Archives for posts with tag: incremental change over time

I woke later than usual. It was almost 05:00 when I woke. I felt rested and positively merry. I dressed to head out for my morning trek down the marsh trail that circles the nature park.

As I checked the weather, and the time, I see I’ve got a message from my beloved Traveling Partner. The love and concern in his words is clear. He suggests I keep my walk short, maybe local, and proposes I maybe stay home entirely and get my miles on the elliptical, while watching a favorite show. He proposes that we could do something together, later, an idea that appeals to me. I feel loved. I sit with that feeling for a moment, letting it fill my consciousness.

The idea of a shorter walk and better self-care is a tempting idea, for sure, I admit. I really like being out on the trail, though, enjoying the short quiet interval of solitude… and my walks at the nature park put me nearby a favorite grocery store, and I generally stop there after my walk on a Saturday morning… The temperature is mild… I head out, remembering my commitment to one of the grocery checkers to share some items my Traveling Partner made, and deciding to keep my walk short, any way.

The drive to the nature park was quiet. No traffic. I enjoyed it, smiling to myself as I drove with my thoughts, grateful for my loving partner who cares about my well-being, and for the lovely morning. Before I reach the nature park, it begins to rain, first just a sprinkle, then as I reach the trailhead parking, a proper steady rain. I grimace, and laugh, betting my Traveling Partner had checked the weather report more closely than I had.

Now I sit, waiting for a break in the rain. I’m unbothered and relaxed. Hadn’t I already decided to make my walk a shorter one, anyway? No stress. No agitation. Just change. I breathe, exhale, and relax, listening to the rain on the roof of the car.

At its heart, resilience is simply that ability to bounce back in the face of change, uncertainty, emotional disregulation, or even trauma. Resilience needs development, as with things like muscular strength. Specific practices build resilience. Meditation, as a practice, helps build resilience. The practice of “taking in the good” is another that directly builds resilience. Forgiveness, as a practice, is another that contributes to resilience, by limiting how long our hurt feelings or injuries inflicted by another can dominate our thoughts. Practicing non-attachment and embracing related ideas such as impermanence, sufficiency, and building depth and breadth into our perspective on life, generally, are helpful for building resilience.

What’s it good for, though (resilience, I mean)? Why do I put so much value on it? Partly due to this; it improves pain management results.

Resilience let’s us bounce back and carry on, without becoming mired in our pain, sorrow, or anger. Resilience is that quality that gets us quickly past a difficult moment, and on to enjoying the next. Well-established resilience, over time, may become the difference between having some troubling mental health episode or meltdown, and simply acknowledging a difficult experience, dealing with it, and moving on with things calmly. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty good to me.

…So I practice…

Sometimes, I fall short of my commitment to one practice or another, but that’s also why I see such things as practices in the first place, instead of tasks to be checked off as completed, or skills to be mastered. Mastery is inconsequential. Practice is ongoing. It is a doing that doesn’t really finish. Each practice with real world value in my lived experience becomes a lifestyle change, over time. Each practice becomes part of my routine, and part of who I am. The result? I am more resilient. It becomes a character trait, and in that regard, it also becomes easier to maintain. Such results don’t mean no practice is required, just that the effort and will involved in the practice itself is greatly reduced. Sometimes, though, I still find myself not practicing some practice or other, through circumstances or forgetting. I’m human.

… I just begin again, and get back to practicing…

The rain stops, but it’s not yet daylight, and I’m not in a hurry. There’s no need to rush my walk, or hurry home to barge in on my beloved’s quiet time over his coffee first thing. I sit quietly a little longer. Daybreak soon, and I’ll walk the short loop, and watch the sunrise – then, I’ll begin again.

…It is a good day for self-care.

I woke around 03:00, to some noise most likely, or perhaps my Traveling Partner’s wakefulness, though when I returned to bed from the bathroom, he seemed to be snoring softly, asleep. I hope he gets the rest he needs. I sure didn’t, not last night. Took me some time to fall asleep, and I was awakened abruptly at some point by raised voices. I returned to sleep shortly after waking, but my dreams were restless, irritated, and unsettling. I was tired when I finally woke, too early, but I couldn’t find sleep again, and gave up – hopefully before my restlessness woke everyone else.

…I got up, dressed, and slipped away quietly…

I don’t much feel like walking, this morning. Aches and pains and bullshit, nothing of real consequence. I sit with my thoughts, perched on a picnic table near the trail, ready to walk if I get past my moody and irritable moment of ennui. I listen to the background noise of machinery, traffic, HVAC systems on nearby buildings… the sounds of humanity mismanaging a planet. There is a glow along the western horizon, the clouds overhead being illuminated by the city below. Pretty mundane stuff. I sigh quietly. My ankle aches, even within the comfortable security of my hiking boots. My left hip hurts in a way that suggests arthritis may be developing there. My head aches, feels mostly like fatigue and the studious, focused, effort to maintain top down control in spite of it. I catch myself gritting my teeth, and purposefully relax my jaw and let go of that bit of stress. My tinnitus is shrieking and whining in my ears. I’m not bitching about any of it, just noticing each detail, as I inventory my sensations and experience the moment with as much presence and awareness as I can.

… And I still don’t feel like walking…

I had an excellent brunch with a colleague on Sunday. Feels like, potentially, a real friendship forming. Maybe. Harder to be sure than it might have seemed when I was younger…or… before the pandemic, although I’m not at all sure how that is relevant. I really enjoyed the conversation. The food was good, too, but that clearly wasn’t the nourishment I was seeking – or what I found. It was more about the human connection. We talked about doing it every month, and talked about having some kind of holiday get together with our families, in December. That might be a lot of fun.

I sit enjoying the morning quiet. I think about love and my Traveling Partner, and how much faster his recovery is going these days. He’s able to do so much more now, and more every week. It’s a relief to feel some measure of day-to-day work being reduced as my beloved begins to resume tasks that he was handling routinely before his injury. Out of habit, I sometimes forget to give him the opportunity to do for himself. I’ve got to knock that shit off, for myself as much as for him.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate in the chilly autumn darkness before dawn comes. For a moment, the world seems peculiarly peaceful and undisturbed. I find that it often does in these solitary moments. The world’s chaos and hardship is almost entirely created by the human primates clinging to the surface of this mud ball hurtling through space. I almost sympathize with the “burn it all down and start over” cynics and nihilists. I was once among them, a like-minded sort, but it seems like a wasteful approach to problems that could be solved quite differently, and with a greater good in mind. Another distracting argument keeping us all preoccupied while billionaire grifters empty our bank accounts in exchange for empty promises.

…I sigh and let that go, too…

There is still no hint of daybreak, yet. The clock is ticking, though, and this moment is finite. I get to my feet with an impatient sigh, feeling more resigned than purposeful. I commit to dragging myself along the trail again this morning. I’ll feel better once I’ve gotten a walk in, I know. I just don’t happen to “feel like it”, but I also decide not to let that stop me.

…Fuck, I really want a nap. 😂 Instead, I begin again.

I woke several times during the night, and returned to sleep with relative ease. I slept in, which wasn’t expected, but I’d made room for the possibility by not turning on my alarm at all. Sunrise comes later in the morning these days, but it still beat me to the trailhead. lol

…No idea why I was having such a restless night…

I set off down the trail as soon as I was parked and had my boots on…

A favorite spot to linger for a moment.

Yesterday, my Traveling Partner wanted a bit of time to himself to wake up and have his coffee, which is not a problem for me – it’s more of an opportunity. I poked around in retail spaces that sell used books looking for something particular to add to my wee library. I didn’t find it – and frankly didn’t expect to any more than I expect to see a herd of unicorns in the meadow on my morning walk. I was using the specific focus of my search to refine my attention, more than anything else. It was all for the joy of searching. What I did find is a 1979 12th edition Fanny Farmer cookbook – the very same cookbook which, along with the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, and The Joy of Cooking, contained nearly all of my Dad’s “secret” recipes that were staples of my childhood. There are a lot of memories in those pages. $3 was not too much to pay for a cookbook in such great condition.

Recipes and memories

Being an older edition of this cookbook, the recipes are very much the ones I remember. My Better Homes & Gardens cookbook is a much later edition, by comparison, modernized more recently, and some of the changes to conform to modern dietary guidelines “break” the recipes (example, most of the recipes have simply had salt removed entirely and are quite bland). I can (and do) make corrections, but it’s nice when I don’t have to.

When I got home, I happily began looking for old favorites to try, and made a tuna casserole for dinner. It was definitely a tasty reminder of comfort foods of my childhood. I liked it well enough that it may join the rotation of everyday staple meals, or at least turn up on the table more often.

This morning is a cool, rainy one, at least here at the nature park. The trail is wet, and the meadow grass is wetter. The return of the rain reminds me that soon the seasonal marsh trail will close for the year, as the meadow soaks up more water, and becomes marshy once again. The geese are beginning to return, too. Autumn is approaching.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I feel the pointless anxiety that chased me up the highway this morning begin to dissipate, with each deep breath of cool morning air. I fill my lungs with the scents of a rainy late summer morning at the edge of this meadow, and each time I exhale I imagine still more of my anxiety being released with my breath. It’s a simple enough exercise in visualization, and very effective. I’ve no particular reason to be anxious, but there it is; I deal with anxiety.  Managing my anxiety such that it remains at a more or less normal level, serving to alert me appropriately to give attention to some legitimate concern and only that, is an ongoing challenge. I no longer take an Rx remedy – the side effects tended to be problematic – so I have to put enough consistent practice into self-soothing, non-attachment, and perspective to keep myself from succumbing to more severe episodes (and ideally also prevent panic attacks). When I am fortunate enough not to have much anxiety at all, it’s easy to think I’m “over it” or that it isn’t an issue for me anymore, but that’s an illusion, and it’s exceedingly foolish to give in to that bit of self deception. Steady practice and good self-care make more sense.

What am I so anxious about? It’s not even a question I actually have to ask, this morning. I just finished my first week at the new job, which has a 30-day “trial period” built into the contract. I don’t have any reason to expect that I won’t satisfy that requirement sufficiently well, it’s just a lingering awareness in the background with a lot of potential “what-if” attached, and this is a driver of anxiety for me. It is what it is. What it is, is a temporary circumstance, and utterly ordinary. “Nothing to see here”, but my anxiety doesn’t want to hear that. Everything could go wrong… On the other hand, there’s no reason at all to expect that things will go wrong… Anxiety is a liar.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely morning. I smile, thinking about a cookbook filled with recipes and memories. Today I’ll bake something, between housekeeping tasks. It is that day – a day to bring order from chaos, and get some things done before a new week begins. My anxiety nags me that I’ve only got three more weeks to “prove myself”, and I laugh out loud, startling a chipmunk I didn’t see until it darted away. I prove myself every day. I have for years. The thought makes me smile and my anxiety is gone for the moment, and has no power over me.

…The way out is through. It’s a journey, and I learn as I walk my path. We become what we practice…

I look down the trail, and up into the stormy sky. I smile to myself, remembering the new Hello Kitty tray my Traveling Partner made to hold my glasses when I am not wearing them. I feel very loved. I find myself eager to continue the day, and to return home to my beloved. Weekends are short – too short. I’m grateful to get to spend so much time together, and still have so many opportunities for a little solitude, too. It’s a  nice balance.

I’ll sit with my thoughts a little while longer…soon enough it will be time to begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee and beginning a new day. I got a good night’s rest, which I definitely needed, and I woke in a better mood than I was in yesterday. I’m grateful for the opportunity to reset and begin anew. The sunrise as I drove in was lovely, and the song in my head was “so loud” I finally had to put it on and just listen to it. The morning feels “infused with joy”, which is a much nicer start to the day than what yesterday had offered.

Perspective matters.

I stretch and sigh, breathe, exhale, and relax. A new day, eh? I wonder what I will do with it? Will I deliver on my commitment to myself to do just a little better at being the woman I most want to be than I did yesterday? Seems a worthy goal.

…It’s easier to make excuses than it is to practice being the person I most want to be…

The coffee is good this morning. I feel pretty well-rested and comfortable in my skin. I have a vague sense that there’s something I am supposed to do, or some errand I agreed to run, later today – but I can’t recall what it was, and I’m not certain it isn’t just some lingering artifact of various conversations about “we could do this or we could do that”. I remind myself to check with my Traveling Partner about whether he needs me to go somewhere or do something for him later today, then let the nagging sensation go in favor of focusing on this moment, now.

…He’s not even 37 miles away, but it may as well be an infinite distance viewed through the lens of how much I miss my Traveling Partner when I’m in the office. lol I’m looking forward to working from home tomorrow, leading into the weekend. I’ve got some camping preparations to make, gear to pack – Sunday I’ll head into the trees for a couple days of downtime along the Clackamas River. I’m looking forward to it. I know I’ll miss my partner even more, but I also know he’ll only ever be a short drive away, and within reach via text message, which is comforting. This downtime is important self-care, and I’m a better person generally when I get the solitary time I need. It’s a new spot for me, too – very exciting. Lots of new trails to wander, exploring the sights and my thoughts as I walk.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I enjoy planning my upcoming camping trips, but it hardly counts as “being in the moment”. lol I pull myself back to now, because it’s already time to begin again.

Seems to be very effective so far… probably doesn’t hurt that the path is mine, and that I choose it myself.

I’m thinking about the year that is ending today. My birthday is tomorrow. My birthday last year is barely an afterthought or footnote in my memory, and I have to look up photos by date and old writing to recapture of sense of that day. It wasn’t as important-seeming as the imminent arrival of the Anxious Adventurer, or my Traveling Partner’s scheduled surgery and day-to-day care needs. At the end of May, I’d gone camping for a few days. In July, I made a change from painting in acrylic to painting in pastels. June? June is largely missing from my recollection. I think I was mostly just glad to have survived another year.

Pictures tell a tale of living life along familiar pathways: walks on favorite trails, getting storage ready to accomodate the Anxious Adventurer, and time spent on watches and my Traveling Partner’s watchmaking tools, a coffee at a little cafe in the Pearl District. All of it felt like either a distraction from, or preparation for, my Traveling Partner’s surgery, scheduled for August. It was a weird time, and my birthday wasn’t really a particularly “big deal”, all things considered. I was definitely okay with things just being okay.

Strangely, the more I search my emails and photos for pictures to do with my actual birthday last year, the clearer it becomes that I don’t have any. lol I appear to have (perhaps) gotten a new phone around this time last year? Possibly a new watch, although it’s not clear quite when that happened – perhaps in May. lol The photo history on my phone just stops some days after my birthday, and there is nothing older there. The photos in my cloud storage skip the entire week of my birthday. lol I was clearly putting my mind and my time on other things. I sigh to myself and let it go. It’s barely even a minor aggravation, just a bit puzzling considering how commonly I snap a picture of this or that moment. The year, taken as a whole, was a busy rollercoaster ride of emotions and trying circumstances, but there were many joyful moments and things I recall quite fondly in a life well-lived, generally speaking. I’m okay with that. More than okay with it, I just lack the right words.

…In spite of the chaos in the world, and the train wreck that is American government presently, I am happy to be alive, and faced with another birthday…

…62 years…

For sure this journey has not been all cake and ice cream. I’d laugh, but frankly trauma isn’t all that funny. I’m glad I have survived all that I have, and have had so many opportunities to begin again, to do more better, and to walk this path toward becoming the person I most want to be. I’ve grown a lot. I’ve learned a lot. I’m proud of the woman in the mirror; she’s been through some shit, and she’s seen some things, and still she persists in walking her path. I’d be impressed, too, but… (and?) I do know how very human I actually am, and how hard I really have to work, and how often it isn’t quite enough. My results vary and I need more practice. That’s just real.

So… today is the last day of being 61. It wasn’t exactly a milestone year of any kind, but it was the year during which I had to learn caregiving for real (and omg do I ever suck at that – it’s very difficult), and I am pretty glad to see this particular year coming to an end. Recent months have been pretty splendid, and I’ve loved feeling my relationship with my Traveling Partner deepen and grow and become something quite wonderful, like falling in love all over again. It’s good seeing him making real progress toward regaining his skills and mobility, and freeing himself from being dependent on caregiving. I’m eager to discover what 62 holds for me – and for us, as a new year together begins.

I sip my coffee looking out at the blue summer sky. There was a fat luminous full moon hanging low over the horizon as I left the house this morning, but it is long gone now. It’s a new day, and it’s time to begin again.