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Not Trying, Just Practicing

September 13, 2015 //
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This is an easy restful weekend so far. I slept in again this morning, and although I woke stiff and in a lot of pain, aside from that – which is annoyingly commonplace at this point in life – it’s a lovely weekend, relaxed, and still somewhat productive. I’m not ‘trying’ to get here. I didn’t head into the weekend with a firm plan to relax, or to rest, or to tackle a big list of stuff to do. The weekend began. I’ve continued to practice the practices that work best for me – I’ve meditated more than I often to (which already tends to be often), and probably done less yoga than I could have (and might be in less pain if I had chosen differently).

Yes, of course, coffee. :-)

Yes, of course, coffee. 🙂

I tend to associate the verb ‘trying’ with focused effort and a very specific outcome in mind. I also associate ‘trying’ with frustration; trying puts me on a more direct path to failing, by setting specific expectations of which actions must lead to what outcome. I’ve got challenges with frustration – it is my worst emotion, inasmuch as I just don’t deal with the experience of feeling frustrated well; it quickly becomes unreasoning anger, with risk of tantrums, tears, and actual quite dreadful headaches. As emotions go, I am least skilled with frustration. I find that when I let go of ‘trying’ to do something, or get somewhere, and simply get started on the task, or headed for the destination, building on good basic practices without becoming attached to a specific outcome, I not only enjoy my experience more, I definitely achieve my goals more easily – and more often – with less frustration.  It’s an experience to explore further.

Fancy

Sometimes the luxury self-care package includes a moment of self-indulgence – my salted caramel cafe au lait, Friday evening.

Friday night’s prolonged periods of reflection and meditation are still ‘seeping into my consciousness’. Yesterday was filled with “Oh!” moments of awakening, generally followed by abruptly stopping what I was doing at the time to pause, sit for a moment with the realization or new thinking, before moving on with the day. I ‘didn’t get anything done’ in the sense of practical matters being checked off a list of tasks, but I spent the day treating myself well, relaxing without guilt, and practicing practices that build emotional resilience for the work week to come, and ones that build the emotional self-sufficiency I will rely on for a lifetime ahead of me. With modern medicine in mind, there is every possibility that I will live beyond 100 years… making me more or less at the literal half way point in life, with a great deal more awareness than a newborn child has. These can be fantastic years ahead of me – handled appropriately. Certainly, there are more paintings to paint, more words to write, and more moments ahead of me.

...and more books to read. It's a good day for that, too.

…and more books to read, more poetry to write. It’s a good day for it.

I find myself asking a strange new question as I move through the hours of my days this weekend. “Is this the life you are choosing for yourself, for the next 50 years?” It’s not actually a yes/no limited question. The question is more intended to provoke reflection on who I am, how I live, and what my choices are – not only how I treat the world, and what I do with my time, generally – but also how I feel in the context of my own experience. Each time I ask myself the question, I take the opportunity to make some small change to improve on how I care for myself, how I treat others, and even how I think about my experience, and the world I live in. I am learning to value and appreciate my emotions without letting them take the driver’s seat; they communicate things about the nature of my experience that reason doesn’t notice right away [or at all, let’s face it; reason has a different mission].

…Now, if I can just figure out how to wring every last drop of delight, education, and value out of experiences that frustrate me, that would be quite spectacularly lovely! 🙂

It’s a good day for being, and for becoming. It’s a good day to try new things. It’s a good day to become more skilled at the things that work well. It’s a good day to honor progress, and appreciate all the small moments and interactions that delight me, educate me, and nourish my heart. Changing the world is a long process, relying on the incremental changes over time of a great many individuals – there are verbs involved. Changing the world within can happen over night; it’s a choice. [There are still verbs involved, and your results may vary. Practice. Begin again.]

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Categories autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Turning 50, women, Words

Getting It Right

August 6, 2015 //
2

It can be pretty daunting to work day after day after day after day attempting to reach a goal – harder still if I have adopted that goal from a suggestion, or had it dictated to me. When I miss the mark somewhere, or fall short of expectations – whether they are my own, or the expectations of another – it frustrates me, challenges my thinking, sets me at odds with myself (and sometimes with others) – all in service to an unavoidable prerequisite for achieving a goal; I’m not there yet.

There is plenty of encouraging literature in the self-help aisle, and more than a few apropos aphorisms reminding me that ‘to err is human’ and that ‘practice makes perfect’ (reminder: it doesn’t, at all), and book after book coaching on the  matter of progress over time, learning curves, and playing to ones strengths. When I make a mistake, I often find I am not open to encouragement, not willing to accept information intended to support self-compassion, patience, and growth – incremental change over time feels amazing, but is often received by others less well – with impatience and negative reinforcement. That generally sucks, and feels quite alienating. Human primates want they want, and living in this ‘right now’ moment the way we do, and suffering from such limited perspective (our own), it can be so easy to lose sight of how different we can each be in some moment, how varied our challenges are, and our own individual frustration with that other person takes on a life of its own – weapons of mass distraction are launched, sometimes with regret after the fact. Our impatience to have our own needs met overrides our recognition that this other human being does not live for our benefit.

I find myself struggling to ‘get it right’ – losing sight of how vast the options to do so actually are, and that I, myself, define my success or failure. Sometimes, things that are just fine, and acceptably adequate in all regards don’t feel like enough. I set the bar pretty high for myself – sometimes at the expense of my contentment, and well-being, and sometimes without realizing I have done so. I continue to work on practicing the practices that best support my needs over time. If I find I have discontinued something of great value, I begin again. I continue to support and nurture my best impulses, my most positive values, and to care greatly for this fragile vessel, and the being of light within it… sometimes I fail myself. It hurts, like any failure. I make the effort, every time, at some point, to simply give myself a break and begin again.

The thing is…there are goals, of course, but if they become expectations over time, the tendency to berate myself or treat myself poorly in the face of ‘not getting it right’ can be pretty significant – and I so don’t need that from me! The solution sometimes seems to be ‘then I just won’t bother’…like a child, fighting the process, because the process isn’t easy. Silliness, I know.  Growth takes time, and there are verbs involved. Practice may not make perfect, but it certainly crafts change – for me the fine line is what the change is about, and is it something I actually want for myself, or is it being imposed on me from an external source? That matters – I am on a journey to become the woman I most want to be, and I’m sharing my journey with my very best bestie, the woman in the mirror. Changes or goals imposed on me by my own will and intent, with mindful purpose, and good-natured recognition of what I want from myself in life aren’t ‘easy’ to achieve – sometimes they are damned difficult – but getting there is rewarding, and the journey itself is valued, however difficult. Giving up is generally not something I am seeking, or allowing myself. When change is imposed on me by external sources, or a goal is set by another person’s needs and agenda, getting there lacks any sense of reward, the journey is often a continuous source of stress and frustration, and my resentment is… a lot to drag around with me.

This probably seems pretty obvious – I’m talking it through this morning because I find that I am sometimes challenged by the intensity of my frustration when I fail at some task, goal, or have difficulty implementing some change that I neither desire, nor care about. What’s up with that? If it’s not my own, and I am not invested in it, why would I be the slightest bit troubled if or when I don’t succeed at it? How would that be any measure of my own success? How would it affect me in any negative way? That’s some baggage right there – and I’d do well to drop it off at the carousel and let it go.

We've all got some baggage.

We’ve all got some baggage.

I slept badly last night. I struggled to fall asleep, and it was well past midnight before I did. My sleep was interrupted a number of times; my apartment seemed unusually noisy, with an assortment of rather random bangs, bumps, creaks, thuds, and crackles that got me out of bed, flipping on lights, checking things out – at no time was there anything unusual to see. Sleep did not find me easily. I woke long before the alarm, with no particular hope of returning to sleep; I woke feeling frustrated, and vaguely as if I was failing to get something right. (In this case, probably sleep – I definitely wasn’t getting that right!) Once I was up, it was a rather anti-climactic ‘nothing to see here…’ sort of moment. I am awake, and woke easily, without any of the obvious grogginess that has plagued me for some days, now. I am finding new appreciation for a few moments (hours) of grogginess after a night of deep restful sleep… I probably won’t be bitching ungratefully about that any more; I value the sleep.

I am not tired so much as excited, perhaps; I have a long weekend, and I’m headed into the trees. My traveling partner is traveling, too, and taking the wanderer, and another partner, along with him for a weekend of forested fun elsewhere; they are headed to vast crowds, loud music, and communal fun. I am seeking a solo experience, and stillness, where it will be easier to listen deeply to myself; the world has nothing to say to me about what I want from my life.  I already miss my traveling partner…but I recognize that as with any other intimate connected relationship, I benefit from distance now and then; without it, I am prone to accepting the goals, needs, and desired changes of that other as my own – to my detriment. I’m not always super clear-headed about these things, and alone out in the trees, walking in stillness, listening to my own heart, I am more easily able to get my bearings, and set my own course on this journey. It’s a necessary sort of re-calibration, for me, that I am not so easily able to do at home, even now.

Did I mention I’ll be headed into the trees? You’ll likely be without me a day or two. I’ll come back with pictures. 🙂

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

Bitch, Don’t Start With Me…

July 28, 2015 //
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I woke ahead of the alarm, and almost immediately my thoughts turned in a dark direction, filling with negativity, doubt, imagined hurts – all in the seconds after waking, before my broken brain really has a chance to boot up and fight the demons in the darkness. With a sigh I flip on the light – and reach for the alarm clock. No way to I want to hear it go off – my internal alarm bells were already clanging away.

I took my morning medication and went straight for the music – “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe” for openers, first thing, and loud enough to hear in the shower. In this case, the ‘bitch’ in question is the woman in the mirror – and I sing along, right to her face, all through my shower and getting dressed for the day. Seriously? Acknowledging the power of my own freedom to choose, and the potential it has to color my experience, means on a morning when my own brain attempts a sneak attack – it’s totally okay to call me on my bullshit, myself. By the time my coffee is ready, I expect to be past the difficult waking moment, without using up the emotional reserves necessary to deep dive the chaos and damage; it’s enough to recognize that I have more than my share, and understand that it can make for some challenges now and then. (At least, that’s definitely enough at 4:30 am on a work morning, before I am even completely awake!)

By the time my coffee is ready – I’ve recovered my now-utterly-routine peaceful leisurely morning. I celebrate with my favorite bounce back anthem. Dancing from the kitchen with my coffee, singing along as I cross the room with a wink and a smile at the woman in the mirror – that crazy bitch knows I am not taking her bullshit today! lol [Reminder: there are no literal voices in my head, and I am just this one person right here – but I do find it handy to face the woman in the mirror on terms that allow me to communicate more easily with myself across the chasm of this injury and the vast piles of chaos and damage left behind from other experiences with other people.]

It’s a morning for music, I guess. I am moved.  Listening to “Love Sex Magic” when it comes up in the playlist, I grin and feel the residual heat and fervor of my love for my traveling partner…and on some other level, my pure delight and animal enthusiasm for healthy adult play, generally. Few things chase the demons back into the darkness like a really good playlist. 🙂

Aside from the complicated moments immediately after waking, it’s a lovely morning. My coffee is tasty, smooth, hot – and I managed it without spilling boiling water on the counter when I moistened the filter, or getting dust from ground coffee all over the floor – I often do both. It’s okay; I’m learning not to take my own humanity personally, or treat small such ‘mistakes’ as any reflection on my worth as a human being, a partner, a lover, artist, writer, or woman – hell, it’s not even “about” having a brain injury. Every human, everywhere, has moments of clumsiness, makes mistakes, causes a mess by mistake, or falls short of their own vision of who they can be on some occasion. Perfect? It’s not a thing in real life. I’m over that. I haven’t lost anything but some needless heartache to let go of emotionally brutalizing myself over ever action or outcome that could be viewed as a mistake – and with good reason, frankly; too many of them turn out to be, if not utterly necessary in some unanticipated fashion, just not a big deal at all, and definitely unworthy of the drama, turmoil, and hurt. I figure, over time, continuing to treat myself well in this fashion will also result in having the reaction, itself, come up far less often. That tends to be how incremental change over time works out.

My arthritis is hurting a lot this week. Dancing helps – hurts, but it does help, and the easiest way to overcome the inertia of pain is to find movement irresistible – that’s dance, right there, isn’t it?  Turning on the music this morning was a good call for my body, as well as my heart and mind. My playlist is mostly dance tracks, hip hop, crunk, and couple of other favorites that ‘don’t really belong here’ (Santana, Billy Idol, Skrillex) … only… this is my playlist, and they do ‘belong’. How much easier would so much of life be with practices that made the practicing itself irresistible? There’s often a real thrill or moment of gratification associated with experiences in life that present the greatest risks of negative outcome… sex… money… rage… That’s more than a little bit inconvenient for a woman with a dis-inhibiting brain injury, trust me. I’m glad I can yield to the urge to dance without concern for adverse consequences. 🙂

A summer day, a journey that continues.

A summer day, a journey that continues.

The point this morning, as much as anything, is that I am often in my own way more than anything else is. Injuries do happen. Pain is part of the human experience. The constant struggling is a choice. Learning to make my choices differently is a process. Today is a good day to practice the practices that are working best for me. It’s a good day to remind the woman in the mirror I won’t be taking her shit, either; we need each other, but I won’t be allowing her chaos and damage to call the shots, when I can avoid it with other choices. Today is a good day to enjoy the journey.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Simple Mistakes

May 7, 2015 //
2

I woke gently to a lovely morning. It seems…unflawed. Being human, I enjoy the moment aware that even lovely moments pass. Savoring the pleasant ones is lovely…but sometimes leaves me wondering what to write about. I have a handy list of things I thought about writing at some other time, but didn’t…I check the list and the very first thing reads simply ‘spelling mistakes’.

Flowers. Sunshine. Light.

Flowers. Sunshine. Light.

I will admit I read my own writing. I don’t know whether that’s an odd thing. I review new writing for spelling mistakes, grammar, syntax, incomprehensible weirdness, an overabundance of commas, a surplus of poetry resulting in a shortage of coherence; these are basic editing steps and sure, I do them. I also read my own writing. I find it is an excellent reminder of how far I have come, how far there is yet to go, and also serves to bring me back to understandings and knowledge I’ve already got, that I may lose sight of now and then. Poetically speaking, sometimes my writing serves to communicate with me – getting ideas across to me, past my injury – like passing notes to myself.

I rarely catch all the spelling mistakes. (Let’s leave my grammar and punctuation out of this. There’s only so much the features in WordPress can do to fight me off!)

Obvious spelling mistakes are pretty easy, and of course the spell-checker handles most of them, but I routinely miss at least one that I catch later, when I am reading my own writing. Sometimes a lot later. Years. It messes with my head to catch a spelling error in an older blog post, months or years later, if I am reading on the train, or under circumstances when I would not be able to immediately fix it; I am not likely to remember quite where or what it was, just that it exists. Most of the spelling mistakes I don’t catch fall into one basic category: real words that don’t fit. ‘Form’ instead of ‘from’, for example, or ‘that’ instead of ‘than’, and of course these are mistakes a spell-checker doesn’t generally pick up – and they change the meaning of the sentence! My least favorite outcome of a spelling error is being misunderstood. I can so easily get past the part where you may think I’m an idiot, or just dreadful at writing things down. Being misunderstood feels frustrating, unsatisfying, and alienating, sometimes shameful, as though the entire burden of successful communication rests on me. (If I am writing, it sort of does…doesn’t it?)

(My brain throws a humorous, encouraging scene into my imagination to lighten the moment, my own voice as an authority figure, calm and firm, an airport baggage claim carousel nearby, “Ma’am, please set the baggage down and back away quietly, and no one will get hurt…”. I smile, and let perspective win.)

Beauty

Another perspective. Sunlight and flowers.

I guess what I’m on about is that practicing good practices – whatever they are – does not lead to ‘perfection’. It leads a lot of wonderful places, depending on what I am practicing, of course, but ‘perfect’ isn’t actually one of them. ‘Proficient’ seems achievable, perhaps even ‘masterful’, ‘skillful’, ‘growth’, or ‘change’ – there are a lot of different outcomes to practice that are powerful or positive (again, depending on what I am practicing; not all practices are created equal). Perfection is not even on the menu, unless I redefine ‘perfection’ to be something achievable in the first place – and such a definition of perfection would have to leave room for the occasional mistake.

I make spelling mistakes. More often because I type very fast, than because I don’t know the correct spelling of the word I wish to use, some of them are a result of damage…but however carefully I write, I manage to make the occasional spelling mistake. My mistakes sometimes frustrate me, but they also tie me to this very human experience in a very human way. I’m okay with that. I still like to be understood, and to present my writing with great care and consideration; it is ‘speaking for me’. I know that when I read an old post, a missed spelling mistake can be very jarring, halting the flow of my thoughts, like a scratch on a beautiful wood finish. What about you? Do they mess with your reading enjoyment? If they do, let’s use the opportunity to connect; reply with a comment to the post, and tell me what the spelling error is. I’ll fix it and say thank you. 🙂 We are each having our own experience – but we are also all in this together.

I make mistakes. We all do. This morning is a lovely morning, and so much so that contemplating life’s small missteps and making time for perspective about the small things that can go wrong feels safe and comfortable, not the least bit worrisome or stressful. Mistakes are pretty human. Letting them stress me out is pretty human, but not very useful. Finding perspective on the every day stresses in life – like the spelling mistakes in a blog post – is a simple practice that I find builds emotional resilience over time.

Today is a good day for perspective.

Today is a good day for perspective.

Today is a good day to practice good practices. Today is a good day to be so very human, with all the wonders and delights that are just beyond the suffering, when I practice good practices and make good choices to support my needs over time. Today is a good day to take next steps, to try new things, and enjoy moments. Today is a good day to enjoy the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, The Art of Being, Words

Me First

March 14, 2015 //
0

I’m still sick. I’m taking advantage of the weekend to take care of my health. I have no other plans today. I am still hopeful that I’ll be over this in time for my camping trip in a few days…if not, I’ll have to decide whether to cancel or just go and tough it out – maybe find out just exactly what I’m made of under even more trying conditions.

I giggle at myself thinking about my middle-aged, suburbanite, white-collar self considering a few days of camping in a state park very near to home to anything like ‘trying conditions’ or a test of endurance of any sort. Somewhere in the distance of time long past, a much younger, more rugged me looks on with some measure of friendly disdain – not meaning to be mean, but me then was just not that patient with people’s notions. lol

Not quite wilderness close to home.

Not quite wilderness close to home.

So sure, today I am putting me first, but that’s not the point of the title at all. “Me First” is a practice, and it’s one that I am currently turning over in my head to add to my SuperBetter  game; I haven’t decided if it serves best as a ‘Quest’ or a ‘Power Up’. Over my morning coffee, I answer some basic questions for myself, such as ‘is this something I do for a course correction, or an emotional boost, or is it something I need to practice, reach for as a goal, and strive to achieve?’ and ‘is this an experience?’ and ‘can I put a face to it?’ Most of my ‘Bad Guys’ are issues and challenges (personal demons) that I can easily ‘face’ more effectively if they wear actual faces. lol

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

My “Me First” practice is a cognitive tool to improve emotional resilience by building a sense of perspective, improving my ability to respond to others with compassion, and to foster quick recognition of shared human experience, when I may be inclined to react in a judgmental way, or feeling resentful. “Me First” is simply the practice of observing the judgment or resentment with a high level of honesty and acceptance, and mindful awareness of how I, myself, experience a similar circumstance ‘if the shoe were on the other foot’. I put myself in the other person’s experience very deliberately, and challenge myself to understand how it may be something we have in common, and how human it is. Before I start emotionally or intellectually ‘stoning’ someone, I practice looking to myself – is there really room to criticize? (There rarely is.) Is there room for compassion, encouragement, a moment of humor or Schadenfreude? (There usually is.) Instead of being critical – and understanding that criticism is generally a poorly worded request for change – is there something I can do meet my own needs more simply (like making a clear and gentle request for change)? Can I apply that understanding and perspective to this other human being and possibly do something to meet their needs? That’s the lovely thing about my “Me First” practice – it’s not ‘me first over and above whatever you need, and go fuck yourself for your trouble’, not at all; it’s ‘let me take care of me first, work out some of these issues I’ve obviously got, get my head right and see what we can do together, to meet shared needs, and understand each other’.  Before I criticize someone else, I launch this practice and I check myself – and use the object lesson to work on me, first – because realistically, I don’t actually get to work on anyone else. None of us do. Not really – and attempting to take that power of self management, and autonomy away from someone with criticism, judgmental remarks, or intimidation and controlling behaviors is in a category of ‘bad acts’ I consider emotionally abusive. I definitely don’t want to be doing something to other people that I consider abuse.

What a wonderful thing – you get to make all your own choices about these things, yourself, and my notions of what is or is not abusive doesn’t dictate your choices! Fantastic! Ideally, it’s all sort of self-adjusting, isn’t it? If we treat someone poorly, or abuse them (physically or emotionally), surely they don’t stick around for that, and we find ourselves bereft and alone, as we would surely deserve for our bad acts…right? Well, not always, and sometimes tragically so. Learning not to stick around for more abuse is one of the things I work on, myself. It’s not always easy. My sense of loyalty is far more well-developed than my sense of when I may be over-compromising my values, or allowing myself to be mistreated emotionally. As a younger woman, some portion of my identity was wrapped up in whether my relationships ‘succeeded’, but the definition of success wasn’t my own, and I stuck around for some heinous shit. We are each having our own experience, too. What injures me, or hits damaged bits related to my PTSD, or may be of more concern because of my TBI, may not at all be what hurts you as an individual. (Clearly there are some experiences that could universally be recognized as abuse, but this is not about that.)

Learning good self-care, for me, also means learning to recognize when I am treated well, when I am treated poorly – and what amount of poor treatment is unacceptable, rather than an incidental and unintended by product of someone’s humanity. So I practice treating myself well, and I also practice treating others well; because I am not a blameless victim in my experience of life – I am living it, and I too make poor choices, or fall short of ideals, or ‘drop the ball in the big game’. I’m very human. I honestly don’t find it acceptable to criticize someone for issues I have myself, things I am also prone to do, or stuff that’s just shared human experience needing to be managed or learned from; so I am practicing doing something differently, and walking my own path to be the woman I most want to be, myself, on my own terms.

We each walk our own path, paved with our own choices.

We each walk our own path, paved with our own choices.

I’m also not smug about this stuff, and I struggle. These are my challenges, more than my triumphs, and I have more questions than answers. You’re welcome to take whatever value you find in my words; your results may vary. There are verbs involved. 🙂

I tried learning to treat others well, without taking care of me, without addressing my own needs first, without really putting in the time to learn what treating others well really meant. It was not an effective effort.  I don’t find attempting to care for me to the exclusion of treating others well to be a good fit; it nearly always feels like I am treating people poorly as a default decision. Balance wins again, and perspective; treating myself well matters a lot, and treating others well isn’t even truly possible to do with skill if I don’t start with me…but putting myself first by taking good treatment away from others turns out not to be very good self-care at all. It’s quite an interesting puzzle.  I found the realization that ‘good treatment’ is defined by the person experiencing it, rather than the person taking the action being experienced, very valuable; it’s not about the intention of the person delivering the words or behaviors at all, and that’s important to understand.

Endure the journey, or embrace it, this choice, too, is yours.

Endure the journey, or embrace it, this choice, too, is yours.

I am sick today, and it’s raining; today is a good day for puzzles. Today is a good day for first-rate self-care. Today is a good day to treat the hearts of others just as well as I treat my own – knowing that I treat my own heart very well indeed, well… practicing the practices, at least. There’s still a journey ahead. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Big 5, Words
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