Archives for posts with tag: gratitude

I’m at the trailhead, sitting at my halfway point in the predawn darkness. I woke too early, jerked from a sound sleep by my own anxiety. I dressed quietly and slipped out of the house without waking anyone (as far as I could tell).

Anxiety, 11″ x 24″, acrylic on canvas with ceramic details. 2010

Anxiety is a liar. At least, my anxiety generally has been. I’ve struggled with anxiety for all of my life that I can remember. It was once far worse than it ever is now, and I’m grateful to have better tools for dealing with it these days. A gentle, nonjudgmental, “body scan” confirms the suspicion that developed shortly after I woke; this may not even be anxiety, actually, I’m possibly “just” in pain. Because my osteoarthritis (in my spine) begins at my fusion and extends upward into my neck, it puts most of the intensity in approximately the same general area of my body that I would experience the physical elements of anxiety. I am prone to conflating or confusing them as a result. So maybe I’m not anxious at all? Using the right tool for a given task is important to success…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each subsequent deep breath and slow, complete exhalation would ordinarily begin reducing my anxiety almost immediately. Far less effective if what I’m fighting is actually physical pain being reinterpreted as anxiety. I’ve already taken my morning medications, and hopefully they begin being helpful soon. I shift uncomfortably and sigh. Yeah, this is pain. “Just” pain. I turn my attention to more appropriate self-care strategies.

It is a pleasant morning, not particularly chilly, nor rainy. The air is mild and fresh. A delicate sprinkling of rain fell very briefly, more a soft mist really, and it didn’t last. The darkness will soon give way to daybreak, and I’m in no hurry at all. I took today off from work. These quiet moments are mine – and so is the day ahead. I smile to myself in the dark. No drama. No chaos. “Nothing to see here”, and I like that just fine. The world is in chaos, I know, but these quiet personal moments for reflection and self-care matter every bit as much as which criminal cronies the corrupt cheeto-in-chief is going to pardon next. It matters more, probably, at least with regard to this one mortal life that I happen to be living, myself. (I just have to figure he’ll eventually get around to pardoning them all, he seems the sort to abuse that kind of power.)

I sigh and let that shit go. Sure, I’m disappointed in what Americans have allowed to fester within our government. I’m outraged and offended by the level of corruption in the current administration, and the ludicrous petty cruelty being demonstrated by people one might expect to know how to do better. It’s pretty horrible – and the horror is not reduced by also failing to take care of myself. Quite the contrary. Everything going on in the world feels more extreme when I fail to practice good self-care. So this morning I focus on that. No reason at all to even glance at the news this morning.

Another deep breath, another sigh. I can feel my pain medication beginning to help ease my pain, and as my pain recedes, my anxiety is further and further reduced. Daybreak comes, and the sky hints at a cloudy day ahead. The variable autumn weather definitely worsens my subjective experience of arthritis pain. Another sigh. Each one seems to somehow ease my pain in some small incremental way. As my pain eases, my attention broadens, and my world becomes bigger than this one moment here, now. I notice the treeline taking shape along the edge of the creek, beyond the vineyard. I see headlights sweep past as farm workers arrive to begin their day. I think about Thanksgiving, only a couple weeks away. I have a lot to be thankful for. I take time for gratitude while I sit watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day.

I catch myself smiling, feeling relaxed and merry. No work today. No time pressure at all, just a woman, a trail, and a moment. Later, I’ll head for coffee somewhere in town, and poke around in antique stores for a cool restoration project for my Traveling Partner. The day is mine, and I have clearly been needing a break. I’m glad I took one.

There’s always now.

When was the last time you took some time for yourself? Not time spent running errands or catching up on chores or long delayed projects – time for you. Time for self-reflection, for being, and for resting your mind is more what I’m asking about. If you haven’t been taking that time with (and for) yourself, why haven’t you? Won’t you be more capable and resilient if you take good care of yourself? It’s just a thought (and maybe a suggestion).

The sky begins to turn a soft shade of blue gray. No colorful sunrise this morning – but that doesn’t stop me from feeling grateful to see another day dawn. I am intensely grateful; I didn’t expect to get this far. On the other side of the trail, a plump racoon ambles along. She gives me a glance, and continues on her way, a single file line of youngsters following along. I smile. I am reminded that what we notice has a lot to do with what we are looking towards. We are each having our own experience, and in many ways, we’re creating it as we go.

… Choose wisely…

I sigh as I get to my feet, ready to finish my morning walk and begin a new day, again.

I take a breath and exhale completely. So far, it’s a good morning. Honestly, not really all that different from most other mornings, as far as the circumstances and practical factual details go. Most mornings start out pretty well, generally, in my experience. It’s the little things that make the difference; moments of aggravation or inconvenience, some little vexing interaction, a stubbed toe, a forgotten item only noticed on the other end of a long drive, miscommunication, mismatched expectations, some little disapppointment – any of these can result in the feeling of a crappy morning. How bad is it really, though, on any given day? I sip my coffee and think about that awhile.

I haven’t looked at the news today. There’s hardly any point, it’ll probably fit neatly into one of a small number of unimpressive categories: sponsored content, straight up advertising, “official” missives from the government that amount to actual fucking gaslighting, repeats of yesterday’s news copied again and again and spit out as AI slop, and opinion articles sharing the opinions of people whose opinions have no value to me. There is no point in immersing myself in that nonsense at all. I’d be better off reading Proust, by far. lol (If you think your attention span has been impaired by device use over time, making it hard to watch a 2-hour movie, get yourself situated – In Search of Lost Time, by Marcel Proust is 7 g’damned volumes of poetic prose maunderings. It’s a commitment. Still better than doomscrolling the news.)

I sigh quietly and smile. I’ve started reading Proust several times. I’ve yet to get past the first volume before wandering off to do other things and live life, and coming back to it after so much time has passed that I’ve got to start over. LOL Still manages to be a more worthwhile endeavor than doomscrolling some feed clogged with AI slop, by far.

I sip my coffee contentedly, grateful to have coffee at all, with the world in the state it is in right now. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let that shit go, again. Now is not the time, really, and when it comes to being stressed out over distant events and people that we have no influence over, and whose actions barely touch our lives, well, that’s as pointless as expecting to read Proust “cover to cover” in an afternoon. It’s not a practical expectation, nor an efficient use of time. lol Instead, I take time for gratitude, and little things. It is a pleasant way to prolong a lovely morning, and to set up my day in a positive way. It is a practice well-suited to beginnings. With Thanksgiving (in the US) coming up pretty soon, it’s a strong step forward to make time for gratitude. It can be difficult to begin being grateful, if I’m vexed or irritated in some moment, but worthwhile then too; sincere gratitude quickly crowds out irritability, frustration, and anger. Handy sometimes.

It is the little things I’m often most grateful for, and the modern conveniences that I may sometimes take for granted even though elsewhere in the world (rather shamefully) they may be luxuries. Like… healthy food to eat, clean drinking water, indoor plumbing, high speed internet connectivity, wifi, and even this laptop from which I work each day – these all seem like relatively practical “necessities” in modern life, but I promise you they truly are not. I sip my coffee and reflect on my good fortune and my privileged circumstances. I’m lucky, indeed. Even luckier to have the partnership I do, and the cozy little home we share. I grateful for the skills that are valued by employers who have roles suited to my skills and my nature, such that I’m able to work – and even to work remotely, from home or wherever, and often on my own terms. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner’s healing has come so far, and that he is able to work in his shop again. I’m grateful for the housekeeping and help with chores that I get from the Anxious Adventurer each week. I’m grateful that my partner and his son both give me the space I need when I need it most, too. That’s a pretty big deal for me.

I smile to myself, feeling “filled up” on gratitude and ready to begin a new day. I’m walking my own path, and the circumstances and choices are my own – and I’m fortunate to enjoy the validation and agency that I do (unfortunately unusual even in the US). This path has brought me so far in such a (relatively) short time, and there is further to go. I’m grateful for that, too, and I’m ready to begin again. 😀

What is “the bliss point”? Well, in food-related matters, the “bliss point” is the ratio of sugar, salt, and fat that makes food irresistably delicious and cravable, potentially overriding the body’s signals to stop eating when full, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now. Right now, I’m speaking more…existentially. My thinking on this is that there’s a “bliss point” for anything that activates our brain’s “reward centers”, creating a feeling of intense pleasure and satisfaction, resulting in, well, bliss. Bliss is the feeling. The sensation. The experience. There are a lot of things that might get a person there.

Thank you, Love “Contemplation” 12″ x 16″ acrylic and iron oxide. August 2011

For me, right now, here in this fragile finite moment, I’ve reached “the bliss point” in this moment of solitude at home. The combination of profound delight (and real joy for my Traveling Partner’s continued recovery from his injury and surgery) and solitary quiet right here safe and comfortable in my own home feels…amazing. Lovely. Blissful. It has been this rare for me to be home alone. For someone who enjoys solitude to find it so rarely at home has been difficult and frustrating (and probably slowly degrading my emotional wellness over time) – but the need has been great, and I’ve done my best to step up and be a fucking grown-up about it.

Autumn mushrooms after the rain.

We embraced after he zipped his fleece, and grabbed his keys from the hook in the hallway. It still didn’t “feel real” until the truck pulled out of the driveway – without me in it. Wow. The quiet. The stillness. The hushed whir of the computer fan breaking the silence. The ring zing buzz of my tinnitus seems like the loudest “sound” in the room. The whole house is so… quiet. So still. So…pleasant. I love this little house. I love the way we decorated. I love seeing signs of my Traveling Partner’s taste here and there and all around. I step happily from room to room, just feeling the space around me, and hearing the quiet. It’s nice. I feel deeply infused with contentment and a gentle joy. I don’t really need much in life to find it enjoyable, I suppose. I’m not lusting after beautiful people, or sparkly stones, or fast cars, or fancy neighbors (which, is a good thing, since yearning can push us to do some terrible and foolish things).

A moment of bliss and whimsy.

I make a point to enjoy the moment, and to feel grateful to have it. I let the soft silence seep into me, and let myself become wrapped in contentment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take time to meditate. Most of the day will be spent on work, and I’m not even cross about that. I’m logged in and ready. It’s fine. I’m here at home, and I am loved, and I am enjoying the feeling of relief and pride that comes of seeing my beloved’s progress, and knowing how much he enjoys his pick-up truck. This feels good, so I take time with my feelings, just enjoying this moment, and wringing every shred of joy from savoring a moment in the bliss point.

…This too will pass. That’s what time does; it passes. Our moments are finite, fragile, and fleeting. I make time for joy and bliss, before I begin again.

The work day ended gently, and it’s been productive. which surprises me. The morning passed pretty quickly, but the minutes became prolonged and tedious as the afternoon began, and by 13:00 I was definitely aware that I’m ill. The headache that seemed to have diminished during the night is very much back. My sinuses feel weirdly dry and irritated, in spite of my drippy nose. I finally noticed that I had forgotten to remove my shoes after running a brief errand… then still managed to forget about them entirely until some minutes ago. I ache all over, although the chills and sweats seem to be over with. I’m “tired” – but not the healthy tiredness of the end of a long day at hard work, nor the anticipated tiredness of bedtime. Just feeling generally rundown. The malaise of illness seems so utterly mundane. But…

…I’m okay for nearly all values of “okay”, presently, in spite of being sick. It’s just a headcold. Pretty commonplace, and very ordinary. Hell, it’s that time of year, anyway, eh? I sigh, and let that go. It’s not really worth bitching about, and I’m snug at home and cared for…

My Traveling Partner asks me, every so often, if I’m feeling better. I mean… mostly? Sort of. Some? A little bit? As with the way I often answer questions, the answer isn’t helpful at all, and fails to communicate anything worth knowing. It’s a challenge I deal with often, and I know it frustrates people. What frustrates me is how often people who know I have brain damage either completely forget that there are some very specific things that result from that (which affect communication in some cases) that I can’t reliably do much about, or behave as though it is as simple as doing things differently. Practicing doing some particular thing in some very particular way can be helpful over time, but (most especially) when my executive function and communication impairments are most severe (like, when I’m sick, or deeply fatigued), there’s often damned little I can actually do about it in any practical way. I just have to deal with the experience of struggling to communicate, when it happens. Frustrating all around.

I take a break with my Traveling Partner. He’s working on a project in the shop. He’s having his own experience with frustration and shares details with me. He offers to show me something he’s working on, or something to do with the thing frustrating him. I’m aware that I’m too sick to be sharp enough to appreciate and value the experience, putting us both at risk of still more frustration – so I decline in favor of more self-care, and maybe laying down for awhile. This fucking headache is kicking my ass, and has now partnered with my “everyday headache” to bring real oomph to my headache experience. I sigh to myself, alone in this comfortable space. My headache is not eased by whatever the fuck that low frequency whine outside is. A leaf-blower? A distant train engine idling on a siding? One of those vacuum or carpet cleaning trucks over at the apartment complex on the other side of the creek? It could be any number of things. One thing it definitely is, is incredibly irritating and I’ve got a fucking headache. I snarl quietly to myself, then remind myself it isn’t personal, at all. It’s just noise.

…This headache, though…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m not at risk of death. I’m not headed to the ER. I’m not immobilized. I’ve got a headcold. Some random virus going around the community at the start of flu season caught up to me. I could have rolled d20 and predicted the outcome, most likely. Annoyingly mundane and not at all interesting. (Sorry.)

I sit quietly for a moment, appreciating the other details. The good stuff. I pull my focus back to this moment, this relationship, this little house situated between town and farm. There’s a lot to be grateful for. I’m grateful that the Anxious Adventurer is willing to make dinner, and that I had ingredients on hand to make that relatively easy on him. I’m grateful to have the means to quickly go to the pharmacy for cold remedies, and the freedom to do so at my convenience, even on a work day. I’m grateful that I can afford to do so, without worrying about trade-offs. I’m grateful for the good quality well-roasted sustainably sourced fair trade coffee beans from which I made my morning coffee. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to make that choice. I’m grateful to have become the kind of person who cares about the other human beings in the supply chain for the things I want or need in life, and the sort who makes choices that are informed by that caring nature. I’m grateful to recognize my relative privilege in life, in spite of the tough times I’ve endured along the way. I’m grateful for the computer that sits here on my desk; my Traveling Partner built it with my needs in mind, and it suits me so well! I’m grateful to be so well-loved by such a very interesting and delightful human being, one that I love so well. I’m grateful that my problems in life aren’t worse than they are – and that I am aware of my good fortune.

…Even when I’m sick, a few minutes of sincere gratitude is a powerful mood-lifter…

When I’m sick, my emotions are often very much “at the surface” of my awareness. This puts me at risk of losing my temper, or weeping over nonsense. In addition to those risks, though, it also puts me in touch with the softer subtler emotions, the little joys, the childlike delight over something that sparkles, the pure radiant happiness of a hug. It’s a weird time. I’m tired, but energized and restless. I’m volatile, but capable of beautiful moments of great joy, love, and delight. I’m kind of stupid, but barely matters because I’m also feeling accepted and safe and cared-for. Being human is peculiarly complicated. Nuanced. I try not to take it personally. If things go sideways, I know I’m loved anyway. I smile to myself and finish my tea. The work day is behind me. I can begin again tomorrow – for now, I’ll just take care of myself.

I woke later than usual. It was almost 05:00 when I woke. I felt rested and positively merry. I dressed to head out for my morning trek down the marsh trail that circles the nature park.

As I checked the weather, and the time, I see I’ve got a message from my beloved Traveling Partner. The love and concern in his words is clear. He suggests I keep my walk short, maybe local, and proposes I maybe stay home entirely and get my miles on the elliptical, while watching a favorite show. He proposes that we could do something together, later, an idea that appeals to me. I feel loved. I sit with that feeling for a moment, letting it fill my consciousness.

The idea of a shorter walk and better self-care is a tempting idea, for sure, I admit. I really like being out on the trail, though, enjoying the short quiet interval of solitude… and my walks at the nature park put me nearby a favorite grocery store, and I generally stop there after my walk on a Saturday morning… The temperature is mild… I head out, remembering my commitment to one of the grocery checkers to share some items my Traveling Partner made, and deciding to keep my walk short, any way.

The drive to the nature park was quiet. No traffic. I enjoyed it, smiling to myself as I drove with my thoughts, grateful for my loving partner who cares about my well-being, and for the lovely morning. Before I reach the nature park, it begins to rain, first just a sprinkle, then as I reach the trailhead parking, a proper steady rain. I grimace, and laugh, betting my Traveling Partner had checked the weather report more closely than I had.

Now I sit, waiting for a break in the rain. I’m unbothered and relaxed. Hadn’t I already decided to make my walk a shorter one, anyway? No stress. No agitation. Just change. I breathe, exhale, and relax, listening to the rain on the roof of the car.

At its heart, resilience is simply that ability to bounce back in the face of change, uncertainty, emotional disregulation, or even trauma. Resilience needs development, as with things like muscular strength. Specific practices build resilience. Meditation, as a practice, helps build resilience. The practice of “taking in the good” is another that directly builds resilience. Forgiveness, as a practice, is another that contributes to resilience, by limiting how long our hurt feelings or injuries inflicted by another can dominate our thoughts. Practicing non-attachment and embracing related ideas such as impermanence, sufficiency, and building depth and breadth into our perspective on life, generally, are helpful for building resilience.

What’s it good for, though (resilience, I mean)? Why do I put so much value on it? Partly due to this; it improves pain management results.

Resilience let’s us bounce back and carry on, without becoming mired in our pain, sorrow, or anger. Resilience is that quality that gets us quickly past a difficult moment, and on to enjoying the next. Well-established resilience, over time, may become the difference between having some troubling mental health episode or meltdown, and simply acknowledging a difficult experience, dealing with it, and moving on with things calmly. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty good to me.

…So I practice…

Sometimes, I fall short of my commitment to one practice or another, but that’s also why I see such things as practices in the first place, instead of tasks to be checked off as completed, or skills to be mastered. Mastery is inconsequential. Practice is ongoing. It is a doing that doesn’t really finish. Each practice with real world value in my lived experience becomes a lifestyle change, over time. Each practice becomes part of my routine, and part of who I am. The result? I am more resilient. It becomes a character trait, and in that regard, it also becomes easier to maintain. Such results don’t mean no practice is required, just that the effort and will involved in the practice itself is greatly reduced. Sometimes, though, I still find myself not practicing some practice or other, through circumstances or forgetting. I’m human.

… I just begin again, and get back to practicing…

The rain stops, but it’s not yet daylight, and I’m not in a hurry. There’s no need to rush my walk, or hurry home to barge in on my beloved’s quiet time over his coffee first thing. I sit quietly a little longer. Daybreak soon, and I’ll walk the short loop, and watch the sunrise – then, I’ll begin again.

…It is a good day for self-care.