Archives for posts with tag: Let the rain fall

It’s raining this morning. I slept deeply through the night. It’s been a painful couple of days, but the pain has been just that physical experience of arthritis and of aging. I could feel the rain coming.

This morning, I sip my coffee and welcome the rain. The window of my studio is open to the sound of it, the smell of it, and the coolness of the fresh damp air that has begun to the fill the room. Refreshing. The cadence of it varies; sometimes falling quite heavily, a momentary drenching downpour, other times a soft quiet spattering of smaller drops, sometimes stopping briefly. I could listen to the rain for hours, doing nothing else but enjoying the sound of rain falling.

I sip my coffee and think about how the garden flowers will appreciate this rain. I think about taking my walk in the rain after so much dry summer weather. A bird begins to carry on rather loudly, somewhere in the pear tree beyond the fence, outside the window, disturbed by something I don’t see. Today I’ll run an errand or two, which will take me down the road, on this rainy day. I smile at the thought. It’s not raining hard enough to cause me any stress over the driving, and I realize as I consider that… well, it’s been a long-ish time since I experienced any stress about driving in the rain. πŸ™‚ Progress. Trauma does heal over time – given a chance. That’s nice to experience, and to recognize, firsthand.

…Let’s be real, though, y’all… The event that caused the trauma that drove the driving stress specific to driving in the rain? That happened back in… 1997? It’s now 2021. We’re talking about 24 years here. 24 years to heal from a single traumatic incident. Of that 24 years, I didn’t drive at all for about 14 years. I even let my license lapse and just replaced it with an ID card. Circumstances rather unforgivingly nudged me in the direction of needing to get over my anxiety about driving and just fucking deal with it, about 7 years ago. The first 6 months were sometimes challenging, and for a handful of years after I got my license renewed, I drove when I had to, and it wasn’t something I enjoyed at all. That changed when my Traveling Partner more or less insisted that I go ahead and buy a car for myself, that I would really enjoy driving, when he needed his car back (he’d loaned it to me while I was moving, and it suited us both for me to keep and maintain it for awhile). I enjoyed shopping for a car for myself, on my own, with very little input from anyone else. It was fun. I found something affordable that I really liked, for me, and went for it. I still love my car. I’ll probably replace it, one day, with another just like it – only newer.

Am I rambling? I’ll blame the rain, and this good cup of coffee, and this very relaxed morning. πŸ™‚

I guess what I’m saying is that healing takes the time it takes. Yeah, we can (and do) make choices that may slow that progress (or seek to rush it through), but none of that truly matters – it still takes the time it takes to heal. Physical hurts, emotional injuries, mental health trauma: all of it takes the time it takes, to heal. Seriously. Give yourself enough compassion and kindness and general decency to understand that it’ll take time to “get over” something that has wounded you. The time it takes you, versus the time it takes me, or someone else? Those things don’t compare directly; we’re each having our own experience. If I resist being open to healing, I’ll for sure slow the progress I can make toward wellness – I’ll say that again – If I am not open to healing, or unwilling to let go of my pain, and my chaos, and my damage, healing will definitely take longer. Let’s not quibble, and just accept this for a minute; sometimes we are “not ready” to get well from emotional injuries. Anger or resentment that still needs acceptance and soothing, and authentic understanding and love can really get in the way of emotional wellness, however sincerely we weep that we wish to be well and whole again. It’s complicated, isn’t it?

I sip my coffee thinking about the many days and years of this journey, behind me. I listen to the rain fall and consider the path ahead. I still have flare ups of my PTSD. The chaos and damage may be, to an extent, a permanent part of the emotional landscape (although things have improved so much over the years!). I give myself a moment of kindness as I consider that. My cognitive quirks, and eccentricities resulting from head injuries, are part of who I am – some of them I would not trade for an opportunity to be “normal”, ever. This? This life now, these moments, here? Pretty splendid, generally. I can recall a very different life, mired in misery, anxiety, chaos, anger, and pure effort spent hiding as much of who I am from everyone as I comfortably could – even from myself. I was deeply unhappy, and doing not much at all about that. I was consumed with resignation and a sense of utter futility.

I stare out the window, watching the rain fall, thinking about that life, and that woman and her deep deep suffering. I sip my coffee, silently acknowledging how much of my pain was actually self-inflicted, and how many verbs were involved in getting from there, to here. So many new beginnings. So many “failures” along the way. So many opportunities to inch a little bit closer to the woman I most wanted to be, living that beautiful life I could envision, and somehow could not achieve. I wish I could reach back and assure her we got here, and how good it is. Enough. More than enough.

There’s still a journey ahead. That’s living life, is it not? One moment after another, and always time to begin again. πŸ™‚

My tinnitus is bad this morning. I’ve got headphones on, no music playing, just sort of… seeking quiet. Doesn’t matter; the shimmering, ringing, chiming, faint high-pitched whine that persists in my ears 24/7 is notably loud this morning. I hear more than one frequency, more than one tone, various “noises” – a cacophony of background noise that never really lets up.

…I have another sip of my coffee, and look for YouTube content to distract me from the ringing in my ears. Listening to the tinnitus, itself, is a poor practice; as I begin to focus on it, over time, it becomes harder to hear anything else. A function of attention, perhaps, more than volume. Distractions help, some.

I notice the time, earlier than “usual” – more properly, earlier than the alarm was set. My Traveling Partner’s restless night woke me early, and rather than fight the inevitable, I just went ahead and got up. More time in the small gym at the office, I suppose. The exercise is healthy, and I value the opportunity. For now, I just chill here, with the ringing in my ears, drinking my coffee.

It’ll be time to begin again, soon enough. This moment, here, now, seems well-suited to meditation. I find something to drown out the ringing in my ears… this will do nicely. πŸ™‚

With the return of the rain, I have a sense that autumn approaches; seasons change.

Sipping coffee and thinking about time, timing, and the peculiar fascination, and sometimes urgency, that we have with getting to a goal “ahead of schedule” or “on time” – turning any such moment into some kind of race to some arbitrary finish line. Doesn’t it suck the fun out of a drive in the countryside, if we’re so focused on getting to a destination by a specific point in time? We’ve put our experience in the hands of circumstances. Slow drivers. Detours. Traffic. (Metaphors.)

Yesterday, my morning was less about time and timing, than about enjoying a few minutes for myself, before I headed to work. I left the house at some wildly random time, rather later than I generally do, arriving a bit later than I ordinarily might, still well within expectations of timeliness, and utterly without any internal pressure to get there. No racing. No rushing. It was lovely. Sipping my coffee, I think about doing that more often. πŸ™‚

Rain drops on roses.

In the garden, in the evening, after the work day was behind me, I took an unhurried look around. No agenda. Just enjoying the moment. I had enjoyed some pleasant moments of conversation with my Traveling Partner on the phone. The evening was a simple one; I did some tidying up. I had a bite of dinner. I relaxed with a book. I went to bed a bit later than the night before, early enough to get a great night’s sleep… if my body would have been amendable to that. lol My interrupted sleep has not prevented me having a lovely morning, and I feel decently well-rested. No harm done. πŸ™‚

Life feels simple and mostly pretty easy, from the perspective of this morning. No idea what the day holds; it’s been a busy week at work, and a great many people, colleagues, and customers, seem to have strange priorities much more to do with external forces that drive them, than well-considered choices they have made for themselves. I grin to myself in the early morning light; not my circus, not my monkeys. I keep my focus on my own life, my own choices, and being the woman I most want to be – more so, each day. It’s the best I can do, I think. πŸ™‚

Sufficiency is pretty comfortable, generally.

A soft rain is falling, this morning. I finish my coffee, and begin again. πŸ™‚

It looks icy outside, but I hear rain falling, and the temperature is above freezing. I expect things will be slushy, but not impassable and I prepare to make the commute into the office. I do all the usual waking up things, all the usual getting the day started things, and sit down with my coffee. I listen to the rain continue to fall. I think about the winter weather, and how fortunate I am to live within generally secure walls, with heat, running water, and modern conveniences like an internet connection of my own.

I meant to do more this weekend than I did. I mostly relaxed by the fire, reading. Time well-spent. I did not make the necessary treks back and forth across the icy parking lot needed to do laundry. I did not venture forth to grocery shop (although I did go out to my small garden plot at one point yesterday to harvest kale and carrots for my meal). I did not do more housekeeping than necessary to maintain order, clean counter tops, and a sink empty of dishes. I took time to relax. Just that. It was pretty luxurious – and it’s probable that had the weather been nicer, I would have chosen differently. I guess I’m glad it snowed. πŸ™‚

I spent quite a lot of time bird-watching over the weekend. Yesterday was so icy the marsh was completely frozen over. When I put out drinking water for the birds and creatures in the afternoon, even the heron came all the way to the patio for a bite to eat and a drink of water. So many kinds of birds visited yesterday. I saw a hummingbird check the feeder; it was frozen. I quickly brought it indoors, knocked the ice out of it, and refilled it with nectar; they could at least get what they needed until it froze again. This seemed a popular choice with the handful of hummingbirds that came around within minutes, queuing up in mid-air, taking turns, and zipping away. Mine is not the only feeder being maintained through the winter; they have other stops to make.

The rain continues to fall. The sound of it holds my attention. It distracts me again and again. I enjoy the sound of it. It seems a good morning to set writing aside, and have my second coffeeΒ sitting quietly in the stillness before dawn, listening to the rain fall. Today, that’s enough. πŸ™‚