Archives for posts with tag: hyperacusis

I’m sitting at my halfway point on this local trail, before dawn.  Venus is bright above the western horizon. It is a clear, mild morning. The forecast suggested it would be near freezing this morning, but it is much warmer. 45°F (7.2°C). Pleasant, compared to freezing, and I am enjoying it. I am comfortable in the warm clothes I chose.

One by one the primroses are beginning to bloom in my garden.

I smile when I recall the primroses blooming in the flower beds along the front walk. They don’t understand that it is winter, they bloom in the mild Spring-like weather regardless what the calendar says. I think about that awhile, and the phrase “bloom where you are planted”. Like garden flowers, human beings also bloom at the time most right for them individually.

I watch Venus slowly sinking towards the horizon. I reflect on how peculiar it is that this appearance of movement is not what it seems. It isn’t Venus moving at all; it is the Earth rotating on her axis. I have no sense of that motion at all, as far as I can tell, I only observe the apparent movement of the stars. There’s something to learn there, about perspective and reality and truth.

My back aches fiercely. No headache yet, today. My tinnitus is loud in my ears. I sigh to myself, grateful for the mild morning and this walk. The air smells like Spring, already.

A beautiful young buck steps slowly out of the trees, watching me as he steps cautiously onto the trail and walks past, glancing my way as if verifying that I am not going to follow. He stops a short distance from me and steps into the grassy strip of meadow on the other side of the trail. I am watching him, and sitting very still. I don’t immediately see the two does who follow him out of the trees and down the path. They are abreast of me, almost close enough to touch, when I see them. They startle me, my movement startles them, and the herd of three quickly move further down the grassy strip beside the trail.

Today the Author arrives for a short visit. After my walk I’ll stop by the store and pick up a few things. My Traveling Partner hustled me and the Anxious Adventurer through a bunch of little changes and housekeeping tasks that had fallen a little behind, in order to restore order from chaos that had crept in while he was (far more) disabled (than he is now), and to prepare for company. The last of the holiday changes made to accommodate the Giftmas tree were returned to more typical placement, too. I was grateful to have help, and for the vision and encouragement provided by my beloved; sometimes the thought work or emotional labor is the most tiring part of some project, and I don’t have vast reserves available for either, lately.

I went to bed exhausted, aware that my fatigue was as much cognitive as physical. Lately I struggle to “find a quiet moment” at home, often turning my attention to a book or a show, only to face frequent interruptions from “noise”. Hyperacusis leaves me feeling as if I can’t get a moment of peace, but it is symptomatic and highly subjective. The coffee grinder isn’t louder than usual. The cupboard doors aren’t being slammed. Someone putting away the dishes isn’t an intentional assault on my senses. Stray remarks lobbed at me unaware of my attention being elsewhere are neither more frequent nor louder. The timing is not deliberate. It’s a “me thing”. The only real solution is the stillness of solitude. It’s a feeling that the literal only time my consciousness is fully my own is when I am alone with my device set on “do not disturb”. Definitely a “me thing”. It is an illusion, and a bit of madness, perhaps.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pull myself back to this present and quite solitary peaceful moment. These walks meet many needs, and a little solitude is one of them. I savor the stillness as daybreak comes. Venus is lower on the horizon now, barely above the dark smudgey silhouette of the treetops. The Earth keeps spinning. The wheel turns. The clock ticks on.

I check the time and sigh to myself. I fill my lungs with the cool morning air and exhale slowly. A new day, a familiar path, and I’m having my own experience. I remind myself to let small shit stay small, and to avoid taking things personally. I stretch as I stand. It’s time to begin again. I turn and face the sunrise and start down the trail.

By the end of the day, yesterday, my tinnitus, my headache, and my lingering irritability had joined forces and invited a flare up of hyperacusis (sound sensitivity). I felt as if I couldn’t find a quiet moment. Every little noise annoyed me. Every moment someone was speaking was making it almost impossible to hear anything else. Every sound seemed unnecessarily loud. I figured out it was me before I was a complete asshole about it, but it was unpleasant. It lasted the rest of the evening. Seems like I woke without it this morning, and I’m starting the day feeling hopeful.

The highpoints of my day, yesterday? A book arriving that my beloved Traveling Partner bought for me as a gift, which I’m eager to read; everything he’s recommended over the years has been worthwhile. (This one is The Stand, by Stephen King, which I haven’t read.) The other highpoint? A dark quiet room, alone with the silence, before I slept. It wasn’t even actually silent. Not at all. My CPAP machine was running, and the little ambient noise generator the VA gave me that helps me sleep by masking background noises (and to some extent, my tinnitus), was also on. Everything seemed “too loud”. Everything was turned down to the quietest settings. Hyperacusis.

I gave up, hoping it would be better in the morning. I’m grateful for the morning; it is gentle on my consciousness, so far. One more workday, this one, and then a weekend. I chuckle softly to myself; I’m back to counting weekends and looking forward to Friday on Mondays. Very human.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. My hands pause motionless above the keyboard for an unmeasured weirdly long time, as my thoughts drift through my head without transmitting anything to my fingers. I finally notice that I am sitting in this odd anticipatory state, and I make a point to observe that in writing, just to break the spell.

It’s that I’m struck speechless, perhaps, by the weird shit going on in the USA right now. It’s simply so much incomprehensible corrupt cruelty and self-serving grandstanding and grifting that I can’t wrap my head around how this is even real, sometimes. In America. Freedom of speech under direct attack. The administration pulling the nation out of important alliances, trade groups, and treaties, and withdrawing previously approved funds that throw valued lifelines to real human beings. Citizens being shot in the streets or kidnapped from their homes or jobs by masked thugs paid by federal dollars. And in possibly one of the most hilariously ludicrous re-enactments of a South Park episode, the US Dept of Health and Human Services announced a “new food pyramid” that puts red meat, dairy, and saturated fats front and center. (South Park did it first, Season 18, episode 2, “Gluten Free Ebola”, 2014) I’m still laughing. I sometimes feel like I should be resigned to waking up every day wondering what the fuck is even going on, because so much of this shit just doesn’t make any sense. I sigh to myself.

The new food pyramid isn’t the worst of all the things going on, inasmuch as eating whole real food of good quality that isn’t preprocessed and full of preservatives and additives is a better choice for our health, but suggesting (if only visually) that red meat and dairy should make up some majority portion of our intake is probably not ideal. I’ll admit I haven’t yet read the dietary guidance more closely; I’m still laughing too hard. So much of this shit doesn’t make any real sense, and that’s probably the point – because keeping us all distracted with this craziness may be intended to keep us from looking more closely at things that matter a great deal more. (How about those Epstein files? Where are we at with those?) One of the challenges, I guess, is that I find so many (all?) of this administration’s cabinet members and department heads thoroughly unlikeable and untrustworthy. They make it really clear where their interests lie, and it is not with the citizens they serve. They lie openly, as if the internet just doesn’t exist for immediate real-time fact-checking. This is without a doubt the dumbest administration in the history of American governance…or we are the most gullible population.

“Enough,” I tell myself, and I let it go. I sip my coffee, enjoying the warmth in my hand, and the mellow flavor. I enjoy the smooth jazz in the background this morning, uninvasive and subtle. Coffee and jazz on a quiet morning, a good combination, a good beginning to the day.

This weekend, at long last, the Giftmas decorations all come down and get put away for another year. I’m behind on that. I had meant to do it last weekend, but chose to rest and give myself more time to recover from having had the flu – which I feel pretty completely over at this point. Damn that was pretty bad. I’m glad I’d been vaccinated. It could have been much worse. The flu has already killed thousands of people this year, in the US alone. I’m grateful for the vaccines that make it less likely to be fatal, for so many of us. I wish more people took getting their vaccinations more seriously, and put more consideration into the value of herd immunity and community wellness, but honestly? I get it. Look at this mess; would you take health advice from the circle jerk of unqualified nitwits making vaccine recommendations right now? It’s a top down problem, too. This isn’t about the science or the scientists doing the real work of creating vaccines. It’s the administration. The stupidity and lack of qualifications of so many of this administration’s talking heads make it almost impossible to trust a word they say.

For me this shit is not a partisan issue; I dislike unethical grifters of any political alignment, and I don’t think choosing a political party is a clear indicator of intelligence or qualifications for a policy-making role. Ethical governance ought not be a partisan issue, at all. Once elected or appointed, every one of those assholes is expected to get to work – together – to govern skillfully, wisely, and in the service of every citizen, not just the ones who think like they do. Isn’t that obvious? I’m so thoroughly disappointed with both Democrats and Republicans – but the math doesn’t work for 3rd parties, because the system is set up to fail them. We’re probably long overdue for direct democracy…but I don’t exactly have a lot of confidence in how that will turn out, either, just considering what people seem willing to vote for, and why.

I sip my coffee and let my thoughts wander on.

I sigh to myself and think about suffering and changes and choices, and this journey that is one human life. One woman, one path. I am finding it hard to settle down and meditate, today. Human. Some days it is easy, some days it isn’t. It’s a “practice” because it really takes an active commitment and daily decision-making, followed by real action, and that never really changes. There are verbs involved. We become what we practice, though. I benefit so much from keeping a consistent meditation practice, I know not to let it slip. When I falter, I begin again.

I’ve still got this persistent desire to fill my tank, get in the car, and just…drive toward the horizon, until I find myself, somewhere.

…The clock ticks on. The future is unwritten. The journey is the destination – and there is no map. Where does this path lead? I take a breathe, exhale, and begin again.