Archives for posts with tag: I am my own cartographer

Maybe I shouldn’t have put my headphones on first, filling my head with music. Jungle. Drum-n-Bass. Oh. Hell. Yes. lol But… now I am staring at a blank page. Head full of sounds. Dancing in my seat at a loss for words.

If you have Facebook, let me share the moment with you. 😀

It’s not a day for adulting, really…well… I mean… I can loosen up a little. It’s Saturday. I’m not working. One more coffee and I’ll hit the highway heading for a different point of view on life, an alternate perspective, a whole other moment. 🙂

Yeah. This morning, this is enough. What about you? Needs met? Concerns eased? Able to take just a wee moment or two to put down the stresses of other days and just… breathe – or dance? If not now, when? 😉

Don’t forget to take care of the human being in the mirror. Be sure to give yourself a chance to begin again once in a while. 🙂 See you on the other side of the weekend, you beautiful beautiful human. 😀

I’m not at all firm on what to write about, this morning. I often begin that way, and it is a state of things that does not cause me any particular stress. I put words in the title field, and then begin typing in the text box, and away I go. Writing coherently, fluidly, about something that matters to someone, in a clear, specific, insightful way… is not a given. It’s more a coincidence, I think, when it does work out that way.

I think that “insight” is more to do with you, the person reading the words, than me… or the words. We each have our own dictionary, and what I think I’m saying may not at all be what you understand me to have said, and this need not be a relevant concern to the matter of insight, at all. You’ll likely make some assumptions as you read. Maybe if you know me personally, you read my words “in my voice”, but is it my voice now, or my voice of some other lifetime? Are your assumptions accurate? Were mine? If you don’t actually know me personally, in what voice do you hear these words, when you read them? There go those assumptions again, at work in the background. Who do you think I am?

If I got something from the process of writing the words, and you get something from reading the words I wrote, does it matter at all if we understood completely different things? Perhaps – at that point we attempt to explain to each other how well we understand one another, I could see that being a potential sore point, but… maybe not? Maybe? I don’t have an answer here, only a question. It’s not even an important question. Just a random thought on a Friday morning.

I make a second coffee, and marvel at how terrible it is. How is this cup of coffee possible, from the same beans, using the same machine, made in the same way, by the same method, into the same cup, at all different than the previous coffee?? I take another sip, puzzled, curious, and seeking greater understanding. I like understanding things. Yeah… No – this is one terrible cup of coffee. Wow. I mean… like… an achievement of bad coffee, a stand out, an extraordinary demonstration of how poorly made a cup of coffee can be – and I didn’t even need to use a percolator, an air pot, or poor quality additives. Good grief. This sucks. I mean… on this whole other “No, seriously? I must be wrong… one more sip…” level. lol This is bad coffee. LOL I am still drinking it… no idea what that says about me, or about human primates generally, but… this is me. Drinking terrible coffee. At this point, I am savoring this terrible coffee and even enjoying its noteworthy awfulness. Please don’t ask me why would I do such a thing, because frankly… I don’t have an answer for that one, either. It is every bit as inexplicable as if I were to suddenly rise from my seat and do a cartwheel. lol

I think about the winter ahead. I think about the future. I sip my bad coffee, now mostly over how dreadful it is, my consciousness has moved on to other things. I think about love. I think about lovers. I think about the twinge of discontent that sometimes catches me by surprise in some lonely moment, when my awareness of age and aging collides with my awareness that I “still feel young on the inside”. This morning, the thought is merely a thought, and does not evoke an emotion. My thinking moves on.

I’ve a busy weekend ahead, and I am eager to get on with it. I’ll see my Traveling Partner this weekend (if all goes to plan, next weekend too!). Fuck I miss that guy. I’m ready to make the drive down, and I’m glad I seem to be well enough to do so; I don’t think I have the pro-adult skills to firmly decline if I weren’t up for it. I just miss him too much at this point. lol I consider the drive itself. It is autumn, and a lovely time of year for a long drive through beautiful countryside. Weather permitting, perhaps I won’t take the highway? A longer route, through scenic forests, down less traveled state highways and country side roads could be quite lovely and relaxed, and a great deal more like part of the weekend than mere transportation from point A to point B. (I-5 is efficient, but not beautiful, the result being the drive feels very purposeful, and more like “work”.)

The map is not the journey. The journey is, itself, the destination. Life’s menu of options is vast, and the choices are many. I am my own cartographer. I sip my terrible coffee and smile. The words pile up. I open up Google Maps with a plan in mind, ready to begin again. 🙂

 

 

I’m awake. Showered. Dressed. Sipping coffee in the usual ordinary sort of way. My day begins relatively gently, and I am eager to return to the office this morning. (I kind of have to write that sentence down, right there, to record factually that indeed I am looking forward to going to work, because I’m not sure that’s a sentence I use very often, or a feeling that is especially common over the entire course of my life, and I want to enjoy the moment.)

I am, for most values of “feeling better”, feeling better. 😀

As with any other sort of subjective state of being, it’s an individual perspective, right? I’ve still got some sinus drainage. Still have some soreness of throat. Still have the cough (which may well linger through the holidays). None of those things are what they were. The cough is seldom, and not as bad, and the sore throat and sinus drainage are also minor. I’m not overwhelmed by fatigue. I don’t have a headache. I’m not shivering while wrapped in blankets in a warm room (very not; the heat is set to “don’t let the house freeze” over night, and I’m just wearing work clothes, not even a sweater, and quite comfortable). I’m work-ready, though, and ready to work. 😀

I’m also super glad I now commute by car, even if distracted drivers keep tapping my fucking bumper at stop lights on an almost monthly basis; I’m well for most values of well, but… I’m not up to walking a mile to catch a bus on a cold morning. Not yet.

Taking care of this fragile vessel is an interesting balancing act. Long-term care means holding down a job and preparing for future retirement… short-term care may require taking time away from work to care for my health right now.

Mental health care works similarly. There is a balance between long-term wellness and urgent care needs to find. There is a balance between addressing issues that are destroying personal perspective and quality of life, and those that degrade relationships with others. A friend struggling with a loved one’s seeming lack of “acceptable” progress, which she feels is required to feel safe in the relationship, doesn’t seem to understand that being in therapy, for the mentally ill loved one, isn’t about that. It’s about saving their own actual life, their experience of living, their quality of life and ability to live and thrive – on their own terms – and achieve mental and emotional wellness – for themselves. I mean, sure. I know when I went into treatment, and this is every time, ever, I definitely wanted to preserve and heal the relationships my condition had affected…but… not at the expense of succeeding to become well, myself. Mental health therapy is for the person seeking treatment – and it’s not about “fixing” that person according to any criteria or standard aside from that determined by the treatment seeking mentally ill person and their therapist. Period. End of stakeholder meeting. Fuck right off if you think you get to insert yourself and your pet concerns into that process to exert influence over a treatment plan intended to achieve reasonable emotional wellness because you have an outcome in mind. Fuck right off indeed – and then go get your own god-damned therapist and take care of your own god-damned needs. lol Seriously, people. “My partner is in therapy” does not equate to “my partner is rebuilding themselves per my specifications”. Just stop and hey, maybe actually support the general emotional wellness of your partner, yourself, and your relationship by being kind, compassionate, listening deeply, and accepting that you, yourself, have your own baggage – and may need your own help. Your partner can not be your therapist, and their therapy is not about you.

Sorry. That’s a bit of a rant there. I’ve just been through it in too many partnerships. The “concerned” questions that mask a hidden agenda. The probing about what is going on in therapy. The lack of willingness to actually participate or seek help, while pushing the full weight of all the issues of a relationship onto the mentally unwell partner because they are unwell, rather than be accountable for some portion of the dynamic. The clear drive to push an agenda into therapy content. The disapproval of selected therapist or treatment modality because it doesn’t meet the needs of the person not even seeking help in the first place. The indirect arguments with a therapist who’s not even in the room if those pesky probing questions are met with openness and trust, but the answers are uncomfortable. Fuck all that. Everyone has their own baggage, and very few people in relationships are “crazy alone” – the crazy becomes shared over time. If you are in therapy, yourself, it’s about you. That’s okay. It’s supposed to be. If your loved one is in therapy, be supportive without being invasive; it’s not about you. It just isn’t. Just fucking chill. (I know, I know, you feel out of control because you can’t control what your partner reveals to the therapist – maybe it is the “wrong” stuff, or not enough, or not “what matters”… and you still don’t get to call the shots, and it still isn’t about you, and you still need to go find something else to do with your time and let your partner handle their business.)

I breathe. I relax. Memories. Wow. I still carry around some pain and some anger about an ex who worked very hard to “guide” my treatment in therapy, with some degree of success, to my detriment – over time I ended up becoming progressively much worse. I’m glad I am out of that relationship. Turned out that mattered a great deal and was an important positive change. Turns out it is still enough to ruffle my feathers when watching friends go through it from an outsider’s perspective. It’s not easy. It’s a lot of damned work. People seek therapy because they are hurting. Therapy itself is sometimes a process of feeling all the hurts until the hurts are processed and in perspective – that just doesn’t even sound pleasant, and it isn’t at all. It’s a process, and the tedium and strain and quantities of change and upheaval are not eased by attempting to interfere, that’s really what I’m saying. 🙂 (And, just to keep it real, I’m still working on plenty of my own issues – remember that whole “living alone” thing? Yeah. Therapy turns out to be muuuuch easier in that context. Much.)

It’s a new day. A good one for all manner of new beginnings, and starting things. Where will you take it? Will you use your human super powers for good or evil? Will you be listening deeply, or waiting for your turn to talk? Will you make taking care of yourself well and with great skill and compassion a high priority? Will you take one step to change the world for the better, yourself? Take a look around. It’s time to begin again. 🙂

Staying home yesterday was the right choice. The small amount of effort exerted happily tidying up the smallest bit, while my energy level was high in the early morning, completely wiped me out. Not a set back, specifically, but definitely a clear warning sign that I’m not yet well. By mid-day, symptoms like dizziness, and that infernal headache, had gone completely, and I didn’t need to sleep all day. (Yay!!) So… definitely feeling “better”…but… then, sometime later in the day, the coughing got going on this whole other unnecessarily annoying level…and then… ouch. The muscles supporting my ribs, along my sides, not quite around toward my back, definitely involved in coughing…and… definitely not ready for all of this coughing. Something sprung, or pinched, or tweaked, or… both sides, now, every cough, there’s also muscle pain sharp in my awareness, not quite to the torn muscle severity, but god damn it hurts when I cough. 😦 How the ever-loving-fuck do I avoid coughing as I recover from the fucking flu???

I went to bed. Slept… okay… ish. For most values of “sleep” and “okay”. I woke often. Drinking this much tea, water, coffee… it’s a given. So there’s that. And the coughing. And the pain. I so do not want to go to work today. I could get some shit done here, though… I’m up to that. So it isn’t really the work, itself, that I’m not up to at this point – it’s the environment. I’m not up to it, and it’s not really the appropriate place to bring all this fucking loud coughing. (I sound like I’m literally dying of some horrible disease of the respiratory system, it’s hard to listen to.) (Not only that, but sitting near me would also subject someone to listening to my damned lungs making percolating noises while I breathe. lol Again, not the picture of vibrant health one expects from a coworker, generally.) Nor do I wish to expose others to this (although I already have – and omg, I am so sorry!!). So… this morning, my coffee, the trip to the office to grab my laptop and back home to “go to work”. Like… double the commute. <sigh> Yes, but also… heated seats. My arthritic back does like some time on the heated seat. 🙂

I just want to be well. lol I wake up making childish bargains with the universe (“If you just let me get through today without… “) that never work out (because that’s not how life works). I’m managing to take decently good care of myself, and it was lovely waking up this morning to a tidy little place, a clean kitchen, a sense of order, and a fireplace ready for me when I want it. That was one bonus out of the day, yesterday; the landlord was on site doing winterization stuff around the duplex (and no doubt other locations in the area), and stopped in to turn on the pilot light for the gas fireplace. 😀 It was pretty nice to enjoy the evening in the glow of a merry little fire, then also just switch it off at bed time. I enjoyed it so much that before bed I put a sticky note on the switch that says “this too costs cash”. lol

Still sick. My coffee is good, though (and my sense of taste is returning). I’m decently well-rested in spite of the very interrupted night. I’m clearly in the process of “getting well”, it’s just taking rather longer than I’d like. It’s a good opportunity to bring the work laptop home, and get back to work, even if I am not ready to get back to the office… It’s just time to begin again. Slowly. With great care. 🙂

I didn’t have an easy night. Falling asleep didn’t happen easily. Staying asleep wasn’t going super well, either. At midnight, again, I was awake, drinking hot tea to sooth my sore throat, and waiting to be sleepy enough, again, to try sleep, again. Pillows piled too high, I didn’t seem to doze off. Too low and I found that I quickly couldn’t breathe. Sometime after 2 am, I found a “sweet spot”. The alarm went off far too soon after that.

Yesterday it was an achievement to enjoy a moment in the garden, quietly.

I woke with a clear sense that I am “getting over this”, at long last, although the cough persists, my throat is still sore, and my sinuses are still stuffy. There’s a new quality to it, subtle and hard to pin down specifically, that just feels like everything is, in some tiny way, just a bit less “off” and just a bit more “recovering”. I’m not well, though, and there are so many ways to choose to proceed that could delay getting over this completely. “Pushing myself too hard” is just one of them, but it is on my mind because it is one that I rather regularly choose. I’m not inclined to do that, today. I consider calling out entirely, but there is a small amount of preparatory work setting up tomorrow that I would ideally want to have done before tomorrow arrives… but… yeah, soooo not up to working an entire day in the office.

Today was either going to be working from home (this cough is pretty disruptive, if nothing else), or calling out entirely; that’s the decision that needs to be made this morning. I still don’t know. I was pretty sick Friday, such that I failed to bring my (work) laptop home with me (just wasn’t thinking clearly). To work from home I need to go get it. (The humor in that is not lost on me; if I work, I’ll have to commute, to get the laptop, to work from home.) Calling out comes with no such requirement, and omg I am so still sick enough, but it is a choice that requires convincing myself to let Monday’s work go even just one day, and picking up that thread tomorrow. Layers of decision-making. If I choose to call out today, and end up feeling like working from home tomorrow makes more sense than going into the office… then I’ve merely delayed that silly commute to pick up the laptop. If I think there is any risk at all I may want/need to work from home tomorrow, it makes sense to get the laptop today… doesn’t it? Or does it?

All the major weekly deliverables on my plate each week that go out to my consumers are handled on Mondays. This makes Mondays “matter” a great deal to me. But… so does my health. Shit. This is hard.

I do feel “more better” this morning than I have in days… My decision this morning may affect my timely recovery from illness… soooo…

I keep turning it over in my head. Pros. Cons. Back and forth. Out of nowhere I am wracked with coughs, choking on the crap my lungs are trying to expel that has slowly settled in them over days. No. It’s pretty clear. I’m not quite well yet. Almost there… almost… there…

I decide to call out for this one. Just, call out. Entirely. Work on getting sufficiently well to really return to work tomorrow. I find myself hoping this is the wiser choice. I breathe. Pay attention to my physical state of being in all particulars… I feel some tiny bit better today than any day I went home early last week… I also feel notably worse than any day I worked an entire shift last week… I also feel very much that one more day of recovery will see me past the worst of it, and really ready to get back to work… so…

I make the hard choice. I call out for today. I commit to taking care of this fragile vessel. I use up a couple more tissues. I cough for a few minutes more. I finish my coffee, and make a cup of tea. I adjust the thermostat to “staying home today”.

Then, I begin again.