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Not My Worst, But…

June 8, 2024 //
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I’m in a wretched vile mood, twisted with pain, angry with… humanity. Feeling pretty over “everyone’s” bullshit, greed, and negativity. It’s not my best look. This morning I would happily give the whole world a giant middle finger, a “fuck you” as a greeting, and pull up a chair to sit back and watch the world burn.

…Did you even know I had it in me?…

I woke fairly comfortably, feeling level-headed and mellow, in a good mood and not in much pain. I was barely dressed to head out for a pleasant morning walk when that all went screeching off course, abruptly veering into a seriously shitty mood, neck and back spasms, my headache roaring to its full potential, and just not in a good place at all. Does it matter why? Not really. Humans being human.

…And here I am…

I get to the trail after a drive that could have been quite pleasant if my head were in a different place. The sunrise was gorgeous. I saw it. Traffic was light. It’s a Saturday. I hit the trail without any lingering. It’s rather crowded this morning, and having to endure the presence of other people, and hear the sound of voices, grates on my nerves. Aggravating. I am feeling so fucking over humanity this morning. I don’t want to share the trail or the moment. My steps come down hard as I walk a more aggressive pace than usual. I’ll probably pay for that later.

There’s more to the moment than my emotions.

I walk on, trying to reset my experience and begin again. It’s not always easy. I am still seething. I breathe, exhale, and walk on… one step at a time, and trying to let go of my irritation each time I see someone on the trail or hear voices approaching. I’d very much like to be quite alone, right now,  but that’s clearly not going to happen.

…Emotions are not facts…

…The plan is not the experience…

…The journey is the destination (and it has to begin where I actually am)…

…I can choose not to endure “second dart” suffering…

…There are verbs involved…

…My results vary…

…This will pass…

I breathe in the fresh Spring air. I exhale as a slow sigh. I’m “not there yet”, but I keep walking. Eventually I will get somewhere. One step at a time. Incremental change. Practicing the practices. Beginning again.

Our behavior in the world and in our relationships affects everyone we interact with. I reflect as I walk… How can I best process my experience without adversely affecting other people, including my Traveling Partner? How do I proceed by being the person I most want to be? If I were comfortably able to process my anger effectively without expressing it explosively or pushing a lot of negative energy into shared emotional space, what would that look like? How is that done? (It’d be nice to have a fucking “user’s guide” for managing emotional skillfully. )

I walk with my thoughts, making a point of being politely appreciative of pleasant greetings from passers-by and returning a wave or a smile. I don’t really want to deal with people, but shitty moods have an element of potential for “contagion” – we are social creatures – and I really don’t want to be a force for evil and negativity in the world, not even on a small scale. No one benefits from that; life is already difficult enough. So… I walk with my thoughts and work on getting past my bullshit, so I can enjoy the day.

I get to my halfway point and sit down to write a bit.

By the time I get to this paragraph, the sun is well up in the sky, warming my shoulders and back as I write. I feel some better. My emotions, at least, are tamed. I’m not seething with unexpressed anger, now. I’m not having to force myself to view the world through a positive lens by some act of will. I’m not immediately annoyed to see another human being on the trail. Aside from the physical pain, I’m mostly okay. “Fine”, for most values of fine.

I take my self-reflection further, and make room for gratitude; it’s a beautiful morning, and I will see a specialist this morning who reliably manages to alleviate a good portion of my pain, if only temporarily. It’s enough and I am grateful for the skilled care. I give a moment to soft feelings of love and care for my Traveling Partner, too. His day got off to a difficult start. We’ve each got our own challenges, each having our own experience, but there’s no shortage of deep and abiding love between us. He’s a worthy traveling companion on life’s journey.

I sigh, sitting in the sunshine, watching a chipmunk approaching me from the side, hesitantly. I watch, trying to avoid being obvious about it. She darts away when I move ever so slightly. “I get it”, I think to myself, “humans are the worst.”

…I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make the effort to let that feeling go…

I look at the time. If I timed this right, it’ll be time to head to my appointment, just as I get back to the car. It’s definitely time to head back down the trail, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

America Hates Women

April 26, 2024 //
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I’m sipping my coffee, and trying my best not to be bitter. Too much anti-woman garbage in the news, and it inevitably filters into my consciousness. I put on music to soothe my soul, and remind me that the path ahead is not reliably smooth or paved.

I don’t prefer to pour my anger onto the page, spilling like the blood I’ve already shed, wasted like the time it would take to try to argue the point that women are fully human, conscious, with agency and their own reasons to live beyond being brood mares or objects to be used for sexual fulfillment. Fucking hell, I hope you’re at least not surprised to learn that there are many decision-making individuals in the world who don’t see women as fully human conscious beings with rights and agency… because, yeah, that’s a fucking thing. Unfortunately. Second-class. An after-thought. Hell, there are people who disagree with women having the vote – or the right to withhold their consent. No shit. Wild, right? Disappointing, certainly – and yeah, I’m angry about it. Are you kidding me? Ohio just criminalized marital rape – it’s 2024 – until now, it’s been just fine to go ahead and rape your wife. Hell, if that’s too much work, go ahead and drug her, then rape her, totally legal. Gross. We can’t do better than this?

…A lifetime of seething impotent rage, just waiting for an opportunity. I’m an American woman…

I take a breath and a sip of my coffee. These aren’t abstract concerns for me; I’m a woman. Lacking the option to willfully choose not to bear children would have changed my life dramatically. My educational options would have been diminished (because that was a thing, and not so long ago). My career options, too, would have been very different, and very limited. My leisure hours could not have been spent on art – I’d have been forced to devote my time to child-rearing. That wasn’t the life I wanted, at all. Nothing about me is particularly “maternal” beyond having a vagina and a uterus, and by the time I reached adulthood, my chaos and damage were so profound that any child of mine was going to have a rough fucking go of it – it takes a long time for trauma to heal, even with persistent self-work. I knew when I was just 14 that I did not want children. That’s still true. (I am fond of my stepson; I met him shortly after he finished high school. He’s a good guy, doing his best, and he’s come so far since I first met him. I enjoy being a bystander on the relationship my Traveling Partner shares with his son – and that’s close enough to motherhood for me.)

I breathe, exhale, relax – and remind myself not to allow my anger to poison me. “The way out is through”, for sure, but no need to be ridiculous about it. Tantrums and lashing out don’t help anyone understand things more clearly, and don’t help me feel better. Hell, tantrums and lashing out don’t even give me momentary relief. You know what does? Knowing that my Traveling Partner, the person I go home to each day and wake with each morning, doesn’t hate me, doesn’t hate women, and understands us to be wholly human people. There’s comfort and healing in that. I’ve come a long way from that angry young woman who stood on the threshold of adulthood wanting vengeance.

I sip my coffee, and watch the dismal rainy gray dawn unfold on an America that hates women. You know who you are (although you’re probably not reading this). Do better, for fucks’ sake. There are little girls everywhere each trying to become the woman they most want to be – give them a fucking chance.

I sigh quietly. I’ve gotten caught up in a moment of pain. I breathe, exhale, relax, and let it go – again. I watch the little brown birds in the park, and the traffic making the trip around the block below, looking for parking. The rain falls softly. It’s an ordinary day, and there is no cure for pain – just a new moment, and a chance to begin again…

…Let it go…

…Begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, grief, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Rape, Relationships, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women

Anger Management

April 11, 2024 //
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We become what we practice.

We become what we practice. Think about that for a minute in the context of anger, and how you express your anger, handle feeling angry, and how your anger affects others around you. We become what we practice. Practice “venting” your anger, releasing it into the environment, directing it toward other people… over time? You become more skillful at being angry. To be clear, you don’t become more skillful at managing your anger constructively, or harnessing the potential in your anger to communicate violated boundaries, or to seek change. You just become more skillful at (and more easily provoked into) escalating quickly and becoming a monster built of rage capable of doing great damage to those around you without anything much in the way of a positive outcome. I’m just saying, maybe give some thought to what you practice with regard to how you express and deal with your anger.

…I know I could do better, myself…

I’ve been noticing some more recent research being published about the relative value in “venting” one’s anger. Apparently, it’s not such a good practice. Gratifying for the angry person, perhaps, but not “helpful” for managing conflict, or reducing stress, or resolving whatever circumstance triggered the emotion in the first place – but reliably also incredibly damaging for the relationship with whatever hapless other primate is receiving the emotional blast of an angry outburst. Justified or not, delivering that angry blast of emotion to another human being is unpleasant, damaging, and not especially helpful for anyone involved. It’s unfortunate that we’re not taught sooner by knowledgeable practitioners how best to understand, endure, process, and express our emotions.

…Maybe don’t look to me for guidance on this one; I’m still learning…

I sip my coffee thinking about anger. I’ve gotten a lot better at managing my anger over recent years, but it still “gets me” now and then – most commonly when I’m driving. Thinking about that in the abstract, that seems pretty fucking dangerous. I keep working at it, because 1. we become what we practice, 2. disgorging explosively angry energy isn’t useful for anything in that situation 3. it wrecks my experience in the moment, and 4. it’s seriously unlikely that anything any other driver does or doesn’t do is at all personal or “about me” in the first place. This morning, I commuted calmly into the office, with the exception of one brief moment of frustration with a driver ahead of me going less than the posted speed limit. My angry reaction caught me a bit by surprise, but I recognized the inappropriate escalation of temper in the moment, and managed to take a breathe, and dial that shit back. Way back. I was going to get to my destination regardless, and this rather unimportant – and very brief – impediment to my forward momentum wasn’t going to change my arrival time in any notable way (even if it did, there’s no time pressure on my start time each day). I took a breath. Took my foot off the gas. Took another breath. Exhaled slowly and got a fucking grip on myself. I was being, frankly, ridiculous. So… I let that shit go.

Managing anger isn’t easy. It’s worthwhile, though. It does take practice. My results do vary. Still… incremental change over time is a thing. We really do become what we practice. When we practice calm, we become calmer. When we practice kindness, we become kinder people. When we practice listening attentively, we become better listeners.

…When we practice expressing our anger aggressively, we become angrier…

I’ve got choices to make. Practices to practice. Every time I feel my anger rise up, I’ve got another opportunity to practice managing my anger with wisdom, consideration, compassion, and understanding, and without explosively escalating it. Sure, my results are going to vary… but each time I practice being the person I most want to be, I get a little closer to that goal. Like anything else, when I fall short of my expectations of my best self, I can begin again. There will definitely be another opportunity to do better.

I’m grateful that I’m no longer the seething ball of taking-everything-personally rage that I was in my 20s. That rage didn’t get me anywhere with the underlying traumas that caused it, it just did more damage. I’m grateful that I’m no longer the pensive, frustrated, still-seething-in-the-background resentfully angry mess that I was in my 30s and 40s. There was an impotence and fugue of futility to that which undermined my ability to feel any joy in life at all ruining some otherwise pretty good years. By the time I entered my 50s, I at least recognized I needed to do something quite entirely different… so I began again. It’s been a strange journey of growth, change, and transformation. Worthy. The journey is, after all, the destination.

I sip my coffee, and reflect on the past decade of growth and change. It seems such a short time…

…and already, still, time to begin again. Again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Well, Shit

April 8, 2024 //
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I woke groggy and in pain, this morning. Massive headache. Sinus congestion (and assorted other allergy symptoms). Tendonitis in my right knee. Osteo-arthritis pain in my spine. Traveling Partner’s bad mood ringing in my ears, first thing. Fucking hell – what a way to start a new work week, and first day back to the office after a couple very relaxing days away from “everything”. After an hour of snarling to myself discontentedly all the way to the city, I sat down to assess the work that landed on my plate while I was out of the office. My coffee is already gone. My headache most definitely is not.

…Pain sucks…

This morning is every bit as just frankly terrible as the weekend was delightful. Maybe there’s a real relationship between those things, but more likely it’s just a random correlation in the timing, with no meaning outside whatever meaning I choose to force into it. I start working on letting all that shit go. All of it. I start by replying to my Traveling Partner’s messages, catching up on email and taking something for my pain. I make another cup of coffee. I wade through 2 days of Slack pings and bookmark a handful for later action. I make notes about what has to get done today, and what needs my attention this week. I make reminders for myself to tackle some tasks my Traveling Partner asked me to handle for him, today.

…Fuck this headache, though…

I’m starting the day feeling distracted and annoyed. It’s less than ideal, and I would very much like to just have a fucking tantrum, cry, and maybe break some shit… but… that’s literally not who I am, or how I prefer to handle my emotions. It’s just a feeling I’m feeling, right now, and it’ll pass. I take a breathe, and a sip of coffee. My eye lands on my calendar, and I realize I’m “ahead of things”, based on the timing I had allotted to do the basic catching up, this morning. That’s a nice – if small – win. I adjust my calendar details for accuracy (it’s just a thing I do), and I don’t put anything into the time I “got back in my day” based on that change – I’ll just go with it. Feels good. Small wins are still wins, and I pause to enjoy that feeling.

I started the Ozempic yesterday. All the anxiety and rethinking and caution and concern… over… what, exactly? It wasn’t at all difficult to give myself the shot. I haven’t had any kind of side effects (yet). “Nothing to see here.” It still has the power to astonish me how often we create our drama and sorrow out of thin air, or allow ourselves to become freaked out over some momentary bullshit that literally does not actually matter in any substantial way. We’re strange creatures. I breathe, exhale, and relax, feeling the pain in my body and trying to let even that just go. My results vary, but making the attempt feels worthwhile, and at least somewhat effective… maybe?

I sit with my irritable mood and my coffee, managing to be annoyed that I “missed the sunrise”, being distracted by work things as soon as I arrived in the office. It’s not worth being annoyed about, but I prefer it over being annoyed with my Traveling Partner, who managed to genuinely vex me this morning, just being human himself. Working toward also letting that go, I find myself annoyed by other things too small to actually care about, which is… fucking stupid, but very human. I quietly remind myself not to let the moment color the day, which seems practical and wise – I hope I can take my own advice. lol

I continue to drink my coffee, plan my day, and fuss to myself quietly over the amount of pain I am in this morning. I’m unlikely to bitch about it openly in my interactions with other people – which serves to remind me how little we can know about what someone else is actually going through. The result is that I find myself looking at my Traveling Partner’s early morning shitty mood with fond compassion and empathy, instead of just being irritated with him for being irritable, himself. No, I didn’t need that shit this morning, at all, but it’s not as if he’s dishing that shit out “on purpose” with an intention of causing me to also have a shitty morning; he’s having his own experience. I feel for him. He woke too early, when I got up to pee in the wee hours, and couldn’t get back to sleep. That sucks. I get being irritable as a result. I sigh to myself, and drink more coffee. My ears are ringing and my head hurts, but it’s not a reason to be a dick to people. I can do better… I just need more practice.

I finish my coffee, and open up my checklist of shit to get done today… it’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, weight loss secrets

One Lifetime

March 28, 2024 //
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I very nearly started this out as a reflection on having “only” one lifetime, but… I don’t actually know that with certainty, any more than anyone else does. Maybe there’s more? Maybe not. Won’t know until I’m “on the other side”, I suppose. What I do know is that I’m here, now, living this life, right here. Each individual day made up of so many individual moments – some of those truly “unique” (or at least, unique in my own experience), although many of them are quite similar to each other, as days and moments go, built on habits and routines and rituals and celebrations and things noticed along the way. I sip my coffee and think about this one lifetime, and what sorts of things I’d like to experience and fill my time with.

Daybreak and dawn have come and gone. The sun is up, somewhere beyond the dense gray of an overcast day. My coffee is… fine. It’s fine. Not great. Not bad. Just… coffee. Mostly gone, which seems fitting for the hour of the morning in which I find myself. Pleasant enough morning, if not especially interesting or adventure-filled – I’m fine with having an ordinary morning. Quiet. Productive. Undisturbed. Busy without being frantic. Calm. I’m neither joyful this morning nor somber, neither aggravated nor merry. I’m just here, being. It’s enough, isn’t it, most mornings?

Yesterday was an odd one. All day I felt rather as if some small portion of my brain never really woke up when I rose for the day. That feeling lingered well into the evening, and when I finally went to bed, I crashed out hard, immediately, no reading or lingering wakefully waiting for sleep. I woke this morning to the lights on full brightness; my artificial sunrise didn’t actually wake me up until I just happened to open my eyes as I turned over, and realized the room was fully light. I sat up confused and groggy, but that feeling passed quickly, and soon I was on my way to the office. Traffic seemed quite a bit heavier than usual, but it was just a byproduct of my somewhat different timing, which amounted to a “late start” compared to most recent mornings. The commute, like my morning coffee, was… fine. “Nothing to see here.” Just a drive to the office in the pre-dawn gloom.

Today? A new day, a new opportunity, a new series of moments to live in this one life. What will I do with them? Nothing much – for me – just work, at least for the next few hours. It would feel like tedious drudgery, but I like the job and the team I work with, and the day will pass quickly and likely have some entertaining moments to reflect on later. I’m eager to be home; the moments I spend with my Traveling Partner are some of the best I have in this life, at least over the past several years (and, I hope, the many yet to come). I miss him when we’re apart, in spite of my yearning for solitude now and then. Even when I am most eager to embrace some solitary moment or experience, he’s part of my thoughts, in my heart, and a notable feature of my emotional landscape. “The love of my life” is not an exaggeration; I can’t imagine feeling more strongly, deeply, affectionately about any one other human being. Sitting here with my nearly finished coffee, thinking about how much I think about my Traveling Partner, and what a big part of my experience he has become, my heart fills with love and a smile develops on my face that doesn’t make any sense. “Too much smiling!!” I think to myself, almost laughing. Fuck that man fills my heart with joy, just by existing. It’s nice. 😀

I sit thinking about things I enjoy doing, or experiencing, and ways to spend more time on those things, and less on things I dislike, or don’t get anything out of. Choices. There are so many choices. Too often I find myself choosing to undertake things that seem to “need” to be done, without really examining how true that actually is. Other times, I dodge doing the needful, in favor of doing something that is neither necessary, nor what I might actually want to be doing… just a thing being done that gets me out from under doing something “worse”, but having the unintended consequence of putting something far more pleasant, desirable, or necessary even further out of reach. Humans are weird.

I laugh and yawn, and rub my eyes. I could do better. Choose my actions with greater wisdom and discernment. Be more present and aware, more willful and studious about my decisions. I could undertake a few more verbs, and a little less sitting around, perhaps. I sigh and glance at the clock – it’s already time to begin again. The clock never stops ticking…

…and there’s just this one life…

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being
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