Archives for posts with tag: emotional self sufficiency

It’s evening. Even the memory of coffee has grown cold. The work day is behind me. I’ve got my feet up and I can hear my Traveling Partner laughing in the other room, probably talking or gaming with his son, online. It’s a “joyful noise”. I could be feeling pretty mellow, contented, and even merry right about now… but… I just hurt.

…I’m doing my best…

I’ve done what I can for pain management. I’m even managing not to weep, though tears threaten to fall at any minute. I managed to cook an evening meal. I managed to get through some work tasks I had committed to for my partner. I put in more effort than I expected I could. Now what’s left over is just the pain. It’s “just” my osteo-arthritis. It’s the time of year when I reliably wince and grumble about how it seems so much worse than I remember (it probably isn’t). There’s no yardstick or set of calipers for measuring pain. It’s very subjective. So. I hurt. I’d say… 7 out of 10? I’m definitely at “fuck-off-I-just-hurt-too-much-for-this”, for sure. I breathe. Exhale. Sort of relax. It doesn’t feel better to do that, just reminds me that I hurt from a different angle.

Soon I can make excuses and go to bed without feeling like… I don’t know. Like someone who goes to bed too early? I sigh out loud and feel stupid.

…I recently got excited to actually read Lord of the Rings. I never have, which is just the tiniest bit embarassing. Didn’t care for Tolkien’s writing style in high school. More of a Heinlein fan, myself, and a big reader of non-fiction, as well. I think I have tended toward lighter, “easier”, faster-paced fare as stories go… The works of Robert Heinlein… The Chronicles of Amber… The Elric Saga… The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant… Right now, though, I just hurt. 😦 I hurt so much I don’t even feel like reading. Crazy. I’m not tired either… well, not sleepy.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… fuck pain.

I just want to begin again.

I’m sipping lukewarm too-strong less than ideally good office coffee and looking out the windows onto a rainy day, in Autumn, in “the city”. It could be any city. There are trees along the sidewalks, green summer foliage has begun turning to shades of gold, amber, and red. The soggy gray sky obscures the distant hills and creates silvery featureless reflections on office buildings beyond the windows. I’m thinking about life – and how fortunate I am – and how peculiar it is to be so contented, generally, when my actual life is so very different than what I once thought I wanted from it. Very strange.

A rainy autumn day suitable for thinking thoughts.

The day begins rather slowly for a Monday. It’ll be busier as the day progresses. I use the time to get my thoughts sorted out, and my week planned. There’s much to do, but a significant portion of the doing rests on good planning, and awareness of projects already in progress; rushing through the “thought work” has proven to be a poor choice on more than one occasion. I take my time with it. I think things through. I take notes, and review other notes. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I drink my coffee.

Past tense. Autumn colors. Memories like fallen leaves.

Funny how what we think we want doesn’t always turn out to be what we actually wanted, at all. Funny how things that are in the past become something more than mere memories, over time, taking on stature far beyond whatever humble object or event they represent. I find myself thinking about the past, and wondering how I got from there to here… “Here” isn’t where I expected to be, honestly.

…There are conversations I wish I could have with my Dad, my Mom, with Granny…

I sip my coffee contentedly. The day and week stretch ahead of me. My Traveling Partner is at home, working. I’m in the office, working. I’m thinking about life and love, and smiling at the raindrops spattering the grand windows that seem display the city for my view alone in this quiet space. It’s enough. I guess I’m just puzzled about how this can feel so good, so safe, so satisfying… and still find myself vulnerable to the chaos and damage that still linger, and sometimes take me by surprise. I’m fortunate to have come so far. It’s taken time and a lot of verbs and considerable effort and the will to just keep at it… again and again, failure after failure, frustration after frustration… but I am here. This is now. I’m okay with it. More than that… I may even be… happy. At least in this moment. That’s enough.

Eventually, I’ll have to begin again. For now, I’ll just enjoy this moment, right here. 🙂

I’m sipping what is left of my first cup of coffee. It’s mostly gone cold and I think about that new mug my Traveling Partner got to keep his coffee warm while he is working… yeah… do want. lol Another time; it’s on my wishlist. 😀 This coffee, right here, is good enough.

It’s a quiet moment. Lo-fi playing in the background, the soft sound of the A/C (or is it the heat?) running in the background. Laptop in my lap. Morning. My Traveling Partner was up when I got up. He went back to bed shortly after I made my coffee and sat down with him. I figure he was most likely up during the night, based on the peculiarly affronted tone of voice to his reply (he declined) when I asked if he’d like me to make him a cup of coffee as I went to make mine. I hope he gets the rest he needs.

…I guess this means we’re not going out to breakfast, though… lol

I give myself over to enjoying the quiet. Later, I’ll do laundry, dishes, vacuuming and dusting, and all the assorted housekeeping I just don’t have energy for during the work week. I make a grocery list, also for later.

Yesterday, I went shopping for jeans to replace the tattered overly-worn (worn-out) jeans I’ve been shlumping around in for a year (longer). I don’t enjoy shopping for jeans – it’s often quite difficult to find any that fit, are comfortable, and also look good to me. This time, with some effort and a lot of trying things on, I found some I liked and it didn’t even feel like an unreasonable expense. After I got home, I did the step that I so often fail on; I went through every pair of jeans I had in my closet, tried each pair on, and put it through the same test as when shopping for new ones; do they fit, are they comfortable, do I like the way they look on me? Everything that failed even one of those tests went into a bag to go to a local donation center. Clearing up the clutter always seems to also “free my mind” from the sludge of chaos.

This morning, I woke, showered, and put on a pair of new jeans. Feels good… and a little weird. A well-broken-in pair of jeans has a certain familiar feel that is hard to describe. These don’t have that, yet, but they are very comfortable, and I am at ease. I remind myself that just because something is familiar that doesn’t make it also good.

Why does any of this even matter? I’m not sure it does. It’s just a quiet Sunday morning suited to self-reflection, and I happen to be aware of my higher than usual feeling of personal comfort and contentment in this moment. I’m making a point to be aware of what has gone into creating this moment, and really making a point to savor it; it won’t last. Moments don’t last. They are fleeting. Brief. Transitory. They are… momentary. Eventually, I’ll have to begin again. 😀

For now, it’s me, this quiet moment, the lo-fi on the stereo, this feeling of comfort and this cup of almost finished, almost cold coffee… and it’s enough.

Coffee time. A Saturday morning. Strawberry yogurt. An icy glass of water after a hot soak. Feet up. Quiet moment.

…So many practices and choices have gone into creating this moment of calm, it wasn’t “effortless” in the sense that I’ve changed a lot over the years, and am now this woman in this place, having this moment…

No, I’m not going to talk about “the war”, or any number of terrible foreign conflicts going on the in world. I know they’re going on. You know they’re going on. We all know that in subtle ways we (or our government) did or did not do some thing that contributed to the environment that allowed conditions to fester until conflict erupted. So… do better. Yeah. That’s a good start. Do better. Yes, you. Me, too. Demand better choices and actions from your government, too. Speak up if you are opposed to violence. (If you’re not opposed to violence, then, um… do better. Damn. Clean up your mess.)

If you start to get the sense that I’m “selfishly” “over-committed” to my self-care lately, your perception is not incorrect, but your interpretation of my motivation could use some additional nuance and a deeper understanding. I’m a veteran. I’ve served in active conflict. I’ve participated in warfare – both of the cold variety and the other sort. I’ve done some things that have scarred me. I’ve seen some things that have traumatized me. I’ve been through some shit. I’ve seen human beings do things human beings indisputably ought not be asked to do. I’ve seen other human beings pay the terrible price. There are no “good wars”. There is no justification for the slaughter of non-combatants. Ever. At all. On anyone’s (or any god’s) behalf. So. I’m hurting right now, and often wandering about triggered and working aggressively (and silently) to manage those “invisible injuries” and their consequences. I paid a price to serve my country and found out too late that my country not only doesn’t actually care about that, but also can’t be considered a “good guy”, or just, or moral, or righteous, or even, indeed, at all careful about who they decide to kill. Gross. I want no part of it. My sanity, right now, demands that I stay focused on my self-care. That too, is sometimes difficult, and I find it hard to write without thinking too much.

Take care of yourself. These are difficult times. Hug your loved ones. Laugh with your friends. Turn off the fucking news feeds unless you truly need that information to fucking survive. “War porn” such as the continuous live coverage of battlefields is unhealthy; turn that shit off. You already know there is conflict. Let that be what it is, and give yourself a fucking break.

…Sip that hot cup of coffee (or tea)…

…Put your feet up with that book you’ve been meaning to read, and enjoy that…

…Celebrate that professional achievement you worked so hard towards…

…Phone or email or write to that far away friend you’ve been meaning to get in touch with…

…Tackle that household project you’ve had in mind that vexes you every time you walk past it…

…Breathe…

We’re such elaborate fancy “extra” creatures, we human primates, capable of so much more than we even know, and yet… we manage to avoid addressing this deeply disturbing flaw that is our capacity and tendency for violence. It’s hard to believe we struggle so much to find, create, cultivate, or appreciate peace. Please – for the survival of all of us, do something about your anger, do something about your willingness to commit to conflict, do something about your sense of entitlement, do something about your willingness to accept violence in the world – or to commit it. Please. Do better.

…Every moment that I do better at being the woman I most want to be, the world gets just a little better, too. A little more pleasant. A little kinder. A little gentler. Imagine for moment the power of a global society each and all committed non-violence… please don’t tell me it’s not possible. If that’s your first thought, my reply is that you are one reason why that may be the case. Don’t let it be the one lasting truth of humanity… that we could not refrain from slaughtering each other or lashing out in anger. What a fucking disappointment that would be, when we are clearly capable of so much more, so much better.

…This is a good cup of coffee, on a pleasant Saturday morning… I, for one, am not taking up arms against anyone else, today. No killing. No assault. Just a middle-aged suburban woman with her feet up, drinking coffee and thinking about what to do with the rest of the day.

…Soon enough it will be time to begin again…

I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about green tomato pickles. It’s not a random thought; I’ve got a lot of green tomatoes in the garden, and the season is quickly ending. Rather than waste that bounty, I have been thinking about what to do with those green tomatoes. Pickles? A relish? Sliced and fried? I’ve got options.

…Live is rich with options…

Last night my Traveling Partner and I closed out a lovely day with continued conversation about various household options, most particularly what he’s going to do about/with his work & gaming space. He is very much one of those folks who will regularly change things up with the decor, the arrangements, the utility of a given space. I’m one of the other sorts; I like to “figure it out” and have things as I like them, and then simply live with that more or less indefinitely until something forces me to consider a change. I find myself less likely to “become lost” in the middle of the night as though I’ve awakened in an unfamiliar place, if my place remains familiar. LOL No criticism of my partner’s approach, it’s just one of many variations on the theme of being human. Some people also drink tea, instead of coffee. Just saying – there are options.

…We both drink coffee…

…Okay, he also drinks quite a bit of iced tea, and I enjoy the occasional cup of hot tea on a chilly day, or in the afternoon. lol Options.

I spent yesterday afternoon in the garden. It was lovely time, well-spent. I didn’t get as far with things as I might have liked. I decided to let a few more tomatoes ripen on the vines, while there are still warm afternoons for them to do so. My original intent had been to cut the vines down and strip the green tomatoes from them and then… do something with those. I’ll still have that opportunity, it just won’t be this weekend. More time to decide on pickles or relish or some kind of delicious sauce for a chicken dish, or perhaps just fried up and served with scrambled eggs and toast some morning. 😀 I ache today, although whether it’s due to the work yesterday or the likelihood of rain today, I don’t know. It’s among the many things that don’t really matter, I suppose.

…Some things definitely matter more than other things…

I’m listening to the rain already, on a video. Considering all the many options for “content” that I could consume, it may seem strange that I so often choose this… but I find it both relaxing and also suitable for masking other sounds in the background. I enjoy it. I’m definitely a fan of choosing the options I most enjoy, when I’m able to do so. I’m fortunate that at this point in my life I am in no way prone to taking that inclination to hedonistic extremes; it can go very wrong for some people.

I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. Last day of a long weekend, for me. Work day for my Traveling Partner. I’ll likely find something to do at some point and do that… whether here or elsewhere is as yet unknown. I think about self-care practices, and I think about creative endeavors, and I think about the spaces in my life where those things collide…

…My Traveling Partner sticks his head in my studio and points out that I’ve got a good opportunity to have a soak before it starts raining today. It’s tempting… very. He points out that I am reliably in a better mood and feel better after a good soak. He’s right about that. So…

…Some time later, after a lovely soak on a not-yet-rainy-but-already-misty morning, I return to my writing and my now-cold coffee with a profound feeling of contentment, and a handful of homemade chocolate chip cookies. 😀 Options!

I’ve no idea what the rest of the day holds… I know I have options. Choices. Undetermined potential in the hours ahead… it’s a nice feeling. I munch a cookie and sip my coffee feeling as if “all is right with the world” – though I know that truly that is not the case in any global real-world way. Individual self-care requires me to care for this individual that I am, with my whole attention and will, and legitimate authentic consideration for myself and this fragile vessel. In this limited sense, “the world can wait” – these individual moments of contentment and joy have real value. Perhaps if more of us were focused on delivering, enabling, creating, and sharing moments of joy there’d be less will for bombing innocent civilians (or, frankly, anyone at all) into remnants of flesh and memories? Suffice it to say I am not unaware of the horrors of war, nor what is going on in the world beyond my little suburban home in the countryside – I just also definitely need to (and will) take care of myself. I’ve learned that lesson over a painful lifetime. “Put your own oxygen mask on first.” It’s good advice. In the event that oxygen masks deploy, whether for real or metaphorically, it definitely makes good sense to mask up before you start trying to put masks on other people. 😉

You’ve got options. Consider them. Take a minute and do it with intention and deliberation. Choose wisely. You are the architect of your own experience. You are your own cartographer on life’s journey. Choose your path and walk it. If you find that you’ve strayed…? Begin again.