Archives for posts with tag: love and lovers

All of the Uncertainties, All of the Choices

November 3, 2017 //

I’m not at all firm on what to write about, this morning. I often begin that way, and it is a state of things that does not cause me any particular stress. I put words in the title field, and then begin typing in the text box, and away I go. Writing coherently, fluidly, about something that matters to someone, in a clear, specific, insightful way… is not a given. It’s more a coincidence, I think, when it does work out that way.

I think that “insight” is more to do with you, the person reading the words, than me… or the words. We each have our own dictionary, and what I think I’m saying may not at all be what you understand me to have said, and this need not be a relevant concern to the matter of insight, at all. You’ll likely make some assumptions as you read. Maybe if you know me personally, you read my words “in my voice”, but is it my voice now, or my voice of some other lifetime? Are your assumptions accurate? Were mine? If you don’t actually know me personally, in what voice do you hear these words, when you read them? There go those assumptions again, at work in the background. Who do you think I am?

If I got something from the process of writing the words, and you get something from reading the words I wrote, does it matter at all if we understood completely different things? Perhaps – at that point we attempt to explain to each other how well we understand one another, I could see that being a potential sore point, but… maybe not? Maybe? I don’t have an answer here, only a question. It’s not even an important question. Just a random thought on a Friday morning.

I make a second coffee, and marvel at how terrible it is. How is this cup of coffee possible, from the same beans, using the same machine, made in the same way, by the same method, into the same cup, at all different than the previous coffee?? I take another sip, puzzled, curious, and seeking greater understanding. I like understanding things. Yeah… No – this is one terrible cup of coffee. Wow. I mean… like… an achievement of bad coffee, a stand out, an extraordinary demonstration of how poorly made a cup of coffee can be – and I didn’t even need to use a percolator, an air pot, or poor quality additives. Good grief. This sucks. I mean… on this whole other “No, seriously? I must be wrong… one more sip…” level. lol This is bad coffee. LOL I am still drinking it… no idea what that says about me, or about human primates generally, but… this is me. Drinking terrible coffee. At this point, I am savoring this terrible coffee and even enjoying its noteworthy awfulness. Please don’t ask me why would I do such a thing, because frankly… I don’t have an answer for that one, either. It is every bit as inexplicable as if I were to suddenly rise from my seat and do a cartwheel. lol

I think about the winter ahead. I think about the future. I sip my bad coffee, now mostly over how dreadful it is, my consciousness has moved on to other things. I think about love. I think about lovers. I think about the twinge of discontent that sometimes catches me by surprise in some lonely moment, when my awareness of age and aging collides with my awareness that I “still feel young on the inside”. This morning, the thought is merely a thought, and does not evoke an emotion. My thinking moves on.

I’ve a busy weekend ahead, and I am eager to get on with it. I’ll see my Traveling Partner this weekend (if all goes to plan, next weekend too!). Fuck I miss that guy. I’m ready to make the drive down, and I’m glad I seem to be well enough to do so; I don’t think I have the pro-adult skills to firmly decline if I weren’t up for it. I just miss him too much at this point. lol I consider the drive itself. It is autumn, and a lovely time of year for a long drive through beautiful countryside. Weather permitting, perhaps I won’t take the highway? A longer route, through scenic forests, down less traveled state highways and country side roads could be quite lovely and relaxed, and a great deal more like part of the weekend than mere transportation from point A to point B. (I-5 is efficient, but not beautiful, the result being the drive feels very purposeful, and more like “work”.)

The map is not the journey. The journey is, itself, the destination. Life’s menu of options is vast, and the choices are many. I am my own cartographer. I sip my terrible coffee and smile. The words pile up. I open up Google Maps with a plan in mind, ready to begin again. 🙂

Tags are you going my way?, be here now, be love, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, choose wisely, choose your adventure, emotional self sufficiency, experience, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, love, love and lovers, love me do, mindfulness for beginners, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the choice is yours, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, loneliness, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

First Day “Back”

November 2, 2017 //

I’m awake. Showered. Dressed. Sipping coffee in the usual ordinary sort of way. My day begins relatively gently, and I am eager to return to the office this morning. (I kind of have to write that sentence down, right there, to record factually that indeed I am looking forward to going to work, because I’m not sure that’s a sentence I use very often, or a feeling that is especially common over the entire course of my life, and I want to enjoy the moment.)

I am, for most values of “feeling better”, feeling better. 😀

As with any other sort of subjective state of being, it’s an individual perspective, right? I’ve still got some sinus drainage. Still have some soreness of throat. Still have the cough (which may well linger through the holidays). None of those things are what they were. The cough is seldom, and not as bad, and the sore throat and sinus drainage are also minor. I’m not overwhelmed by fatigue. I don’t have a headache. I’m not shivering while wrapped in blankets in a warm room (very not; the heat is set to “don’t let the house freeze” over night, and I’m just wearing work clothes, not even a sweater, and quite comfortable). I’m work-ready, though, and ready to work. 😀

I’m also super glad I now commute by car, even if distracted drivers keep tapping my fucking bumper at stop lights on an almost monthly basis; I’m well for most values of well, but… I’m not up to walking a mile to catch a bus on a cold morning. Not yet.

Taking care of this fragile vessel is an interesting balancing act. Long-term care means holding down a job and preparing for future retirement… short-term care may require taking time away from work to care for my health right now.

Mental health care works similarly. There is a balance between long-term wellness and urgent care needs to find. There is a balance between addressing issues that are destroying personal perspective and quality of life, and those that degrade relationships with others. A friend struggling with a loved one’s seeming lack of “acceptable” progress, which she feels is required to feel safe in the relationship, doesn’t seem to understand that being in therapy, for the mentally ill loved one, isn’t about that. It’s about saving their own actual life, their experience of living, their quality of life and ability to live and thrive – on their own terms – and achieve mental and emotional wellness – for themselves. I mean, sure. I know when I went into treatment, and this is every time, ever, I definitely wanted to preserve and heal the relationships my condition had affected…but… not at the expense of succeeding to become well, myself. Mental health therapy is for the person seeking treatment – and it’s not about “fixing” that person according to any criteria or standard aside from that determined by the treatment seeking mentally ill person and their therapist. Period. End of stakeholder meeting. Fuck right off if you think you get to insert yourself and your pet concerns into that process to exert influence over a treatment plan intended to achieve reasonable emotional wellness because you have an outcome in mind. Fuck right off indeed – and then go get your own god-damned therapist and take care of your own god-damned needs. lol Seriously, people. “My partner is in therapy” does not equate to “my partner is rebuilding themselves per my specifications”. Just stop and hey, maybe actually support the general emotional wellness of your partner, yourself, and your relationship by being kind, compassionate, listening deeply, and accepting that you, yourself, have your own baggage – and may need your own help. Your partner can not be your therapist, and their therapy is not about you.

Sorry. That’s a bit of a rant there. I’ve just been through it in too many partnerships. The “concerned” questions that mask a hidden agenda. The probing about what is going on in therapy. The lack of willingness to actually participate or seek help, while pushing the full weight of all the issues of a relationship onto the mentally unwell partner because they are unwell, rather than be accountable for some portion of the dynamic. The clear drive to push an agenda into therapy content. The disapproval of selected therapist or treatment modality because it doesn’t meet the needs of the person not even seeking help in the first place. The indirect arguments with a therapist who’s not even in the room if those pesky probing questions are met with openness and trust, but the answers are uncomfortable. Fuck all that. Everyone has their own baggage, and very few people in relationships are “crazy alone” – the crazy becomes shared over time. If you are in therapy, yourself, it’s about you. That’s okay. It’s supposed to be. If your loved one is in therapy, be supportive without being invasive; it’s not about you. It just isn’t. Just fucking chill. (I know, I know, you feel out of control because you can’t control what your partner reveals to the therapist – maybe it is the “wrong” stuff, or not enough, or not “what matters”… and you still don’t get to call the shots, and it still isn’t about you, and you still need to go find something else to do with your time and let your partner handle their business.)

I breathe. I relax. Memories. Wow. I still carry around some pain and some anger about an ex who worked very hard to “guide” my treatment in therapy, with some degree of success, to my detriment – over time I ended up becoming progressively much worse. I’m glad I am out of that relationship. Turned out that mattered a great deal and was an important positive change. Turns out it is still enough to ruffle my feathers when watching friends go through it from an outsider’s perspective. It’s not easy. It’s a lot of damned work. People seek therapy because they are hurting. Therapy itself is sometimes a process of feeling all the hurts until the hurts are processed and in perspective – that just doesn’t even sound pleasant, and it isn’t at all. It’s a process, and the tedium and strain and quantities of change and upheaval are not eased by attempting to interfere, that’s really what I’m saying. 🙂 (And, just to keep it real, I’m still working on plenty of my own issues – remember that whole “living alone” thing? Yeah. Therapy turns out to be muuuuch easier in that context. Much.)

It’s a new day. A good one for all manner of new beginnings, and starting things. Where will you take it? Will you use your human super powers for good or evil? Will you be listening deeply, or waiting for your turn to talk? Will you make taking care of yourself well and with great skill and compassion a high priority? Will you take one step to change the world for the better, yourself? Take a look around. It’s time to begin again. 🙂

Tags ACT, be here now, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, listening deeply, love and lovers, MBSR, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, TBI, The Big 5, the map is not the world, therapy isn't about fixing me to please you, there are verbs involved, this isn't about you, walk on, walking my own path, we each walk our own hard mile, what matters most?, you are not in charge around here, you don't get to call the shots for everyone else, you have no power over me

Categories anger, Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, health, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Find The Sweet Spot

October 19, 2017 //

My busy week has been nothing like “routine”. I’m still smiling. I did not see my Traveling Partner last night, as we’d planned, the hour of evening was later than we’d figured when my hair appointment ended, I’d started the day quite tired already, and my partner considerately suggested I get the rest I needed and embrace the late Thursday night ahead without additional fatigue. Good idea. I agreed. I’m still smiling. I’m alert. Rested. In no particular pain in spite of the rainy morning. I am ready for a late night! Bring it!

It’s been a busy week, sure. It has, however, been more ups than downs. More successes than failures. More challenges overcome, than challenges that thwarted me. More wins than losses. More beautiful moments than aggravating ones. I suspect that this is the truth of life, generally, much of the time, for most of us – if we can find the sweet spot in our perspective from which to view our experience.

This morning I sip my coffee and practice a favorite practice – I take the things I need to practice it with me everywhere I go: memory, experiences, presence, and a kindly disposition toward my very human self. I start simply enough, by remembering something, maybe looking through my recent photographs, or contemplating a moment, conversation, or experience – one that felt really good. That’s the important bit; start with something that feels amazing, before working towards transforming the perspective on a less comfortable moment. Because that’s totally possible too, and does not require compromising my values, telling myself pretty lies, ignoring painful truths, or constructing a fake narrative, it just takes some understanding, some compassion – and some practice. (I learned to transform some painful, awkward, or uncomfortable recollections into recollections with positive value more or less by accident, through the practice of “taking in the good“, and I don’t have “steps” to offer to make that a reliable thing; it requires practice, no avoiding that.)

Did the phrase “working towards” cause you to lose interest? Yeah… You’re probably going to have to get over that. Just saying. There are verbs involved. The effort must, in fact, and unavoidably, be your own. 😉

A beautiful way to say thank you (to me) (because I like flowers) (in vases) (and being appreciated). Flowers from colleagues. My work space smells like a garden. 😀

The complicated week has been dimpled with beautiful moments. A promotion. An appreciative gift of flowers. Smiles from colleagues in moments of shared success and celebration. A festive dinner out with my Traveling Partner and a dear friend. A delightful outcome on new hair color. It’s not even over yet – and there’s still more to appreciate, to pause for, to savor, to relish, to sit with in gentle contemplation over a great cup of coffee, too early in the morning. 🙂

So look, my life isn’t “perfect” (and that’s not a thing, so let that go now!) – my arthritis pain has been kicking my ass all this rainy chilly week, and I’ve had an on again/off again headache that has chased me for days. My schedule is a so far off routine at this point it is wreckage, calendar in useless tatters, which is deeply uncomfortable for me. My sleep, until last night, has been of exceedingly poor quality, offering little rest. A wee fish in my aquarium died. The first time my Traveling Partner ever saw my new place, my bed wasn’t made – which bugs me. The powerful “Me, Too.” meme unfolded on Facebook and Twitter, which although powerful and extraordinary, was also painful, uncomfortable, and saddening. Life is not about perfection. We are human. So human. Pain is a thing. Sickness is a thing. Emotional anguish is a thing. Running late is a thing. Being ditched is a thing. Disappointment is a thing. Setting ourselves up for failure is a thing. Learned helplessness is a thing. This is a “choose your own adventure” sort of experience – and you have choices. But…

It isn’t “easy”. It does take practice. It is utterly necessary to “do something” about “that” – whatever it is. 🙂 One thing at a time, and it’s okay to take it slow, to fumble, to get it wrong, and to have to begin again…

…like…

…a bunch of times.

This is your experience. The craftsmanship involved in making it a “good one” (defined by you) is yours.

This morning I’m fortunate to be sitting in the sweet spot. It’s been a busy week. I’m still smiling. That’s enough. 🙂

Tags anxiety, be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, choices, choose wisely, choose your experience, do the thing, emotional self sufficiency, experience, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, if you want change choose change, if you want change make a change, just practice, life love and roses, love and lovers, make the effort, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness, mindfulness for beginners, mindfulness matters, no woo just practice, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, taking care of me, taking in the good, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what are you perfecting?, what matters most?

Categories anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Frustration, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Rape, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Tells

October 18, 2017 //

The alarm beeped for a while. A while. Eventually I shut it off. Turned on a light. Tried to piece together a sense of “where am I?” and “why is now?” lol I came up short on “why”, but managed open eyes and sufficient balance to get out of bed. I’m groggy again this morning. I woke yearning for the sweet sweet sensation of sleeping in, and looking forward to Saturday. I almost convinced myself it was.

I yawned through my morning routine, empty of content but still contented. My coffee seems lackluster, but I am still drinking it. Practice(s) seem pretty pointless from this perspective, but I practice nonetheless.

Some time later I sit down to write. I’m still not “awake”. So the week, an important and also overly busy one, rich with big distractions, and small disruptions to carefully selected self-care practices, slows creeps forward productively, successfully, and calmly, without requiring me to be awake upon waking. I’m managing to make much of the day-to-day turmoil look less chaotic than it feels, and I suspect most of my colleagues don’t see much evidence of stress – but the evidence is all around. I have “tells“. I look for similar tells with friends, loved ones, colleagues, strangers – part of the idea of “emotional intelligence” is a simple considerate practical awareness of not only what I am going through myself, but also what others may be going through, leaving room midst my awareness for them to actually speak about it if they care to, and my own acceptance that my assumptions must yield to their voices when they do. Those tells can be an important non-verbal signal that something yet-unspoken exists to consider.

My own stress tells are fairly obvious when you know what to look for. Well-manicured hands become torn cuticles, and bitten nails. The usual fairly carefully chosen “look” for work becomes the same sloppy favorite comfort-sweater thrown over everything, just whatever top and jeans, day after day. Others are not as easily spotted unless you are here, at home with me: there is a coffee cup on the counter, not even close to the sink, just left rather nonsensically in a location, and it is from yesterday – how did that not make it into the dishwasher?? My bed isn’t made – it usually is. My dumb bells, instead of being properly put away, were left where they were set (after the last set), in a prominent toe-stub-able location just sort of … out. Chaos creeping in. Routines slowly giving way before breaking down completely. In the office, and at home, the subtlety of seeing a choked email inbox – a rarity for me. Small things. Unavoidable – because I overlook them in the moment, completely. They shout “stress!!!” to the world, but the world most likely isn’t actually listening. We are each having our own experience.

Our tells are actually fairly obvious. Do you know/see your own? It is a simple enough thing, with practice, to notice the tells around you, of other people. It does take practice (for me). It didn’t come “naturally” in any noteworthy way (for me). Working at it, though, has seemed to result in much more satisfying relationships. Between being aware of the experience of others (as much as I am able to do so) and also practicing explicit communication in my relationships, a lot of what used to amount to drama has faded away. It’s nice. It’s been some work. There are verbs involved. It continues to be worth the effort and practice to take time to really listen to other people, to really see them, to really connect and be present.

Simple and real. I find these comfortable sustainable qualities. Well… “real” can be damned uncomfortable now and then, but in a more-comfortable-than-the-alternative sort of way (for me). 🙂

I spent the evening, simple and real, with my Traveling Partner and one of our Mad Hatter friends. I invited them to dinner. Picked them up and enjoyed a lovely evening meal together, in a friendly small town setting. Before dinner I brought them to my new place and showed my partner around. After dinner, I took them back to their place, and hung out awhile, listening to travelers tales, sharing my own, and generally enjoying my partner’s company. It was good fun. There was romance, laughter, friendship, connection… There was no stress. Delicious. Cherished time spent wrapped in love.

I stayed out a bit later than ideal, though. I don’t care much about that right now, though I know it will come at a cost, and that by Friday my consciousness may be wreckage, my emotional resilience lost to reactivity, over-stimulation, and fatigue. Hair today… concert tomorrow… but Friday night I can sink into slumber, no alarm clock, and wake when I wake, and begin again on Saturday. I can do this! 🙂

I sip my coffee. Count my memories like gold coins, letting my “treasure” cascade through my thoughts, a trickle, a stream, a waterfall. I’m still not awake, yet, not really, but the day begins in a satisfying way, and my perspective is merry and contented. It’s enough. I can begin again from right here… 🙂

Tags be here now, be love, begin again, breathe, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, I'm in love with the DJ, listening deeply, love, love and lovers, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5

All That Planning, Then…

October 17, 2017 //

Real life happens. It shreds my planning pretty regularly. Yours, too? I imagine so. 🙂

I sip my coffee, groggy, reluctant to fully wake, and wistfully contemplating my still-warm bed just there, in the other room… Had this morning gone according to plan, I’d already be at work right now. I’m quite content to be sipping my coffee on a more ordinary morning than that. The long work day, and late-ish evening, and the difficulty getting sufficiently relaxed soon enough to find sleep just mean I’m groggy. Tired. Still disoriented and kind of stupid. I keep sipping my coffee – rather more aggressively than most mornings. I’ll certainly have another. lol

Change is a thing. I knew that “before I knew that”, I mean, those words all have meanings I understood. At this point, I sometimes wonder why I fought it so hard, so often? I chuckle remembering the first time (I think, from my perspective now) that I heard the phrase “embrace change” – it was in the context of work, and seemed… amusing, more than inspiring or motivating. My cynicism at that time definitely got in the way of my personal progress. Also a thing. I had to make a point of learning to be open to change, even learning to be open to growth, to success, to love. It was hardest when it turned out some of those things weren’t at all what I thought they were. lol I also had to learn to be open to discovery, generally, because often things were not what they seemed, when I began to explore them more deeply. At some point, it became easier to ask “what does this even mean, really?” in the face of change, rather than fight it, or struggle with a fading reality, clinging to something that is slipping away.

I am rambling. Still groggy. Bits and pieces of consciousness a bit like a large box of unsorted photographs of distant relatives and long-past vacations, spilling out, tumbling down in disarray, becoming words on a page, lacking theme or direction, or (possibly) coherence. lol I drink coffee. I write words. It is too early on too little sleep to do also do it very well. 🙂

The end of the work day seems quite far away. My Traveling Partner seems nearer, somehow, although he is quite a way away, yet, he is nearer than yesterday at this time. 😀 Will I see him tonight? Maybe. Maybe tomorrow after I get my hair done. Definitely Thursday for the concert. Damn I am so tired, right now, already. I remind myself that each day ends with a night, and I yearn for night to come so I can sleep some more. lol

Coffee’s gone. I’ll need another. It’s time to begin again. 🙂

Tags be here now, be love, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, choose wisely, choosing work over self care is dumb, emotional self sufficiency, Get some sleep, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, love, love and lovers, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, real life, relationships, sufficiency, taking care of me, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?, what's your plan?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being

All of the Uncertainties, All of the Choices

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First Day “Back”

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Find The Sweet Spot

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Tells

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All That Planning, Then…

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