Archives for posts with tag: doing my best
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Give Me a Break

November 19, 2024 //
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My sleep was restless and disturbed by strange vivid dreams. I woke several times during the night, but seemed to have gotten enough rest to get through another day. I woke to find an irritated message from my Traveling Partner, a reminder about a preference regarding housekeeping. Although I appreciate the reminder for what it is, I could do without the “tone”.

… I remind myself it’s difficult for an able, skilled, adult man to find himself so thoroughly dependent on his partner’s assistance and cut him some slack…

I’m working my ass off day-to-day to keep shit caught up, and meet all the complex needs of the household… and I’m feeling pretty cross this morning. The lack of basic consideration being shown to me by everyone counting on me for so much seems lacking – inappropriately so. I remind myself everyone is human and that my efforts are appreciated… but fucking hell I do wish they were reciprocated more often! Particularly where housekeeping and cooking are concerned. I know my Traveling Partner’s limitations legitimately hold him back, for the time being, but the Anxious Adventurer has no such limitations and seems unaware just how much extra work I do that I’d like some fucking help with. Being fair, he’s generally helpful when I ask, but g’damn there’s a fucking ton of everyday shit that is obvious and right in front of him. Dishes. Cooking dinner. Picking up the mail. Laundering towels.

… I shouldn’t bitch; he does quite a bit of project stuff I can’t get to at all because of everything else. I’m just tired. I need a break, and I’m getting one very soon. I relax when I think about it. Day after tomorrow. 😀

I guess it mostly just aggravates me that it often feels like I’m the only one actively putting effort – a lot of effort – into quality of life basics (like dishes, and counter tops). It’s probably not an accurate perception. Perhaps I’m feeling resentful of how little time is left to take care of myself or do anything fun that I want to do for myself, once everyone else’s needs are met? I should figure out how to speak up about that before the pressure builds to some ridiculous emotional explosion.

… It’s especially nice to come home to the dishes being done. It’s rare. I’d love to hear someone offer to take care of the evening meal so I don’t have to. Also exceedingly rare. I can ask for these kinds of things, but that leaves 100% of the mental work of having it in mind still on me. That sucks. I’d rather be thinking about art. lol Waaaah! Adulting is hard!

I breathe exhale and relax. I need a break and I’m taking one. Then I can begin again.

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Categories art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5

It’s Noisy In Here

November 17, 2024 //
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Daybreak arrives as I get back to the trailhead. I’ll head to the grocery store next, then home to tackle housekeeping chores for another week. I’m tired just thinking about it, and my “background” pain is a not uncommon, distracting, 6/10. My tinnitus is crazy loud, drowning out the sound of traffic on the nearby highway. It’s Sunday though, not much traffic.

A view of a day and a beginning.

A huge flock of Canada geese overhead pulls me out of my irritation over the physical limitations of being a human primate. Loud enough to distract me from my tinnitus for a moment. I watch and listen as the flock fills the sky overhead. The rain that had paused long enough to enjoy my walk along the marsh resumes. Drizzly chilly autumn weather is probably the primary cause of my pain today. I took medication for that. It hasn’t helped. I distract myself by continuing to watch and listen to the geese. I mean, I try. My results vary. I sift through the seemingly endless crap in my apparently bottomless handbag looking for my Capsaicin – it doesn’t “fix” anything, but it might give me a bit of relief. Shit. Looks like I left it home. In my minds eye, I can see it on my bedside table, clearly. In this moment, here, I’m still going through the motions of dumping my purse and double checking every pocket. A very human moment.

I sigh, annoyed with myself and with my pain. The rain falls harder and a dense fog creeps in. Forecast says pain all day, time to accept it and move on. Too much to do to let it take over.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. Meditation helps with pain management, particularly if I resist the temptation to focus on the pain. Sometimes it’s hard. I keep pulling my attention back to my breath. It’s a practice. My results vary. I breathe exhale and relax. I let my mind wander to the painting I’m working on. It needs something, and is unfinished. I think about that, instead of the pain I’m in. I shift uncomfortably, but whether it’s physical discomfort or “artistic energy” isn’t clear, and maybe doesn’t matter. Another breath. I watch a doe tentatively walk by, watching me. She steps slowly, with care, her soft gaze assessing my presence; friend or foe? She appears to decide my still, quiet, form is no threat, and stop to nibble on tasty bits of what remains of the meadow grasses. Still watching me, she walks on. I smile to myself. “Yeah, I get it, girl. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to begin again.”

I sigh and stretch and fuss a bit with this all too human aching mortal body. Fuck pain, I’ve got shit to do.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Making Changes

November 16, 2024 //
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I’m sipping the last of my now-mostly-cold coffee, after my morning walk, and before I head to breakfast with a friend I don’t see often. I’m thinking about life and love and things of that sort. I’m thinking over conversations with my Traveling Partner, and our earnest mutual commitment to the life we share and the love we feel for each other.

… I’m thinking about how much actual work it is to create the life we want to enjoy with each other, and how much work it also takes to create a world worth living in…

What are you actually doing to “be the change”? What kind of experience of community and family do you want to enjoy? What are you doing to make that a reality? Yes, you. I sit with these questions myself. They seem worth answering.

When people decry “woke” culture, what are they actually objecting to? Because it’s become some kind of buzzword or verbal shortcut, I think examining the intention behind it sometimes gets overlooked. Isn’t racial equality a good thing? Isn’t gender equality a good thing? Don’t we want everyone to have access to good healthcare regardless of the neighborhood they live in, the color of their skin, their gender, or religion? Of what possible relevance is a person’s sexual preference or marital status when they are seeking healthcare, housing, or a seat in a restaurant? When people shout down “being woke”, are they making a frank admission that they are comfortable with a very non-equal society, of the sort that explicitly disadvantages and “others” some people? Who gets to decide who is “in” and who is “out”?  It’s on my mind. Maybe for obvious reasons (as we all watch the clown car of the new administration fill up, in the background of our lives).

I sigh and bring my thoughts back to matters closer to home. How do I do my own humble best to be a good partner? A good friend? A good community member? I definitely have room to grow. It’s never too late to get a little closer to being the person I most want to be. There’s a lot to consider and probably a few good opportunities to make changes in how I approach conflict resolution, boundary setting, and communication. I’m no saint. I’m often in tremendous pain, more than I’m inclined to complain about. Sometimes I’m just fucking exhausted, with much still left to do that simply has to get done. “Doing my best” is all I can do, and realistically sometimes it doesn’t get everything done – or done in a way that I could celebrate. I’m very human. Prone to temper and moments of irritability. My cPTSD is pretty well-managed, but it’s still lurking in the background. My brain injury is many years (decades) behind me, but I’ve got some brain damage that I still have to work around day-to-day. “My best” has limitations, and my results vary. How do I do more, better?

I sit with my thoughts. Self-reflection is a useful tool. Practicing self-care improves my chances to be the best version of myself. Practicing gratitude, non-attachment, and loving kindness help me create and maintain a resilient and positive mindset. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This human life is quite an interesting journey. So many verbs. So much work to do.

I watch daybreak become a new day. I’m fortunate to have this moment, and so many opportunities to grow toward being the person I most want to be. Feels like a good time to begin again.

What will you do with your moment? Where does your path lead?
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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Where Does This Path Lead?

November 11, 2024 //
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It’s a blustery unexpectedly mild morning after a night of steady rain, autumn in the Pacific Northwest. It’s Veteran’s Day, too, and although it is a Monday, I’m off work. The silhouetted trees sway against the gray sky in the pre-dawn darkness. It’ll be a little while longer until daybreak comes, and I’m in no hurry.

It’s been a good weekend thus far, and it’s a good moment now. Later, I’ll get some housework done, and maybe watch some anime with my Traveling Partner, if he’s not out in the shop with the new lathe. I smile in the darkness; good choice of birthday gift, and it’s good to see my partner on his feet and in the shop doing things. He’s still got quite a way to go recovery-wise, after his injury, and his surgery, but he’s getting there. I can’t walk that path for him, I can only walk my own alongside him.

The cars woosh by on the wet highway, beyond the trailhead parking. I sit quietly with my thoughts, enjoying the moment. It’s not fancy or particularly special, but it’s mine. I’m grateful for the mild morning, although I’m in tremendous pain in spite of the somewhat warmer temperature. I’ve spent autumn and winter in pain since about 1986 I guess? Something like that. This past couple of years it’s been all year, off and on, and this year so far more painful days than not. While that does generally suck, there’s not that much more I can do about it, without profoundly increasing my risk of addiction or substance abuse, or related bad outcomes, so I endure and do what I can.

One of the most important practices for enduring the pain I live with, without losing myself to it completely, is being present. Sounds simple, but takes a lot of practice. It’s easy to end up focusing on the pain itself instead of acknowledging it, doing what I can, and moving on to other elements of my experience in the moment. My results vary, but it’s definitely better than being mired in the pain of my arthritis and my headaches. So I sit in the stillness and quiet of a morning, listening to the traffic, and observing the lights of businesses and houses beyond the fields on the other side of the highway. I breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the sky slowly lighten as daybreak approaches on the eastern horizon. I write, meditate, and reflect. I enjoy the moment as it is, without giving much thought to the pain; it’s just one detail of many. Is it a perfect solution? Nope. Is it a cure? Not even a little bit. It’s just better than letting the pain become my world.

Daybreak at last. I hear the geese waking up on the marsh. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. One step at a time, I walk my path, and it’s 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, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being

I Screwed Up

November 1, 2024 //
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I’m no “expert” – not on mindfulness, nor CBT, nor emotional intelligence… I’m just a human being making my own way, fortunately with some help, and willing to talk about it pretty openly. (Definitely don’t look to me for the last word in whatever it is you most yearn to discover!) I’m not the expert you may be seeking. Limited education. No relevant credentials. Just a person, and not even a person of note. lol My opinions and experience are only that; mine. Subjective.  Lived in context. I share them with these caveats. (And thanks for reading.)

I was reflecting on something to do with the last few months of my Dear Friend’s life, recently (grief being a peculiar process that takes an unknown very individual amount of time, apparently). It occured to me that she had made it super clear she knew the end was coming, and was ready to face it, and explicitly opened the door to having conversations about that – clearly wanting to – and I missed that cue, choosing instead to offer reassurance, any time it came up. I failed her. She wanted to talk. She wanted to talk to me, and I did not give her that opportunity, when I so easily could have done so. I could have said something like “do you want to talk more about that, or are you making an observation?” I could have said “please tell me more”, or “help me understand why you feel this way right now?” I didn’t do any of those things because I wasn’t ready to face her mortality with her. How cruel and and how foolish. I could have done better as a friend. Why do I mention it, now? Only because you could perhaps do better, when that opportunity is given to you, when some friend or loved one says they feel the end is near, or that they “may not recover from this” – whatever “this” is – giving you the chance to listen and be there for them. You could choose something deeper and more intimate and… stronger… than reassurance. You could encourage them to talk, and allow them to share, and be there to listen – because you care.

Well, shit. This is one of those “no second chances” things, eh? I don’t even consider myself someone who has a problem facing death; I know we are mortal creatures. What I clearly do have a problem with is the pain of being uncomfortable with a loved one’s pain or sorrow or fear or anger or discomfort (no kidding). It’s a major character flaw. I should do something about it. I sit awhile with that thought…

Some time later my thinking takes me back around to discussions my Traveling Partner tries to have with me about his experience of injury, recovery, and disability. I can do better than I have. I think about it awhile longer, grateful to “have another chance”. I think about discussions of illness and mortality I have similarly tried to have with him, and his persistent attempts to reassure me and move on. I get it. Everyone wants to be heard, and hard conversations remain hard. Something to consider and to work on.

A steady rain falls this morning. I’d hoped for a break in the rain, but it doesn’t seem likely. Day of the Dead; the weather seems fitting, as I sit here missing those who’ve already gone. I breathe, listening to the rain tapping rhythmically on the car, and my tinnitus ringing and buzzing in my ears. It’s a quiet moment well-suited to reflection. It’s a Friday, too. The weekend ahead is the final stressful couple of days before the presidential election. The year is winding down, and daylight savings time ends Sunday. Shit. That’s all such a lot to take in… I’d rather be sipping coffee while I paint than dealing with all that. It will happen whether I’m paying any attention to it or not.

I remind myself to plan the Thanksgiving meal, grateful that it tends toward a handful of classic holiday favorites. It’s mostly a matter of coordinating tasks, housekeeping, shopping, and cooking. I sigh feeling relieved in spite of anticipating the work involved. As holidays go, it’s pretty routine, and for us, manageably small.

The rain intensifies, becoming a racket of pounding rain for a time. My alarm goes off, reminding me to take my morning medication. One more thing to attend to. Sometimes there seem to be so many…

… I breathe, exhale, and relax, letting my thoughts carry me on to the next moment. Soon it will be time to begin again, and the clock is ticking on this mortal life. This path won’t walk itself.

… The rain stops. I have another chance to walk…

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, women
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