Archives for posts with tag: keep practicing

Why bother? Why bother trying? Why bother working so hard? Why bother “fighting it”? Why bother making the extra effort to get some particular outcome? Just… why bother, at all? The shortest answer for that one that I’ve got, myself, is simply this; because I’m better than the challenge I’m faced with right now. That’s it.

Things could be worse, for just about any of us. Some momentary challenge is not enough to amount to an excuse not to make an effort to do a better job of being the person I most want to be, to live a good quality life built on healthy values lived authentically, and to just maybe also manage to be helpful, kind, encouraging, curious, compassionate, approachable, considerate, thoughtful, fair-minded, and ethical (if not every minute of every day, then doing my best to be these things in as many moments as I realistically can be)… these are all qualities I value. So… I try. I practice. I share honest insights into my challenges. I work on bettering myself and contributing positively to my household, my community, and my world, if only in some small way. I mean, seriously? I’m one woman; I’m not moving any mountains by myself with a teaspoon, and determination. Not in this lifetime. My actions and choices of words still make a difference in the moments I live and in my interactions with others. I try to stay mindful of the implied power this does have, and do my best to be a basically decent human being, day-to-day. Don’t you? (If not, why not? The answer to that question is an exercise for the reader.)

Holiday lights at 04:30.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a new day. I woke at some ridiculous hour – 3 am? Maybe. I didn’t check the time, I just wanted to sleep. I could hear my Traveling Partner awake in the other room, blowing his nose. It sucks that he’s awake dealing with his sinuses and struggling to breathe. I fall asleep, wishing he could sleep, too. Some time later, I’m awakened again. It sounded as if my beloved was clearing his throat and blowing his nose right outside the door. I know that’s not the case. He’s most likely seated at the dining table, which is at the end of the hall, opposite the door to this bedroom. The sound is basically piped straight to the door. I sigh, and roll over, and return to sleep. A short while later (I think), I’m awakened again. I’ve no idea if a long while has passed or only a few minutes. I’m groggy. My head aches, and my eyeballs feel gritty. The room feels too hot. I toss around for a moment or two “trying to get comfortable” again. No luck. I must have drifted off, though, into a sound deep sleep, because the next thing I recall is my partner calling to me softly in the darkness, but I don’t recall the question, or whether I understood. I struggled to wake enough to respond to him – I wanted to sleep so badly. The door closed quietly. I know I said something…but I’m not sure what, and the uncertainty itself, and a sudden concern that I would somehow be infinitely trapped in a pattern of waking from deep sleeps without being able to get rest, ever, fully woke me. I could not even imagine returning to sleep. I turn on a light and struggle to sit up. Vertigo. The room reels for a moment, before things steady, and the vertigo passes quickly. I’m grateful for that, and get up to use the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, still trying to really fully wake and maybe somehow manage to feel rested in spite of the interrupted sleep. Restless nights happen now and then, for one or the other of us. After so many years, I generally just move on from it, and practice letting shit go, because there’s no real value in taking an unpleasant tone over a sleep scenario neither of us can change. Sometimes one of us is wakeful. Sometimes we sleep badly. He greets me with a smile and sweet words when I enter the livingroom. I put on my boots and my cardigan and kiss him on my way out.

Holy shit I’m in a ton of pain this morning – and as I drive to the office, I wonder whether my pain was making me restless in my sleep, without waking me, but enough to disturb my Traveling Partner’s rest? Seems possible. Fucking hell, I feel bad for the both of us this morning. I hope he manages to go back to bed for awhile.

Another breath. Another exhalation. Another attempt to fully relax and let stress and pain fall by the wayside. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it’s just practice. Does it matter which it will be? No, I’ve still got to make the effort; it’s the consistent practice that creates incremental change over time. I sigh to myself, and glare at my packed meeting calendar. Tuesday. Fuck. Well, I won’t get much else done than meetings, today, but they are the plan, and that’s what I’ll do. I smile happily when the thought of my beloved’s birthday crosses my mind; my time off for that day is approved. I grin to myself. It’s not that we have elaborate plans, I simply enjoy the man’s company. I’m happy we’re together. He’s worth celebrating, and as I consider the man and the moment, my heart fills with joy.

…For a moment I forget about the pain…

I look at the clock. Always ticking. It’s a new day, and new opportunity to be the woman I most want to be. Feels like I’m off to a good start, this morning, in spite of feeling less than ideally well rested, and a little groggy. I think of the holidays ahead. This year won’t be lavish – everything costs more in Trump’s America, and resources are more limited. That won’t stop the holidays from being magical – I’ve done plenty with less, in years past. It’s more about presence than presents, anyway, isn’t it? I remind myself to propose board games of an evening, or a hand or two of cribbage… Maybe a walk or a drive to see the holiday lights? We’ve got so many ways to enjoy the holidays together!

It’s time to begin again. It’s definitely worth the effort. Why bother? Because you are better than your challenges. Change is. Choose wisely.

Daybreak beat me to the trailhead this morning. I slept in. My Traveling Partner was up and going back to bed, as I was leaving for my walk. We exchange brief pleasantries and a kiss, and I was on my way.

Stepping lightly down the trail merrily, tinnitus loud in my ears, highway traffic a quieter shhhh-shhhh in the background, I breathe the rain-fresh autumn air, grateful for the moment. This is a lovely one! The morning is gray, and everything is a bit soggy from rain during the night. Aside from a few puddles, the trail is sufficiently well drained to be a comfortable walk. It feels like luxury to walk in daylight. I walk on feeling light-hearted, thinking about the things that make this moment so good, and savoring the experience.

I get to my halfway point thinking “selfish” thoughts. Meaning to say, thinking about the specifically self-focused practices that have served so well on this journey. Accepting that “it isn’t always about me” forces me to also accept that sometimes it very much is about me. How best to care for the person in the mirror without undermining how I treat others? Who am i? Who do I most want to be? What path must I follow to get from here to there? I see the questions as closely connected to each other, interwoven, threads in the vast tapestry of a lifetime, and unfortunately easy to be distracted from.

Self-awareness is about more than “I statements”. It is key to growth and progress (and healing). It encompasses practices like body scans (bringing oneself more in touch with the physical experience of the moment), and mindful presence. “Be here, now” is about self-awareness. Being present in the moment is a more full and complete experience with self-awareness added. Answering the question “who are you?” requires a measure of self-awareness, and can be used (with self-reflection) to push oneself further down the path to becoming who we most want to be.

Self-care is built on many practices. Meditation. Mindfulness. Non-attachment. Eating a nutritious healthy diet. Getting enough exercise. Taking appropriate medication on time. Setting and managing boundaries. CBT. ACT. Mental health care generally. Even things like solving puzzles and coloring can be self-care. Ending toxic relationships and leaving unhealthy professional environments is self-care. When we don’t practice good self-care, however well-intentioned the choice may have been, we suffer needlessly, and are likely to inflict suffering on others.

Self-reflection and contemplative practices of many sorts improve our self-awareness and have the potential to enable better self-care, better decision-making, and more joy in life. Like a quiz in school, self-reflection helps us gauge where we are on life’s journey – like pausing to check a map when orienteering. Asking the questions, reflecting on our answers in that moment and context, considering those answers over time is a way of “lighting our way”.

I guess I’m saying the value of “selfishness” is related to what we mean by “selfish”, and what we do with that.

It took me a long time to learn to put myself on my list of priorities. (Are you on yours?) I still struggle with it, tending to put other people’s needs ahead of my own, often. There’s a healthy balance to strike. It isn’t all about me – but some of it definitely is, and that’s… normal. Utterly unremarkable. Taking care of myself is “selfish” only because it is focused on me, and being someone I do care about (at long last) it only makes sense to care for the woman in the mirror the best I can.

I sit looking out over the autumn marsh. The time I spend in quiet contemplation is not wasted time. Far from it – it has proven to be some of the most well-spent time in a day, helping me along my path, and building resilience I may need in the future to face some sort of unanticipated stress. I am grateful for these solitary moments of contemplation, and for the will to practice these “selfish” practices. I am grateful to have come so far.

I sigh contentedly. Breathe, exhale, relax; I take time for meditation. The dawn comes and goes, and the sky settles on a soft dove gray blanket of layered fluffy clouds. A soft rain begins to fall. I get to my feet and gaze across the meadow. It’s time to begin again.

Another morning, another walk down this familiar trail on my way to the start of a new day. Veterans Day is behind me, and Thanksgiving is ahead of me. My tinnitus is loud in my ears, and my arthritis pain is making damned certain I haven’t forgotten about chronic pain.

I head down the trail purposefully, one step after the next. The morning is pleasant, although the sun is not yet up, and it’s tough to see what sort of day it might be, weather-wise. Trying to forecast the weather based on arthritis pain is not sufficiently precise to be useful, I just know I hurt, a lot. I took my medication a little early over the pain. I hope it starts helping soon. I keep walking and distract myself from my pain by trying to see into the darkness enough to spot creatures along my way. Without a bright moon to light my way, my headlamp casts a small bobbing bright circle of light just ahead of me, or wherever I look.

I get to my halfway point and stop to write and meditate. It’s chilly enough that I wonder if I should have worn my gloves? My fingers are chilly, but it’s not actually cold this morning. It does get me thinking about the new backpack sitting in my home office – work swag sent by my new employer. It’s a nice one, and I hadn’t decided what to do with or about it. It might be a good one for my walks, which have gotten enough longer to make being more easily able to bring along things like inclement weather gear, without overdressing a win. It is a solution without a real problem to solve. I let it go; there is no reason to hurry.

Daybreak comes and I see a lone doe resting in the tall grass to the side of the trail, a few steps further on. No stars visible in the sky, so I begin anticipating a cloudy day. It’ll be a busy one at work, too, with a bunch of little things to catch up on, and one item at risk of being past due. I resolve to tackle that first, which puts my anxiety over anything work related to rest. Sometimes I just have to face the thing that is worrying me in s practical direct way, to ease my anxiety. I sneeze unexpectedly, and the doe leaps to her feet and runs off into the trees.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I could do without my anxiety coming and going all the g’damned time. It’s unsettling, and tends to provoke feelings of imminent disaster, even in conditions that clearly lack any obvious potential for disaster to occur. Subtle things stoke the feeling of anxiety, mostly things that also happen to be well-outside my sphere of influence and most definitely beyond my ability to control. If I can’t change the causes of my anxiety, I don’t have to endure it awash in a feeling of doom and futility. I have more tools in my toolbox than that. One by one I select practical tools and helpful practices from my available options, and do those things I know help ease my anxiety. I meditate. I make use of specific breath practices that calm my nervous system. I reframe the feelings and look for alternate explanations for the physical experience of anxiety. (Am I feeling some measure of excitement or uncertainty about work after four days off? Am I sublimating my pain, causing to be expressed as anxiety? Am I experiencing “second dart suffering” over world events that I simply can’t change and don’t have a personal stake in, at all?) I make a point of letting things go which are outside my control. I take steps to put things into a broader perspective. I make time for gratitude.

My anxiety begins to ease. In its place, there’s just arthritis pain, my headache, and an awareness that I’ve got a bit of catching up to do at work. I’m okay. Ordinary day and “nothing to see here”, besides the slow coming of dawn, and a new day.

I clear my throat and reach for a tissue. I’m reminded that it’s flu season and make a note to schedule a flu shot. (Vaccines are settled science, people. Take care of yourself, and your community.)

I get to my feet impatiently with the next surge of anxiety, deciding to discuss with my therapist whether going back on an anxiolytic makes sense right now, or what else I can do to fight it. I sigh, feeling some relief with my exhalation. I’ll keep practicing; it does help. It’s a good time to begin again.

The wheel keeps turning. The clock keeps ticking. The going around keeps going around, and the coming around seems slow to arrive, but inevitably will come around. The grains of sand in our mortal hourglass keep trickling away. It is another new day, another new week, and another series of imminent moments to live, to savor, and to remember later.

… What will you do with your finite precious moments, today….?

Me? I’m starting with a walk. The trail is dark, and it rained through the night. The neighborhood that surrounds this trail is quiet. The darkness is illuminated by occasional lights, and the quiet is interrupted by the distant hum and whir of HVAC systems. Humanity exists here. I sigh and keep walking. “Peace and quiet” is relative, I guess.

I slept well and deeply. The weekend of much needed rest was a worthwhile deviation from more typical weekends, when I commonly swap “gainful employment” for the greatly appreciated, but wholly unpaid, domestic labor of errand running, housekeeping, grocery shopping, and caregiving. I’m both grateful and relieved that my Traveling Partner needs so little caregiving now, at all. As his capabilities around the house with day-to-day tasks continue to improve, my ability to cover “everything else” (more or less, most of the time) also improves. The shared effort is a quality of life improvement, and made it possible to just set stuff aside this past weekend and relax. I can’t easily describe how much more rested and able to focus I feel this morning. I definitely needed that restful time.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, smiling to myself and enjoy the lingering feeling of being loved.

The world looks different before daybreak.

I walked the wet trail carefully in the darkness. It is slick with wet leaves, and dotted with puddles. I playfully stomp through a puddle or two before a grown up sense of safety vs hazards catches up with my sense of whimsy. I slip, just once, nearly falling because I carelessly stomped a puddle that was full of slippery leaves. I catch myself, feeling a brief moment of embarrassment, although I’m alone on the trail this morning.

I get to my halfway point and stop to take in the scene, rest a moment, write and meditate. It has become a cherished routine. It begins to rain, softly, and I am grateful for the tree cover that keeps me mostly dry. Chilly morning, too, I think to myself. I’m grateful for the fleece over my sweater, and its warm deep pockets.

… Monday…

I’ve got no particular sorrow or stress over a Monday, these days. A work day is a work day. I smile in the darkness. I sit enjoying the moment. I’m ready for whatever is next, as the wheel continues to turn. I’m ready to begin again.

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.