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Any Day Now

May 6, 2026 //
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I woke on time, gently, from a sound restful sleep. I barely noticed the headache, at first. I got up, dressed, watered the lawn, and headed for the trail. It is a pleasantly mild Wednesday morning.

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

I sigh to myself as I reach my halfway point. This headache is vexing me. It seems to rise from somewhere between my shoulders, following my spine up to meet the base of my skull, blossoming into pain that spreads around the curve of the back of my head, becoming a beacon of “extra” pain in my forehead. Fucking hell this sucks all the ass. I laugh briefly, but that shakes my head unpleasantly. What sort of madwoman writes an entire paragraph on a pleasant Wednesday to carefully describe pain?

I had planned to work from home, specifically to also get some laundry done during the work day. At least right now, waiting for medication to be effective, I’m not feeling like “being around people”, at all. Alone feels better, for the moment. Working from home may be less than ideal, in spite of comfort and convenience and the company of my beloved Traveling Partner; I’m cranky as hell in this much pain.

… Fuck this headache…

I sit wondering if I can somehow justify blowing off work completely today, but I’m uncomfortable with the optics of an unplanned absence. I’ve been a professional for too long. 😆 I’d probably end up spending the day on errands and chores, and still enduring this fucking headache.

I let my thoughts wander on. Staying focused on the headache is worse than useless. The morning is a feast of fresh hues of green, and the stormy looking clouds that were overhead at daybreak have dissipated revealing clear blue skies. I breathe, exhale, and relax. A small brown bunny steps cautiously out from among the grass along the side of the trail. He watches me. I watch him. A curious bluejay startles us both.

My birthday is coming up soon. I’ve no idea what to do about it, really. I don’t have a crazy wishlist of things to do, acquire, or experience in mind. I don’t yearn for something with a reasonable price tag. My needs are pretty well met, generally. I would feel like a jerk to indulge a vague desire to be quite alone for my birthday; I know my Traveling Partner would probably want to celebrate with me, and might be hurt to be left alone on my birthday. I don’t really have any expectations or birthday wishes. Perhaps a cheesecake or an elegant fruit tart? Maybe a day without chores or cooking. Meh. I guess that’s the vibe, at least from this vantage point, peering through this headache. 😆 “This too will pass.”

I glance at the time, fighting my headache-fueled ennui. I could use a new beginning right about now… so I get to my feet and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

This Human Experience

May 4, 2026 //
4

Monday.

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

I’m not inclined to complain about a Monday. It does feel odd to get back to work after a long weekend away. Our anniversary celebration was delightful, and I’m still thinking about the meal, the wine, the conversation, and the warmth and joy of being in love with my best friend. It’s a nice place to be in life. I’m fortunate and grateful.

It’s a new day.

… Still…it is Monday, and I’m wrestling with that, a bit. My tinnitus is crazy loud, and my back aches. My left foot is unusually painful, and my Spring allergies, as mild as they are, are vexing me. The sky is stormy and gray, but only in one direction. I sigh to myself; it’s a very human experience.

…A good cup of coffee will put me right, I’m sure… I mean, mostly, eh? There’s not much to do about the various aches and pains and inconveniences of adulthood and aging, in the current conditions of this modern age.

I look at my hands. They are beautifully manicured and I’m pleased that there are no “stress tells” like torn cuticles or bitten nails. I’ve been working hard through pure will to refrain from tearing at my cuticles and fingertips. It’s not an easy sort of change to make. Changes upon changes upon changes, and I wonder briefly if the woman I once was would see the woman I am as a success or a betrayal?

“Baby Love” in bloom.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Sure, it’s Monday, but it’s a pretty nice one so far, and the thought of my roses blooming and the tomatoes I planted this weekend puts a smile on my face. The smile becomes a feeling of loving and being loved when I think of my Traveling Partner and the job he is working on. My thoughts wander to errands and garden tasks and things that make life feel busy, and I pull my attention back to here and now. There’s time later for to-do lists and errands. I grin with satisfaction; I remembered to water the lawn and still got a good walk in, before the work day begins.

I glance at the time and prepare to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

Milestone

May 1, 2026 //
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Today is my anniversary with my Traveling Partner; 16 years together, a bit more, and 15 married. As long-term relationships go, it’s not exactly “a lifetime” – I’ve had to try a few times to “get it right”. This anniversary is a major milestone for a minor reason; it is my longest long-term relationship.

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

My next longest long-term relationships (14 years together, never actually married, and another that was 14 years married, but only 10 of those together) were problematic extensions of traumatizing models of “family life” I’d dearly like to erase from memory, but for the fact that my path through the chaos and damage eventually brought me here. I wouldn’t change a moment if it might mean missing out on the love I’ve found with my Traveling Partner.

“Communion” 2010

So here I am, walking as the sun rises, smiling and hearing love songs in my head. We have dinner plans tonight, and I’m excited about that. I haven’t gotten him a gift. I don’t know how to give a gift worthy of a love like this one on the limited budget I would have. Dinner together at the best restaurant in the area seems fitting. (His idea, which tickles me so much.)

“Contemplation” 12″ x 16″ acrylic and iron oxide. August 2011

Is love “enough”? I walk and think about that question and find myself answering “enough for what?” before shrugging off the question as irrelevant to my lived experience of love and loving. Love is love. Questions of sufficiency seem to lead down a path of price tags and comparisons and cost/benefit analysis, and that seems foolish. Love doesn’t have to be “enough” to fulfill some other purpose, it is enough to experience love, ever. I get to my halfway point, still smiling and feeling lighthearted. It’s a beautiful morning, and I am fortunate to be in love.

“Cherry Blossoms” 2011

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation is difficult this morning. I fidget like a child in church, restless, excited. My mind wanders (don’t forget to pick up your Rx, don’t forget your manicure appointment, don’t forget to double-check the grocery list and stop by the store…). S’ok. It’s a very human experience. Most people don’t notice my brain damage; little glitches in the background, unusual difficulties with communication, oddball “quirks” that are actually coping mechanisms for getting around “thinking holes” and shit that just doesn’t work the way it should. I’m used to it, mostly. I’ve improved a lot over the years (so much). My Traveling Partner sees more of it than most people – and manages to be kind, loving, and generally very supportive, without succumbing to the potential temptation to exploit me to his advantage. (Not true in previous relationships, one of which apparently had exploitation as it’s specific purpose.) I feel safe and loved, which is pretty wonderful for this busted up weird human primate doing her best to figure life out, I must say. 😆

A token of affection. Love on a chain. The only heart-shaped locket I have ever owned.

I sigh contentedly, even happily. It’s a beautiful morning and I feel loved. I watch the sun light the vineyards along this trail. Such a beautiful moment. I sit here awhile longer. I have some errands to run before I return home to my beloved. I feel fortunate and merry, and supremely pleased to have taken the day off (and grateful to have had that option). Love makes it a beautiful day to be alive.

I smile and breathe the sweetly fragrant Spring breeze. I let the clock tick on (how could I even stop it?), soon enough it will be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

A Masterclass in Being Human

April 29, 2026 //
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Wow. Yesterday, though. It got off to a great early beginning, and crashed into chaos when the morning skittered sideways unexpectedly colliding with mental illness (mine) that is generally well-managed to the point of being mostly forgotten. With my Traveling Partner’s recovery making such good progress, I’ve been making adjustments to my HRT trying to find the sweet spot between effectiveness and timing/dosage. This went very wrong yesterday. I may as well have been an adolescent girl screaming at her mother with no justification, only hormones. Fucking hell.

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

I 100% lost my shit over nothing at all – a bit of very ordinary feedback and a request to check my breathing while I was on my device (curled over it uncomfortably and possibly holding my breath). On another day I’d have said thanks and corrected my posture. Instead I had a massive tantrum over it, which exploded into a PTSD meltdown and a complete loss of emotional control. It was ugly. My partner tried to deescalate the situation, but I had lost my fucking mind, like, for real.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

We eventually got back on track, which was frankly mostly to do with him. I trudged through a miasma of fucked chemistry and feelings of shame for much of the rest of the day. (Being mentally ill can be seriously embarrassing.) In spite of eventually recognizing the role my hormones (both my own and the artificial kind) played in the mess I made, I struggled to regain my feeling of balance. It took most of an uncomfortable and frequently paused workday to get things right. Adulting is hard.

… Dwelling on regrets is neither healthy nor helpful…

This morning? It is an entirely new day with new challenges, and I begin again, feeling hopeful and pretty much okay. I send a note to my GP about changes I could potentially make to my HRT and seeking advice. I have an appointment with my therapist later today. I sigh to myself, and check those off my list. Too much chaos, and for some reason I am regretting ever giving up an analog to-do list on a legal pad written in ballpoint pen, illuminated in the margins with commentary and little doodles. Why now, I wonder? The idea is enticing, though, more visual, more tactile, and just maybe more effective (for me; your results may vary).

This morning begins with phone calls (business) that I never could have handled yesterday. I complete them, feeling a bit unsatisfied with the outcomes. It is a sunny morning, though, and a lovely day so far. I don’t rush through my morning walk, although I got a later start than usual. Yesterday really fatigued me, and I woke only 1 minute ahead of my alarm. I dressed and slipped away quietly, hoping not to wake my beloved. I sit at my halfway point at last and wonder if I should work from the library today, at least for the morning? Seems wise, and would avoid disturbing my Traveling Partner’s rest. After yesterday, I know he really needs it. I find it quite hard to do battle with my demons, myself, I can’t imagine how much harder it is for him.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit thinking about yesterday’s blog post, the re-reading of which in the afternoon was part of how I began to get my shit sorted out. I never imagined, when I wrote those positive encouraging words how much I would need them myself, nor how soon. Humans being human. Mental illness is a really hard challenge – and maybe at its most complex and vexing when we heal enough to feel well generally. It’s easy to forget – I know I want to forget it, and even more so when things are beautiful and healthy and fun. Especially then. This is a massive pitfall, and a set-up for failure.

I watch the glow of early morning sunshine light up the treetops. We each have to walk our own mile, eh? What we practice matters; we become what we practice. Choose wisely.

I sigh and glance at the clock. Already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Drizzle

April 11, 2026 //
0

Yesterday… Interesting day, and simultaneously uneventful, and also notable in several ways, which is why it was interesting. My studio is coming along and I plan to be painting this weekend. I got so excited about that idea that I left work early to get the weekend started. My Traveling Partner knows how important that is to me and dropped everything to figure out weekend plans that would give me the house to myself. (I feel very loved.)

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

By evening, two things were clear; there was bad weather brewing, and my partner’s attempts to throw something together for Friday night hadn’t worked out. We’d definitely be spending the evening together. Hell, how could I be disappointed by that? Sure, I’m yearning for some solitude and creative time that isn’t interrupted by all sorts of routine requirements of adult life, but I’m also okay with planning ahead. I’ve long found it quite necessary. And also? I really enjoy the company of my beloved.

… What to do?

My Traveling Partner asked me if I wanted to go get frozen yogurt together? I surprised him with an immediate yes, and went to put on something suitable for to leaving the house.

The sky was stormy looking. I don’t mind such things. We talked about the weather on the way to enjoying a frozen treat together. At least for now, so soon after his prolonged incapacitation due to injury and surgery, every outing feels like romance. Date night. We could have gone to the grocery store and I’d have been every bit as excited. We had fun. It was a good time. He was still talking about fucking off for the weekend to do his own thing, and I was still looking forward to it.

Sometime during the night, I woke for no obvious reason. He was up (still or also was never clear). I mumbled some sleepy greeting, heading back to bed (not really awake, honestly), he called to me quietly and reminded me he actually has a full weekend of project work (business), and really should stay home and focus on that to stay on schedule with his customers. I nodded sleepily, unsurprised (the surprise had been that he was so ready to step away and give me the solitude at home to paint). He assures me he’ll be busy and “won’t be in the way”. I say something, words, affirming I’m fine with that. I’m genuinely unbothered. I’ve got my studio back, and I don’t need much more, really. The solitude is – always has been – a luxury more precious than gems. I’m happy to be mostly left alone more or less to paint. It’s enough. I went back to bed, back to sleep.

I woke this morning in the usual way, no alarm set and still waking up quite early. The darkness before dawn was drizzly. It rained through the night, continuing long after the rare thunderstorm had passed. I don’t mind a drizzle. I hit the trail happily contemplating a day spent at my easel.

A beginning of its own. Beginnings take many shapes.

When I began painting in pastels, in July 2024, I had already collapsed my studio to make room for the Anxious Adventurer. I’ve never had my studio available for working in pastels. This feels exciting and new. After the first flurry of eager creative work in a new medium, the fatigue of caregiving began to overwhelm me, and certainly I had nothing left over for art once life was done with me each day. The Anxious Adventurer proved to be damned little help with caregiving, at all, that was all on me. What help he did provide generally came at the cost of my cognitive capacity, resulting in still more fatigue. He didn’t know our ways, and definitely seemed more an adolescent than the grown adult I was prepared for (based on his age). His chronic negativity was draining. The contentious relationship with his father was… annoying.

…I wouldn’t have an environment I could paint in for almost two years, but I wouldn’t recognize that for some months, and the care my beloved needed and could not get from his son would keep me at home, too… for nearly two years…

Two years. For almost two years I’ve felt my inspiration wax and wane, again and again, yearning for the freedom to paint. The time. The energy. The emotional environment. It’s been rough having to stifle all that for lack of space, resources, or control over my environment. I have resented it more than I wanted to, and mostly because I often felt I’d been taken in by some cosmic bait and switch scheme; the help offered by the Anxious Adventurer’s presence rarely materialized and time and again I felt tricked into having to parent a grown ass man who should have had basic life skills mastered at 32.

… We’re each having our own experience. Sometimes adulting is fucking hard…

I sigh to myself by the side of this rain soaked trail. Things are different today. The rain leaves everything fresh and green. The air smells of petrichor and Spring flowers. The day feels full of promise. I have choices and today I will paint.

There’s a ping in the Anxious Adventurer’s travel chat. He’s almost home to Ohio, just a day’s drive away. He complains about the rain. His mother suggests he complain to the rental firm about the leaky truck and the flat tire. He complains that doing so makes him feel bad. I’m surprised when she and his grandmother rush to offer to do it for him. Huh. That explains a lot. I shrug it off. “Not my circus, not my monkeys”.

… Today I’ll be painting.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Art, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, Words
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