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Working While Triggered

September 25, 2026 //
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Sometimes it happens. A sound. A weird shadow. A scent. Something “brings it all back”, and I find myself triggered. Again. This is always unpleasant. When I’m at work, and my time is not my own, it’s beyond unpleasant, and worse than “not ideal”, by far. It has career limiting potential.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

…When a colleague leaves work abruptly for no obvious reason, dropping everything to make haste for the exit, it’s the kind and compassionate option to assume positive intent, and to understand that we all go through some shit…

Well, I haven’t left work (abruptly or otherwise), I guess maybe that’s a win? But I’m sitting here shaking uncontrollably, as if shivering from the cold (it’s not cold in this library, and I have a fleece on). Back to back messages from my Traveling Partner, followed by a phone call (while I was already on a work call) – an emergency? I mean, for some values of “emergency” I guess. No one was bleeding. No one was at risk of imminent death. Nothing was on fire. Being triggered does not ask those kinds of questions or set those kind of limits. My beloved brought his stress to the person he felt could most likely resolve it – totally makes sense. Unfortunately, the details, and the emotional load, were such that I also became triggered.

…Now I’m dealing with my shit. At work. No one needs this. I definitely don’t need this. (I’m sure he didn’t either.) So… now what? My personal demons are taking great delight with the circumstances as I sit here shaking. My headache tears through the left side of my face as the tension causes whatever causes my occipital neuralgia to flare up. I feel my clenched jaw being… clenched. Fucking hell.

No seriously – now what? Now-fucking-what, b1tches?! (Inappropriate. I can do better.)

I take a breath, and exhale slowly. I take another. I keep breathing. Exhaling. Relaxing – or at least trying to. I pull my posture more upright. I stand and stretch – still taking those deep cleansing breaths. I let work fall by the wayside for a moment – well, for 10 minutes, with a timer. I don’t think about it piling up. I don’t think about who may be waiting for a question they need an answer to. I just breath. Stretch. Let my mind wander a bit.

…Type a few words…

It’s not a perfect solution. It doesn’t always resolve the panic of being triggered – but it beats nothing at all. I dig around in my purse; this calls for prescription strength anxiety relief. I take a moment to appreciate how rare that really is these days…

…And then I begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, loneliness, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Yesterdays

September 25, 2026 //
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One very useful thing about yesterday is that it is reliably in the past. We can let that go, when we’re ready to.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I look down the path, back the way I came. The trees along the path, a strip that runs along a creek bank, are tossing about wildly. My choice of “halfway point” seems potentially regrettable, given the violent winds. I look down the path in the other direction, and contemplate the rainy hours in the forecast, ahead. I’m not wearing, nor did I bring, my rain poncho – another potentially poor choice. I sigh to myself, wondering what will come of it.

There’s a weather alert this morning; high winds. Yep. I see that with my limited human eyesight. The wind is definitely blowing quite ferociously. The trees near me are swaying. From somewhere nearby I hear the kind of cracking noises that suggest one or more of these trees may be felled by the wind. The sound makes me uneasy.  This seems reasonable.

… I somehow manage to doze off briefly, sitting here, upright, wind-buffeted, phone in hand. I wake with a start when my head begins to pull me forward as I nod off. Am I tired? I’m not certain of that, but my sleep has been interrupted and of poor quality for a few nights now. The lack of deep restful sleep since I returned home from the coast is already wearing me down. I’ll feel better after some coffee, I reassure myself. The wind keeps blowing, without comment.

“Seeing Red”, 2026

I sit awhile listening to the trees creaking and groaning as they sway in the wind. The work day yesterday was …fine. Predictably busy. The evening after work was mostly a whirlwind of errands, followed by a serious failure to connect with my beloved Traveling Partner in a meaningful way. The evening fell apart in a cascade of misunderstood remarks, hurt feelings, and not feeling heard. I went to bed early with minimal attention to self-care. At that point I just wanted to be alone with my pain and irritation, feeling peculiarly invisible, and having nothing leftover to deal with any of that.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

…At some point my beloved stepped quietly to the side of the bed in the darkness, and touched me softly. He tenderly stroked my cheek with a favorite soft plush toy, a tiny kitten, and placed it near me.

Sometimes this can feel a very lonely journey; we are not alone. ❤ Detail of “Communion” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic, 2011

Later, when he woke me because it sounded like maybe I wasn’t breathing comfortably, the little stuffed kitten was still in my hand. He said something about my fist being clenched around the hose of my CPAP mask. I mumbled something and got up to pee without ever really waking up, and taking an allergy pill as I went back to bed. It wasn’t surprising that I might have been struggling with breathing easily (and it wasn’t allergies); my clenched fist had covered all the little holes that help with exhalation. I do wonder a bit what I might have been dreaming about.

This morning I feel okay. Yesterday is in the past. I linger on the memory of my Traveling Partner’s tenderness.

The rain begins to fall. I wrap my fleece tightly around me, zipped up, and pull the hood over my hair. It’s no rain poncho, though.

…I get to my feet and head back to the car, quickly, taking a shortcut through the vineyard, by way of the agricultural road, to the parking lot…

I am not quite soaked when I reach the car, and I’m grateful for the towel in my gear bin, and my other hoodie, clean and dry. I towel my hair dry in the car, and change into the dry hoodie.  I’m glad it’s Friday. I’m glad I was prepared for the rain, in spite of being too stupid this morning to wear (or bring along) my rain poncho. I’ve managed to avoid most discomfort. My jeans are wet, but not so much that I’m in misery, and they should dry pretty quickly. I blot them with dry sections of towel, rather ineffectively, and without concern. I listen to the wind and rain, feeling the car rock, as I warm up. I’m okay for nearly all values of okay. It’s enough.

Weather changes. Storms blow in, and blow over. Very little in life is permanent – or personal. The world can be a callous and indifferent place. We have these few precious mortal moments, and each other. I listen to the rain awhile longer, reflecting on life and love, and feeling grateful that nightmares fade so quickly..

Every moment of growth is as a rainbow in a stormy sky; a promise of better things.

…A few more quiet minutes listening to the rain, then I’ll begin again…

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words

How, Though?

September 18, 2026 //
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Choices or routines? It’s almost either/or, but for the fact that even routines are choices.

… This morning I “overslept”…

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

My walk this morning is shorter, and fully in daylight. It’s still morning, still early, and I watch the sunrise develop on the eastern horizon as storm clouds from the west move to “meet the sun halfway”. I reach the halfway point of a shorter walk, and stop to write fewer words. (I meditate, too, but set a ten minute timer.)

Did I fail to set my alarm, or turn it off during the night? Doesn’t matter. I’m here, now.

No reason to take any of this at all personally, or to let it stress me out. I’ve already “caught up with” my timing.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s already time to begin again!

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

Compassion and Listening Deeply

September 15, 2026 //
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I learned something over the past couple of days. Well, I mean, I had a moment of epiphany, in which a thing (or two) clicked into place and I had an “aha!” moment of wonder and delight that almost caused me to be an ass, when my partner definitely expected me to be listening. Deeply.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

So, for context, I’m pretty shit at listening deeply with great care and focus. Brain damage is a bitch. No doubt it’ll be a lifetime of practice to get even close to the goal of deep listening routinely without internal reminders and distracting silent admonishments. I’ll get there, maybe. I’ll keep practicing.

I’m definitely a considerate and caring person, with a soft spot for friends and loved ones and a desire that they not suffer needlessly, nor most especially over something I’ve done or said… Which, put that way probably illustrates a critical limitation I am still working through, rather more obviously than I would have intended. I feel a bit pained to read those words and cringe a bit. The thing is, I reason most clearly through analogy and metaphor and understanding shared experience, which is all well and good in the abstract, but…

… When someone is experiencing acute pain of some sort, they really don’t want to hear that you understand completely because of some experience you’ve had that you’re now eager to share. Frankly, I’ve probably lost some friends with that shit. Although my intentions were good, my effort to connect and heal and nurture or comfort just resulted in someone feeling less well understood and possibly quite annoyed. Not an ideal way to approach listening…

…For some reason, it really clicked last night. My Traveling Partner was going through some shit I really really do understand only too well. I started to share my experience, to communicate understanding, and demonstrate compassion… and it was like a bright light. I got it. After all this while. Shut up and listen, let the other person say what their experience is like. Ask about that. Listen more.

Holy shit. Is it that simple?? Maybe not. Whatever would be that simple?.. but it’s sure better than being an ass and talking over someone trying to share their experience with tales of some other experience they definitely don’t care about in that moment. They want to feel heard. So…um… listen.

… Listen…

I sigh to myself. I really hate when stuff I struggle with turns out to have a very simple “problem statement” that makes sense and brings clarity. Not because I don’t find value in that, it’s just a bit embarrassing to find myself on the receiving end of yet another such moment of clarity, after so much struggle, and have it sound so simple. Now the trick will be to make use of it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The night sky still surrounds me. It’s quiet out here on the trail this morning. Not yet daybreak, and a head full of thoughts already. I didn’t sleep well. My sleep became very restless and disturbed after multiple interruptions. I woke irritated and although I am not groggy, I’m also not well-rested. (The weekend is so close, I remind myself, hang in there… there’s a long weekend of deep restful sleep waiting for me.)

I grabbed coffee at the gas station while I filled the tank. It’s fairly dreadful gas station coffee, only slightly better than “waiting at the tire place coffee”, which can substitute as cleaning solvent I’m sure. I’m enjoying the feeling of the warm cup in my hands more than I’m drinking it – my stomach will thank me. I sip it as it cools, and my brain catches up as the caffeine starts working. Doesn’t seem so bad, after my brain realizes this is coffee.

… It’s still pretty bad, but drinkable…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate, and reflect. I write. After some little while,  I’ll finish this walk and begin a new day. Hopefully I can maintain some resilience and enjoy the day in spite of being fatigued. It’s a good goal. I’ll refrain from taking shit personally. I’ll let small shit stay small. I’ll refuse to drink poison. I won’t take bait. I’ll focus on being the woman I most want to be. That’s got to be enough.

With all that in mind, I begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Darker, Chillier

September 14, 2026 //
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Autumn is definitely approaching, although I won’t be surprised if we get another stretch of hot weather, later, we often do. This morning is cooler and feels chilly. The receding darkness of night seems somehow darker, reinforcing the perception of seasons changing.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I got down the trail to my halfway point still in darkness. Beating daybreak by some minutes, I sit quietly in the darkness, listening, watching, and simply being. It is a Monday morning, and the weekend felt too short.

… I sit thinking about seasons and cycles, and the ticking clock of mortality…

Next weekend I will enjoy a brief rest from the day-to-day demands on my time and attention; I’ll be painting on the coast. I’m looking forward to it, but having been planned, I’m no longer preoccupied with it. The recollection forms, I acknowledge it, and my mind moves on to other things. It’s not that I don’t need the break, I for sure do, it’s more that I don’t benefit from picking at it like a wound. It’s soon, and the time will pass in the usual way, moment by moment, and that’s enough.

… What is “enough”? It’s an important question, and a very personal thing. Your results may vary…

I twist and stretch, seated uncomfortably on this rock. It’s not the fault of the rock; I often sit here and it’s fine. This morning I ache, mostly strangely sore muscles. Not all that strange when I remember I’ve been making a point to do more, and have added strength training reliably to my exercise regimen. Slipping without falling on the muddy trail yesterday probably also used my muscles differently. I feel the most sore in muscles that I relied upon for my balance in those moments.

I yawn and watch the sky lighten. Daybreak(ish). I’m ready for a new day, and also a little reluctant to “deal with all that”. Typical human bullshit. 😆 I’d rather be at home, in my Traveling Partner’s embrace, living a life of ease and leisure. Turns out the world doesn’t give away such lives as freebies very often, and I didn’t take the steps necessary to get to that place, when I was younger. It would have taken very different circumstances, too, most likely. I’m not bitching – I’ll walk the path I’ve chosen (we all do), and hope to choose more wisely in all kinds of things than I did when I was much younger. We don’t know what we don’t know, and mortal lives are surprisingly short. I sigh to myself. I’m grateful in spite of challenges; it could be much worse. I’m fairly fortunate.

I’m waxing a bit philosophical perhaps. Life is pretty good, for most values of “good”, and I’m content more often than I’m not. That’s a big deal. I stretch and yawn, and get more comfortable for meditation. Then I stretch more, again, and write awhile. It’s quiet and so far the morning is lovely and peaceful here. I think ahead to coffee. That’ll be nice, too.

My hands are stiff and the morning chill seeps into my bones. I remember feeling warmed from within, in my 20s and 30s, as if my heart was a tiny white hot sun burning inside me. I rarely wore a coat and mostly didn’t feel a need to. I often walked a brisk two miles to grab lunch at my apartment, instead of on base, and my walking pace then was such that a two mile walk (each way) still left ample time for lunch. Funny to feel (and be) so much slower now.

The sky is still mostly dark. Somehow it’s already time to begin again.

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