Archives for posts with tag: good self-care
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Comfortable

December 19, 2016 //
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I’m sitting here mostly dressed for work, reconsidering whether to wear a base layer; temperatures are forecast to get higher than 40 degrees today, and although it is cold now, it won’t be so cold by the end of the day. My base layer is probably too much. I don’t get up to change immediately; I’m comfortable right now.

My fingers keep finding their way across a snag, a small tear, on the cuticle of my left pinkie finger. I would do well to get up, use the tool created for the job of tidying that up, rather than picking at it mindlessly in the background until my finger is bleeding. I’m comfortable right here, right now, so I don’t bother to take care of it in the best way available.

There is a pan on the stove I overlooked when I did the dishes last night. I can’t see it from this vantage point, so it isn’t annoying me at present, and I do nothing about it for now; I’m comfortable.

There are so many times when my life fills up with small moments of discontent, little pains and inconveniences, details that could have gone much differently had I made some small change, or taken some needed action – things I’m aware of, things I notice, things I know to handle quite differently, and do nothing much about, because I’m “comfortable” – which is not at all the same thing as being “content” or being “satisfied”. Feeling comfortable can be a slow invitation to a degradation in quality of life; over time what feels comfortable continues to make room for things I don’t at all find satisfaction in, don’t at all prefer or find ideal, don’t even actually like, but have simply grown to accept as a given, as tolerable, as “what it is”. I start overlooking those details more and more, and the disorder can spread quickly.

It’s a Monday morning. I like Monday mornings for beginning again. All manner of new beginnings feel so orderly and proper on the first day of something… a new week, a new month, a new year. It’s a lot to expect of a moment, to be a deliberate starting point for something important, something… uncomfortable. Change, willful change, is not generally comfortable, in my own experience. There are verbs involved. Choices. Practice. Awareness. Repetition. Frustration. Beginning again. Comfortable does not define the experience of making changes… There sometimes seems a lot to be mindful of, a lot to keep an eye on, a lot to manage – there probably actually is. Some things get missed in any one moment. Being human is a thing and it is rarely an experience characterized by any quality of “perfection”. We are beautifully flawed, and incomplete, each on a journey that lasts the entirety of our experience.

I set aside my half-finished coffee and allow myself a moment of discomfort. An efficient manicure, a rethinking of the day’s choice of clothing, emptying the dishwasher and reloading it: there is effort in living well, in good self-care, and even in life’s simplest pleasures. “Comfort” is sometimes deceiving. I am by far more comfortable having completed these tasks than I was considering them, but it can seem so much easier in the moment to choose the path of least effort. There’s something to learn there, and I make a note to think about it more, later.

Mondays are good for beginnings. Cold winter Mondays, started well before the dawn, are good for plotting a new course on life’s journey, for rethinking previous first steps on journeys well-underway, and for reconsidering some scenario or another that has previously been less-than-ideally satisfying, and perhaps too comfortable. I am hoping not to be misunderstood as seeking discomfort or unease, it’s really not what I’m after, myself. It’s more than I find the sensation of being “comfortable” to more than occasionally put me at risk of complacency, or “settling” for something less than what I’m really going for, under circumstances when there are verbs involved, and I’ve perhaps stopped actually taking action.

I sip my coffee reviewing my physician’s recommendations for changes to my dietary habits intended to improve my health and, over time, fitness. I am deeply uncomfortable. lol It’s a lot of change… at the same time, none of it is really “new information”; I’m facing a long list of known best practices. There are verbs involved, though, and I’m going to need to overcome my comfort with what has not been working well for me. Well… at least it’s a Monday. Monday’s are great for beginning again. I’m going to need to do that a lot. 🙂

I’m standing at the starting point (another one) of a journey (again). I’m ready to walk on. Today is a good day for change.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets, winter, Words

The Morning Macabre

December 18, 2016 //
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I woke from a restless interrupted sleep earlier than I’d have liked to, and feeling very little sense of being “rested”. My dreams disturbed me. My wakefulness, whether caused by noisy neighbors lacking any sense how loud their car stereo sounds at 1:22 am, or the persistent whine of a freight train paused on the siding on the other side of the park, or the contents of my own dreams, rendered the night more or less pointless from the perspective of resting. I woke in pain, too, as stiff as a tiny wooden artist’s figure, new from the box. My head aches.

Beyond the patio, the meadow and marsh are hidden by a dense mist that suggests something mysterious, even sinister, beyond. It’s unlikely there’s anything legitimately amiss anywhere out there in the park besides litter left carelessly behind, and walkways covered in ice where there would usually be a puddle. The mist itself doesn’t seem at all sinister or hazardous, it’s just a mist, a foggy morning, a new day… but the obscured view puts my imagination into overdrive making something of nothing. I startle myself with my own reflection twice, from across the room, thinking someone is looking in at me from fairly nearby. The power of my imagination increases when I am not well-rested, and I am less well-defended against misinformation, influence, or deception. (Is that what happened, America? Where we all just that damned sleep-deprived?)

As the sky continues to lighten, I see that it snowed a bit more during the night; the meadow and the patio furniture are dusted with it. With daylight, the meadow mist is more distinct, and a firmer boundary between what is obvious, and what is accepted but unseen, a gray backdrop not yet painted with scenery. I watch the morning in the park develop like a Polaroid.

If we take time to see it, the view is continuously changing.

The view is continuously changing. We don’t always notice.

Today is a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror, and this fragile vessel, and to be mindful that lacking the rest I need, my awareness and thinking may be colored or distorted in unpredictable ways. Today is a good day to check assumptions, confirm expectations, and take my time, mindful of the weather – and aware that weather changes. Today is a good day to approach every interaction with consideration; I am not the only person who didn’t sleep well last night, who hurts, or feels headache-y. We are each having our own experience. Today is a good day to make the choices that make it a good one. 🙂

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Categories Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

One Thing and Then Another

December 16, 2016 //
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I’m home. The busy work day is behind me. The week is finished. I sit quietly taking it in; I don’t work tomorrow. I am home. I am alone. Tonight… I’m even lonely. It happens. Just using the word, my eyes tear up a bit. I’m okay, just very human. Tired. In pain. Frustrated by the world every time I hear an adult conversation in passing, or read the news. “Stick a fork in me…” I sigh out loud, the sound of it in the room seems oddly out-of-place with the quiet.

A shower later, and a change into comfy clothes, I’m still in this strange place, poised between contentment and despair. There’s no particular reason for it, really… it’s winter. It’s been a busy week at work. Is that all this is? Am I just tired? I’m struggling to manage some of my self-care basics with the new job. I’m pushing “too hard”, taking too few breaks, getting too little rest… but I also love the job, feel passionate about the progress we’re making, and feel very valued and appreciated. What do I do with that? The long commutes make the days very long indeed, and the evenings very short.

I feel myself sort of… pull back. From everything. Closing the door on “extra people” – as if the friends and loved ones outside the workplace are not in fact far more important to me, day-to-day, moment-to-moment, than even my most esteemed colleague. I come home at the end of the day. Close the door. Sit down. Being fair to my self and my circumstances, it’s rare to feel other than contented on a quiet evening after work, these days. Tonight is different. I remind myself that the sensation of “always” that feels so dull and bleak and immovable is, itself, a part of this feeling – and every sad strained drop of it is pure emotion. Chemistry. Lacking in real meaning, or substance. It’s more a drug than an experience. Squashing it doesn’t help – never has. Venting… meh. I’ve had mixed success there, and my suspicion is that it is the camaraderie of sharing the tale, the connected moment, that results in any apparent success – and fuck, I already know that experiencing an intimate emotional (positive) connection with another human being is a fast track to losing the blues. This is not news.

…But I ache, and I’m tired, and… I’d also like very much to be alone. Now isn’t that a bitch? Feeling lonely, and still wanting to be alone. What the fuck do I do with that?? Well. In this particular instance, I light a fire in the fireplace. I put on some soup. (I made a tasty robust 15 bean soup yesterday in the slow cooker, while I worked from home. It’ll be even better today.) I put on my fuzziest, comfy-cosiest, softest spa socks. I did some yoga. Took some time to meditate. I started choosing to let the stress fall away. I looked the loneliness in the face, and let it be what it is, without piling self-criticism, disappointment, or additional demands on top of it. I lit the lights on the Giftmas tree – and grudgingly made room for the awareness that I was smiling, at least a little. One thing at a time. I started treating myself better, one thing at a time. Rather than continue down the unpleasant path of criticizing my crappy treatment of myself, I’m making a point to go ahead and treat myself better. Right now. Only that. We become what we practice.

Soup will be ready soon. It’s later than I generally have dinner, but I’m also not sleepy. Just tired… and the kind of tired that is mostly brain-tired. Giving my brain a rest isn’t always about sleep. My fingers find the edge of the book I am reading… soup first, though. Later, sleep.

Tomorrow I can begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

Snow Day!

December 15, 2016 //
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I woke to the alarm, and fell asleep again. It was a delicious extra four minutes of surrender, followed by the stern advisement from somewhere watchful in my consciousness that the alarm had actually gone off, enough to wake me. The world beyond the patio window is not-quite-blanketed in white. Yesterday’s evening snowfall is still with us. The parking lot is smooth, white, and icy. Checking the weather report and the public transit schedule confirms my choice to work from home is a good call.

My first peek at the new day.

My first peek at the new day.

My morning suddenly shifts, slows down, and my priorities adjust, as I wake up more. I’m working from home today. I gain 2.5 hours back in my day (usually spent commuting) and prevent the loss of 2.5 additional hours I’d have lost to the inclement weather (last night’s commute home was 2.5 hours, itself, instead of the usual 1.25 hours). I’m not even bitching – the walk through the snowy night was lovely, and the commuters on the light rail were fairly merry in spite of circumstances.

A hazy skyline on a snowy night.

A hazy skyline on a snowy night.

I smile in the darkness. I opened the patio blinds first thing to gaze out across the snowy meadow. The only light in the room now is the glow of the laptop monitor; I have not yet turned on any lights, even making my coffee in the dim twilight of a pre-dawn snowy morning. This moment is mine. Well…mine, and of course, yours, and even that of the raccoon who visited during the night, to check for treats left behind by the squirrel and the birds.

We are each having our own experience. Perspective matters.

We are each having our own experience. Perspective matters.

I sip my coffee thinking about the weather. I let my mind wander to “snow days” of childhood. We rarely stayed entirely home from school, but often school would start later. I lived in a different region. It snowed more often, and there was more, deeper (also dryer, fluffier) snow; people are more prepared for snow there, too, and this makes a difference to how well they cope, and how serious it seems. Here, in this community, even a small amount of snow causes real panic. The snow here is sticky, wetter, icy. The tendency toward warmer winter temperatures, generally, often results in brief warming sufficient to melt some snow, then refreezing everything as the temperature drops again (often with both changes happening during the same night). The result? We wake to a world glazed in ice. I have seen this entire city coated with an icy shine, every surface, every blade of grass, every branch, every lingering blossom. I have heard the somewhat bizarre and musical crackling and crinkling as every icy surface begins to fracture with the slightest breeze. It is a wonderland… a rather dangerous wonderland, actually, and people who live here often just call out from work rather than deal with risking their cars or their safety, and schools basically shut down if there is a flake falling. Last night, the train was crammed with commuters who, in frustration or impatience, or fear, parked their cars in the city somewhere along their commute and finished their trip home on public transportation.

I generally just go about my business regardless. I dress for the weather. I make my way with great care. I put on Yak Tracks, bundle up in my cold weather gear, even wear a winter base layer under my work clothes. This morning, I will work from home… Unless it starts raining, and the snow melts away before my eyes (which could, has, and does happen in this region), in which case I’ll quickly dress and head to the office. I make a point of extending my awareness to include compassion and sympathy for workers who don’t have that option, who will either lose a day’s wages, or have to make their way across the ice, through the traffic, to jobs that will be seriously inconvenienced by the call outs of coworkers. We don’t all have the same choices available to us. We don’t all make the same choices when we do. We are each having our own experience.

It’s about that time… if I were going to the office, I’d be pulling on my boots right now. Wrapping my scarf around my neck. Pulling on my hat, my gloves, and grabbing my hiking staff. Instead, I make a second coffee – it’s still more than an hour before I get started for the day. It’s early yet for squirrels or birds, and I check the feeders, refilling them before visitors of the furred or feathered sort arrive. It’s a snowy day, a tougher one for foraging I expect. I add walnut halves, pecan pieces, and pine nuts to the usual corn kernel-sunflower-peanut mix I put out for the squirrel. The winter suet feeder has a seeded block for winter birds looking for seeds, and another block with meal worms and such for birds looking for something different. The winter seed bell is all black sunflower seeds. The blue jays and red-wing blackbirds aren’t so picky, but many of the small birds seem very particular. I enjoy being a good hostess. 🙂 I set up for the day facing the patio.

Today? It’s a snow day. 🙂 Today is a good day to make the ordinary quite extraordinary. Today is a good day to enjoy the moment I’ve got. I think about winter weather and childhood snow days. I recall being told to bundle up, and to be careful out there. I sip my coffee and wonder how I can bring that same quality of consideration and care to all my relationships – and to the world.

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Categories Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

Wind and Rain and Weather

December 14, 2016 //
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I went to be quite early last night. I was tired. I slept through the night. I woke this morning, a couple minutes ahead of the alarm. I feel well-rested. All of that is good stuff. I ended my evening on the recovering side of a bad headache that lasted most of yesterday (and started the day before), and my last few minutes before bed were spent working out a terrible leg cramp – in the muscles of my left shin, which still seems rather strange. The pain, as with any other leg cramp, was quite terrible. It woke me twice again during the night, but awareness and a position change was sufficient to work things out and return to sleep. I’m not in any particular pain this morning, as I sit here.

Not too tired to pause for a beautiful view.

Not too tired to pause for a beautiful view.

If I spend more time, this morning, thinking about the headache, arthritis pain, or leg cramps of yesterday, I will quickly lose sight of not actually being in pain right now, and lose the opportunity to hold this moment in awareness, to appreciate and deepen it, to linger in this pain-free moment. So, instead, I note those less comfortable moments briefly, without emotional investment, and move to on steeping in this moment right here, pain-free, listening to the wind howl around the eaves, the wind chime rocking out madly, and the low whisper-y moan of the wind in the flue pipe, sipping my coffee. The weather forecast is cold. Freezing, in fact, with some hours of snow thrown in later, making it clear it is a winter day.

Even cold winter days offer beautiful moments.

Even cold winter days offer beautiful moments.

I’m missing my Traveling Partner, but not enough to sacrifice our comfort or wellness by making demands on his time, or mine. Yesterday, I was exhausted and headache-y. The day before, he was exhausted, himself. So it goes. The busy weekdays are a tough fit, worsened by the commuter traffic in our area, and the limited amount of leisure left over after working. Moving into my own space with the fairly childish daydream of somehow always being together while somehow also being alone much of the time was an awkward thing, and did not reflect the realities of either of our lives, or our varied needs. It took time to find my way here; content with solitude, content with the time I spend in the arms of love, content that the quality of our time together balances the time I spend alone, also of high quality, as I learn to treat myself truly well, and really care for this fragile vessel, and to adult more skillfully. Lonely is a rare thing these days, even when I miss my Traveling Partner the way I do this morning, as I sip my coffee listening to the wind howl.

This is a lovely morning, characterized by contentment and quiet. I smile and consider the woman in the mirror… When did she become so easily satisfied? …This definitely feels like “enough”…

The morning commute offers some lovely moments.

The morning commute offers some lovely moments.

I’m strangely eager for my walk this morning, as cold as it is. The winter wind will whip across the bridge, it may be slick in places, icy. It’s a good day for bundling up, and I find myself wondering if I would be more comfortable with a hiking base layer under my work clothes today. Oh but to see the blue sky peeking out from behind the clouds, the city illuminated by dawn… it won’t matter that it’s winter in that lovely moment, cold fingers working a colder camera… beauty is worth stopping for. How much slower is the pace of life if we simply stop for each beautiful moment at least long enough to notice it? 🙂

Today is a good day to enjoy beauty, and to pause for pleasant moments. Today is a good day for practicing practices. Today is a good day to be, and to become. Today is a good day for sufficiency.

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Categories Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter
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