Archives for posts with tag: compassion

Okay, so here we are. War. First things first; are there bombs dropping where you are, or is it a legitimate risk that they may? If yes, then please put this down and get to safety. I’ll still be around, later. You definitely have more important things to be concerned about, like safety, shelter, and potable drinking water.

Special Delivery, MC Frontalot – I earnestly wish this weren’t still so relevant.

If there are no bombs dropping where you are, and you are safe from harm, generally speaking, then please consider not immersing yourself in “war porn”. Read the news in words, no images if you must “stay current”. Or, you know, don’t. I’m not telling you what to do, just sharing what works for me.

I don’t want to watch bombs dropping – I already know what war looks like. I don’t need to watch hours of video footage of violence, destruction, and death. I have looked directly at the face of war. I don’t take it lightly, and don’t view it as necessary or needful or as a productive use of time and resources, at all. I am an anti-war army veteran. I’ve fought and been in combat. I’ve helped clean up damaged facilities and retrieved and cared for the dead. War is nothing to celebrate, even for the victorious; it is shameful, wasteful, and tragic.

People who wage war – who call the shots and send human beings to fight and die – don’t fight those wars or pay the price for the violence. I think they should. You want war? Then you pick up a weapon and go lead that fighting, you fucking monster. You go pull the bodies out from under the buildings you bombed. You answer to the grief stricken population.

I’m grateful no bombs are dropping here. I hope it always stays that way.

I take my usual morning walk feeling grateful and fortunate. I seem to be coming down with a cold (another one??), nonetheless, compared to being bombed, I’m quite fortunate. It is an ordinary Monday, following a lovely weekend.

I sigh to myself watching daybreak become a gray morning, without any hint of a colorful sunrise… but there’s also no rubble, no destruction, no death from above, no sirens blaring, no sounds of wailing or weeping. No fear. No stench of death or chaos. It’s another pleasant quiet morning at the edge of a small town, near where the vineyards meet the highway.

…We got so close to a world at peace, y’all…

Bombs or no bombs, it is a useful practice to take care of ourselves as best we can with the resources available. Breathe. Reflect. Be helpful, kind, and compassionate. Listen deeply. Lift people up. Use your words wisely, they are powerful.

I do my best to prepare my heart – and my resolve – to endure a world at war (again). I’m still hoping things may cool down once the billionaires and powerful grifters in office have what they want (that they could not simply purchase). I sit reflecting on how I can be truly helpful to the real human beings, the noncombatants affected by the trauma inflicted by war, if at all.

I take time for meditation. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful to be where I am, and even who I am. It’s enough. It’s Monday, and it’s time to begin again.

Wakened unexpectedly by my Traveling Partner, who is having his own experience, I sat up to get my bearings. Stress, and sounds of a cupboard or door banging in another room. I don’t deal well with this sort of disturbance, most especially when I’m pulled from a deep sleep to deal with it. My temper flares. Not productive or useful. I breathe, exhale, and… get dressed. I get my work gear together, throw on a warm sweater and a warm cardigan over that. It’s a cold morning. I’m not yet up to long walks in freezing temperatures after being sick for weeks. Coffee? That’ll do.

I get my shit together before I find my way to doing or saying something out of anger that would be an unpleasant escalation. It’s too early for that shit. G’damn I’m so tired. Coffee, solitude, and some time writing sounds a lot better. I wish my Traveling Partner well and express hopes that he gets the rest he needs, as I head out into the darkness of a cold winter morning.

…I can’t say I have any particular fondness for Starbucks as a business, or even as a purveyor of coffee, I mean, it’s fine. Chain coffee. I’m fucking grateful this morning, though; they’re open. It’s damned early, and there aren’t many places open with indoor seating and hot coffee at this hour. We happen to have a Starbucks that is open at 04:30. Handy. Coffee, a table, an internet connection – and a woman with some time on her hands who needs to get her emotions sorted out without disturbing anyone else. This will do.

My friend, the Author, is coming for a visit later this month. It’ll be good to talk things over with him. He has so much perspective and lived experience. I think about other friends I can share with, talk things over with, get insights from, and just feel heard on subjects that I know I struggle with; my anger, healthy relationships, and boundary-setting. I send an email to my therapist asking to make an appointment, and whether he might have an opening this week? Sleep is important; my Traveling Partner needs it to heal and be well. I also need it, to recover from illness, to maintain emotional balance, to age gently, to be well… all needs that human beings share. We all need sleep. We don’t all get it easily. I find myself seething over it, and I know that taking action from a place of emotion can result in poor decision-making. So, I sit with my coffee and my anger, wondering what the actual fuck I can do with this emotional bullshit to create order from chaos?

Emotions are not actually “bullshit”. They are an important part of who and what we are as human beings. We have shared needs as primates and as mammals, and even as thinking reasoning creatures – but we’re each having our own experience. It’s regrettably easy to view the world entirely through the lens of our own experience, taking this or that personally, lashing out at perceived slights or hurts without pausing to consider the context, or to fact-check impressions. Emotions are useful – they give us a lot of information about the way in which our circumstances and values intersect. They tell other people where they fit in our world, too. Relationships are rarely held together by reason or logical thought. More commonly, they are built on an emotional foundation, and shared experience. And when that goes sour? What then? I frown to myself, feeling stressed and insecure in my closest relationship. This has been my longest… we’re going on 16 years. That’s 3 years more than the next longest. Where does this path lead?

I sip my coffee and reflect on life and love, and struggle and choices. Love is wonderful stuff – but I don’t find it “easy”. I’ve got issues (maybe we all do?), and I’m not an easy fit for cohabitation. Relationships take real work. Loving someone doesn’t seem to make that any easier, though I often find myself thinking that is somehow “should”. (Reality does not care how I think things “should be”. lol I chuckle to myself and some of my anger dissipates.) G’damn I’m going to be tired by the end of the damned day, though; I really needed the sleep I almost got. The thought makes my anger flare up again. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Fucking hell this human journey is messy, indirect, poorly mapped, and frankly it feels too damned easy to get lost on a path that looks clear on a sunny day, but is obscured in the fog. (It’s a metaphor.)

I think about my “Big Five” relationship values, again: respect, consideration, reciprocity, compassion, and openness, and this morning I find myself wondering how many of these my beloved Traveling Partner truly shares with me…? Maybe his values are different. I sigh to myself over my coffee. It’s difficult to ascertain how much of the emotion of the moment is coloring my thinking. Maybe a lot, that’s very human. Wisdom gained through painful experience and mistakes over time have taught me that it is best to reflect long, and let moments be moments. I sip my coffee grateful for the warmth of the cup in my hand, the shelter of a bustling retail space around me, and the wisdom to let moments pass. I catch myself wondering, though, what is on the path ahead.

Another breath, another moment. My headache is fueled by my lack of deep rest. My backache is worsened by the cold damp weather. My mood is not improved by the vapid pop music in the background – songs of lust and heartbreak, sung to the tune of a forgotten advertising jingle. Sometimes life is surreal to the point of seeming almost profound or insightful, without improving my perspective. Why so many breakup songs? Because breaking up is a thing human primates do, and we are singers of songs and tellers of tales, eh?

The world spins on madly… I keep drinking my coffee, hoping for that moment when clarity arrives and settles the day. Maybe. I get an unexpected text from my therapist directly to my phone, instead of the reply to my email I expected later. Something about my phrasing got his attention, and he replies by text directly to me. He has an opening tomorrow, if I can do a virtual appointment I can make the timing work. I gratefully accept; there are definitely some things I avoid burdening friends with. We’ve all got our shit to get through, right? I’m not trying to make anyone carry a heavier load, I just need to talk about some things, in real words, with a real person who really knows me. I’ve been seeing my therapist (off and on these days), since 2013. It makes sense to keep (and deepen) the relationships we have that work – whether friends, family, colleagues, lovers, or therapists.

There’s no “coded language” here. I’m just one human primate dealing with baggage, and the lasting chaos and damage of relationships that most certainly did not “work”, but left behind a lot of wreckage, and weirdness, and moments of temper or sorrow to manage. Our past relationships, and the trauma or hurts that resulted, create portions of the foundation on which our present and future relationships rest. This complicates things like perspective, boundary-setting, perceptions, assumptions, and whether or how we react in some moment. The way out is through, they say. (Who exactly are “they”? How many ways out have “they” explored in a practical way? Was what they were going through relevant to my experience at all?) I sigh to myself. People are complicated. Each having their own experience. Each walking their own path. Each using a subtly different “dictionary”, while also likely to be assuming those definitions are universally shared – and often without being watchful for variances that lead to miscommunication. Fucking hell, why is communication so hard? I frown at my coffee, head pounding. Some questions don’t have useful answers.

…”What do you want? Will it help you become the person you most want to be?” my mind whispers to me from the shadows…

I sit with my thoughts, waiting, wondering, and annoyed by the background music. Perspective reminds me things could be so much worse. Experience tells me this relationship is generally pretty good, and fairly healthy. We’re still humans being human. It’s messy sometimes. Disappointing sometimes. Aggravating sometimes. It’s also rewarding, joyful, enriching, uplifting, and encouraging… maybe just not this morning, right now, in this moment? Human. I sigh to myself, hoping my Traveling Partner gets back to sleep and gets some of the rest he needs, even though I won’t. Not this morning. Another sigh, and I finish my coffee. It’s time to begin again.

I know. It’s the day after Thanksgiving. A lot of people will no doubt move on from the holiday, forget all about gratitude, and return to snarling about petty bullshit, or worse, they may return to lobbing petty bullshit at others. Unnecessary. Unpleasant. (Do better.) I sigh to myself hoping to do better, and to practice healthier practices than that.

It’s early. Daybreak. I’m out on the trail, content with my solitude, and enjoying the sight of colorful holiday lights that have appeared here and there along my path, visible from a distance, peaking through the trees. Today I’ll begin decorating for the Yule holiday, myself. My headache dampens my enthusiasm for the tasks involved but does not diminish my fondness for the results. This year, everything is “easy to get to”, but it’s in a storage unit nearby, instead of the attic crawlspace. Ease sometimes comes at a cost. “Worth remembering that,” I mutter to myself, aloud.

Our Thanksgiving celebration was lovely. The meal was a good one. The errors, mishaps, and compromises were few. The cleanup got done in stages, after dinner. There was no yelling at all, no moments of lost temper or profound vexation. Admittedly, it was not a perfect day; I managed to talk over my beloved Traveling Partner (or failed to listen while he was talking) a couple times, which predictably enough hurt his feelings. That’s rude and inconsiderate, and I understood the hurt. I apologized and did my best to avoid repeating the behavior. I sometimes struggle to give attention to more than one speaker or task at any given time, and don’t “multitask” particularly well (although I once thought I did). It is a limitation that causes me quite a lot of stress. I do my best to juggle and carefully manage competing priorities. My results vary.

A new day, a familiar path.

Dawn unfolds as a new, gray, and rather mild autumn morning. It’s been rainy. Last night was windy and some trees have come down, although few; it’s mostly broken off branches I see on the trail. It could be worse.

There are challenges ahead of me (aren’t there always?), and challenges behind me (no good ruminating endlessly over those!), but this moment, here, now? It’s fine. I’m okay for most values of “okay”, and generally speaking, life is pretty good. Every damned thing is too expensive, and costs continue to rise, but we’ve got enough and we’re getting by. It could be much worse. I’m thankful for my good fortune. I’m thankful for my Traveling Partner. Turning the page on a calendar by one day doesn’t mean gratitude is any less worthy, or less appreciated. I’m still grateful. There is no value in limiting our gratitude to one day of the year. Gratitude is welcome and useful all year long. It’s a good basic practice for building perspective and a positive approach to life, too.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sure, my results may vary, and it’s a very human experience, but each day I have a chance to begin again, to do better, to make wiser decisions, to treat others with consideration, compassion, and kindness… including myself. I get another opportunity to become the woman I most want to be. As dawn becomes day, I think about what that takes, and prepare to begin again.

It isn’t personal. Even when it feels personal, and pretty much whatever it is, it isn’t actually personal.

That car that cut you off in traffic, or “brake-checked” you on the highway? Not personal. That other driver is having their own experience.

The rude barista, check out person, or frosty receptionist? It’s not personal. They’re having their own experience.

Random moments of unpleasantness and stress day-to-day are so incredibly unlikely to be “about” us in any way. Even the targeted attacks of bullies have more to do with their poor character and mental health than anything to do with their victims. We make shit personal in our own heads. We “take” shit personally – and there are choices and verbs involved. We could choose to practice non-attachment and refrain from centering ourself in someone else’s experience. One of the hardest things for me to learn has been how very little of what is going on, even in my own relationships, has anything to do with me, personally, at all. It’s actually a disturbingly impersonal world.

An autumn morning at daybreak, a new day.

I sit at the halfway point on my morning walk, perched on a bench under a cloudy sky that hides a full moon. Feels like it might rain… but the air doesn’t have that scent. The air smells of autumn, fallen leaves, the persistent dampness left behind in shady places by last week’s rain.  It smells, too, of distant wildfires, and nearby chimneys. I’m cozy in a new cardigan, chosen for fit, price, and appearance, that turns out to also be quite comfy and warm. “Unbothered”, I think to myself when I seek to define my feelings this morning.

My night seemed brief and restless. My Traveling Partner had a difficult night struggling with some sort of unwellness. I woke from a deep sleep at his vexed exclamation, and for the next four and a half hours snatched whatever brief naps I could between his bouts of illness and physical difficulty. Was he “keeping me awake”? Not exactly. Partly, sure, and not through any intention – noise is noise. That surely wasn’t personal. The rest was me; half awake, alert to hear him if he called out to me, concerned, wanting to be available and ready if he needed me.

I woke minutes ahead of my alarm. I thought I’d turned that off to get some little bit more sleep? Apparently not. Didn’t matter, I woke early anyway. I was groggy and stupid, but also more concerned about slipping away quietly and letting my beloved get the rest he needed.

My thoughts wander back to a couple nights ago when he angrily chastised me for clearing my throat in an adjacent room and preventing him from sleeping. That also wasn’t personal – just irritating; I had “swallowed wrong” and was choking a bit on saliva that had gone down my trachea instead of my esophagus, making me cough and clear my throat several times, in a few short minutes. I had expected some amount of concern or sympathy, and feel a bit hurt looking back on that, as I compared circumstances. It wasn’t at all personal, though. We are each individuals having their own experience. Things aren’t always “about” us, even when we’ve centered ourself in our own experience, or lack understanding of some other. It feels a little unfair, but it’s not about that either.

I hear my Dad’s voice in my memory, “life isn’t fair,” he often said, not bemoaning the fact, just pointing it out. I guess that’s true… but “fair” is a helpful goal and “perspective” is a useful tool.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Self-care is going to matter sooo much today. I’m starting the day tired, and the day ahead will be a busy one. I struggle to recall any tasks or errands I may have committed to beyond the work day. I feel certain there was something… but it evades my recollection. Fatigue reliably impairs my cognitive function before it really shows. I remind myself to slow down and be patient with myself, and to set clear, firm boundaries, and use expectation setting to support my practical limitations.

… I wish I didn’t have to work, but wishing is not an effective practice…

None of it is personal. Humans being human. Circumstances. Choices. Time and timing. I take another deep cold breath of the autumn air as daybreak creeps up on me. Chilly fingers yearn to find warmth and comfort in deeper pockets than these… and even the stupidity of tiny pockets on women’s clothing is an impersonal vexation. I let it go. I chuckle to myself; I let a lot of things go. I’m generally happier for it. Non-attachment is a powerful practice.

I sigh and watch the clouds overhead, shifting and roiling across the sky. It’s already time to begin again. I’ll do my best.

After a restless night, I woke gently, dressed, and slipped out of the house as quietly as I could. The big bright full moon led me down the trail to my halfway point. I didn’t bother with my headlamp until I was in the forested stretch of trail along the creek, where the darkness could not be pierced by the moonlight. It is a chilly morning.

Yesterday was weird and tense, but finished gently, harmoniously, and with the calm that comes from everyone being “on the same page”. I had started writing about the circumstances, making some notes about details and feelings, but this morning feels quite different and I don’t resume writing that. We’re each fine. Each having our own experience.

The simple truths that cohabitation as a family is more complicated than we anticipated, less convenient, more uncomfortable, and problematic for each of us in various ways isn’t to do with whether we care, or what we wanted. It’s an adult household and our lifestyles and needs don’t mesh easily. Together we’ve decided not to fight that and to work productively toward a better solution. The Anxious Adventurer will move out, and we’ll give him a hand with that, and until then, life is…life. We’ll live it, each doing our best and enjoying the time we have.

I’m deeply grateful to have had the Anxious Adventurer’s help while I did, as much as he was able to provide at the time. Did I need more and other help? Yeah. Sometimes. Has it also been hard dealing with the additional emotional labor? Yeah. Sometimes. Has it been worth it? Yeah. Mostly. Definitely. A lot got done that couldn’t have been done without his help. Is it sustainable to continue? Nope. The lack of willingness to continue, though, doesn’t reduce my gratitude for his help while my Traveling Partner got through surgery and began his recovery.

So here we are. I wasn’t wholly certain we were “doing the right thing” – it felt like we were nudging the Anxious Adventurer in the direction of a particular choice, perhaps. Then I saw his face when his Dad mentioned some of the things he’d be returning to… and understood that he wants this, too. Mixed feelings all around. It was sharing these mixed feelings together that brought me clarity. I hope the both of them feel as I do now, that this makes sense, and without regret or sorrow. The Anxious Adventurer is welcome back to visit – I hope he does! Holidays as a family can be fun and warm and deeply joyful.

I sit watching the moon set, reflecting on life and choices and how we get from our past to our future. I’m proud of my Traveling Partner – setting boundaries is hard. Self-care decision-making is sometimes fraught with self-doubt. He did well. I’ll reflect on this for a long time. I’m proud of the Anxious Adventurer, too. He kept his cool under stress, and he has come so far in the time he’s been here. I hope he takes all that growth and progress back with him and enjoys his life more, and more easily, with the knowledge and understanding he has gained. Growth can be uncomfortable. I’m proud of myself, too. No stress related meltdown, and no attempt to force an outcome that felt “safe” to me, personally, but wasn’t at all what anyone wanted. Well done, us. 😃

Today feels… easier. Clarity of thought has that effect (for me). Oh, there’s a bit of work and planning ahead, and some cost, but even that can be spread out over the upcoming weeks. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let myself think about the holidays ahead, without any stress or doubt.

I remind myself to plan my day around my Traveling Partner’s appointment – I’ll need to check whether our current eye doctor takes our new insurance… I forgot to do that sooner…I sigh, and laugh. It’s already time to begin again.