Archives for posts with tag: cooking for one

The apartment didn’t cool off much yesterday. During the night I slept on top of the bed covers until some moment in the wee hours when I realized in my sleep that I felt cold and contentedly pulled the covers over myself. The alarm went off immediately. I flopped over onto my back with a grin in the darkness; it was just more humorous than anything else. Humorous because it was very much a matter of perspective in the first place; the apartment was still quite warm and a bit stuffy. No music this morning, instead I took time before coffee to open the windows, and to carefully replace the spider discouraging fabric in the window channels, blocking the gap in the screens and letting the early morning breeze blow through to cool things down before I leave for work.

A cool shower refreshed me nicely, and the water for my coffee was ready by the time I was dried off and dressed. Yoga and meditation to birdsong and the sound of traffic at the nearby busy street was satisfying and I am not in pain today. One lovely advantage to the hot dry days of summer is that my arthritis is so much less aggravating. I get weeks of very little pain, and reduced need for pain management. I look around my living room contentedly; it reflects who I am. I sip my coffee. I feel relaxed and comfortable.

A commute covers the same ground day after day - a journey takes us somewhere new.

A commute covers the same ground day after day – a journey takes me somewhere new.

I take some moments to consider the number of times I have started down the path of finding real emotional wellness…and the number of times those attempts have been stalled by one circumstance or another, and how my own issues have held me back, and how I have allowed or fostered those failures; sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of loyalty, sometimes because the process of failing, itself, had been mistaken for progress. There has, each time, been this sort of ‘this far and no farther’ moment – and each attempt would begin again, from a starting a point, moving forward to that moment when I would be stalled, or turned back, and the whole thing would repeat some other year, or in the next relationship, or after some terrible moment of despair. It’s been a bit more like ‘commuting’ than a journey many times. This morning, waking in this safe comfortable space, waking and feeling my consciousness begin with contentment from the moment I wake, I see that this has become truly a journey at some point, and I pause to recognize and appreciate how far I have come. There is farther to go. Maybe I really needed to retread some of the progress I have made over the years, and maybe every attempt to find my way through the chaos and damage was utterly necessary for some greater understanding. Maybe I wasn’t ‘ready’. Maybe, as it so often seemed, some person or another in my life at the time was themselves unready for [my] growth and change, or perhaps my wellness was not to their advantage. (People who encourage continued growth with the commitment of my traveling partner are very rare.) I know that none of those things matter having moved beyond those moments, and relationships. The mistake of thinking those things are relevant has often held me back needlessly.

This morning I relax and take care of me without stress or doubt. My coffee is tasty and I am content to let myself wake up in the time it takes to do so gently. My routine this morning lacks rigid order; I take the tasks as they come, and in the order that seems practical in this moment. It’s enough. Hell, it’s more than enough. It’s a lovely morning.

Part of taking care of me happens in the kitchen with wholesome fresh foods, and appropriate portions. In the summer heat, I enjoy a homemade granita, made with much less sugar than commercial frozen treats.

Part of taking care of me happens in the kitchen with wholesome fresh foods, and appropriate portions. In the summer heat, I enjoy a homemade granita, made with much less sugar than commercial frozen treats.

There is time, this morning, for a healthy breakfast (oatmeal with fresh fruit and some nuts sounds good this morning), and study; I’ve returned to my reading list, myself, because the context of my experience has changed significantly, and there is benefit in deeper study of science and practices that are specifically relevant to my experience. I most particularly want to spend time studying ‘listening deeply’ and the communication and mindfulness practices associated with that idea, and what sorts of things I can do to change how my injury disrupts the natural flow of dialogue (I interrupt a lot, and my speech suffers from similar ‘run on sentences’ as I inflict on you here). There’s work to be done! 🙂

My birthday is coming. 52. It’s not a major milestone as birthday goes, but from a personal perspective on progress, I am proud of myself for how far I have come since that bleak December [2012] when I finally stopped ‘commuting’, and began this journey toward real wellness.

Today is a good day for practicing good practices. Today is a good day for critical thought – without being critical or unkind. Today is a good day to enjoy a journey that has taken me this far, and promises to take me much further. Today is a good day to appreciate the many perspectives on my experience.

I got moved into my new place over the Memorial Day weekend. Movers came and went, and my travelling partner gave me a hand on moving day by taking a look around the house and spotting some things I missed when I carefully sifted through a shared household of more than two years, attempting to gently extricate myself and my household goods from the life I would be leaving behind. All that remains is to move my aquarium later this week. I am surprised at how much I miss my fish.

There was little sadness to it for me; it was a long time coming. I need space to paint, uninterrupted time to write and to meditate, and prefer to live in an environment of reciprocal courtesy, consideration, and shared values – or alone. I don’t cohabitate easily with others, and I am pleased to be at a place in life where choosing not to is quite acceptable.  I handled most of the move entirely alone, aside from the movers – that was eerie, and by far the most disturbing thing about the move was the peculiar way the household withdrew from me in the days prior to moving day. Aside from noticing it, though, there really wasn’t time to invest in that experience emotionally. There was too much to do to allow myself to be distracted by emotional bullshit or games.

In the nights leading up to moving day my sleep became disturbed and restless. Fatigue was a probable culprit in the few emotional moments I did struggle with on moving day. I’m still not sleeping deeply, or through the night, yet. It may be some time before I get to that place; there are new shadows, and new noises, and in the dim of night the shapes of things are no longer familiar. I’ve stubbed my toes several times, and my shins are black and blue from walking into things that are not where I expect them to be. I am in familiar territory here, and this will pass as my implicit memory of my living space improves over time. I am at least getting the rest I need, nightly, and I am not anxious when I am wakeful.

Simple beauty

Wild roses along a new path.

So…here I am…in my wee home, surrounded by paintings not yet hung, and silence – well, at least right now it is very still and quiet. It is just past 4:00 am, and the loudest thing I hear is my tinnitus. I woke around 2:30 am. Meditation didn’t ease me back to sleep. I am in pain, and although yoga helped relax me, and ease the pain, it did nothing to improve the odds of going back to sleep, tonight. I tried another strategy or two or three…and laughed out loud in the darkness when I realized that there was no chance getting up would disturb anyone else, now. 🙂 One luxury of living alone; my restless nights don’t mean a restless night for anyone else.

With so many things about living alone, so far, it is the ease that stands out. I have come too far to make assumptions that I will remain in a state of continuous contentment, or that I will never feel lonely, insecure or fearful. I have no expectation of perfect uninterrupted delight, or heightened satisfaction in all things. Assumptions and expectations hold so much potential to wreck a good experience, or to mislead me. I am content, for now, with simply being, and taking time to sort out who I am, and what I want and need from my experience of myself. I am enjoying the luxury of living alone, and I do so knowing I am quite human – there will be dark days, moments of sadness and doubt, and I will surely cry tears that I don’t see coming, sooner or later. I’m okay right now, though.

There is still a lot to sort out to get my new place in shape to paint without making a mess of things – and I’m eager to be painting again. Now that the move itself is behind me, it’s time to figure out new routines, and new self-care timing. Many of the cues and reminders I have counted on have been associated with shared experiences, or the behavior and activity of others. Hot flashes this morning remind me that I will have to rely on myself much more…and I obviously overlooked my hormones last night. I pause to drink water, take medication, and set calendar reminders and alarms. One miss is a mistake, and oversight – missing regularly, or chronically, would be a choice. Yep. There are still verbs involved.

I don’t enjoy living with most people, my traveling partner is a rare exception and I definitely miss him, often. I realized some time over the weekend, as I unpacked so many things that matter to me…I’d been missing me for a long while, too, and I am very much enjoying living with me, now. Right now, it is enough. 🙂

Sometimes the least familiar path is most promising.

Sometimes the least familiar path is most promising.

This morning I woke feeling content, and comfortable. I woke smiling. The amount of pain I am in today seems irrelevant to the quality of my morning, which I am enjoying without expectation or demand. I am sipping my coffee and considering things involved with my imminent move; I have ‘a foot in the door’ on my studio, and planning the move has become very real, and very exciting. This feels like a moment of great strength, from the vantage point of experiencing it, and it turns my attention towards what makes me feel ‘strong’ – and what is that really about?

This is not a journey with a destination.

This is not a journey with a destination.

Tough times, hardships, trauma, and turmoil can so often feel unmanageable, or overwhelming. I have to commit to real effort to launch good practices sometimes, and to show myself compassion, and make time for simple reminders that ‘this too shall pass’, in order to feel I am going to ‘make it through to the other side’. I am vulnerable, and I am sometimes more fragile than I would prefer to have revealed to the world…but that openness that is so much part of who I am is also one of my greatest strengths, and a substantial gift.

Lasting strength seems built on moments of great hardship, survived and passed by. What I do with myself in times of stress, or trauma, isn’t merely about the strength I’ve already got – it seems to be what builds the strength I will count on in the future. I am learning to count on that strength in advance – like Harry Potter realizing he can cast his Patronus Charm, because he already has. Perspective once again pushing its way to the forefront of good practices, I suppose. 🙂

Today is a good day to invest in future strength with good self-care, and real appreciation for the journey that has gotten me this far. Today is a good day to celebrate how far I have come, and the challenges behind me. Today is a good day to stare the future in the face with a welcoming smile. I am my own cartographer, and today is a good day for a journey.

The map is not the world...still good to have a map, though. :-)

The map is not the world…still good to have a map, though. 🙂

Disclaimer: This post is about emotions. I sometimes work through them more easily with words, in text, that I can see reflecting the experience back at me. It is a way of getting perspective. This post, though, may be a downer – I say that before I even write it, because I am having my own experience, and I feel what I feel in this moment. I am so very human. So…do yourself a huge favor, take a moment for ‘informed consent’; if you are in a place emotionally where someone else’s pain and struggling may wound you, throw off a good vibe you are enjoying, or change your experience for the worse, I recommend skipping this one. Hey, if nothing else, the writing is likely to be of poor quality, and angst-y, and rife with spelling errors and weird grammar fails – who needs that on a Friday morning? I’ll understand, I promise.

Still here? Okay…

Some other morning, a coffee.

Some other morning, a coffee.

I woke crying this morning. I fell asleep crying last night. In between, I found myself ambushed by Demons in The Nightmare City. This is not an emotional space I want to occupy. I am frustrated by my lack of resilience, my lack of emotional regulation, and my lack of perspective. I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel resentful and let down. I feel. Yeah. I definitely feel. I feel mistreated, and mislead. I feel set up and I feel sabotaged. I feel hurt.

“That’s a whole lot of feelings there, lady, what gives?” I’m a human primate. I am an emotional being more than a rational one – it’s a balance. Today it isn’t balancing as well as I’d like. Stress kicks my ass, being hurt kicks my ass, abrupt change kicks my ass – and it takes me a little time to recover, even with some support. Emotions are not criminal actions. Assaulting people with them is, I hear, avoidable. That sounds like fine thing to me, and I turned the little sign on my door this morning to ‘do not disturb’, meditated a while, had a shower, meditated some more… I still don’t want to be as disturbed as I feel, right now. The sign didn’t do much to help with the feelings, but by design it may prevent anyone else from walking through the mess I woke to, within, this morning.

Meditation, mindfulness practices, good basic self-care are all going a long way to improve my experience of me, very nicely. I feel a momentary hurt, recalling with sadness how quickly encouragement turned to criticism, a few months after I began this journey. I was taking a moment to feel proud of my progress, and I was feeling pretty impressed with new tools and practices being effective at helping me on a level nothing else ever had… I got called ‘smug’. I was incredibly hurt. Admittedly, I had been foolishly trying to explain or share the experience with someone else… maybe they hadn’t asked? (I suck at that – put a person in front of me and I will probably just start talking. Are you aware that your executive function manages that for you?) It hurt, nonetheless, and since then I am self-conscious about feeling encouraged by progress, and reluctant to share positive feelings about it in conversations. (Sticks and stones? Fuck right off; words matter.)

I feel confused. “Emptied out”. I feel overburdened by unmet emotional needs piling up over time. I feel like I am not making the progress I could be, right now. It’ll be okay, I think – I hold on to that tightly. I’ve got the hotline number in my pocket, just in case it gets too hard.  I lost a beautiful niece to suicide this year, and I see how it hurts my cousin every day she is without her daughter; I won’t put my traveling partner through that, and I can take the steps to avoid it. Despair is a motherfucker – it is part of our human experience.

...and another...

…and another…

I can’t be certain that the intensity of my emotions this morning reflects something ‘real’ or necessary; they are only emotions. For all I know, this is a 100% bio-chemical experience with no grounding in events or experience. Does that matter in the moment? Well, sure. It matters the way anything true ‘matters’. One true thing is that my emotions are this intense, and unpredictably so. Another true thing is that my emotions, and lack of top-down control, are incredibly uncomfortable for some people to live with. (I don’t get a choice, myself; this is my experience and I live it.) Unfortunately, in a live and unscripted real-life environment, I also don’t get much compassion specific to the ‘invisible’ issues associated with my TBI or PTSD. I rarely fight for it; if it isn’t there to be offered, begging for it, pleading for it or wishing it were there will not make it appear. Compassion can be taught – but that phenomenon also requires an active learner. Change is, but forcing it on someone isn’t appropriate – and generally isn’t effective.

My traveling partner encourages and supports me – he frankly provides a level of emotional support that I can only describe as ‘super human’ – but the environment in the household, generally, is unhealthy for me. I feel aggravated and moody about looking for a place of my own, because I’d honestly prefer to continue living with my traveling partner – he’s wonderful to live with [for me]. I am painfully aware, though, that living with me can be hard on him. Right now so much of what I am working through touches on sexuality, gender, individual identity, boundary setting/management, and relationships with others that it’s harder to treat each other gently in moments when we need it most from each other. So…yeah. I need to be on my own a while – not a break up, not even a separation, just a different living arrangement. It still sucks to hurt over it. I hope by day’s end I am embracing it in good spirits.

I leave other household members out of this, generally; I am writing about my own experience and the other people in it are entitled to be free of public scrutiny of their values and choices filtered through my chaos and damage. But…I am not willing to continue to over-compromise my needs, or undercut my values to keep peace, and the time I spend in the arms of my loves is too precious to taint it with OPD, or games. As a population of individuals, we don’t want or need the same things, and at 52 I have no time to waste on fighting to get the most basic emotional needs met; we are not all equally committed to that endeavor. I don’t yet have the emotional resilience to hold enough in reserve to continue to take care of me when common place bullshit goes sideways, and often find myself without any emotional reserves left to care for me, myself, by the time I have a moment to do so. I feel positive about the choice to get my own place…and for the moment, sad that it is necessary at all.

You know what I don’t feel? I don’t feel guilt or shame over the choice to move out, it needs to happen; I don’t thrive in an environment in which my emotional quality of life is poor. Hell, right now in this moment… I’m okay. (Thanks, Dearheart!) My tears have dried. I’m not feeling social, but I’m not enthralled by Demons in The Nightmare City.  (If I knew that I would have the kind of nightmares that I had last night, in nights to come, I’d never sleep again.) I don’t have the headache that followed me around all day yesterday, which is a huge improvement.  My coffee tastes good – I feel a pang of sadness sweep over me when I realize I won’t have an espresso machine in my kitchen for some time to come after I move; it will be a frugal lifestyle, focused on painting, meditation, and love. Wow. Suddenly that sounds fucking amazing – and all over again I wonder why this hurts at all. I enjoy solitude. I dislike drama. I have musical and culinary tastes that are not shared in the household at large… and I miss a good French press in the morning; it’s a lovely ritual to prepare coffee that way, time it carefully, enjoy the outcome at leisure… I miss living a gentle life. (The most humorous thing about that is how little time I have ever spent living that kind of exceptional quality of life – across years and relationships, I can’t really pin down more than a total of about 18 months that qualify as ‘gentle living’ in 52 years!

I’ve already found my way to a better place. It’s nice. No rushing, either; I’ve made changes to my schedule, effective this week, intended to dial down some of the fatigue-related stress, and don’t have to rush off so soon on Friday mornings. Have you actually read this far? Are you okay? Thank you for being interested, curious, or concerned enough to come all this way with me – whether just this morning, or over these past couple years. I appreciate it. You help me feel heard.

Yeah. Some days, the nightmares win. Today they didn’t. 🙂

Because love matters more. "Emotion and Reason" 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details and glow 2012

Because love matters more.
“Emotion and Reason” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details and glow 2012

Today is a good day to put down some baggage. Today is a good day to practice good self-care. Today is a good day for self-compassion – first, not last. Today is a good day to enjoy this amazing woman I am becoming without competition, dread, or games. Today is a good day to treat others well, and understand that they are walking their own path; their story, and experience, are not mine to endure, to manage, or to criticize – and participation is a choice.