Archives for posts with tag: chronic pain

Pain & Winter Weather

February 19, 2025 //

I’m sipping my coffee on a rainy winter morning, feeling cross and irritated and in considerable pain. It’s the pain making me so cranky, but it’s “only” my osteoarthritis (and my perpetual headache), and there’s not much to do about it, really. I live with this. A lot of people live with pain, that’s a real thing. I sigh to myself, as I pull my posture more upright. It helps a tiny bit, though barely noticeable in the moment. The moments add up. I’m grateful to have gotten a good night’s sleep. I’m grateful to have what limited Rx pain relief available to me that I do (and am willing to use).

My reflection stares back at me from the window; it’s not yet daybreak, and I see a middle-aged woman with slightly tousled carelessly-kept long hair, glasses, wrapped in a warm (if a bit frumpy) sweater, looking back at me. She looks pleasant and approachable, relaxed, with a soft smile hinting at a life well-lived, and maybe some interesting stories to tell. She looks just a bit… amused. I don’t see the pain, just the smile, which reaches her eyes. At the corners of her eyes and her smile, laugh lines, no frown lines. She looks… capable. She looks ready for the day and unbothered. I find myself liking what I see reflected there in the window. I sigh again and think “you’ll do”, and take another sip of my coffee. I’m not at all sure how I got “here” – it’s been a difficult journey in spots, and I’ve often wandered off my path – but I’m okay with where I am, and that feels like a win.

I sip my coffee thinking about friends. Thinking about love. Thinking about errands I need to run. I think about hearth and home and all the things that add up to this life I live. It’s not perfect; there’s the pain, obviously. That’s its own difficult experience. I try not to take it personally. Things could be so much worse. Instead of living with this pain, I could have rejected having the surgery to repair my shattered spine, and taken a chance on things “just healing up” more or less, and most likely ended up in a wheel-chair, unable to walk at all. It can be hard to trust the opinion of an expert; we live in cynical times. I’m glad I did – I walk every day, and often see the sunrise from some favorite trail. The pain seems like a price worth paying for that privilege, most of the time. My irritation slips away. I chose this with my eyes open. I may not have understood the full measure of the price I’d be paying when I lay there sedated in the ICU so many years ago, but I knew there’d be a price. TANSTAAFL.

One cold winter night 40 years ago, I ran from a knife wielding man to save my own life. I took the only route available to me, that I could see in the moment, which led me to dangling from a balcony rail, dangerously high above a beautiful tiled patio, slick with ice. That man was my then-husband, who rushed to the balcony to plead with me not to let go. I looked back at him in a moment of unexpected clarity and calm, aware of my agency in a new way. The choice was mine. “I have to,” I said, and I did. The explosion of light in my head and the sudden pain that shot through me and my breath knocked out of my body overcame me only for seconds before adrenaline and terror drove me to my feet to seek help. It was a moment of profound change. One choice. One moment.

I sit with my thoughts a while. “I had no other choice” is reliably a lie. We have choices (many) – I know I’ve made a lot of them. Probably the worst choice(s) I’ve ever made? Telling myself I’ve no other choice, and and following the path that took me down. The menu in The Strange Diner is immense. We choose, on our own, to keep it folded, and to narrow our options willfully. Refusing to consider all the options is also a choice.

We’re born “a blank page”, and although we have little to say about our introduction to life, we have so many choices as we grow, and more once we are adult and free to do as we will. What will you do with it? The menu in The Strange Diner is impressively vast. What will you choose? Will you make your world (and your life) a better place in which to thrive? Will you walk a path that leads you somewhere beautiful? Will you take the steps that carry you to becoming the person you most want to be? Who is that? What will your legacy be? You have choices. Choose wisely. Pay the price. Don’t take the pain personally.

It’s time to begin again.

Tags 40 years of pain, adulting is hard, be here now, begin again, being and becoming, choices, choose wisely, choose your adventure, choose your path, chronic pain, compassion, do your best, domestic violence, emotional self sufficiency, forgiveness, health, mental-health, osteoarthritis, pain, pain and pain management, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, self-reflection, still walking, surviving, TANSTAAFL, TBI, The Art of Being, the journey is the destination, the map is not the world, the Strange Diner, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?, who are you?

Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, winter

Ring Zing Buzz

January 4, 2025 //

My tinnitus is super loud this morning. Distracting. Annoying. I breathe, exhale, and relax, as I absentmindedly rub my left trapezius muscle, up near my neck… Or is it my sternocleidomastoid? That general area. Feels like it is carved of stone and most of the time also a prominent source of day-to-day pain. I see one of my care providers today. He’s very skilled and I am hopeful that I’ll have a few hours or a couple days of real relief before my fucked up neck recreates the painful circumstances all over again. I’ve grown resigned to accepting that it is simply the byproduct of an old neck injury, combined with progressing degenerative disk disease (C3-C4 mostly and cervical arthritis from C5 on up to C1). It sucks and it’s painful, but, and this is important and real, it could be worse.

I walked down the trail listening to the crunch of boots on pea gravel, and I focused on the external sounds around me; it helps push the tinnitus into the background some. I got to a pleasant spot along the river to sit for a moment. The world is quiet and from here I can’t hear the traffic on the nearby highway at all. Whether this is an atmospheric phenomenon, a lack of traffic, or hearing loss is not clear to me, and maybe not even relevant to this pleasant moment. There’s a strip of color, not quite orange, on the eastern horizon, peeking between hillsides, silhouetting the trees on the far bank where the river bends. I have the trail and the park to myself this morning, alone with my thoughts (and my tinnitus, and my pain). Well… mostly…

I sit quietly as a rather large raccoon waddles past. She gives me a look and hesitates a moment before proceeding. I sit still and watch her discreetly from my peripheral vision hoping not to discourage her and choking back a laugh remembering the desk sign my Traveling Partner made for me (“most likely to be eaten by something she shouldn’t be petting”). As the raccoon continues past she’s followed by 2…3…4…5 chubby fuzzy youngsters, one of whom appears eager to get a closer look at me. Mom looks back and lifts herself on her back legs and makes sounds that clearly manage to communicate “Damn it, leave that human alone, you have no idea where that thing has been! Come on, we don’t have time for this.” It’s super hard not to giggle but I really don’t want to alarm Mama Raccoon – she’s pretty big, and I’m definitely not up for defending myself from an angry or frightened raccoon; they are not to be trifled with.

She walks on with her youngsters following, heading down the river bank. I walk on, too, heading back up the trail toward the parking lot. It’s daybreak. Good time to begin again.

Tags a mile in these boots, be here now, be present, begin again, breathe exhale relax, chronic pain, do your best, don't feed the wildlife, get help, osteoarthritis, pain management, perspective, results may vary, self-care, solitude, the journey is the destination, tinnitus, tualatin river, walking meditation, walking my own path, we become what we practice

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

Here It Comes

November 20, 2024 //

I woke tired from a restless night of strangely lively surreal dreams. My walk felt short, and rushed. My day already feels busy and “crowded” with things that must get done before daybreak tomorrow, and the start of a few days of downtime spent attending to my emotional needs, and indulging artistic inspiration. Self-care is important and worth the time commitment to get a few things done so I can be away without concern, but… good grief I feel so busy right now.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s the start of the workday, and looks to be an easy one. Routine, at least. Then home early enough to take my Traveling Partner to an appointment, then a quick shopping trip, then make (and enjoy) dinner, then pack (omg I should have worked from home today) and load the car, then, if there’s still time, a little time spent just chilling with my partner enjoying the last of the evening. Yeah, it feels like a busy day, but I’ve got a plan, and it’s not really “all that” – it just feels busy. Another breath. Another moment.

I’m in so much pain lately. A few days to myself to sit with that without also feeling like I’ve got to mask it to avoid making everyone around me uncomfortable will be a nice “luxury”. There’s more stress than I want to admit in having to “put a good face on it” when I hurt like this. Pain relief measures only do so much, and I’m not willing to take (nor am I prescribed) the quantities of painkillers it would take to shut down this amount and intensity of my personal combination of arthritis and headache pain. It is what it is. I’m also not willing to let pain call my shots or totally wreck my experience; there’s more to life than the pain I’m in. I remind myself often. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it just annoys me. Sometimes being annoyed about it helps in its own way. My Traveling Partner endures his own pain. Hell, even the Anxious Adventurer deals with pain – and frankly, most people do, to some extent, I guess. The challenge is not being a dick about it, and doing the most we each can to go ahead and live a good life in spite of the pain we’re in, and to remain mindful that we can’t possibly fully understand the pain someone else is in. Ever. Even if they say. We just can’t know their experience the way they do. So…I try to manage mine, and mostly keep it to myself. It’ll be nice to have a couple days to just sit and weep over it, while I paint, if that’s where it takes me, and not be worried that anyone else will be affected by those tears, or my pain.

Beyond the pain, I’m looking forward to a couple days of watching the tide come and go, and sitting with my thoughts – and my grief – and just “getting my head right” in my own way. The holidays are coming. The first in decades that my Dear Friend won’t be part of that experience in any way. That hurts more than I expected it to. No need to think about what to send her. No need to share anecdotes or pictures. No need to message her on Giftmas morning so she doesn’t experience the morning alone. No need to delight her with my curiosity about what my Traveling Partner may have gotten me, or made me, this year. She’s just…not here. My sorrow tries to swamp me every time I remember, and I really need to get past that somehow. It’s a lot. Granny? Gone, too. And Mom. And my long-gone girlfriend, T. There are unshed tears waiting their turn to fall, and I need to allow myself time for that this year.

I’m eager to hit the road, and hit the trail. Eager to walk my own path and feel my feelings (there’s no shame in these honest tears). I’m eager to begin again on the other side; the way out is through.

Tags begin again, chronic pain, emotional self sufficiency, feeling the feelings, grief, grieving, meditation, mental-health, pain, pain and pain management, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, taking care of me, taking time to cry, TBI, The Art of Being, the women I have loved, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, we become what we practice, what are you practicing?

Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, health, inspiration, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, women

Waiting Time

April 4, 2024 //

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, 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.

Tags a journey paved in choices, basic self-care, be here now, begin again, breathe, choices, choose your adventure, chronic pain, my results vary, practicing the practices, ptsd, stay on the path, taking care of me, TBI, tinnitus, walk it off, walking my own path, we become what we practice, what are you practicing?, where does this path lead?

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

Having a Merry One

December 24, 2023 //

I slept late this morning. No walk. I was up during the night, unwell (I’ll spare you the gross human details). Still, I’m awake now, and feeling pretty merry, in spite of being so recently awake that I’m still rubbing my eyes and sorting myself out. My coffee is still too hot to drink.

Yesterday was a difficult day. I was just in so much pain doing basic things to help care for my Traveling Partner while he recovers from being injured was at the edge of what I could do at all. I rarely “feel my years” – but yesterday I felt ancient and worn. I managed to do laundry, though (and got his folded and put away where he could more easily get it, and he just couldn’t have done that for himself), and I did dishes (seems like there are always dishes to do in a household where anyone cooks). I even baked a very delicious banana bread. It was a well-spent day in my partner’s good company, generally speaking, though I was in enough pain to need to take frequent breaks from literally everything, including his company, in order to give my back or my neck a rest of the effort of … being upright. For fucks’ sake, how is that okay?? Fuck pain.

Today is Giftmas Eve. Sure, I’m in some pain this morning, but it’s not like yesterday. Yes, I was up for an hour during the night being quite ill, but I feel like I’m over it now – and I slept quite late, and woke feeling rested. It’s nice. I may make a quick trip to the grocery store for some things I am missing from the pantry, before the day gets too far along, but the plan is to just enjoy the holiday at home with my Traveling Partner. Videos. Working on my model. Sharing each other’s good company. Dinner later, also here at home. Nothing super fancy this year, maybe stir fry, or Salisbury steak. I’m enjoying the relaxed approach to the holiday.

For now, coffee & meditation. Later, I’ll work on my Tachikoma model, and maybe bake something? Bread? I don’t know… I feel inspired to make something to share with my Traveling Partner, somehow. I could fold and put away my own damned laundry… that doesn’t sound like much fun, but I’ll be pleased to see the task completed, I know. This year I just want to enjoy my partner’s company, and share a few moments of merriment and maybe a hot-buttered rum, in the evening. All of that later… first, some quiet coffee-sipping, and thought-thinking. 😀

…Later, I’ll begin again.

Tags banana bread, be here now, begin again, chronic pain, emotional self sufficiency, Giftmas time, hello Santa, in spite of pain, my results vary, okay with now, pain, perspective, practicing the practices, quiet celebration, taking care of me, The Art of Being, there are verbs involved, what matters most?

Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, winter, Words

Pain & Winter Weather

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Ring Zing Buzz

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Here It Comes

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Waiting Time

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Having a Merry One

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