. I feel pretty drained and have little to give, but I don’t find denying him easy; I want to help. (Sometimes even at the potential cost of my health, safety, or sanity, and that’s not healthy.)

… Brain damage is hard to live with, and also hard to live around…

A small herd of deer steps from the trees, one by one. Probably the same little herd I see here now and then. Two of the does are obviously pregnant, the other two seem younger. I don’t see a buck anywhere around,  just the four does. They watch me with calm eyes and munch their way along the grassy edge of the trail, nibbling at the grasses and shrubbery. There is blue sky overhead, streaked with clouds, and the tops of the oaks are dark green against the sky. I could sit here for hours just watching the clouds and the wildlife.

Be present.

I meditate awhile. The deer move on. The clock keeps ticking. I wonder if my beloved got the rest he needs for the day ahead? I sigh to myself and get to my feet. It’s already time to begin again.

Monday.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m not inclined to complain about a Monday. It does feel odd to get back to work after a long weekend away. Our anniversary celebration was delightful, and I’m still thinking about the meal, the wine, the conversation, and the warmth and joy of being in love with my best friend. It’s a nice place to be in life. I’m fortunate and grateful.

It’s a new day.

… Still…it is Monday, and I’m wrestling with that, a bit. My tinnitus is crazy loud, and my back aches. My left foot is unusually painful, and my Spring allergies, as mild as they are, are vexing me. The sky is stormy and gray, but only in one direction. I sigh to myself; it’s a very human experience.

…A good cup of coffee will put me right, I’m sure… I mean, mostly, eh? There’s not much to do about the various aches and pains and inconveniences of adulthood and aging, in the current conditions of this modern age.

I look at my hands. They are beautifully manicured and I’m pleased that there are no “stress tells” like torn cuticles or bitten nails. I’ve been working hard through pure will to refrain from tearing at my cuticles and fingertips. It’s not an easy sort of change to make. Changes upon changes upon changes, and I wonder briefly if the woman I once was would see the woman I am as a success or a betrayal?

“Baby Love” in bloom.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sure, it’s Monday, but it’s a pretty nice one so far, and the thought of my roses blooming and the tomatoes I planted this weekend puts a smile on my face. The smile becomes a feeling of loving and being loved when I think of my Traveling Partner and the job he is working on. My thoughts wander to errands and garden tasks and things that make life feel busy, and I pull my attention back to here and now. There’s time later for to-do lists and errands. I grin with satisfaction; I remembered to water the lawn and still got a good walk in, before the work day begins.

I glance at the time and prepare to begin again.

Today is my anniversary with my Traveling Partner; 16 years together, a bit more, and 15 married. As long-term relationships go, it’s not exactly “a lifetime” – I’ve had to try a few times to “get it right”. This anniversary is a major milestone for a minor reason; it is my longest long-term relationship.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

My next longest long-term relationships (14 years together, never actually married, and another that was 14 years married, but only 10 of those together) were problematic extensions of traumatizing models of “family life” I’d dearly like to erase from memory, but for the fact that my path through the chaos and damage eventually brought me here. I wouldn’t change a moment if it might mean missing out on the love I’ve found with my Traveling Partner.

“Communion” 2010

So here I am, walking as the sun rises, smiling and hearing love songs in my head. We have dinner plans tonight, and I’m excited about that. I haven’t gotten him a gift. I don’t know how to give a gift worthy of a love like this one on the limited budget I would have. Dinner together at the best restaurant in the area seems fitting. (His idea, which tickles me so much.)

“Contemplation” 12″ x 16″ acrylic and iron oxide. August 2011

Is love “enough”? I walk and think about that question and find myself answering “enough for what?” before shrugging off the question as irrelevant to my lived experience of love and loving. Love is love. Questions of sufficiency seem to lead down a path of price tags and comparisons and cost/benefit analysis, and that seems foolish. Love doesn’t have to be “enough” to fulfill some other purpose, it is enough to experience love, ever. I get to my halfway point, still smiling and feeling lighthearted. It’s a beautiful morning, and I am fortunate to be in love.

“Cherry Blossoms” 2011

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation is difficult this morning. I fidget like a child in church, restless, excited. My mind wanders (don’t forget to pick up your Rx, don’t forget your manicure appointment, don’t forget to double-check the grocery list and stop by the store…). S’ok. It’s a very human experience. Most people don’t notice my brain damage; little glitches in the background, unusual difficulties with communication, oddball “quirks” that are actually coping mechanisms for getting around “thinking holes” and shit that just doesn’t work the way it should. I’m used to it, mostly. I’ve improved a lot over the years (so much). My Traveling Partner sees more of it than most people – and manages to be kind, loving, and generally very supportive, without succumbing to the potential temptation to exploit me to his advantage. (Not true in previous relationships, one of which apparently had exploitation as it’s specific purpose.) I feel safe and loved, which is pretty wonderful for this busted up weird human primate doing her best to figure life out, I must say. 😆

A token of affection. Love on a chain. The only heart-shaped locket I have ever owned.

I sigh contentedly, even happily. It’s a beautiful morning and I feel loved. I watch the sun light the vineyards along this trail. Such a beautiful moment. I sit here awhile longer. I have some errands to run before I return home to my beloved. I feel fortunate and merry, and supremely pleased to have taken the day off (and grateful to have had that option). Love makes it a beautiful day to be alive.

I smile and breathe the sweetly fragrant Spring breeze. I let the clock tick on (how could I even stop it?), soon enough it will be time to begin again.

Wow. Yesterday, though. It got off to a great early beginning, and crashed into chaos when the morning skittered sideways unexpectedly colliding with mental illness (mine) that is generally well-managed to the point of being mostly forgotten. With my Traveling Partner’s recovery making such good progress, I’ve been making adjustments to my HRT trying to find the sweet spot between effectiveness and timing/dosage. This went very wrong yesterday. I may as well have been an adolescent girl screaming at her mother with no justification, only hormones. Fucking hell.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I 100% lost my shit over nothing at all – a bit of very ordinary feedback and a request to check my breathing while I was on my device (curled over it uncomfortably and possibly holding my breath). On another day I’d have said thanks and corrected my posture. Instead I had a massive tantrum over it, which exploded into a PTSD meltdown and a complete loss of emotional control. It was ugly. My partner tried to deescalate the situation, but I had lost my fucking mind, like, for real.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

We eventually got back on track, which was frankly mostly to do with him. I trudged through a miasma of fucked chemistry and feelings of shame for much of the rest of the day. (Being mentally ill can be seriously embarrassing.) In spite of eventually recognizing the role my hormones (both my own and the artificial kind) played in the mess I made, I struggled to regain my feeling of balance. It took most of an uncomfortable and frequently paused workday to get things right. Adulting is hard.

… Dwelling on regrets is neither healthy nor helpful…

This morning? It is an entirely new day with new challenges, and I begin again, feeling hopeful and pretty much okay. I send a note to my GP about changes I could potentially make to my HRT and seeking advice. I have an appointment with my therapist later today. I sigh to myself, and check those off my list. Too much chaos, and for some reason I am regretting ever giving up an analog to-do list on a legal pad written in ballpoint pen, illuminated in the margins with commentary and little doodles. Why now, I wonder? The idea is enticing, though, more visual, more tactile, and just maybe more effective (for me; your results may vary).

This morning begins with phone calls (business) that I never could have handled yesterday. I complete them, feeling a bit unsatisfied with the outcomes. It is a sunny morning, though, and a lovely day so far. I don’t rush through my morning walk, although I got a later start than usual. Yesterday really fatigued me, and I woke only 1 minute ahead of my alarm. I dressed and slipped away quietly, hoping not to wake my beloved. I sit at my halfway point at last and wonder if I should work from the library today, at least for the morning? Seems wise, and would avoid disturbing my Traveling Partner’s rest. After yesterday, I know he really needs it. I find it quite hard to do battle with my demons, myself, I can’t imagine how much harder it is for him.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit thinking about yesterday’s blog post, the re-reading of which in the afternoon was part of how I began to get my shit sorted out. I never imagined, when I wrote those positive encouraging words how much I would need them myself, nor how soon. Humans being human. Mental illness is a really hard challenge – and maybe at its most complex and vexing when we heal enough to feel well generally. It’s easy to forget – I know I want to forget it, and even more so when things are beautiful and healthy and fun. Especially then. This is a massive pitfall, and a set-up for failure.

I watch the glow of early morning sunshine light up the treetops. We each have to walk our own mile, eh? What we practice matters; we become what we practice. Choose wisely.

I sigh and glance at the clock. Already time to begin again.