I’m sitting quietly with my coffee, reflecting on recent days, resilience, self-care, love, and the sometimes limited success of “doing my best”. My results definitely vary. Very human. I keep practicing.
A new day, a new beginning.
I reached the trailhead before daybreak, and it began to rain (again) just as the sky lightened enough to walk it safely. So… I wait for a break in the rain. I don’t mind; it’s lovely quiet time to write, meditate, and reflect on recent successes and joy. Time well-spent on a self-care practice that matters more than it seems it should, for such a small thing. I definitely need this quiet solitary time in order to truly thrive.
Yesterday was peculiarly difficult until my Traveling Partner realized he had made an error with his medication that affected his experience in a negative way. He asked me to resume helping him by setting up his medications for him. He still needs my help for now, and I am happy to provide it. Taking a careful, considerate, and collaborative approach, he told me what he needs, I got it together and set up for the night and first thing this morning. Later today I’ll set it up for the afternoon and evening. So far, this feels like a good approach, appropriate to where he is with his recovery.
The evening was a quiet one. I went to bed early enough to get a good night of rest, and even slept through the night (rare for me). I woke feeling rested and comfortable in my skin. It’s a pleasant feeling and a good start to the day. My pain is not a big deal for the moment, even my headache is only about a 2 out of 10, this morning. I sit with that awareness for a while, just enjoying it. Enjoying – savoring – these good moments, however small, is a profoundly powerful tool for building emotional resilience.
This morning I plan to give my Traveling Partner some quiet time for rest. I’ll start work a little later, maybe run some errands before then (after my walk). The cloudy sky revealed by the dawn promises more rain to come, but for the moment it has stopped raining. I grab my boots and my cane. Time for that walk. I smile, enjoying the lush hues of green of the trees and blackberry thickets along the edge of the meadow beyond this parking lot and think about painting the scene in pastels. Maybe this weekend? I sigh contentedly to myself. It looks like a good time to begin again.
I’m in a wretched vile mood, twisted with pain, angry with… humanity. Feeling pretty over “everyone’s” bullshit, greed, and negativity. It’s not my best look. This morning I would happily give the whole world a giant middle finger, a “fuck you” as a greeting, and pull up a chair to sit back and watch the world burn.
…Did you even know I had it in me?…
I woke fairly comfortably, feeling level-headed and mellow, in a good mood and not in much pain. I was barely dressed to head out for a pleasant morning walk when that all went screeching off course, abruptly veering into a seriously shitty mood, neck and back spasms, my headache roaring to its full potential, and just not in a good place at all. Does it matter why? Not really. Humans being human.
…And here I am…
I get to the trail after a drive that could have been quite pleasant if my head were in a different place. The sunrise was gorgeous. I saw it. Traffic was light. It’s a Saturday. I hit the trail without any lingering. It’s rather crowded this morning, and having to endure the presence of other people, and hear the sound of voices, grates on my nerves. Aggravating. I am feeling so fucking over humanity this morning. I don’t want to share the trail or the moment. My steps come down hard as I walk a more aggressive pace than usual. I’ll probably pay for that later.
There’s more to the moment than my emotions.
I walk on, trying to reset my experience and begin again. It’s not always easy. I am still seething. I breathe, exhale, and walk on… one step at a time, and trying to let go of my irritation each time I see someone on the trail or hear voices approaching. I’d very much like to be quite alone, right now, but that’s clearly not going to happen.
…Emotions are not facts…
…The plan is not the experience…
…The journey is the destination (and it has to begin where I actually am)…
…I can choose not to endure “second dart” suffering…
…There are verbs involved…
…My results vary…
…This will pass…
I breathe in the fresh Spring air. I exhale as a slow sigh. I’m “not there yet”, but I keep walking. Eventually I will get somewhere. One step at a time. Incremental change. Practicing the practices. Beginning again.
Our behavior in the world and in our relationships affects everyone we interact with. I reflect as I walk… How can I best process my experience without adversely affecting other people, including my Traveling Partner? How do I proceed by being the person I most want to be? If I were comfortably able to process my anger effectively without expressing it explosively or pushing a lot of negative energy into shared emotional space, what would that look like? How is that done? (It’d be nice to have a fucking “user’s guide” for managing emotional skillfully. )
I walk with my thoughts, making a point of being politely appreciative of pleasant greetings from passers-by and returning a wave or a smile. I don’t really want to deal with people, but shitty moods have an element of potential for “contagion” – we are social creatures – and I really don’t want to be a force for evil and negativity in the world, not even on a small scale. No one benefits from that; life is already difficult enough. So… I walk with my thoughts and work on getting past my bullshit, so I can enjoy the day.
I get to my halfway point and sit down to write a bit.
By the time I get to this paragraph, the sun is well up in the sky, warming my shoulders and back as I write. I feel some better. My emotions, at least, are tamed. I’m not seething with unexpressed anger, now. I’m not having to force myself to view the world through a positive lens by some act of will. I’m not immediately annoyed to see another human being on the trail. Aside from the physical pain, I’m mostly okay. “Fine”, for most values of fine.
I take my self-reflection further, and make room for gratitude; it’s a beautiful morning, and I will see a specialist this morning who reliably manages to alleviate a good portion of my pain, if only temporarily. It’s enough and I am grateful for the skilled care. I give a moment to soft feelings of love and care for my Traveling Partner, too. His day got off to a difficult start. We’ve each got our own challenges, each having our own experience, but there’s no shortage of deep and abiding love between us. He’s a worthy traveling companion on life’s journey.
I sigh, sitting in the sunshine, watching a chipmunk approaching me from the side, hesitantly. I watch, trying to avoid being obvious about it. She darts away when I move ever so slightly. “I get it”, I think to myself, “humans are the worst.”
…I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make the effort to let that feeling go…
I look at the time. If I timed this right, it’ll be time to head to my appointment, just as I get back to the car. It’s definitely time to head back down the trail, and begin again.
I’m still “work in progress” as a human primate. I’m aware of that. Lots of character – lots of “character flaws”. Sharp as hell… dumb as fuck. Filled with good intentions, infused with vision, sparked by inspiration, and eager to exert my will to create the life I most want to live… mostly. I’m also capable of unreasonable anger, making incorrect assumptions and poor decisions, and sometimes barely have the will to lift my hand to take a drink of water when I’m thirsty.
Sometimes I get wrapped up in a moment, and without realizing I’ve done so, I get lost in someone else’s emotional experience, vacillating between wanting to “solve the problem” and wanting to be emotionally supported – over an experience that isn’t even my own. I forget that I’m a separate person, and put effort into “centering myself” and my experience, and completely lose any comprehension that someone else has actually come to me for support. Not particularly helpful, and definitely unpleasant for that other person, who probably feels not only unsupported, but also regretful that they ever brought whatever it was to me in the first place.
“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details, 2012
Today my Traveling Partner came to me, frustrated, angry with a project going wrong, dealing with the challenge of the day. I managed – I think – to listen. To be available and present. To hear him out without trying to solve the problem (he did not ask me to solve the problem, just to listen). My only assertion, beyond sufficient response to ensure he knew I was listening (in spite of the busy workday just over my shoulder), was to acknowledge his obvious frustration, and to share that I was sorry I did not have some immediate solution I could offer (at all). He thanked me for listening. He went on with his day.
This was, for me, still a very deeply emotional experience – but it wasn’t mine. It was his. The intensity of the emotions I was feeling? A mixture of his emotions being shared, and my PTSD shrieking in my consciousness that intense negative emotion from a male partner is dangerous – “fix it, fix itNOW, or get out! Get away! Danger!” Today, I pushed my fearful consciousness into the background long enough to really listen and be there for my aggravated partner. I stayed present and engaged, in spite of his obvious emotion. It was hard. This is one of the most difficult things I ever have to do, even when my partner’s emotions have nothing to do with me or something I’ve done/not done – in spite of requiring only as much physical effort as it takes to not run away. (It surprises me how much physical effort that does take, though.)
I got back to work when he walked away. My mind still struggles to let it go and really move on. There’s this “sensation in my spine” that tickles my awareness with a lingering sense of urgency and restlessness. I know these things will pass. I keep “wanting to help” – in spite of my absolute lack of potential do so in this particular circumstance. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I sit with the awareness that my desire to help is most definitely built on a foundation of terror; my PTSD reminds me of all the things that could follow, leftovers from another life and a very different relationship. Another breath. This is not that life. Not that relationship. I hear music in the other room, and the sounds of my Traveling Partner working.
Men have emotional lives. Men need to talk about their feelings (just as anyone else might need to do). It’s okay to listen – really listen. Be there. In the abstract, I know this, and it is “so obvious”. In the moment I’m actually called upon to be there, listening, it’s still sometimes quite terrifying. I sip my tea – made for me with such love, earlier this morning, by this human being who puts so much heart into listening when I need to talk. I’ve got a lot to learn about love, and I’m not surprised that there are so many opportunities to practice. This tea is pretty sweet, and I am pleased to “do more/better”, this time, even though it feels a bit as if I’ve done nothing much at all. I see the progress. I let myself sit with that awhile, reflecting on the moment over this nice cup of tea. Soon enough, it’ll be time to begin again.
…I wonder how things are going now? I will fearlessly check on things when I take my next break…
Even on the days I feel strongest, most well, most balanced, healthiest, most prepared to adult on all cylinders, even if I feel like a super hero – I’ve got my Kryptonite. We all do. When I am mindful of my limitations, my boundaries, and skillfully setting and managing expectations with others, I can plan around all that. Kryptonite is different; it’s that emotional weakness, trigger, or character flaw that trips one up most often, sometimes quite unexpectedly.
What’s your Kryptonite? Mine happens to be frustration. :-\ Life would seem much “easier” without it. lol
My day started easily. Gently. Rather routinely. The commute was effortless, and efficient. I already had my weekend plans sorted out. My day is locked into a plan pretty comfortably, too. I got into the office feeling relaxed, and ready.
Fat fucking lump of Kryptonite sitting right in my inbox. LOL
Breathe. Take a step back from that shit. Remind myself none of this is personal, really, almost never. At all. Another deep, relaxing breath. This? Not about me. If I make it about me, then it becomes toxic – and I “lose my super powers”. lol Metaphors work for me.
I get a fresh cup of coffee, return to my desk, and get on with things. Re-set. Restart. Reboot. Do-over.
I woke with a headache. No arguing with that; it’s a headache, it hurts, I feel it. Being a positive person isn’t about pretending there is no headache. That’s silly game playing that lacks consistent results. It’s more about… being aware that the headache is a temporary thing, that it will pass, and that it is only a headache. My choices still matter more than the headache itself.
We can do a lot to predict outcomes of events and choices, given a willingness to be self-aware, honest, and true to the data. Our choices still matter; our choices change the outcomes. Predictably enough, predictable outcomes change over time, as our choices are made, and our will brought to action. There’s no reason being angry about an outcome we’ve chosen, ourselves, with our actions; we could have seen it coming, generally, as human primates are fairly predictable. Even the unpredictable ones, if you’ve observed their specific ways long enough. Hell, the predictable nature of unpredictable people is so predictable, in fact, that fairly realistic scripts can be written of such things, for our amusement.
I sip my coffee and wish my Traveling Partner well. Day break soon. It’s been a rough couple weeks as his Other’s mental health declined, and her behavior spiraled out of control; that shit gets ugly fast. It was also fairly predictable, taken in the full context of my own experience of her. I take a deep breath and relax. He’s okay. Our friends are okay. Material losses are just things. Hopefully all that ugliness and stress is behind them, and everyone can move on with healing. Done with that.
Emotional resilience in times of turmoil is a big deal. If I don’t have it, I don’t bounce back from stress, and if I am not easily able to bounce back from stress, it begins to wear me down over time, becoming harder and harder to deal with, and as smaller things begin to loom larger in my daily experience, I become raw, emotional, off-balance… and I start to take shit very very personally (and almost nothing at all in life is actually all that damned personal). It all spirals downward from there. How is it that emotional resilience isn’t a common every day emotional wellness talking point? Why is there not elementary level course curriculum in emotional health in public schools? Why has it been such a struggle to get health insurers to cover mental health care fully and without limits? Who the fuck came up with the idea that emotions are the bad guy? Our ignorance about our emotions is far worse than any single emotional experience ever could be. Our personal demons are less likely to be our actual emotions than our lack of emotional intelligence, our lack of cultivated emotional resilience – and the ensuing chaos as our intellect attempts (and fails) time and again to “cut to the front of the line” in every experience. Reliably, our emotions get there first. Visceral. Raw. Real. Felt. Unavoidably we feel our emotions. (That’s why we call them “feelings”.) What we do about them is a wholly separate matter.
…Emotions are still only emotions, though. A reaction to stimulus. Sometimes that stimulus isn’t a high quality of “real” at all. We react emotionally with equal intensity to actual events as we do to imagined ones. Our internal narrative drives our emotional experience every bit as much as actual events and interactions do (for some people, less tied to reality, more so). This is problematic when our own lack of emotional intelligence, or a lack of developed emotional resilience, results in being unable to discern the relative value of whatever is the source material of our emotional experience.
If I am thinking about my Traveling Partner, and imagine losing him… forever… and I evoke an emotional reaction in myself with that thought, I may briefly feel a terrible grief. (No kidding – it won’t be anything like the real deal, but I won’t discern that difference in the moment I am feeling my momentary emotion.) Is the grief not real? Oh hell yes, the emotions are real! That’s what often undermines our ability to maintain resilience in the face of storms of hormones, as women; our emotions are entirely “real”. What is questionable is the quality of the source material driving that experience. Our emotions are bio-chemical. We’re literally on drugs when we’re enraged. On drugs when we are euphoric, in love, experiencing “new relationship energy”. On drugs when we are sad, feeling low, and overcome by ennui. Emotional intelligence is the quality that allows us to understand ourselves sufficiently well to say “omg this sucks, I’m not myself today, I need some space (or I need some hugs) and I’m sorry in advance – I’m feeling a little less able to find my center today”… without laying waste to the experience of our loved ones in a shitty moment by weaponizing our emotions and attacking the world. Over time, “I’m sorry” isn’t enough, if you regularly treat your loved ones poorly. Eventually, too much damage is done, and no apology eases the hurt feelings, or restores the lost trust.
“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details, 2012
We are creatures of emotion and reason. Understanding the complex interplay of intellect and feelings, of reaction and resilience, of emotional intelligence, cognitive skill, and intellect, goes a long way to making us seem more rational while we are also experiencing a rich and varied emotional life. Trying to tip the scales in favor of one or the other is an exercise in futility that weakens our ability to adapt to change and to overcome trauma. Avoid or shut down our emotions, and we become distant, tend toward callousness, prone to clueless insensitivity, unable to fully experience intimacy in relationships with others. Suppress our intellect, eschew a factual basis to life, and we find ourselves chaotic, reactive, and unable to gain perspective. Either of those results in our treating everyone around every bit as badly as we treat ourselves. (Well, yeah, because it’s a true thing that we do generally; we treat everyone as badly – or as well – as we treat ourselves). Fuck all that – it is a more comfortable experience to walk my path mindfully as much as I am able, aware of my emotions, appreciative of my intellect and cognitive gifts, able to balance and use them both comfortably. I am able to bounce back from stress and trauma with greater ease. It does take practice. Yep. And, you guessed it, there are verbs involved. (And maybe a meditation cushion. lol)
Real is real. I still have choices. You do, too. 🙂
Evening Light 