Archives for posts with tag: each having our own experience

What a delightful day yesterday was. I was in a ridiculous amount of pain, but it didn’t halt the shared good time of visiting with an old friend. My Traveling Partner wasn’t in a great place, lacking the rest he needed, and apparently having developed a nasty sinus infection, but neither of those things threw off the great vibe. The Anxious Adventurer was welcomed and accepted and it seemed we all had a great time together, talking, laughing, listening to music, and sharing the moment. I made a delicious pasta dinner, and the Bolognese sauce was perhaps my best ever. Good times.

It’s a new day. New opportunities for connection, for adventure, for sharing the journey. My beloved Traveling Partner is getting some rest. The Author and I will head to the city to explore and talk and catch up. Making memories and looking for interesting books and having breakfast and the sorts of things we enjoy and simply can’t do, generally, due to geographical distance. Fun. I’m eager to begin. I love going out to breakfast, too, and rarely do it. It’s one of my favorite things.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. A whole day with a good friend? Sign me up! There will be time for stillness and solitude later.

I smile to myself. Short walk this morning. An icy cold and wintry walk down a frosted path sparkling under artificial light. Almost magical, but g’damned cold. Definitely time to begin again – with a bite of breakfast, a hot coffee, and conversation with a friend.

My head is pounding. My ears are ringing. My back aches furiously and I didn’t get enough sleep. I stayed up later than I planned pushing myself harder than I should, getting shit done I had planned to do today, while working from home. I’m sitting at the trailhead now, waiting for the sun, and on the other side of a walk, it’ll be one more work day in the office. I made these changes to give my Traveling Partner a day of chill time without dealing with anyone’s stress but his own, assuming the Anxious Adventurer takes his father’s firm, clear, directive to find something to do elsewhere today as seriously as it was intended.

I’m a bit annoyed about the whole thing, honestly. I manage my planning (and how I get shit done), with a careful eye on my physical and emotional limitations, and my limited energy. All of that went out the fucking window yesterday because the Anxious Adventurer sat around being loud for hours (apparently), preventing my Traveling Partner from being able to relax. It’s not as if my partner can jump in his truck and go for a drive himself right now! Fucking hell the lack of basic awareness and consideration irritate the shit out of me. (Caregiving is hard. Being human is hard.) Yet again, I’m dealing with a hearty helping of unnecessary bullshit and OPD (Other People’s Drama), and it limits my ability to effectively juggle caring for my partner and caring for myself.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I knew going into this that it wasn’t going to be easy. I’m disappointed by how often I find myself doing more work, not less, in spite of an additional adult human being in the household. I reexamine my expectations yet again. I’m so fucking tired and I’m in a stupid amount of unmanaged pain this morning… but the laundry is done. The shopping got handled. I even got to (eventually) spend some chill time with my beloved before I take off for a few days to rest, care for myself, and hopefully recover more than a single day’s worth of emotional resilience.

…Life doesn’t always follow my fucking plan…

The Anxious Adventurer has a good heart, he just also has limited life experience, no experience managing a household or caring for another human being (as far as I know, and based on observation), and hasn’t figured out the basics of who he wants most to be or… basic manners and interpersonal communication. Fuck. You know what I didn’t sign up for? Parenting. Somehow, here we all are. :-/  I’m not any more skilled at basic parenting than I am at caregiving. This shit? Also hard.

… It isn’t personal, it’s just reality…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I work on letting this shit go, at least enough for my own mental my health. My partner’s limited ability to manage his stress and his reaction to other people’s emotions is frustrating and difficult, however relatable, and is a predictable outcome of the combination of meds he’s been taking for months. I get it; becoming disabled is a difficult experience, and working to taper off some of the medications he’s on is also difficult, and dealing with other people’s bullshit is difficult, and he’s pretty much trapped at home dealing with all of it, all at once, all the time, at least for now. That seriously sucks and I want to help – and I will do a better job of that if I refrain from becoming fused with his experience. I’m having my own as it is. Fuck this shit is complicated and difficult.

Another breath. Another exhalation. I bring myself back to this moment. Daybreak peaks over the horizon, just barely. The morning traffic rushes by on the highway. I sit quietly with my pain, boots on, ready to take a short walk in the dim light of dawn before heading to work. The Anxious Adventurer confirms he is working today; my partner will get some quiet time. It makes the upheaval and aggravation worth enduring. I take my morning medication, grab my cane and my headlamp, and stare into the morning darkness. It’s time to begin again. Already.

This morning an enormous full moon hung overhead as I left the house. I tried to get a good picture of it, which is to say a picture that looked like what I was seeing. This proved quite difficult. The camera “wasn’t seeing it right” – or at least it wasn’t capturing my perspective well, at all. Funny thing is, the camera only sees what’s there. It’s my perspective that’s giving me the beautiful view I’ve got. My brain changes what I see, providing undetected foreshortening, changing the scale based on what seems important to a human primate, things like that. I see a fantastically luminous full moon, very large overhead. The camera shows me what was actually there. I think this is worth thinking about. We create a lot of our experience and what we see and understand about the world. Our perspective may not reliably reflect what reality actually presents.

… Perspective is very personal. We’re each having our own experience…

So, I find myself thinking about the lens through which I view the world. It’s probably worth thinking about.

In the darkness, a man approaches my parked car unexpectedly. This is a first at this trailhead. He appears to be wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which seems strange for the chill of the morning. He begins asking, breathlessly, if I would give him a ride home, and says he’s run six miles, which also seems very strange – running at this hour? Along the highway? I firmly reject the request without opening my window and direct his attention to a nearby bus stop. I double check that my car door is locked, though I know it is. The lens through which I view the world tells me this individual is more likely to be dangerous than not.

Daybreak comes soon, but I’ve become reluctant to walk the trail in the early morning twilight. I examine the feeling more closely, as one might examine a watch under a jeweler’s loupe. Am I overreacting? Being ridiculous? Responding to a non-existent threat? Relying too heavily on past experiences with dangerous strangers? Perhaps, perhaps not. Sometimes we only get one chance to be wrong about something like that.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I think, too, of my Traveling Partner, and the way our experiences with other lovers, in other relationships, informs our responses to each other in some moment of stress or conflict. We’re each having our own experience. Always have been, whether the experience is shared or not. We see the world through a different lens. Our perspective is our own. Even taking a much closer look may not reveal additional commonality so much as blow up our fears or doubts way beyond what they deserve… but it’s quite difficult to remain aware of it in the moment.

Between daylight and darkness.

I see the silhouette of the stranger in the darkness, lingering between the nearby bus stop and the trailhead parking lot. Why? I feel grateful for the techniques I learned for seeing things in the darkness that I learned as a soldier. So many things I have learned in a lifetime have had lasting utility. Unable to ascertain the stranger’s intentions and uncomfortable with his proximity, I move the car into the more distant parking lot as soon as the gate opens. I wait for daylight. I wait for the sunrise. I wait for a different perspective and more information. It’s nothing personal or even directly to do with that stranger; I’m choosing to silence the alarm bells clanging away along my nerves by reducing the potential threat. Feels like the safer choice.

Strange morning. Nothing really wrong, exactly. Good morning to think about perspective and the lenses through which we view the world. How accurate are those, really? I suppose only as accurate as our experiences hone and polish them to be. Probably not very accurate at all – how could they be, if we’re each having our own experience?

I think about conversations with my Traveling Partner yesterday. Some of those went incredibly poorly. Some were contentious, others loving. There were numerous miscommunications and misunderstandings. We don’t reliably see the world (or our shared experience) through the same lens. We’re different people, having our own experience, lived through our own perspective. It’s complicated by my brain damage. It’s complicated by the medication he’s presently on. It’s complicated simply because being human can be so complicated all by itself.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Today is a new day.  I am fortunate to love so deeply and to be loved deeply in return. I have an opportunity to do better, to be kinder, to listen more deeply and to practice non-attachment. Perspective does matter, and so does giving people the freedom to have their own (and to have that respected). Another breath. Daylight comes. There’s no sign of the stranger who approached me in the darkness earlier. I feel a sense of relief.

It’s time to begin again.

I woke with the alarm this morning. It almost felt like sleeping in. I stepped out onto the trail just at daybreak. The morning air has a chilly quality and the sky was clear and starry. Nice morning for walking. I’m glad I wore a warm sweater. Feels like fall is just around the next bend.

The sunrise begins with hues of orange and a hint of lavender down low on the edge of the horizon. Pretty. I walk on, watching the sky lighten and the colors change as the sunrise continues.

There’s a lot of promise in a sunrise.

Most of any “free time” this weekend has been spent on quality of life improvements like building new bookshelves for my Traveling Partner, and running routine errands or doing chores. I wouldn’t call it restful at all, just different kinds of work than what I would be doing on a work day. With my partner still needing post-surgical recovery support, there’s not room for much else in a day besides work… and other work.

I sigh as I walk, feeling the depth of my frustration with the limitations of a 24-hour day. I’d really like to be painting. I feel inspired by my walks, and by my thoughts, and there just aren’t enough moments left over in a day by the time all the errands and housekeeping are done. Having the Anxious Adventurer on hand is no small thing and I am grateful; I’m no longer facing exhaustion moment by moment, I just don’t have time for anything but essentials, aside from a few spare minutes here and there when I can pick up the book I am reading, and read another page or three (rarely more than that before someone wants my attention). It’s not ideal, but it’s temporary and I am managing to mostly make it work.

…I stop at my halfway point to write and reflect…

I’m looking forward to a return to some kind of normalcy when I can read, paint, camp, and be – on my own terms, doing what I love, for myself. Another sigh and a big breath of fresh morning air. Being real about things, it’s probably weeks or months away, and then the busy holiday season will be here.

… Well, shit. My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting and a request to come home and make coffee. Maybe I’ll get a second walk in later today. Looks like, for now, I’ll need to begin again. I finish this sentence and head back to the car.

I take a quick gulp of my iced coffee and lace up my boots to get a quick walk in, before the work day begins. My thoughts are with my Traveling Partner. I am already dealing with feelings of guilt and regret for agreeing to come into the office today. I hope to make it a fairly short day, which causes me some anxiety. No reason for that (the anxiety), really, my boss and my work team have been very supportive of the time I have needed to take to support my partner, first while injured, and now following his surgery.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I remind myself that anxiety is a liar. I remind myself that my Traveling Partner was okay with me going into the office today, and that he’s been making great progress on his recovery, and even that he won’t be alone all day because he has a friend coming around to visit a little later. I still feel distracted by the distance from my partner, concerned for his well-being, and worried in an abstract persistent way. Perhaps this is a predictable bit of the slow return to normalcy? I sigh and grab my cane; I no longer take walks without it.

Every journey begins somewhere.

I get back to the car, fleece unzipped, warmed through from walking briskly, and pleased to have covered a good distance in half my usual time. Sunrise is just getting going. Daybreak comes much later than a few weeks ago. My back aches this morning and my tinnitus is loud in my ears, but my headache isn’t particularly bad, and that feels like a win. It’s enough to build the day on. I sit for a moment watching the clouds hustle across the morning sky, shades of gray with hints of blue. I sip my coffee and breathe the meadow-sweet air. This is a pleasant moment. I don’t rush it, instead I linger here long enough to really feel it.

Last week is a blur; too much too fast, too tense, too emotional, and too little sleep. I’m glad it’s behind me; it may have been one of the most emotionally difficult weeks of my life. It sure feels that way from this vantage point, but it’s still very “fresh”, and no doubt my perspective is skewed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let it go (at least for now; there’s more to learn from that experience).

Hints of pink in the clouds skittering by remind me to check the time. I finish swapping back from boots to shoes. I take my morning meds with a swallow of coffee and silently complain about the pain I’m in, before thinking about the pain my partner still experiences as he heals and the many months of more severe pain he had to endure to get to this point. Perspective. (In spite of the many tense moments between us recently, I miss him dreadfully right now, although I am only 20 miles away, and only for a couple hours at this point.)

I sigh and admit to myself the inevitable; it’s time to begin again.

Like it or not, you’ve got to walk your own mile.

[Some time about 2 hours later]

It sometimes feels as if “life” and “change” are entirely interchangeable words. On my way between my walk and the office, my Traveling Partner phoned. He needed my help, and it really highlighted the necessity. Non-negotiable; I need to be there. I turned the car around immediately and headed back. It’s one thing to be away an hour, maybe two, but all day? I can’t. I really can’t. Not yet. Fuck.

I reach out to my work team and reset expectations. No problem there; everyone’s good with it. I reach out to the Anxious Adventurer; can he be there sooner, and be immediately helpful while I’m on my way back? He can. I feel relieved, and alert my Traveling Partner that help is on the way – and I am, too. Change is.

It’s later. My partner is resting. I’m settled into work. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a Tuesday. I’ve got this cup of coffee, and this day plan in front of me. Routine? Hardly. It is what it is… And what it is, is time to begin again. Again.