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More to It Than That

January 11, 2024 //
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I’m sitting in my car, listening to the rain falling. It’s a chilly Winter morning. There’s serious Winter weather in the weekend forecast. I think about going to the store to “stock up”, but I find myself wondering if that’s more reflexive than necessary. We’re generally pretty well supplied with day-to-day basics. I could pick up some convenience items I guess, maybe fresh veggies and some chicken…

The pain I am in this morning is “ordinary”. It’s part of my daily experience of life, and it’s difficult to bother bitching about it sometimes. Yes, I’m in pain. Yes, I took something for it. No, that doesn’t really resolve it. I try to avoid letting pain call my shots, because at least for now that’s still an option.

My Traveling Partner is also in pain. He also does his best to manage it. I can’t know directly how much pain he is in, but I feel for him in that “fuck, I wish I could help” kind of way. I feel pretty helpless, though; aside from my concern and general helpfulness I can’t do much about his actual pain. Nor can he, for me.

Physical pain is one of the least pleasant experiences of being alive, I personally think, but it’s also pretty commonplace.

I sit with my thoughts and breathe. The rain falls. The wind blows. Occasional gusts rock the car. The trees along the trail just in front of where I am parked wave as a group in the wind. A very committed runner goes by, headlamp shining brightly and illuminating the path ahead of him. The rain continues to spatter the car.

… I’m so tired. I haven’t been sleeping well. I’d sleep in if I could, but that hasn’t been successful in a while. I feel rundown and overextended. I know I need more/better rest. I don’t actually know how to get that, presently. There’s a lot to get done and with my Traveling Partner injured, a lot of it falls to me. I remind myself I only need to do my best and that has to include taking care of myself. It’s reasonable to fall behind on some things. I make that okay with myself (again), and focus on today, now.

Sometimes life isn’t easy. It’s okay that it isn’t, and it doesn’t need to be made more difficult with a bunch of bullshit expectations of reaching beyond our abilities, time, and energy. It’s okay to slow down (unless you’re being chased by a bear or something, in which case maybe don’t slow down! 😂) It’s important to take care of this fragile vessel. It’s even necessary.

I yawn and look at my calendar. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, winter

Pain & Bullshit

January 10, 2024 //
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Pro-tip: don’t add to your physical pain with your bullshit and baggage. I mean, if you can avoid it, it’s a good choice. This morning, my Traveling Partner offered me a master class in how to refrain from adding additional bullshit to a pain-filled morning. Reflecting on it, I’m pretty impressed.

I woke from a fairly shitty night’s sleep in a lot of pain. He was already up, and also in pain. I wasn’t much in the mood for conversation. That was clearly also the case with him. I got up. I dressed. I got ready to leave (early) for work. We exchanged few words, and a brief kiss, and I was on my way. A short while later, he sent me a message checking in on me, wishing me well, and making a point to alert me he was in pain, and doing his best. I felt pretty cared for, honestly. Neither of us was feeling our best, and the morning got off to a pretty good start without either of us “starting shit” or creating chaos or unpleasantness out of our shitty moment individually, in spite of that.

Sometimes adulting is hard. It’s super easy to take dumb shit personally, or to lash out at someone else over a purely subjective bit of unpleasantness going on for us that doesn’t have to affect anyone else at all, if only we acted with sufficient care. I sit here sipping my coffee, appreciating my Traveling Partner for the effort he makes every day to show me the love he feels… even when he’s “not feeling it”, because all he really feels is physical pain. For sure, he’s as human as anyone. We both are. It’s not always a perfect effort for either of us, and sometimes things go awry in a vexing way, but… not this morning. I enjoyed an easy commute, partly because my heart felt light and I felt loved in spite of being in pain. Hopefully, he does, too. The day begins well.

I got to the office, made coffee, and tackled the payday stuff with a smile. I just went from being a contractor, to being full-time (with the same company) and I’m enjoying the feeling of security, and a sense of being “back on track”. I sit with that awhile, feeling grateful for the “here and now” and grateful for a good partnership to rely on in tough times. It’s enough. More than enough – it’s pretty exceptional (based on my own limited experience).

I sit quietly for a few minutes. It’s awhile yet before daybreak. Still quite early. There’s time to reflect, to meditate, to sip coffee, and watch the night slowly become day. There’s time to begin again. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Sometimes All You Get Is The Sunrise

December 17, 2023 //
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I’m sitting in my car, waiting for the sunrise to illuminate the trail, preferring not to walk it in the dark. I slept poorly, completely pwnd by my nightmares. My head aches ferociously and I feel as if I am stressed to a breaking point in spite of so recently having a few days away. I find myself on the edge of tears over and over again, and awash in vague feelings of frustration. It’s shitty.

I breathe. Exhale. Regain a sense of calm. Then I lose it again. The experience is very much as if I am completely “disregulated” for some reason. My thoughts come back to this fucking headache. Going on 9 years, in January. No relief. No diagnosis that feels trustworthy or useful. I’m still here, though, that’s something. For now it has to be enough.

The beginning of a sunrise.

My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting. He’s up early. His injured condition is vexing and worrisome for both of us. Worse for him, obviously, living with it. The visit to the ER earlier this week seemed somewhat reassuring but the feeling hasn’t lasted and he’s struggling more than seems reasonable. No doubt this is weighing more heavily on my heart and mind than I was prepared for.

The sun begins to rise and the horizon is on fire with intense reds and oranges, and a hint of pink. It’s gorgeous. I sit watching it evolve over some minutes, half an eye on the trailhead. Soon the path will be light enough to walk quite safely.

I try to let the sunrise be enough. The tears start falling. I let them. I don’t really know what else to do with tears. Right now is hard. Sometimes that’s how things are. The world seems like a pretty terrible heartless place right now, which adds to the feeling of senselessness, futility, and frustration. Subjectively, I feel very alone and ineffective, powerless to prevent this mortal vessel from breaking down, powerless to help my partner, powerless to help my dearest friend. Powerless to change the world. Mortality comes for us all, and these fucking meat suits are more fragile than they seemed in younger years. Fuck.

I cry awhile, sitting here alone, watching the sun rise. Sometimes a sunrise is all we get. Sometimes it has to be enough. I sigh and wipe the tears off my face before I get out of the car to walk this favorite trail. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, grief, health, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, turning 60

Surreality

December 2, 2023 //
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I’m sitting in my car at a favorite trailhead listening to the rain batter the car and feeling it rocked by gusty winds. Dawn has arrived and daybreak reveals gray skies. I’m not surprised, and knew when I woke that it would likely be a rainy morning.

The drive to this trail is about 40 minutes. It was more than quiet. Without exaggerating, I can say that it was eerie, surreal, and strangely like an end-of-the-world sci-fi adventure; there was no traffic. There were simply no other cars on the road, which is so unusual I began checking the time repeatedly, wondering if it was somehow much earlier than I thought. I scanned the neighborhoods I drove past, looking for lights on, anywhere. The world slept, or had been abandoned, it seemed. It was spooky. Traffic signals operated normally. No other cars. I drove past a huge car dealership all lit up. No people. Past a hospital, no sign of anyone else. Past a shopping center, no one in sight. No sign of anyone else, anywhere. Super strange.

As I neared my destination, I came to a hill, and the one car I would see (on the whole drive) came the other direction, high beams on. “Asshole.” I said to myself when the driver didn’t turn their lights down, momentarily blinding me.

I continued my journey, musing about the high likelihood, demonstrated on my drive, that about half of the people in a given place and time are going to be assholes… Then I noticed that I had forgotten that my own high beams were on. lol …I realized that it’s probably also true that about half of the people in a given place and time are probably stupid people… And that it’s not going to be obvious at all which are which, just looking at them. I laugh out loud wondering whether I’m stupid or an asshole. I decide I’ve probably spent plenty of time in both categories over the years (don’t we all?), and make room to cut myself (and that other driver) a little slack for being so very human.

… Still super weird that I only saw one car on the entire drive…

I get to the trailhead safely and park. I sit listening to the rain and watching for dawn to become daylight, hoping for the rain to ease up enough to get a good walk in, happy to have something to do while my Traveling Partner gets some sleep.

The big oaks on the slope are a dark brown silhouetted against a stormy blue-gray sky. I’m still alone here, some time later, which is unusual but welcome. I listen to the geese overhead. The rain stops. It’s time to begin again.

Where does this path lead?

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Categories Allegories, autumn, breathe, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Another Restless Night

July 29, 2023 //
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I slept poorly last night. Restless dreams, wakefulness, and frequently having to get up to pee, along with being in pain, made for a difficult night. My Traveling Partner woke up in a shitty mood, in pain, and cross with me as his default approach. Not my favorite way to start a day. I dressed and headed out as soon as I woke. “Later” will be soon enough to return home, hopefully some time after my partner has had his coffee, done some yoga and stretching, and taken whatever he can to manage his pain and allergies.

I’m sitting on a fence rail next to a marshy expanse of still water favored by all manner of water birds. There is seasonality to the view. I enjoy this quiet place, although on weekends it is often crowded with bird-watchers and camera nerds. It’s a nice place for perspective.

God damn, it would suck if this otherwise beautiful relationship were to fail over our inability to sleep in the same place. I think about that briefly. Tears well up, and I brush them away. We’re not there yet and there are still things to try. My sleep study got moved up from mid-August to… tomorrow. I’m not exactly excited, just hoping something helpful comes of it.

A woman and child walk past me. I hear the child ask “Mommy, why does that lady look sad?”, and the woman’s kind careful reply “Sometimes being a grown up is hard honey. It makes Mommy sad sometimes, too.” For real, Lady, you’re so right. Sorry, Kiddo, it’s not always easy.

I sit quietly awhile. No plan. Just stillness. I check the hours for the pharmacy near home in order to time my return such that I can pick something up for my Traveling Partner. I try to do enough sweet things, kind things, helpful things to offset the unpleasantness of our shared challenges. It’s not “enough”, but it is at least something. I find myself making a silent promise to refrain from talking about my own pain, and fatigue, and stress, and anxiety… Hoping to be more easily able to make room for my partner to feel heard, even if I can’t do much about it. Again, it’s not everything, it’s just something.

… I have to trust that after 13 years together he does understand that I am chronically struggling with pain, myself, and that he has the affection for me and the emotional intelligence to hold space for that awareness day-to-day, in spite of his own pain and fatigue. That’s hard sometimes. It can be a very “fuck your pain, what about mine?!” kind of world sometimes. I think I can do better… But how best to do better without being a dick to myself and undermining my own emotional wellness? It’s a puzzle.

… Sometimes being a grown up is hard, and it makes me sad…

I think about a dear friend tearing up a bit as we discussed age, aging, and the inevitable loneliness of feeling “cast aside”. Fucking hell, that is some real shit. Sometimes being grown up is hard. I watch a small flock of birds take flight, appearing to chase a larger bird. They don’t pay me any attention at all. I’m not part of their experience.

We’re each walking our own path. No map. Sometimes we get lucky on the journey and have some companionship along the way for some distance. It’s not a given that we will, and ultimately we’re in this alone, regardless how or whether we surround ourselves with people or creatures. These are individual journeys. Nonetheless, we’re also all in it together. It’s a puzzle. I remind myself to try to be kind. Always.

It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being
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