Archives for posts with tag: choices

I’m waiting. It’s quite early, before daybreak. I’m parked at a local trail near home. I’m waiting for enough daylight to walk. I’m waiting for the grocery store to open. I’m waiting for my Traveling Partner to wake and start his day. I’m waiting to begin my long weekend and short trip to the coast. It’s not a bad time for waiting. The world seems quiet and peaceful, and although that’s an illusion (the “peaceful” bit is very local), it’s a pleasant moment with which to begin the day.

My head aches ferociously. My neck, too, aches horribly. It’s more likely than not a byproduct of yesterday’s physical therapy, which isn’t unusual but is usually less intense. Progress? Hell, I don’t know.

Subjectively, I feel as if my range of motion is improving. The symptoms of occipital neuralgia seem reduced in frequency and intensity. Those are promising changes, but g’damn the pain persists, it’s just located differently. lol Learning to deal with pain emotionally has been as important as anything I’ve done to attempt to reduce it. I fully expect pain to continue to be a thing that is part of my day-to-day experience, and it’s no good letting it call the shots (anytime I have a choice to do otherwise). My results vary.

The ringing in my ears is… loud. I’m looking forward to being by the ocean. The sound of ocean waves and seaside breezes is one of the very few things that drowns out my tinnitus almost entirely. It’s a delightful break from the maddening din that no one else hears. For a couple days it’ll be rather as if there’s no tinnitus at all. This experience is one of the reasons I go to the coast when I need some time to myself, the chance to escape the noise of my tinnitus for a short time. Another is the feeling that being oceanside connects me more closely to my Granny and my recently departed dear friend,  both of whom felt a strong connection to the sea.

It won’t be long now until mountain and forest places are warm enough for camping and hiking, too. I enjoy the forest most of all,Β  myself, and that’s a lifelong love. I enjoy the seaside places. I enjoy the broad plains and vast expanses of high desert skies. I love the forest. My reluctance to camp in early Spring is to do with physical comfort, only. My arthritis makes sleeping on the ground in chilly weather uncomfortable, and the more frequent Spring rains make hiking muddy and more treacherous, so I just don’t. Choices.

…I sit quietly for some moments, feeling grateful to have the luxury and privilege of choices…

Daybreak comes. The morning sky stays pretty dark, and streaks of blue hint at daylight to come, through stormy clouds. It’s not raining though, and it looks like a good morning for a walk. I remind myself to check my paint box for blues and grays and colors I might use for stormy skies…

Soon there will be enough light to walk the trail. I grab my boots to make the change from sneakers, and get ready to head down the trail. It’s already time to begin again.

Walking my own path, I start where I am.

I’m awake on a snowy Sunday morning, on a long weekend in January. It’s cold outside – too cold for me to go walking, and the roads are in a hell of a mess after the snow, and quite icy. So… I’m home for the morning, and giving myself (and my Traveling Partner) some space to wake up. After a few minutes of “headphone silence”, with the world muted by having headphones on but no music, I put on a playlist.

…I slept in this morning. So delightful. So rare. I slept well and deeply. I really needed that. I hope my Traveling Partner slept well, too; I haven’t had an opportunity to ask, yet. He was polite and very clear that he wanted some time to himself to wake up, when I greeted him this morning, so I made coffee and made my way to the studio. It’s wonderful to have that option on a snowy day. 

Yesterday’s headache is… part of yesterday. Today’s pain is just the manageable day-to-day sort of pain I live with. I do the things that help to ease it, and I work to stay alert and mindful that it’s still worthwhile to put real effort into being kind and being present and being my best self in all the minutes I am able to. It’s an aspirational bit of work, sometimes; I’m still very human. I breathe, exhale, relax. I take time for gratitude that I’m not hurting, today, the way I was hurting yesterday. My Traveling Partner was supportive and kind and careful to be gentle with his words yesterday, knowing the headache was just fucking crushing me. Today? I don’t know yet what today holds – it’s full of opportunities and possibilities.

Maybe we’ll hang out watching South Park? Maybe I’ll read a book? Ooh… I could make a couple new batches of shower pucks for that fragrant luxurious shower experience! πŸ˜€ The day ahead is full of chances to choose, and opportunities to enjoy moments. My heart is filled with love, and my head is full of thoughts and questions. The music plays on. I consider maybe painting. The song in my ears makes me want to grab a paint brush.

A shot taken in 2021 inspires me.

There’s no telling what the day holds. It could all go badly sideways in an instant, but I don’t dwell on that possibility; no reason to create it from imagined bullshit or anxiety. I can live in this timeless now, filled with potential, and choose with more care than that. I smile thinking of my Traveling Partner. Fuck, I love that guy. He is my partner, my best friend, my muse… I find myself missing him from this short distance, already.

I’ll guess I’ll finish this cup of coffee, and this bit of writing, and begin again…

I’m sipping my coffee, early, in the co-work space. It’s hours before the work day will begin. I am reflecting on emotional reactions and what sorts of things I react to. My inclination is to think that my reactions are reliably to the real-world events going on around me. You, too? Something happens, and I react to that, right? Only… I have to point out that it’s quite clear that human primates don’t really seem to “work that way” – we react to a lot of things, don’t we? We react to events. We react to things we hear other people say. We react to things we read. We react to the reactions of other human primates. We react to our own emotions. We react to our assumptions.

…Wait… Do we really react to things that lack any substantial reality at all? That seems likely to go very wrong, very easily… But we sure do. News stories (whether fact-checked or not). Books (both fiction and non-fiction). Conversations about future potential events that have not yet come to pass (and maybe never will). Opinions of people we have never met (even if they have no direct influence on our own experience). Our own assumptions even trip us up; we react to things we assume are going on, without a reality check of any kind. How fucking dumb are we? This is an instant short-cut to full-on drama. The map is not the world. Our assumptions are not reality. I don’t really know what to say about that… don’t do that? Maybe check yourself (and your assumptions) and slow down before you lash out at someone over something that isn’t real, isn’t true, or didn’t happen the way you assume that it did.

This isn’t unusual stuff; humans make assumptions. Humans have emotions. Humans react to their assumptions with emotions. Funny that our big brains don’t really help us out with this one. I sit here with my coffee thinking about it. Asking myself “how can I best ensure that I’m not reacting to fictions of various sorts and inflicting my reaction on people who don’t share my assumptions?” It’s a worthwhile question. Another worthwhile question is “how can I make a point of avoiding making assumptions in the first place?”

I stare into my half-finished half-cold cup of coffee. Maybe you assume I could just go make another, if I am discontent with this one? Could I, though? Is there even coffee here in this place? Water to make it with? A cup to use? Some kind of coffee machine? Any actual need or desire to do so? The unknown details begin to pile up… undermining the assumption that I could just go make a fresh cup to address a need that may or may not exist in the first place. Some of our most common assumptions day-to-day are resting on very little actual information. I often find that when I begin checking the details about an assumption I’ve made, I’m quite wrong about it – regardless how commonplace it may be, or how firm my convictions are about what is fundamentally just my imagination going to work, until/unless confirmed through questions and observation.

Assumption making is one of the most common thinking errors. It’s so prevalent and problematic, it’s got it’s own place of honor in The Four Agreements. Untested assumptions cause all kinds of chaos and miscommunication.

My morning began early, this morning. It began with a reaction to an untested assumption (that was likely completely and entirely incorrect). There is a lot of potential to derail a (potentially lovely) new day over that kind of bullshit, so I chose instead to let it go, to just drop it entirely, and move on from that moment. I let go of my assumption(s) (that’s not always easy or effortless, but do-able). I made the choice to begin the day differently and hope for a good outcome.

Here I am. New day. New beginning. New opportunities to be the woman I most want to be.

I’m admittedly still a bit cross. Another cup of coffee might be nice, though. (Yes, there’s coffee here, and a coffee machine, and potable water from a tap, and a clean mug if I don’t want to re-use the one I’ve got at my desk.) It’s time to begin (again).

I’m sipping my coffee thinking about work. Thinking about life and love. Just sitting here thinking. Yesterday wasn’t a great day… but it also wasn’t actually a bad day. Neither my Traveling Partner nor I had slept well the night before. We were both more than a little cranky as a result. We managed not to snarl at each other to the point of being insufferably unpleasant, though we were also not super cheerful or inclined to be close, and it showed in our interactions. Prickly. Terse. Irritable. We could have done better. So much better. Even after a decade of living and loving, we have room to improve on how we treat each other, how we behave under the influence of stress or fatigue, and how skillfully we heal and soothe each other. Still, we spent much of the evening hanging out together more or less contentedly. That was nice. Looked at through a different lens, it was actually a pretty good day, generally.

Another sip of coffee, my thoughts turn to work. Sometimes I love this job. Sometimes I see myself as just another “corporate whore” making a go of it, earning a paycheck, and keeping that going to keep bills paid and food on the table, doing my best but also understanding that it’s a paid gig because I would not stick around doing this shit for free. Practical. Pragmatic. Still doing my best, because that’s what I’m paid to do.

“Baby Love” in bloom, May 15, 2023

I think about how far I’ve come, for some minutes. 15 years ago, life did not look like this. I lived in a seriously run down apartment in an area characterized by economic struggle (and mostly inhabited by students, and people who could not afford a nicer place or something closer to work). I had a job with a title that sort of impressed me when I took the job, but turned out to be camouflage for dirt wages and a toxic work culture. I was surviving, but definitely not thriving. My mental health was in bad shape, and I was pretty heavily medicated without great results. My relationship(s) were suffering my lack of good mental health care. My self-loathing and despair had become a quagmire of sticky trauma preventing me from making changes. Change was coming… but I didn’t know it, couldn’t see it, and for sure was in no condition to make wise rational choices about how to best move forward from where I stood. My life had reached some sort of steady-ish equilibrium of misery that had enough to sustain itself for whatever remained of a lifetime, and I had mostly sunk into a deep apathy about it – the resulting persistent anhedonia and general misery oscillated with occasional (frequent) explosive tantrums.

15 years later, I barely recognize myself as the same woman. I have a nice little house in a pleasant suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of a cute town in a country county. I’m surrounded by good neighbors, working-class skilled laborers, machinists, makers, professionals… you know, people. Good-hearted people, mostly kind nice people. Good neighbors. It’s a nice town. My job title? These days it rarely reflects the complexity of the work, and it doesn’t much matter; I’m paid fairly for the work I do. I work for companies, generally, that treat folks well. My mental health is in a great place, relatively speaking. I could be healthier. I could be “saner”… incremental change over time is still something I count on. Slow progress, steady progress. I feel hopeful, generally, and positive. I make changes fairly often, rarely really large changes – doesn’t seem necessary, generally. Small things make big differences. There’s no “equilibrium of misery” – misery feels incredibly shitty these days, because it is rare. I’m fortunate that I’m rarely miserable. Anhedonia? No thank you. Explosive tantrums? Rare enough these days that they are not a feature of my experience, just an occasional and unfortunate circumstance that trips me up when shit goes sideways. CPTSD. It’s not going to “go away”, it just gets better, slowly. πŸ™‚ I’ve got better tools. So many tools.

…Then there’s love. This partnership. One of the best “tools” in my toolkit is my partnership with my Traveling Partner. Healthy relationships may not “fix” everything… but unhealthy relationships? Surely capable of destroying progress and emotional wellness! I’m glad every day that I’m so fortunate to have this partnership. I feel cared-for and supported day-to-day. We’ve got our issues and challenges; we’re still human primates, we still lead with our emotions, we still fuss over vexing bullshit and blow small stuff completely out of proportion now and then.

It’s been a hell of a journey. In May, we celebrated love together, 12 years of it. In June we’ll celebrate that I’ve stuck around to see 60 years of sunrises. Wow. That feels like a bigger deal than 21, 30, or 40, by far.

…I guess the entire point here is, taking things a step at a time becomes, at some point, an entire journey. Choices, verbs, steps, decisions, circumstances, events… time passes. This too will pass – whatever “this” is. The journey is the destination. There’s value in trying to make it a good one, one change at a time, one choice at a time. Begin again.

This morning I woke rather abruptly, uncertain of the time. Just at that moment, my silent alarm went off; the lights came up, and it was clearly “morning”. Time to get up, start a new day… just… give me a minute… I sat there for 2 or maybe 3 minutes before I moved at all. This is probably pretty routine for a lot of people. For me, not so routine – I usually get up when I wake, and start doing something, if only getting dressed and taking morning medication. This morning I was stricken with brain fog, and rather stupidly pre-occupied with a work matter that I can’t do a fucking thing about until later. Quite a bit later, actually. Shit.

My Traveling Partner was already up, himself. He is awake and preparing to go back to the service provider who installed the lift kit on our truck; they did it incorrectly, and the manufacturer of the lift kit has confirmed that. Time to have our service provider make it right. :-\ I don’t envy my partner’s mission, and I definitely get how it affects his mood, which is to say, relatively notably (he’s understandably pissed off). Sucks that this is where his day begins. (Also sucks that it is where our day ended yesterday evening, when he got the email from the lift kit manufacturer confirming the installation requirements.)

My brain was way too foggy to be a skillfully helpful and supportive human this morning. I felt wholly distracted (and not productively) by work shit. I felt impatient with my Traveling Partner’s continued focus on the truck, the lift kit, the annoyance that it was installed incorrectly. I earnestly wanted to “empty my mind” and just … be. The brain fog was not helping. I got my shit together (everything was already laid out and ready to go for the morning before I went to bed) and quickly left for the co-work space as I would on a morning when my Traveling Partner was not awake. I managed to hurt his feelings by doing so, instead of sitting down for coffee with him. Fuck.

…But if I had stayed? Things almost certainly would have gone sideways, sending me to the office crying, instead of just brain foggy. I know this fragile vessel well. I mean, I could be wrong, but I really didn’t want to find out the hard way…

Now I’m sipping coffee (office coffee – pretty dreadful), and trying my best to properly wake up to start the work day. I am less than ideally successful. The brain fog is … persistent.

In spite of waking up spontaneously and rather abruptly this morning, I feel as if I could so easily just go back to sleep… my mind wanders, distracted and lacking focus, and the brain fog prevents any particularly productive or useful thinking. I find myself, again and again, sitting quietly, fingers poised over the keyboard, motionless. Some days this might be the result of very much preferring to do my own thing, write, paint, hike – anything but work. That’s not the case this morning. It’s not a choice between working and not that has me stalled. It feels more like my brain just isn’t engaging fully in the new day, just… at all. lol Rough.

Today feel like it may be a battle just to put one foot in front of the other, or to process a task and move on to the next. Begin again? Who am I kidding? I’ve barely begun in the first place! LOL Fuuuuuck. So… now what?

…I guess I’ll just have to keep practicing…