Archives for posts with tag: doing my best

People are funny. We like “certainty” – a lot. Which is sort of inconvenient considering just how much uncertainty there really is in life. In the world. In the way events play out over time. Change something, and other things also change. Make a choice, and events unfold differently than if a different choice were made. Seems like something that could be very useful, if embraced and understood, but understanding uncertainty is not the easiest thing… Perhaps better to simply accept it?

Uncertainty often comes with a measure of anxiety – maybe that’s why we seem to dislike it so much? (I say “we” because observation strongly supports that this isn’t a “me” thing at all; it’s quite common.) It’s often easier to just lock in on a particular way of thinking, or a particularly useful piece of “knowledge” in some moment, and insist on the rigid truth of it, compared to gently accepting a lack of knowledge and making room for curiosity (or unknown truths to come). It’s scary to be uncertain (sometimes).

I sip my coffee, thinking about yesterday. I drove home feeling more and more ill. Knowing a colleague had tested positive for COVID that very morning, and that I’d had some measure of exposure, I allowed myself the thought that maybe it was “all in my head”, just from hearing that news. My Traveling Partner looked at me when I arrived home; I definitely did not look well. So, maybe it isn’t COVID (test was negative), but I’m down with a bit of something or other. Uncertainty. I don’t even know “how sick I am”, or whether this will pass quickly. I just feel like crap. I woke after sleeping something more than 13 hours, interrupted briefly a couple times. I know better than to return to sleep without having my coffee; that’d just be an unwanted headache later. So. I’m up for a little while, sipping my coffee and thinking my thoughts, which are sort of gloomy and unsettled, probably because I’m sick and just not feeling my best. Harder to be positive.

Aches, pains, symptoms… The coffee is good, though, and I’m “okay” for most values of okay. There’s nothing really going on. It’s just a sick day at home. I’m grateful that it isn’t a whole lot worse. I’m grateful to have sick days. I’m grateful for an employer who strongly discourages working while ill. I’m grateful for a Traveling Partner who cares for me, and the Anxious Adventurer, who was willing to run to the store for sick day supplies so I didn’t have to go out and spread this around. This is a good place to be. It could most definitely be worse.

I reflect on the value of “leaning into” uncertainty, and take a moment to contemplate what could be driving my background anxiety lately. Work, maybe? I face things head-on. I look over my resume. I love the job I’ve got, but there’s still “uncertainty”. The human mind is an amazing thing; it’s hard not to be aware (on some level) that my average churn point professionally as been around two and half years for almost two decades. I think that’s on my mind as I approach my two year anniversary on this job. Instead of being fussy and anxious, I update my resume and reflect on the work, the job market, the opportunities (or lack of) for advancement. I think about “what I want to be when I grow up” (still my favorite way to frame the question of what to do professionally). Most of my job changes have been about better benefits, or more money, some have been about redirecting my skills into a different role or industry. I think about money, and debt, and the distance from here to retirement. I think about life. There’s a lot of uncertainty. Running away from it doesn’t change that. I make some updates to my resume, and look at job opportunities in my areas of interest. Curiousity is a soothing anodyne to anxiety, and I use it frequently. It has been more effective than any of the drugs I was ever given. (CBT for the win!)

I breathe, exhale, relax, and let all that go for awhile. My head aches, but I don’t know if it’s “just the usual headache”, or if it’s “viral”. Uncertainty. Doesn’t matter. Once this coffee is gone, I’m going back to bed anyway. I decide on a video game to “go with” the last of my coffee. I’ll begin again later.

It’s rare to put things in order such that some need of my own really “comes first”. I usually put specific key responsibilities at the top of my list, obligations to home and hearth, family or colleagues, because doing the needful matters, and people are counting on me. Last night I chose to play a current favorite video game for a little while, instead of tidying up or hanging out with the family. This morning I’m writing before I do the budget (it’s a payday). Choices have consequences, and as I sip my coffee I find myself feeling like a jerk for putting myself first last night; I forgot to make tuna salad for my Traveling Partner, which he had specifically and fondly requested (he really likes the way I make it).

…Well, shit…

I sigh to myself and make a note to include an apology with my morning greeting, later. I could do better. Very human; my results vary. But, it’s also not helpful to kick myself over it for any length of time, once I’ve acknowledged my error, commit to making amends, and am ready to move on contrite over the miss, but also grateful that I did take a moment to treat myself well. I’ve just got to do a little better at balancing such things.

…I’ll keep practicing…

I sip my coffee listening to a bit of music, and getting my thoughts organized for the day ahead. The weekend is almost here. It’s a lovely summer day. I feel a peculiar pang of nostalgia for long lazy summer days of adolescence, hanging out at the edge of the woods with my boom box, listening to Atlanta Rhythm Section or Van Halen. Funny to feel it so sharply from this office desk, simultaneously feeling the gratitude and joy of living a substantially better life than I knew in those earlier times. Humans are weird. We cling so tightly to illusions of what was, forgetting for the moment the realities that hurt us so deeply. I guess it’s better than being mired in sorrow. I smile to myself, as I listen to a favorite song from a long gone time ago.

Another day, another set of choices, and new steps on this journey to becoming the person I most want to be. I know I can count on my results to vary, and I’m grateful for each new opportunity to begin again. Change is. This path definitely leads somewhere. I guess it’s time…

I’m sitting in the sunshine as the sun rises. Pretty morning. My walk to this point has been quiet and pleasant. There was no traffic on the highway, either. If the folks in my neighborhood are a representative sample of Americans in the area, most folks who were going somewhere this weekend are gone, and those that were up late firing off various fireworks and noise makers are probably sleeping in; that shit was still going on at midnight.

A misty morning at the trailhead.

I’m enjoying the quiet and the solitude. Somewhere in the distance, I hear an occasional car pass by. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning, and my back aches ferociously. I breathe, exhale, and relax, pulling my posture more upright. Changing my position doesn’t ease my pain in any noteworthy way, but slumping carelessly definitely tends to make it worse. Choices. I grumble silently to myself; everything seems to require a fucking effort. lol I laugh at myself for resisting the truth of it. Yes, surely things require effort. That’s just real. I sigh to myself and let it go. There’s no use fighting the effort required to do things. The best I can do is to make wise choices about what I am doing and where I’m putting my limited resources as an individual (even down to the effort involved).

Halfway “there” is just a point along the way. The journey is the destination.

…Fuck pain…

I sigh to myself and smile, thinking about yesterday. Nice evening. The Anxious Adventurer made lemon bars. Tasty. I made (a fairly simple, summertime) dinner. Nothing fancy. We enjoyed it together as a family. The weather was fairly mild and not hot, and we had turned off the AC, enjoying the natural breeze through windows open wide to the summer air.

I’ve no clear agenda for the weekend. Routine housekeeping stuff I guess. I sit watching the little birds at the edge of the meadow. I think about old friends and try to distract myself from pain. Maybe it is a good day to get out into the garden? There’s laundry to do, too. I chuckle at myself when I find myself daydreaming about doing housework as I sit here in the sunshine visualizing this or that task I know I am likely to do on a Saturday, and wondering what I can actually accomplish in practical terms. I’d rather sit with my feet up in the garden, sipping iced coffee and ignoring the tick of the clock, but time is a precious and finite resource and I have things to do. Another sigh breaks the stillness.

What next? I don’t know, yet. I’ve got options to consider. Choices to make. I’ve got my own path to walk. For the moment I am content just to be here, now, enjoying the morning sun without attachment to any particular outcome. Later, I can begin again.

It is morning. Well past dawn or sunrise. I’m off work – surgery today. Now and then my anxiety begins to flare up, mostly the result of troubling memories of past surgical experiences. It’s a “nothing” sort of thing. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I pull myself back into this moment. This surgery coming up today is quite minor. It’ll probably be done under a local anesthetic and finished in minutes. Regardless; the outcome will be what it is when that time comes. For now I enjoy my coffee in the garden.

A new day.

So… It’s much later. It’s evening. My anxiety was worse than I expected (or was willing to acknowledge). I’m calling it a night and feeling a bit woozy from the last lingering after effects of the surgical stress, the anesthesia, and the pain medication they gave me for today and tomorrow. I don’t really expect to need it past then, and figure I’ll be on my usual meds in the usual way by Saturday for sure. It went fine. I was surprised that it was done under general anesthesia – seemed the sort of thing that could potentially have been handled with an exacto knife and a moment of moment of excessive frugality, perhaps. lol

… Getting everyday shit done is a tad more complicated by being drugged and one-handed, but it’s temporary…

In practical terms my ability to manage my anxiety skillfully was, at best, superficial and only barely adequate. As a result I managed to aggravate my Traveling Partner (first thing in the morning), who was trying to provide caregiving and support and manage his own worry without adding to my stress. He wasn’t fooled. I did manage to mystify the nurse at the surgical center with my higher-than-200/90 blood pressure when my records show my historical average around 135/70. lol She didn’t see my anxiety at all (and I didn’t explicitly call it out). She said later that I seemed very calm and steady, after I thanked her for helping to calm me before surgery. There’s something to learn from that. One clear takeaway is that “managing” and “masking” are not the same practices and can’t get the same results. I gotta work on that. It matters to choose the right tool for any job.

Still, it’s behind me now. My throat is a bit raw from their method of managing my respiration while I was unconscious. That’s not a complaint, just an observation. I’ll have some water, and a cough lozenge, get a good night’s sleep (I hope), and tomorrow, I’ll begin again.

This headache is vexing me. I feel as if I’ve done all I can to ease my discomfort. Have I? A bad headache can limit my ability to think clearly and make wise self-care choices. I let my Traveling Partner know that I’ve got this pretty terrible headache. Doing so isn’t only to feel less alone with it, nor is it solely about making sure he knows if something goes seriously wrong. As much as anything else, it is to get any helpful suggestions of things to do about it that I may have over looked; thinking through the pain is difficult. I know I’m not at my best.

My beloved does indeed think of something I could do that might help some. A hot shower. That does sound soothing. Maybe a soak in the hot tub, too?  I stretch – maybe movement will help. I correct my posture. I adjust the lights. I make myself relax (again). I drink more water. I have some magnesium. I eat a banana (potassium). I take an OTC headache remedy. I limit the noise in my work space. Item by item, I go down the list.

… This too will pass…

Headaches tend to be temporary. Soon enough the work day will end and I can focus on me. I’ll have that shower, a soak, maybe lay down for a few minutes. A great many of my headaches are to do with my neck. Degenerative disk disease is painful and inconvenient, and like the name says it gets progressively worse over time. I try not to think about that. The thought brings tears to my eyes and I feel suddenly helpless and childlike.

…It will pass (for most values of that idea, if only temporarily)…

Not what is generally expected of office decor, but it’s my office and I’ll decorate as I like. lol

I think about this cozy friendly welcoming space I’m in… It’s quite soft and nice and filled with colors and curves and soft places. It’s a very nice spot to lay down with a book (or a headache). It was my studio, it is my home office – my quiet space. Everywhere I look there are reminders that I am loved and valued: helpful or beautiful things my beloved has made for me, precious things collected over time, souvenirs of a life well-lived, and my own art work. It’s a nice spot to enjoy a quiet moment.

I sip my icy cold glass of water. Ice water might not be ideal for some headaches – this one doesn’t care about that. It doesn’t react to the temperature of the water at all. Noises are a bigger deal. The position I’m in matters more. I’m fairly confident this headache is coming from my neck; my left ear itches ferociously deep inside without any obvious cause. Nerve damage. It’s all quite unpleasant, but saying so is better than hiding it, and caring for this fragile vessel helps more than ignoring the pain ever could.

I sigh to myself and get back to work. The work day is nearly over – then I can begin again.