Archives for posts with tag: I’m okay

I woke feeling rested and positive. I sit quietly, now, at the rain-soaked trailhead waiting for daybreak, and enough light to safely walk the rainy trail before work. It’s quiet here, as if the whole world sleeps. Like so many things we may think we perceive, it is an illusion.

I use the night settings on my camera to see the “meadow” between me and the river out of view beyond the trees on the far side. It’s no meadow, now, (it’s been mowed and plowed) and I wonder if it’s been “so long” since I was last here? I really don’t think so. Change is. Sometimes it’s an overnight thing. Sometimes it comes at me much more slowly.

A field before dawn. A quiet moment.

I remind myself of errands I need to run today. While I remember them, I write them down. I need to pull a painting out of storage for shipment; it recently sold. I need to get my suitcase for my upcoming trip to the coast for a few days of painting. I’m exhausted, again, physically and emotionally, and I definitely need this downtime. A chance to sleep whenever I sleep, until I wake, with no agenda or commitments on my time besides my own attention on my self-care and my pastels. The sea air will do me good. I’m eager to spend time focused on art and self reflection, meditation, writing, and rest. Damn, do I ever need the rest. Wednesday evening seems simultaneously very soon and very far away. Four more work shifts. Six more days.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m enjoying the rainy morning. It reminds me I need to get out into the garden and clean it up for winter. I couldn’t keep up with juggling work, household tasks, and caregiving, and the garden got left behind. It’s untidy and wild. This weekend? Maybe. I pause and add a note to my list of shit that needs to get done. It’s a long list. I’m struggling to stay caught up. The Anxious Adventurer is some help, and i am grateful, but there’s so much more to do than he even knows to think of. lol

… I’m so tired. I worry sometimes that the stress of it may be shortening my life…

I pause my thoughts to add more to my list. Tasks that need to be done before I head to the coast for a couple days of not doing.

The rain begins to fall steadily. Maybe no walk this morning? The sun isn’t even up yet. No way to tell. I listen to the rain fall, content to sit quietly, waiting. This moment of quiet is enough, just as it is. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Plenty of time for meditation before the work day. The rain falls. I wait. I breathe. I rest. Soon it will be time to begin again.

I’m sitting quietly, waiting for the sun. I’m sipping an iced coffee, feeling mostly grateful, and mostly in love. Life (and love) has its ups and downs. Aging has the benefit of bringing a bit of perspective, maybe some wisdom, but…it also kinda sucks, fairly often. This mortal sack of flesh feels like a trap as often as it behaves as a useful tool. Maybe that’s my headache talking?

I’m feeling vaguely nostalgic this morning, yearning for a “simpler” time that frankly doesn’t actually exist for me. Those recollections of bygone simplicity are bullshit – fragments of experiences that were far less simple than memory suggests, and far more complicated. Memory, in my experience, is much less nuanced than the lived experience in the moment.

I think about walking the cobbled streets of old Augsburg in the 1980’s… My memory lies to me about what a time it was. The reality? Mental illness was overtaking me, I lived in terror due to domestic violence, and I was fraught with constant anxiety (both personally and professionally). The shopping in Augsburg was great. The people were friendly. The climate was delightful. The holiday market was splendid and the cafes were amazing. So… what is “really true” about my time there? Was it grand or terrible? It’s hard to say. Sometimes I miss Augsburg.

My mind wanders to Fresno. What a very different time in my life. I worked my ass off in construction – but only half of the year, generally. The money was good while the work lasted, each season, but I was trading my health for those dollars one brutal hour at a time and struggling to make ends meet between jobs. I was wracked with constant anxiety and being stalked by my ex. I was living a life of unsustainable extremes – the delights were too delightful, the lows were dangerously low. My self-care… wasn’t care-ful. I was “using myself up” without really understanding the consequences of my choices. I cultivated some amazing (lasting) friendships. Because of those friends, many of whom are no longer in Fresno, I still sometimes miss Fresno in spite of, well… Fresno. lol

My mind wanders to “the woods” at the end of the street where we lived when I turned the corner on childhood and began the painful journey through adolescence. I ran the paths through those woods so many times. Walked them on quiet days seeking peace and solitude. I sat among the trees in the summer heat, listening to the trickle of the creek that flowed through the woods and the buzzing of insects. …I was sexually assaulted there. Somehow, I still remember those woods with great fondness (and, to be fair, the trees themselves were in no way responsible for me being raped).

Funny how nostalgia tries to “tidy things up”. Life – reality – is more complicated than that. Understanding (and accepting) the complexities of life is useful for healing. I can choose to hold on to, and savor, all the beauty and splendor of this mortal lifetime, and set aside the pain (mostly), and learn to bounce back, to let go, and to learn what lessons I can. I can savor the precious memories. I can experience gratitude for the wonders I’ve seen and the love I have experienced. I can reject the darkness and refuse to let it own me.

Nostalgia is weird and complicated. I sit with the good feelings, occasionally stumbling on some painful recollection that finds its way into the mix – like stubbing my toe on a pleasant walk. It’s weird, unexpected, and momentarily distressing. I breathe through the painful memories when they come; they’re part of my life, and I am the woman I am today because life is so much more complicated than a beautiful memory. There’s more to my story, more to my journey, than beautiful sunrises.

I sigh and sip my coffee. Daybreak comes with a hint of orange low on the horizon. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This? This is a lovely pleasant moment, and I am enjoying it. Quiet time well-spent on self-reflection and a bit of nostalgia. I don’t read too much into it. This too shall pass. Moments are brief. Change is. It feels like time to begin again.

The air was still fresh from the drenching rain during the night when I stepped out of the car at the trailhead. Drops falling from the trees occasionally spattered my face and hoodie, which I sensibly wore thinking it might be a cool morning. I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the rain-fresh air. I walked briskly, alone with my thoughts, my arthritis pain, and my headache. Only one of these things mattered much to me, the rest I did my best to ignore as inconsequential.

Yesterday’s appointments, first with my therapist, and later with my physician, were an interesting study in perspective. I showed up to both prepared to discuss stress and anxiety and how best to manage these lingering mental health concerns, only to be firmly told by both that my levels of stress and anxiety, at least under the current circumstances, seem quite reasonable and even appropriate. Well… Shit. I’m not nearly as well-practiced at managing reasonable-not-a-sign-of-mental-illness stress and anxiety. lol In each conversation it’s agreed that similar techniques and continued practice are helpful. No change to medications or recommendations. Just… Keep managing. Keep up self-care efforts properly. Keep breathing and keep cutting myself some fucking slack, eh? It’s still a lot to handle, but apparently that’s pretty fucking reasonable under the circumstances. It was peculiarly helpful to hear that.

…It doesn’t make things any easier…but it does take a bit of pressure off…

I’ve been hard on myself a lot lately. Sometimes my self-talk is pretty negative, even though I know how cruel and unhelpful that is. I’ve carried some shame and disappointment that I am not a more skilled caregiver for my Traveling Partner, when he needs so much from me while he’s been injured. I’ve labored under the additional burden of my disappointment with myself over not having more energy, more capacity to labor on, more ability to get everything done, every day. I’ve been angry with myself just for not being younger, more able, and for needing rest and care, myself.

…My Traveling Partner, on the other hand, has been kind and appreciative, and generally far more impressed and grateful for my help every day, so this shit is definitely me…

I breathe and keep walking. My Traveling Partner pings me, letting me know he’s awake. I stop on the trail and exchange a few messages before continuing. Time to head back to the car and start the work day. There’s a lot to do, and it sounds like my partner’s son will arrive later, sometime this evening.

Fuck, I’m so tired… A good night’s sleep doesn’t restore my energy these days and every day seems to start with a longer list of shit that needs attention… And I keep putting myself last on my list! Not helpful. lol No wonder I’ve been stressed and anxious. I breathe, exhale, relax… And get ready to begin again.

This is all pretty real stuff. Life. Sometimes it’s a bit much, but it’s better than the current alternatives. I breathe, exhale, relax, and walk on. I’ll get where I am going, eventually. It’s a journey. Incremental progress is still progress. One step forward is still forward momentum. Making a point of being kind to myself doesn’t take any time or cost any money. Worth doing and I’m sure it’ll be helpful stress-management-wise.

… This too will pass…

… It’s time to begin again.

It’s after noon. I am making another cup of coffee; it’s a process that will go much faster once I actually turn on the stove to heat the water. 🙂 I have a  headache, and a feeling of bone-deep fatigue that has crept over me since I woke some 5 hours ago.

Generally speaking, the errands setting up the new week are already behind me; I could just stop now, and relax if I choose, without any ill consequence being obviously predictable. Even the grocery shopping for the upcoming week, based on a definite shift in nutritional and calorie content, is completed – at least I think it is, from the vantage point of here, now, and not hungry. There are still things on my ‘to do list’ – but there always are. These days that’s generally a weekly versus daily list, and I pluck things from the list parked on Sunday’s calendar all week long. Figuring out how I use my time, idealized for my own needs living alone, is an ongoing process.

Healthier options include growing my own food to nourish my body and spirit, both.

Healthier options include growing some of my own food to nourish my body and spirit, both.

Figuring out food is an ongoing process too. I like to eat well, and have impulse control issues; it’s not an ideal combination for my longer term health and fitness. As a treat tonight, and to use the remainder of an open box of pasta, I plan to have a simple meal of pasta tossed with Greek seasoning, cubes of fresh goat cheddar, and delicious ripe grape tomatoes and zucchini from my garden. The pantry is stocked with healthy things. The ingredients on hand do not easily support recipes for rich calorie-laden sweets. The ‘fruit bowl’ on the counter has just enough fruit to consume during the week, and durable veggies like onions, sweet potatoes, and not-yet-ripe avocados. Any attempt to over-indulge in sweets, desserts, or calorie-rich exotic meals will be thwarted by the lack of suitable ingredients on hand. 🙂 Additional effort as time-delay works well for me, and is a favored form of ‘positive self-sabotage’; if I have to go to the store for a bunch of stuff to make something ‘special’, I’m pretty likely to default to healthier options as I think it through during the ‘planning stage’.

Time spent in tending the patio garden means fresh herbs for cooking, and a fresh perspective on the day.

Time spent in tending the patio garden means fresh herbs for cooking, and a fresh perspective on the day.

These are pretty mundane sorts of observations, I know. The weekend winds down finding me feeling discontent with the outcome of a number of details, and rather than sink deeper into an irritable funk, I figured I’d just talk through some of the things that are going pretty well. 😉

The headache finds me listening to much quieter music this afternoon. It is another way I am treating myself well, after a very late and somewhat disappointing night. The coffee helps with the headache, and I take time to review my self-care checklist and get on track with practices that I know support my day-to-day feeling of wellness and contentment: writing and meditation are the two big ones in this moment.

I am ever the beginner, practicing the simple practices.

I am ever the beginner, practicing the simple practices.

It is often the case if I am feeling discontent, disconnected, or dissatisfied, it is meditation that helps most, and most quickly. There’s some amusement in that for me; as little as 2 and a half years ago I would have said that meditation ‘doesn’t work for me’ and that ‘I’ve tried that’. I could not have been more mistaken. I was completely overlooking the varied sorts and styles of meditation that exist, and that they do not all achieve the same end, or function in the same way. I didn’t understand the nature of practicing the practices, or that meditation is a practice, not a task to complete with a goal of ‘mastery’ to achieve success. I held on to the understanding of meditation as a noun, and I was not yet acquainted with the understanding that it is most certainly very much a verb.

I meditate a lot. I don’t have a commitment to fancy guided meditations, or very particular structured routines dependent on a unique seating arrangement or location. I don’t follow a set specific approach trademarked by one learned elder or another. I haven’t learned a foreign language to describe what I am doing or to receive profound teachings from an expert from afar. I don’t travel to a studio to meditate with a group, or spend any money on my meditation practice. I have not actually “progressed” beyond that simplest of meditations focused on breath, for my day-to-day anytime-I-need-it meditation. It’s that simple, honestly, and that effective – it is enough [for me]. Being present, seated comfortably, focused on my breath, just being, and allowing myself to become still within is so simple…it only requires practice, and also some practice, and perhaps beyond that a bit of an investment in practicing… It sounds so simple, as verbs go, ‘to meditate’… My mind wanders. I come back to my breath. Thoughts crowd in, and feelings build around them. I come back to my breath. I find myself fidgeting sometimes, like a child, I bring my focus back to my breath. At some point…there is no more struggle, and I simply am. It does require practice. It sounds ‘easier’ than it ‘is’…but it isn’t manual labor, and any frustration is itself simply another feeling coming up, and I return to my breath when it does. Does this all sound very ‘pointless’ or repetitive? That’s okay, too. It gets me what I need; stillness, and a calm within that builds emotional resilience over time, and slowly teaches me perspective while it somehow insulates my reactive nervous system from the effect of small things going awry. “Meditation works for me.” This is what I mean by that (if that’s vague or annoying grammatically, please imagine I have drawn a red arrow back to the start of the paragraph). 🙂

Few things are more annoying that a venue filled with people on their phones while an artist is performing; I took this picture before the performance began, and decided to put my phone away and just be there, in the moment.

I took this picture before the performance began, then decided to put my phone away and be fully present in the moment.

I am tired and short on sleep today. The concert, itself, was a bit disappointing and I chose to leave before the band I went to see even played; I was in too much pain to wait through the tedium as the opening act continued to recycle tired beats for yet another hour (3 hours was enough). By midnight, it was no longer worth the time or discomfort to remain at the venue as it became progressively more crowded, and stifling hot on top of my own pain. Disappointed? Sure. Annoyed, mostly. If there had been adequate expectation setting in the advertising that the headliner would not go on stage until after midnight I’d have planned accordingly and gone much later.  Worse, the opening act spent the last hour repeatedly playing what sounded like the end of his set, and behaving as though he was wrapping things up…then continuing. That was actually having an emotional effect on many of the people around me, as well; no one was there to see the opening act, and we were all eager to see the headliner. Still, it was an evening out, and that was itself an adventure that was generally quite positive and fun. Tales for another time, perhaps.

Building contentment over a coffee in the garden.

Building contentment over a coffee in the garden.

The simplest practices that sustain and nurture me are often the ones I am most keenly aware of when I miss a step; this morning, waking with some eager enthusiasm for the day, I rushed off on errands without taking time for meditation, for writing, or even for a second cup of coffee. I’ve felt vaguely irritated and rushed ever since. There’s a lesson there, and it’s time to catch up – and slow down. 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

I am grooving to a Petey Pablo track, waiting for water to boil, and thinking how very reasonable that there is rain in the forecast; my traveling partner is out-of-town for a few days, and it seems reasonable to me that the very skies would have an emotional meltdown over the lack of his good company. I’m okay, because he’s merely traveling, and love has no proximity requirement, or expiration date. The moody cloudy threat-of-rain skies seem mildly appropriate, is all – or at least, entirely understandable. 🙂

I woke in the middle of my dreams, which isn’t my favorite experience. They seemed ‘relevant’ and potentially ‘insightful’ or ‘eye-opening’, but once my eyes did actually open they dissipated too quickly for further consideration…there were people…saying things…with emotional subtext…somewhere. Dreams are rarely urgently worthy of my attention, although it took me a lifetime to recognize that the headgames my conscious mind sometimes plays with me (to my detriment and disadvantage) are not off limits to my sleeping consciousness, and my demons dance regardless; it doesn’t necessarily give them significance, or meaning that is useful.

My coffee is very nearly perfect this morning – and tempting, although too hot to drink. The cup is too hot to hold comfortably…I found that out the hard way. The coffee is too hot to drink, and the tempting cloud of whipped cream I topped it with as a treat this morning tempts me overmuch – my tongue and the roof of my mouth paid the price. Lesson learned? Well…maybe. I’m still a primate, doing my best, and in the mornings my decision-making is at its daily ‘quality low point’ until my brain is really fully awake. I give myself the courtesy of refraining from self-deprecatory hassling or mockery – I don’t need it from me, really, I already know my fingertips are a bit sore from trying to hold that cup, and my mouth is already scorched from trying to sip too-hot-coffee. I think I’m good there, no further berating needed. lol

A paragraph later, and some fun dancing to Gangnam Style – I love how random my morning playlist is – my coffee is finally sipping temperature. I dance across the living room, coffee in hand, headed for the open patio blinds to watch the dawn…my neighbors probably think I’m mad. I don’t find value in self-consciousness or shame being a part of my daily experience – certainly, even being over 50, and not ‘dancer fit’ at all, I am disinclined to give one moment to whether a woman my age/weight ‘should’ be dancing where people can see me. That’s such obvious bullshit it was urgently necessary to put it aside as soon as I woke to the understanding that it is indeed bullshit. Dancing feels good. A quick exploration of dance styles and fads over the many decades of humanity will reveal that some of it is definitely more about how that must feel than what it looks like. 🙂

A favorite Crystal Method track turns up – and I turn it up; I’m excited to see them live on Saturday. There’s definitely that moment considering the concert when a feeling of self-consciousness does arise; I feel it most when I consider how much younger ‘everyone else’ may be, how more easily they may move, how beautiful and sexy youth is… Youth, I remind myself gently, is very much its own thing, with its own fears and doubts. Nothing to be concerned about for me – over 50? I have a lifetime of experience and perspective, and I am having my own experience. For me, it’s sort of the point of that favorite track in the first place.

Detail from "Emotion and Reason" 2012

Letting emotion lead on life’s journey may not be ideal…

What if everything were suddenly quite different? What if my traveling partner didn’t make it back? What if I woke up utterly unable to dance because my arthritis had become so severe that my spine wouldn’t move at all? I live alone now; what if I have a stroke and there’s no one here to help me? What if my resources run out before my life time does? “What if” is some nasty stuff – it quickly becomes anxiety if I give it a chance to grab onto something I can’t shake off. I’ve learned something sort of interesting about the emotional ‘what if’ scenarios, though; if I go ahead and allow myself to consider the extreme fully, frankly, and in a truly practical way – without the emotions that so urgently want to have their say being the focus of attention, it usually becomes quite obviously both fictitious – like so much of what my mind offers up – and manageable if it played out in real life along the most likely trajectory. For example…what if my traveling partner didn’t make it back? I would grieve, no doubt there, I would grieve a long while. The fear of grief and grieving is what drives the anxiety, but the fear isn’t even real fear – it’s a projection of an emotional reaction to a situation that has not happened. So, I comfortably set the fear aside, along with the recognition that I would grieve. Then I take a look at what life would be without my traveling partner, and come up with… living. Outside the fear of grief, there’s little to cause stress…I would live my life, working, paying bills, painting, writing, gardening, investing in other aspects of my social life, eventually (most likely) cultivating another satisfying adult romantic sexual relationship with a worthy partner… Nothing could ever change what my traveling partner and I have shared so far, and that would always be mine, and part of my experience. “What if” scenarios tend to be this way, for me, explored they are harmless – but there’s the rather practical matter of refusing to allow the fear of my emotions to become the fear of my potential imagined circumstances.

"Emotion and Reason" lit differently - how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.

How I view emotions, and how I use reason, makes a difference in my experience.

Isn’t it strange that emotions can be so scary? It seems odd when I think about it; they have no more substance than my thoughts, although they are a more commanding experience in the moment. I find that my reactions and attention reliable turn toward my emotions first and more attentively, than to my reason. I try to be mindful of that, because they are also quite intense, and not particularly tied to ‘reality’. Emotions are often driven by assumptions, expectations – or something I ate, or the ebb and flow of my hormones, or…nothing I can directly observe or be certain of. Sometimes they are more similar to the experience of taking a mind-altering substance than they are to ‘reality’ in any real sense. They are most certainly not to be trusted in life’s driver’s seat for long.

Perspective matters. "Emotion and Reason" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012

Perspective matters.
“Emotion and Reason” 24″ x 36″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012

Today is a good day to breathe, to feel, and to be mindful of the content of my thoughts; they have only the substance I give them. Today is a good day to be present, to be okay right now, and to walk on – fear has trouble keeping up when I do. Today is a good day for love, and for living. Today is a good day to notice how very small the world actually is, and how little distance matters to love.

Starting the day thinking of love - it's a very good start.

Starting the day thinking of love – it’s a very good start.