Archives for posts with tag: having my own experience
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »

Troubleshooting Life’s Challenges

September 3, 2016 //
0

It’s been an interesting morning, so far. Yesterday’s appointment wasn’t particularly telling, and it’s enough to say that I don’t know more than I knew yesterday, and have received further confirmation that medical professionals will go the extra mile to pacify someone in distress, but actual answers are not necessarily in their mandate. lol

A change of perspective on a misty morning.

A change of perspective on a misty morning.

This morning, I am pre-occupied with words in a different way; I don’t understand everything the same way everyone else does. (You don’t either, that’s just a thing.) This morning, an article shared by a friend revealed that some people think the advice to ‘work on yourself’ rather than frustratedly seeking love is communication that if only we are not too broken, we’ll somehow be more worthy of love! 😦 Wow. What a crappy perspective on self-care, and self-worth. I wasn’t viewing the common suggestion to work on oneself rather than chasing partnership as anything other than a very practical suggestion that life is finite, and that wasting time yearning for what we don’t have is… wasted time. Live! Live, for fuck’s sake – and do so in spite of the lack of day-to-day physical affection and contact in our electronically connected, emotionally disconnected, society! Perhaps most importantly then. Your life may literally depend on it (or at least its quality will.) It’s not about ‘being better so someone will love me’! It’s also not about ‘improving your relationship worth’ by having or being more than you are today. It’s about not wasting precious lifetime mourning what isn’t, when there is so much that is! Sure – troubleshoot the hell out of your issues! Fix what you find to be truly “broken”, or make something new and wonderful of the wreckage left behind! (A process, I’ll point out, that is often most efficiently managed solo.) It’s not about what anyone else may value in who you are – or who you may become – it’s about YOU, what you want of that human being in the mirror, who you choose to become. It’s about living life, having your experience, investing in your own heart, lavishing yourself with authentic affection – your own high regard – and investing in good self-care. When we treat ourselves well, treating others similarly well becomes a natural thing, and although there are no guarantees in life, it does seem to be a thing that when we are not desperately earnestly heart-wrenchingly focused on forcing love to happen within the context of our existing experience, it sometimes happens quite unexpectedly on its own… and if we are truly caring for ourselves, living authentic deeply rewarding solitary lives, it may be less painful to be alone. Mostly. (I can at least confirm it has been my own experience so far that enjoying my life without specific regard to pursuing physical or romantic affection seems both more enjoyable generally, and also more likely to result in satisfying sexual and romantic relationships. Mostly. You would not believe the verbs involved – and my results do vary.)

Being alone more than I want to be, going without physical affection, sex, romance, and intimacy in moments when I would greatly prefer to be enjoying one or more of those things, being alone for an event or holiday which is generally celebrated among family or loved ones; these are emotionally difficult experiences. That’s one truth. It is what it is. Making the best of the life we live may not mitigate that truth, may not be helpful specifically in that matter at all in some one desperately lonely moment – but it beats sitting around getting fat on the couch and crying about being lonely. (Which I have also explored; as strategies go, it seems very unlikely to produce better results than enjoying my life – even if I am doing so alone. 😉 )

Now – having covered that, the rest of the morning seems to be pre-occupied with figuring out why, 13 weeks ago, my WordPress posts started posting to Google+ to me only, instead of ‘Public’ – where they can be read. lol I don’t recall changing a privacy setting on either side… but I also have a brain injury, and sometimes lose track of small actions I didn’t necessarily notice. (There is some occasional right side/left side weirdness for me, moments in which I literally took an action with one hand, that I wasn’t aware I was taking while my attention was focused on what the other side of my body was busy with. Oh yeah. The fun never stops. LOL) So, first things first – is there a setting? Did I know that? Have I changed it? If it doesn’t appear to source with me (it doesn’t) – is there a software change on one side or the other? (Both.) Did that affect security settings? (It seems so.) Can changing those settings restore order? (We’ll find out today!) Is there help available? (Hahaha! Fix it yourself, we’re busy, thanks. ~The World) (…And actually, by the time I finished writing this one, help had been provided, so… yeah. Assumptions. lol)

Funny that this proved to be such a distracted morning. I woke gently enough, started the day easily, and shortly will make my way downtown to share the morning with a friend, and visit the farmer’s market, which sounds much more engaging than futzing with computers and blog posts and security settings and all manner of modern-day bullshit – how is it that this takes so much more time than changing a light bulb? (Get off my lawn, ya damned kids!! 😉 )

Today is a good day to take a step back from assumptions, from complacency, and from what I think I know. Today is a good day to explore the world from another perspective. Today is a good day to smile at my frustration with small details, and embrace the moments in life that actually matter most; the time we spend in the company of our friends. 😀

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being, Words

Savor the Juice

February 17, 2016 //
0

Late last evening in a moment of pure delight I ate a tangerine. It sounds pretty simple. It even was a very simple thing. It was also… awesome.

What I actually wanted was a tall refreshing glass of orange juice, which I don’t generally keep in the house because it’s something I enjoy enough that it can easily override my limited impulse control and result in finding myself with an empty container of orange juice in my hand, and very high blood sugar – that ends up being a poor health choice. (Damn you, delicious OJ!!) Having no orange juice on hand, or any other fruit juice, and understanding that ‘a sugary beverage’ was not going to satisfy, when my eye landed on the fruit bowl and spotted the lone remaining tangerine – a medium-sized, thin-skinned, sweet seedless variety – I knew what to do about the juice craving; I would make that tangerine give up its sweet juice to me!

No juicer – not even one of the small citrus juicers so common in kitchen gadget drawers. I didn’t let lack of a ready-made tool stop me, why would it? I am a primate! Haven’t primates been eating fruits for… well, literally the entire time primates have existed? I sliced off a bit of the top with sharp knife and began gently squeezing the tangerine, pouring the juice into a glass as it ran from the fruit. I turned it in my hand to squeeze it uniformly, feeling the pulpy fruit within begin to break down from its sections. The sweet tangerine-y fragrance filled my senses and by that point I was most definitely eager to taste that sweet sweet juice. I looked at the glass, still holding the nearly flattened tangerine in my hand, which was a little sticky from contact with the fresh juice. The entire process resulted in a couple of tablespoons of tangerine juice – really fresh, actually entirely real juice. My eye traveled from the glass to my hand, and I unfolded my hand, revealing the split flattened tangerine, easily opened out to show the sectioned insides, burst, squashed, but… tangerine. Standing at the sink, without any reservations or hesitation at all, I tore into the tasty flesh, savoring the sweetness, the juiciness, the flavor of tangerine, consuming it all (except the skin) in just a minute or too of raw animal delight.

I stood there in the kitchen with a huge smile, feeling connected to my physical experience, and feeling open to how simple, meaningful, and delightful such a humble moment as eating a fruit can be… and how human. Damn that was tasty tangerine. I washed my hands, which were sticky, and wiped the sticky juice from my face (I hadn’t been especially dainty about eating that tangerine, frankly). I turned to leave the kitchen…and there on the counter that glass of juice sat waiting. Right! Juice! I felt a moment of additional delight and joy – there is still juice! I anticipated the flavor of it and it was my intention to savor it slowly… two swallows of tasty tangerine later, and it was done. It was a satisfying moment of pleasure, guiltless, childlike, animal, and without regret. I found it more pleasurable – and memorable – to take the time with it that I did, and to enjoy it fully without being distracted by any other experience.

It was just a tangerine. Just a shot of fresh fruit juice made with loving hands. It was also nourishment. It was the satisfaction of a desire. It was a sensuous pleasure. It was a moment of delight worth lingering over, and worth recalling.

We live in the world we choose to create. 🙂

Tags , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, Words

Gently Now

November 21, 2015 //
0

I slept in until past 8:00 am, rare for me. I woke shortly before 5:00 am, actually, and chose to lay down to meditate and let morning medication kick in before I got up to have coffee. At some point, I slept. When I did wake and rise to greet the day, it was pleasant to note that my pain and stiffness were not as significant as other recent mornings.

I’ve spent a bit less than an hour sipping my coffee, and watching the autumn sunshine move slowly over the collected drifts of colorful leaves piled against the garden pots on my patio. I’ve got some great grooves playing in the background, and a beautiful day ahead, as yet unplanned. Once or twice I have rather firmly, even sternly, snatched my consciousness back from the edge of work-related matters; I am quite committed to preserving my leisure for my own purposes these days, and that is inclusive of my cognitive resources in my off hours – not one extra thought or care of mine is going to be directed toward the agenda or needs of my job or industry. My employer must pay for my time, and since I am paid to think… well…you see where that goes quite quickly. At this point, even my brain is on board with a day of leisure, and any loitering demons invested in coloring my day with insecurity seem, themselves, to be taking the day off today.

There's a beautiful day ahead, to live, to thrive, to choose - to begin again.

There’s a beautiful day ahead, to live, to thrive, to choose – to begin again.

Anxiety is hard. Insecurity is hard, too. Doubt is also difficult. You know what, though? Letting it go, as difficult as it can seem, is surely no more difficult than the anxiety, the insecurity, and the doubt – and so often it is nothing more than letting the thoughts play on a loop in the background that creates those crappy anxious, insecure, doubt-filled experiences. Since having those experiences requires no practice (for me), putting the actual effort on the challenge of letting those things go makes a lot of sense. The outcome is worth the work; when I began practices of letting things go, and redirecting the flow of my thinking, and simply being mindfully aware, in this moment, just breathing, they were incredibly difficult practices! I had to begin again so many times. The progress seemed so slow. I was often so unsure that I was really getting anywhere, or that it was really helping stabilize me. I look back on more than two years of simple practices, improved self-care, and really taking care of the woman in the mirror… it’s not as difficult as it once was to give myself compassion, consideration, respect – to treat myself well day-to-day – and to be able, with relative ease, to redirect my thinking instead of allowing negative thinking and internal abuse to overtake me. Incremental change over time. We become what we practice. 🙂 (Yes, even you, over there – yes, you, the one struggling right now, and feeling maybe I don’t get it, can’t understand, and it won’t work for you. Even you – it’s just that practice is required, and there are verbs involved. You can begin again. Yes, and again tomorrow. And even after that. Change happens when we choose change. If this moment, right here, is that bad – you can walk on to the next moment, even if you must do so in a literal way to get the feel of it.)

Walk your own path, choose your own verbs, and build your own practices.

Walk your own path, choose your own verbs, and build your own practices.

A lovely autumn Saturday stretches out in front of me. My coffee is almost gone and what’s left is cold. Falling autumn leaves twisting in the sunshine as they drop are as the second-hand of some strange earth-clock, reminding me that the day progresses…and I’m still in comfy clothes and fuzzy spa socks. Where will today take me?

Today is a good day to enjoy exploring the world. I’ll get my coat…

 

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Easier in the Abstract

October 24, 2015 //
0

It’s been a very comfortable pleasant day. I slept in, and slept deeply. I walked to the farmer’s market, and assembled a very nice picnic lunch, and loaded it into my pack. I headed into the trees for a few more miles and hours of autumn leaves and birdsong.

Autumn rose hips along the trail.

Autumn rose hips along the trail.

Yesterday was okay, too. I did some great work, but had had so little rest I was more or less a zombie analyst, and didn’t notice the day go by, and don’t really remember that much about it. I got home shortly before 6 pm, and was crashed out not long after that. I was up again around 9, and stayed up some little while before returning to bed, and to a deep sleep rich with surreal dreams. Stress reaches this point where it both disrupts my sleep and requires ever so much more than usual amounts of rest to recover from it. I slept a lot last night. I napped this afternoon after my hike – one of those sudden urgent naps when sleep simply overcomes me and I must succumb to it.

Tonight is gentle and easy. The deep consciousness encompassing sleep of my nap this afternoon left me wrapped in drowsiness. I’ll probably go to bed early again tonight. No reason not to; one of the perks of adulthood is the opportunity to choose rest. That great boon is sometimes forgotten in the fuss and bother of all the other sorts of things I think I ‘have to’ get done; choosing rest, real rest, is sometimes the best thing I can do for myself – or my partners.

I am okay. I’ve still got work to do – this fragile vessel isn’t going to heal itself without some practices and some verbs. This broken brain needs a little support, structure, and patience to find some better ways to handle small challenges. Sometimes I am going to fall short of my expectations – or fail to meet my own needs in some important way. I’ll begin again. One step at a time, one practice at a time, one moment at a time – I can begin again.

It may not be the shortest path - but this journey isn't a race, or a contest - I'll just keep walking.

It may not be the shortest path – but this journey isn’t a race, or a contest – I’ll just keep walking.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Sound Sensitive

September 5, 2015 //
0

I woke to a noise this morning, after an exceptionally good night’s sleep. The peculiarly loud humming seemed to come from a great distance. The actual volume in decibels of the sound was probably not noteworthy, it only ‘seemed loud’ to me, upon waking – but it was enough to wake me. I woke in a good mood, and began my day with the noise in the background, persistent and strange. It was as I made my coffee that I identified the source of the sound, and in annoyed disbelief I began checking other things…opening doors, listening outside… how could this noise be the damned refrigerator? I check myself, and slow down. It is the refrigerator, and it isn’t that loud; I’m sound sensitive this morning.

Being sound sensitive is just ‘one of the things’ I associate with both my TBI and my PTSD. I’m not in a bad mood, or stressed out at all, but knowing that my level of sound sensitivity is high this morning is something to be mindful of later. For me, sound sensitivity works a bit like an aura might for someone with a seizure disorder; it’s a practical heads up that I may be more easily triggered than I expect, or that I may be easily pushed from order to disorder. I imagine a cartoon farmer, squinting at the sun, “Yep, could be a storm moving in…” I laugh it off and move on with my morning, awake and aware, and prepared to take care of me. Living alone, this is nothing to be alarmed about, or self-conscious over; it is enough to be aware that small moments of irritation may not truly be associated with the things I think I am irritated about in the moment.

It’s difficult to express how being sound sensitive can be a big deal. When I struggle with this particular facet of my experience, it’s as an irresistible force being applied to my consciousness, something with the power to reduce my humanity to a more animal level. Some sounds can aggravate me quickly to the point of weeping… or fury. It’s visceral, and seems inescapable. Ear plugs help – it’s a low tech solution, but actually quite effective. A dark quiet room, ear plugs, meditation…especially effective taken together, without interruption, for an extended period…but what if I am on the bus? Or at work? Or walking through the trees feeling fussy that other walkers are “talking so damned loud”? In public spaces I end up using sheer brute force self-control to get by on, sometimes arriving home with a headache from gritting my teeth to stop myself snarling at people, and melting into tears as soon as the door closes behind me. It’s a physical feeling sort of pain, actual pain, that doesn’t respond to anything at all besides quiet…and meditation. When it is severe, I sometimes find myself wanting to shout at even the people most dear to me, whose laughter is like music in my ears any other time, to please just fucking stop talking/laughing/breathing/moving things around. It hurts my [emotional] heart just to have those feelings about someone I love; on top of the pain of the sound sensitivity itself, the [emotional] pain of needing to distance myself from the sounds of life and love is indescribably unpleasant, and isolating.

Enough.

Enough.

This morning I am feeling fortunate – and grateful. Sure, I’m a little sound sensitive, but I slept well, I feel good, and I haven’t treated anyone badly as a result of my condition. I’m smiling. The day begins well, and my coffee is hot and tasty. My toes are cold in the chill of morning, and I see overcast skies that are clearly more of autumn than of summer. Life moves forward, and I enjoy each new opportunity to bring a little more order to my experience, and treat myself better than I understood how to do yesterday. The value of incremental change over time can’t be overstated.

Handing over the keys and putting the artist within in the driver's seat.

Handing over the keys and putting the artist within in the driver’s seat.

I’ve got love on my mind, this morning, and I am filled with inspiration. The long weekend ahead is no coincidence; I am painting this weekend. The first solidly creative weekend since I moved in has already begun, finishing the installation on my west wall (that sounds sort of ‘grand’ – honestly, I just hung some paintings). I love the creative work I do when I am filled with passion and joy (no rude jokes, I’m talking emotions, here!). Over my coffee, I allow my practical and creative sides to collide in a complex internal dialogue ‘about’ canvases, pigments, lighting, composition, theme, and technique…and not at all about any of those things, really.  I will shortly overcome my sound sensitivity…with sound. I rarely paint in silence; today will be filled with music, played loud enough to completely drown out my tinnitus, but not loud enough to piss off the neighbors. I will, however, choose my playlist with great care, today; some frequencies, beats, or vocal qualities will not be a good fit with the sound sensitivity.

Where will the journey take me?

Where will the journey take me?

Today will be filled with light, curtains open to the sky, and no concern about whether the neighbors see me painting –  and dancing; this is my experience, and it is one that is entirely out of reach of anyone else’s judgement, or opinion. Today is a good day to unleash the creative force within. Today is a good day to enjoy the woman in the mirror, doing her thing. Today is a very good day to live in my world. 🙂

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Art, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5
« Older Entries
Newer Entries »