Archives for posts with tag: do better

Used to be I had major issues with sound sensitivity, particularly in the voice frequency range. That seemed to be so much less problematic the last couple years, since shortly before the pandemic, I think. I never stopped to wonder why; I attributed that change to progress through therapy. Seemed obvious. Now I’ve got these hearing aids, and my sound sensitivity is back. lol Apparently I’d just been losing my hearing in the voice frequency range. LOL G’damn it.

I’m laughing over it more than anything else. Cosmic humor for those inclined to perceive (or create) a god. Last night I went to bed just a bit early, deeply fatigued from fighting to stay relaxed and merry in spite of my serious annoyance over “every little thing” to do with a variety of human sound effects that sourced with the human beings in the room with me. It wasn’t personal. Hell, it wasn’t even out of the ordinary – it was merely audible in a whole new way. I’ve got my hearing back, so it should have been predictable that I would also regain some measure of my sound sensitivity, and irritation to do with chomping, lip-smacking, slurping, clanging of dishes and utensils, banging of dishes and pots, stomping of feet, forced laughter, dealing with congestion, needlessly loud remarks when I’m listening to something else… all the regular human stuff. Fucking hell human beings are ridiculously noisy. I made the mistake of mentioning it aloud with some surprise at the observation, and instead of any sympathy whatsoever, what I got from the Anxious Adventurer (and primary source of most of the noise) was “maybe you should turn your hearing aids down”? (“How about maybe you try to be a little quieter – or at least show some fucking consideration and understanding, ffs?” Was my unstated response.) I was surprised at the callous disregard for my experience, and my somewhat hurt feelings and notable irritation were a major part of deciding to go to bed. I just didn’t feel like dealing with being treated dismissively in my own house by a human being who I expect to care about my experience at least a little bit and who receives a fuck-ton of consideration from me day-to-day.

…I may still have some unresolved feelings about this, apparently, I should deal with that. (So much for mostly laughing about it!)

I sigh to myself. The Anxious Adventurer may legitimately “not get it”, and is in some regards still half-feral. I remind myself to be patient and kind, and to coach more often than I snarl.

So. Yeah. There’s that. It’s otherwise quite a pleasant morning. I woke up a few minutes ahead of my artificial sunrise, feeling rested and cozy and warm. My morning routine was… routine (hearing aids and all). The drive to work was pleasant and uncomplicated, and traffic was light. The office is comfortably warm and quiet. The details of the day ahead seem well-planned, and I feel relaxed and confident. All things considered, a very good day for this one individual human being.

I made the mistake of peeking at the news headlines. This terrifying new administration is already getting going with excessive zeal with their attack on immigrants, without regard to the rights of citizens, military veterans, or consideration of basic human decency – it’s appalling, and shameful. Attacks on the basic human rights of women are already beginning. Attacks on the fundamentals of democracy itself, too. The whole thing is a grotesque mockery of anything to do with America. I don’t know what I expected, and I guess I’m not surprised; when someone tells you who they are, believe them. The voters knew they were electing a misogynist xenophobic criminal fraudster in November, and they did it anyway. Horrifying, yes. Shocking, maybe. A surprise? No, not really. Maybe we’ll learn something and start providing education in emotional intelligence, and critical thinking, in K-12 education after this mess is sorted out? At least that ignorant huckster in the President’s office isn’t fucking immortal. (Note to self: don’t read the news. You know it’s terrible, already. Definitely don’t read the comments – that’s where the trolls live.)

Seriously. Just don’t. 🙂

I breathe, exhale, and relax and let that shit go. I pull myself back to this “now” moment, this place, this time. I’ve got enough to do in front of me, and plenty to take care of without getting myself all stirred up over things I can’t fix or prevent. That won’t stop me from being compassionate, aware, or speaking up when I see this bullshit going on. I make a note on my calendar to write to my elected representatives – that’s still a step worth taking, though it often feels futile. I stay committed to being frank about my thoughts on these trying times with friends, neighbors, even casual strangers when the topics come up. I refuse to pretend I don’t care, or to stand silent in the face of cruelty and injustice. I’m just not okay with that.

Another breathe. Another moment to relax and bring myself back to “now”. Trying times. I smile to myself, and give myself a moment of compassion. I’ve seen a lot in 61 years, and some of it has been bad. This too shall pass. For real; change is.

I take a phone call. Finish my writing. Begin again.

Damn, yesterday ended up being a tough one. It wasn’t that anything particular went wrong, or that there were challenges I couldn’t face. Hell, I wasn’t exactly in a bad mood, even. The day went askew in a strangely emotional way when the office background music began to play “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” in the holiday music mix. Multiple times. Multiple versions. Various singers. No question, an American holiday classic, and it reliably comes up this time of year, sooner or later. For me, it’s simply the saddest and most poignant holiday song ever. It’s a war era (WW II) song, and I reliably hear it sung in the voices of those who will never come home to another holiday. It’s mournful (for me). It’s one holiday song I can’t sing along to; I choke up before I even get the first line sung, and the tears come. I missed an entire holiday season deployed to a war zone myself. We sang this song together, and others, around the diesel stove on winter evenings, fighting off our blues, hoping that we would indeed one day go home for those holidays once more. Some of us don’t ever come home from war. Some of us who do make it home are forever changed by experiences no civilian loved ones can share or truly understand. War is horrible stuff, and the price paid along the way in lives and limbs and souls is far too high. I thought of Gaza. I thought of Ukraine. I thought of Syria. Global conflict. Genocide. The horrors of war. We should maybe stop doing that shit – and I’ll probably always cry when I hear this song. It has real meaning for me. Soldiers kill. Soldiers die. I’ve lost people along the way. My nightmares persist.

…It “broke” my yesterday…

By the time I got home from work, I was pretty much a mess (emotionally) and feeling really low. My Traveling Partner did his best to lift my mood, and together with the Anxious Adventurer we sat around watching “fail videos” and little bits of comic this-n-that, and taking things lightly. I gotta say, my beloved partner’s “emotional slight of hand” was masterful, last night. I had tried to say something about being set off by “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, and the Anxious Adventurer tried (in a well-intended way) to commiserate by sharing how annoying he finds that one particularly notable Mariah Carey holiday song. Understand me, please, I was not “annoyed”, I was grieving and feeling heart-broken over experiences few civilians share, and that I can’t seem to forget. Before I could flare up, irritable and angry over misperceptions of being “dismissed” or not understood seriously, my Traveling Partner put things on a comic footing in a wholesome loving understanding way, easily distracting me long enough for my unreasonable anger to be defused, unnoticed. No harm done. Fuck I love that man. He can make me laugh when I’m hurting. He can make me cry when I’ve grown jaded.

This morning the first words from my Traveling Partner were words of love and fondness and adoration. He tells me I am precious to him. He tells me he loves me. I feel it. I’m moved and my morning feels… merry. A new beginning. He understands, better than most people, where I’ve been and what I’ve been through. We’ve shared a few years together. We’ve had shared experiences, separately, that are not so commonplace for people generally. He “gets me”, mostly. More so than anyone else has. I feel loved.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m in a different place this morning, although I am sitting in the same chair. I’m wrapped in love. It matters.

Be kind to the veterans in your life, and the survivors of war – you don’t have to know the details of what they’ve been through to care, and to be there as a friend. It matters that you care. It’s enough. Help each other begin again, when things get tough. Share the journey. Hell, just be kind, generally – we’re all going through some shit. It’s a very human experience.

I look at the clock. It’s clearly time to begin again. 14 days to a new year – already? Damn. The time passes so quickly…

Another quiet morning. Another day closer to the Solstice and to Giftmas and to a new year. Another moment to reflect and breathe and be. Another moment of this very human experience. Another moment to choose and to act and to accept the consequences. I sip my coffee, iced, black. I feel calm, and little chilly; the office is not particularly warm, nonetheless I’m grateful for the quiet calm space.

It was raining too hard for a walk this morning, and when I arrived at the trailhead the small parking lot outside the gate was filled by several battered old RVs (clearly dwellings) and trash newly strewn about. I didn’t feel comfortable staying, so I drove on into the office. I know the park staff will clear those folks out after the day begins; there’s no camping permitted there, and they’re quite strict about it. As I drove away, I felt a familiar concern and compassion – where will those people go? Why are they having to live that way? What the hell do we do about the problem of homelessness? I can’t help thinking that generally speaking, it is a problem that ought not exist at all, but I’m aware that life has become so incredibly costly (rent, bills, medical care, groceries, connectivity, education…) that more than a few people end up literally unable to afford the expenses of a completely ordinary American life. My mind pauses on that healthcare CEO who was shot in the streets; people are angry, and healthcare is stupidly expensive (and not very good quality in many cases), and it’s not the patients causing that.

Some of life’s problems are damned difficult to figure out. Sometimes the solutions are obvious, but there is a profound reluctance to pay the price to solve the problem. Messy. Adulting is hard.

I remember a conversation with my father when I was a ‘tween…

Me: That seems so unfair!
Dad: The world isn’t fair.
Me: Why isn’t the world fair, though?
Dad: That’s not the right question to ask.
Me: I don’t understand – shouldn’t we be trying to make the world more fair?
Dad: You’re being naive. You’ll understand when you’re older.

Funny… I still don’t understand why we aren’t all working together to make the world more fair. I’m definitely older.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The office is quiet and comfortable. I’ve got a routine day of work ahead. I’d rather be painting, but there’s a price to pay to live the life I do, and it’s the work ahead of me that pays for it. I sip my coffee, and enjoy this few early minutes of solitude and reflection. Being chilly is a distraction, but the thermostate is locked and I can’t change the settings. There’s a metaphor there, isn’t there? We may have an idea of a solution to a real life problem – but we may be “locked out” of making the change we think is required. That’s something to think about. Be compassionate; you don’t know what other people may be going through, or what limitations and hurdles they have to face just to survive. It’s cheap to be kind.

I stare at my iced coffee with a frown. I chose poorly. Hot coffee would have been a better choice. I laugh at myself in the quiet – humans being human; sometimes even when we have the information to make a wise choice, we choose poorly. There are consequences.

It’s time to begin again.

G’damn there’s bad news everywhere. Genocide. War. Femicide. Domestic Violence. Actual targeted hitman-style murders out in the open on city streets. Corruption. Fraud. Misinformation. Civil unrest. Cabinet appointees to government posts who appear to be actual fucking fraudsters and even rapists. What the hell is going on with the world we live in? Seriously – the rich and powerful are going about their usual business of making each other richer and more powerful, while the average person wonders how they’ll pay their bills, feed their families, or afford medical care… and the government agencies that should be protecting people from corruption are being attacked by the (very rich, very powerful) very people that are the most corrupt. Scary. It’s all very scary, isn’t it? Where are we safe? What can we hold onto for a feeling of security and comfort? The news doesn’t look good – and since the media definitely does profit from keeping us all watching, there’s definitely a tendency to enhance and emphasize the worst of it, to alarm and outrage us all, and to keep us arguing with each other over all of it. Disturbing.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take a moment – this moment right here – for me. Self-care gets more important, not less so, when times are tough. I enjoy a few moments of conversation and quiet commiseration with my Traveling Partner, too; these connections we share matter even more in hard times. More, better, clearer communication with less emotional escalation and fewer buzzwords and dog whistles makes a lot of difference in “turning down the heat” when we’re feeling anxious, worried, or insecure about the state of the world.

Make no mistake, things are bad – and worse still in other parts of the world (no bombs dropping in this neighborhood, so from a personal perspective it definitely could be worse)…but… Things are often bad, somewhere, and the rich and powerful have been after an unjustly large piece of the pie since money and power existed at all. Resist. Vote. Speak up – with real people, in actual conversations. Keep your eye on the things that matter most, and try not to be deceived by “the man behind the curtain”. Look out for yourself, your family, your neighbor, your community, people generally – and avoid “othering” people needlessly. Regular folks are not our enemies – they’re doing their best too. Pay attention to where the money is actually going, if you can. Be mindful that there are many corrupt people, fraudsters and scammers out there, and keep your hand on your wallet (metaphorically speaking). Stop arguing about religion and identity. People are people. Be alert for greed or pettiness to rear their heads within your own heart – and stamp them out aggressively. “Enough” is truly enough. I mean, it can be. That’s my opinion – but this path has lead me to this place, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been before, more consistently, as a result.

I sigh quietly to myself and sip my coffee. I hurt too much to go walking in sub-freezing temperatures before sunrise this morning. I go directly to the office, and try to avoid obsessively ruminating over bullshit that hasn’t happened yet (the future is not yet written) or shit that is already behind me (the past is over and done with if we allow it to be), or things that honestly don’t directly affect my everyday life in any practical way moment-to-moment (like a presidential pardon for a son, or the friends, family, and cronies of a politician being given plum jobs for which they are in no way at all qualified). I breathe, exhale, and relax – and pull myself back to this here, this now. Perspective matters. For most values of “okay”, I’m okay. For most values of “fine”, I’m fine. I’ve got physical pain to deal with, and the usual humdrum insecurities of modern life – with all the comforts and privilege that come along with those. I don’t have to worry that my partner will kill me (that’s a nice relief, honestly). I don’t currently have to worry about genocide in this country (and I hope I never do). People are people. I commit myself to “being the change I want to see in the world”, myself, and doing my best to be kind, to be considerate, to be generally decent, to refrain from greed and pettiness, to manage my anger with skill, and tolerate others with compassion. What greater good can I personally do the world, from where I sit right now, than simply being the best person I can be? If we all did that, how much more wonderful would the world be for us all?

I think about my Traveling Partner, and the joy of celebrating his birthday, yesterday, and the way he inspires me to be my best self today – and every day. There’s more to life than the terrifying ugliness we see in the news. There’s life, there’s love – there’s now. Finding the joy in each moment is a worthy endeavor.

I think about that and sip my coffee. It’s time to begin again.

I woke up feeling cross and headache-y. I rolled up the road in the foggy darkness after making coffee for my beloved Traveling Partner and putting out a fresh glass of water and some morning snacks for him to wake up to. Hopefully his night was better than mine. I get awfully annoyed with him when he’s stupidly cross or frustrated with me, particularly when it is over something I don’t have a lot of control over, or something that isn’t about me at all in any reasonable way. He’s human too, and recovering from a serious injury is difficult and frustrating on its own. That’s not made easier by the medications he is taking to ease this or that symptom. I remind myself often that it isn’t personal, that he’s doing his best, and that he loves me. Doesn’t always make it any easier to endure.

Last night he was pretty crabby, in general, and I was “over it” almost immediately. I have needs of my own, and I definitely didn’t feel supported, cared for, or held in high regard. Didn’t help that I hadn’t slept well the night before, and knowing that was true for him, too, I suspect poor sleep was the biggest piece of our shared experience. I called it a night early and tried to get the rest I needed. That was a mixed success and my night was interrupted and not ideally restful. I’ll get over it.

I remind myself not to be a jerk to people; I can’t really know what they’re going through, and most people mean well, and generally try to do their best. Choosing to do anything else than my own best, to treat people well and kindly, with patience and understanding, comes with real predictable consequences. I know that’s true in work, family life, and love. People have a finite amount of nastiness or disrespect that they’ll endure before they lash out or just walk away. That’s reasonable, too. There’s no need to put up with someone’s bullshit rudeness, mistreatment, or drama, at all – there are other (better) options.

I think about my behavior, and I think about my beloved’s behavior, too. We’re walking this path together out of love, and I’m grateful for this deep and enduring love we share – but I’m no fool; we both have options. There’s no reason either of us should settle for each other’s worst behavior, ever. We have a mutual obligation to each other (and to the love we share) to do our best every day. Sure, sometimes our results may vary, and human is human. Still, it’s worth the effort, and certainly if we give up making the effort, love will bear the consequences. That’s just real.

I sit in the pre-dawn darkness out on the marsh. The fog is dense this morning. My head aches and my tinnitus is louder than the traffic on the nearby highway. I sigh quietly and see the steam of my breath become part of the fog. The VA says I need hearing aids now. I guess I’m not surprised. I haven’t really processed that yet. I don’t know how much it really matters. I hope they’re easy to wear and use and that they help. It’s been frustrating to have to be face-to-face with my beloved to be certain of hearing what he’s saying to me, and it’s clearly been frustrating for him, too. The doctor suggested, kindly, that there’s a chance the tinnitus will seem less loud when I’m hearing voice frequencies at a normal volume once again. That’d be a nice change. I’m grateful for the chance to have this technology available. Pretty amazing.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. It’s a chilly morning. Thanksgiving tomorrow, and I’ve much to be grateful for. I focus on the gratitude. It’s pretty hard to feel annoyed and grateful at the same time. lol Useful cognitive trick.

I get to my feet. It’s time to begin again. I’ll do my best.