Archives for posts with tag: incremental change over time

I’m perched on this bench in the gloom of predawn darkness, just before daybreak. The world seems quiet, from here. I could pick up my phone and eliminate the darkness, and wreck the peace of this moment immediately. I like the quiet, and choose to enjoy it, instead.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m tired this morning. The last handful of nights have been interrupted. I sigh quietly. It could be worse. My anxiety used to wreck my sleep over a ticking clock, or the quiet drip of a faucet.

My relationship with sleep has been problematic since childhood. Sleepwalking at 3 years old became, over time and additional life experience, nightmares, night terrors, sleep paralysis, exploding head dreams, and insomnia. I could probably clean up on a sleep disturbance-themed bingo game. My difficulties with sleep peaked with an aversion to sleep that eventually developed out of the terror of domestic violence. That was a lifetime ago, in another place, and in the context of a relationship that is long gone and behind me. (I’m grateful to have survived.)

Sleep disorders and difficulties with sleep are pretty common for people.

In still another relationship, a threesome of us cohabitating, my sleep was commonly wrecked by OPD (Other People’s Drama). My two partners argued (loudly) often during the wee hours of the night, and the way the floor plan was designed sort of funneled all of the sound directly towards my room. When I complained,  I was told firmly that my sleep problems were my own problem and to deal with it. Rude. Also unkind, unsupportive, and one hundred percent without any regard for their actually terrible behavior, yes, I get that. The view from here is very clear. 😆 I knew the relationship wasn’t going to work, in the long run. We weren’t all on the same page about the sanctity of each other’s sleep.

… One nice thing came out of that; I got an aquarium, and enjoyed nurturing a thriving planted freshwater community tank for many years, that looked amazing in my apartment after I walked away from that unpleasant situation.

… One necessary thing (urgently so at that point) also developed out of my difficulty sleeping, and the degradation of my mental health that progressed quickly from that point; I got into therapy, and began making real progress (such that I did walk away from that abysmal and destructive relationship). My sleep improved quickly from there.

I already had the keys to unlock good sleep “in my hands”, once I was in a safe environment. My current Traveling Partner (and longtime friend) had pointed out to me early in our relationship that my anxiety and frustration about not sleeping was making my insomnia worse, and as I went without good quality restful sleep longer and longer, everything else got much worse, too. What if I could give up the stress about not sleeping and start with being okay with being awake? I would lose the same amount of sleep maybe, but wouldn’t my overall experience be much improved? He definitely turned out to be right about that.

These days, my sleep is not sufficiently poor to bother getting up and doing anything, but for a long time it was, and I did, and that worked out nicely. Even when I was short on sleep, that was no longer compounded by seething fury, resentment, anxiety, or fear of consequences, although I might still be cross about being tired, my days were less affected. It was a major improvement.

These days? Oh. Yeah. My Traveling Partner was right about my apnea, too, and I sleep with a CPAP mask. It has made a huge difference in my quality of rest and ability to actually sleep. (If your partner is griefing you about your snoring, get a damned sleep test, stop being a dick about it, and don’t make them endure a decade of poor quality sleep over your refusal to accept that your snoring is a problem. I promise you it is.)

…My beloved is right about a lot of things. 😂 It can be a little irritating sometimes…

One other suggestion? Don’t make your wakefulness during the night everyone else’s problem. Find something to do, quietly, and let the world sleep. It doesn’t improve anything to disrupt sleep environment of others in your life, and doing so will generate anger and resentment over time. Seriously. If you are seething with frustration, anxiety, dread, or anger during the night, you are compounding the problem of poor sleep with negative emotions that can linger, or worsen your outlook on life needlessly. It doesn’t help you, or anyone else. Learn to calm yourself, then tackle the issue of difficult sleep with a calm mind.

… Definitely don’t wreck a peaceful night with a lot of loud bullshit or drama for fucks sake (anything one might wish to discuss contentiously can wait for the light of day, I promise), literally no one benefits from that, and it is exceedingly unpleasant…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, grateful to have benefited from my partner’s wisdom.  I’m tired this morning, after several nights of interrupted sleep, but I’m in a decent mood anyway. Progress paying off.

I meditate. Write awhile. Breathe and exist on a chilly autumn morning, grateful to see another sunrise. Gratitude is a very pleasant feeling. I lean into it, embrace it, immerse myself in it; it is an excellent start to the day. The dawn sky is a delicate seashell pink. The dark green trees silhouetted on the horizon are edged here and there with hints of autumn, gold and rusty red.

I get to my feet, looking down the path as I stretch. It’s a good time to begin again.

I woke gently, got up, dressed, and kissed my beloved on my way out. It was dark (and very early) then, and it is after daybreak now.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

My walk was pleasant, and the miles passed quickly. It’s a work day, and I guess on some level I am feeling purposeful. I say so, noticing that I didn’t stop at any sort of halfway point this morning. I walked and walked, lost in thought, until my walk was over. Shit. That’s a little strange, but not a problem at all (just a difference).

I get to the car and sit comfortably, writing, my random musings still banging on the latched screen door of my consciousness, like a friend who won’t let me sleep in on a summer morning, peering in from the closed door, calling my name. I write easily, about nothing. Mornings and coffee, walks and changing seasons, merriment and sorrow – all just words on a page until someone (maybe you?) connects some point I’m making with their own experience, and finds comfort or insight there. I think about that for a little while.

Sunrise comes. I’m still thinking my thoughts. Insignificant stray thoughts about nothing particular, mostly, and my writing pauses to let some thoughts move on along without comment. Like pedestrians in an intersection, the signal changes, traffic flows, and stops continues, then pauses, over and over again. Same with my writing, I suppose. Some mornings the words pour out of me like a busy freeway, other mornings my mind is stop and go traffic during some mental rush hour, slow and not getting anywhere any time soon. 😆

I yawn and watch the pink and blue gradient of the morning sky slowly change. A new day, eh? I guess I’d better be getting on with it, then. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I begin again.

I get to my halfway point on this morning’s walk just at daybreak. On one side, a slope of meadowed hillside dotted with oak trees. On the other, a view across the expanse of meadow that will soon become marsh once again, as the season changes. This is my way; I wake, I walk, I clear my mind as the steps become miles. It’s not fancy or costly, and as practices go, it seems to me to be one of the easiest to start and to follow. On the other hand, “easy” is pretty subjective.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

It’s a better view in real life. Be present in your lived moment.

I hadn’t noticed until the night sky began to yield to the new day; there is an autumn mist clinging to the ground all around me and over the meadow. A couple days of rain have returned hints of green to the amber and gold hues of the dry grass. Well, and the cooler nights have resulted in some trees beginning to turn their summer greens to autumn hues of russet, yellow, and hints of red. Fall. The equinox is approaching, too.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m comfortable and content with this moment just as it is. The air still smells of recent rain, and a little bit of something musty. No breeze, really, but the slow movement of air currents brings with it a hint of a fireplace somewhere, a pleasant reminder of being cozy at home.

I consider my general good fortune in life (at least this portion of it, say the most recent 10 years, about) has been mostly pretty good, and generally getting better as things go along. Certainly, I’ve made a lot of progress, myself, and I find myself feeling grateful. I sit with that awhile.

… Everything is a little damp from recent rain, and I notice my jeans have soaked through, sitting on this fence rail. I don’t mostly care about that, I just happened to notice…

The thing about practices, whether they are to do with walking every day, or practicing gratitude, or practicing the four agreements, or practicing good self-care, or practicing anger management… “practice” is a verb. There is real work to be done. We may commit to a practice and discuss it enthusiastically, but if we’re not doing the practice..? Well, obviously, if we’re not doing it, it isn’t being done. We become what we practice. So…yeah. Got to do the verbs.

I sit thinking about my strength training. So many verbs. Very verb-y ones, too. There is unquestionably doing going in when I am strength training, even with my small dumbbells. Some practices are less visually obvious, like meditation, but the effects of the thing being done are profound. Still takes effort. What I’m getting at is that simply talking about practices isn’t enough. The doing matters more. That’s the practice.  I sit with the thought awhile longer.

No colorful sunrise this morning. The day begins quite gray and overcast. I don’t need it to be anything else. I’m just over here practicing. Self-care. Meditation. Gratitude. Anchoring myself to this moment and being present. Walking in the morning. All practices. It adds up. To what exactly? I guess that depends on the path I choose.

… it’s a very human experience. Choose wisely

I stretch and get to my feet. This walk won’t finish itself, and I’ve a way to go to get to the other side of the nature park, and back to the trailhead. Then some errands, and maybe painting this afternoon? I sigh contentedly, looking down the trail into the mist. Seems like a good time to begin again.

I woke early, in spite of wanting to sleep in. I got up, dressed, and left the house. Filled my gas tank. Got coffee on my way up the highway to the nature park to walk the marsh trail, more meadow than marsh at this point in the summer.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Scene from a summer walk, we choose what we pay attention to. Mostly.

I sigh to myself as I walk. My left ankle has decided for me that this spot, right here, is “halfway”. It isn’t. Not at all, but it is definitely where I am stopping!

There is a convenient viewpoint with a bench only a little further. I take the next few steps slowly and carefully, grateful for my sturdy trekking pole that is my outdoor cane. I sit down, grateful, relieved, and content to be here in this place. I have the trail to myself – or did when I got started (first to arrive, pulling in just as the gate opened with a screech). It is quiet and cloudy. Looks and feels like maybe rain later… the forecast disagrees. Another heatwave soon. I am reminded to add a “hose” to my shopping list to replace a section that split and began to leak just a couple days ago.

The meadow grasses are dry and brown, with the white flowers of wild carrot or maybe Queen Anne’s Lace seeming to float above the waves of brown. The yellow clusters of wild St John’s Wort here and there add a bit of color. The wild roses are mostly done blooming, but don’t yet have hips. The lupines are long gone, even the seed pods have split and spilled their seeds, and withered. I breathe the scent of the summer meadow, exhale, and relax.

… It’s a good thing I’m not in any hurry today, the walk back will be a slow one…

I think about the day ahead. There’s housework to be done. I can probably fill the day with it. I feel myself shrug, an involuntary gesture of acceptance. I guess I’m okay with it. I’ll put on a playlist and dance through the chores until my body just can’t do more, and maybe get caught up a bit.

My mind wanders to RC cars, N scale railroad, Barbie dolls, and painting cast figurines… “hobbies”, past, present, and considered once or often. The clock is ticking. How do I pass my time, find joy, and indulge in play as an adult? A healthy life isn’t built on chores, wage earning, and sleep – there’s more to it. Isn’t there? I have choices and options.

…We shape our experience with our choices…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about the way I have shaped my life, and what shape it might take if I choose differently. Small changes add up. It’s a lot to stay on top of, seeking to make willful changes… Verbs. Choices. Repetition. Reminders. Self-reflection. Incremental change over time, moment by moment, experience by experience, action by action. We become what we practice. (This is serious and powerful, because it is true both of what we want to become, and also of what we loathe, but persist in practicing.)

I’ll finish my walk. Do some grocery shopping, and head home to shape the life I want to live through the use of some well chosen verbs (meaning to say, doing some housework). Where the path may lead me from there, I don’t know. It is the path I choose, but I’ve still got to walk it. I have to begin again.

It is a rainy morning. It wasn’t raining when I left the house, but it clearly had been. It is raining now, as I sit parked at the trailhead, waiting for a break in the rain. Sort of. I’m less waiting than taking time to write and meditate before I walk. Seems likely to be a poor morning for sitting quietly along the trail. 😆

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Some long while ago I made a note to myself about the perplexing puzzle (for me) that is boundary setting:

Every boundary we set, however healthy, is an obstacle to the person being advised they may be encroaching on a boundary. That’s just real. It is what it is. We either set healthy boundaries – and respect those ourselves – or the world walks over us.

I made that note years ago on a scrap of paper that I later tucked between the pages of the book I was reading at the time. It was a meaningful and relevant observation in that moment; the boundary I was setting was simply that I was reading and did not wish to be interrupted for chit-chat by my then partner (now ex). I found the note recently, while moving things around on bookshelves, when it slid to the floor, a reminder from a past version of myself that this has been a challenge for me for a long time. Brain damage, cPTSD, and a lifetime of anxiety-driven “people pleasing” mingling to form a persistent bit of chaos and damage. It’s been difficult to “fix” while living it.

I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner is aware of (and alert for) this problematic bit of code in my operating system. He is quick to take note if I am exhausting myself trying to tackle every casual request in an instant, or frustrating myself by walking over my own reasonable boundaries. He reminds me to put myself first, often, and to practice good self-care. He respects clearly set boundaries with genial acceptance. But… The boundary setting is mine to do. It’s up to me to manage my boundaries, to respect them myself, to provide kind reminders when needed – before I’m frustrated, before resentment develops, before I might become likely to snap at someone I care about. It’s basic communication. I have to do the verbs. I find boundary setting uncomfortable. This is one small part of the legacy of trauma and abuse that I’m still dragging with me through life.

Working on this crap is hard, not gonna lie about that, but protecting and nurturing healthy agency is worth the effort required, and I’ve got a partner who truly enjoys me at my whole, healthy, and sane best, even when I set a boundary. I’m much better with boundaries these days, and finding the scrap of paper with the note written on it (from sometime before 2010) is a meaningful reminder that this is something I’ve had to work at for a long time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Basic communication skills are something human primates still have to work at to develop those fully. We’re not born as great communicators. We learn as we go. We practice what works – and sometimes what works in the context of trauma and unhealthy family dynamics is not at all healthy, nor particularly functional, outside that dynamic, in the larger world. I still struggle with some of this. Still dragging along some unnecessary baggage. I sigh to myself and imagine setting down a heavy suitcase with busted wheels, scuffed and worn and shabby looking. I imagine letting a heavy backpack slide from my shoulders to the ground. I visualize unpacking them both, and chuckle to myself because this thought exercise actually gives me a real feeling of relief in the moment.

I have no native talent for communication. I work at building my skills in this area – and have done so for years (with considerable success), and I practice what I learn about healthy communication. I improve over time. I’ll continue to work at it until it feels easy and natural. That seems like a better choice than continuing to endure being poor at basic communication. 😆 I have choices. I make choices. I practice. I improve over time.

How many times have I stood in this place, and faced my limitations aware that I have so much further to go? Doesn’t matter at all. The journey is the destination. We become what we practice. Incremental change over time is an effective approach to changing who I am and becoming who I most want to be.

I notice that the rain has stopped. I grab my cane and my rain poncho, and begin again. This is my path. Walking it requires me to do the verbs. 😄