Archives for posts with tag: love and lovers

I woke up with some effort. It’s going to feel like I’m getting up an hour early (because I am) for some time to come. With some irritation, I notice I have online paperwork to do for a new physical therapist, and sit down with my coffee to handle it before I leave for work. I start the morning already annoyed.

I sip my coffee, finish up the medical history questions, and find myself thinking back to yesterday’s fairly crushing disappointments. I breathe through the recollection, reminding myself I’ve already taken this journey, found a satisfying end to that, and moved on. Commonplace setbacks on the adult portion of life’s journey. My Traveling Partner was having his own version of that experience, yesterday as well. It was pretty cool we could be there for each other, however remotely, through the wonders of modern technology. I take time to appreciate that; I was never really “in it alone”, yesterday. He was there for me. I was there for him. Maybe it was worth the momentary setbacks and disappointments to have that experience? Utterly commonplace resolvable challenges, too – for him, the challenges of starting a business, for me, the challenges of finding a house to call home. Adulthood comes with a lot of things… challenges are among them. 🙂

Am I making things sound easy? “Easy” doesn’t accurately describe the experience of juggling the disappointment of seeing a house I foolishly (and quickly) got a bit over-invested in, emotionally, go pending before I could actually see it (totally foolish, totally too quickly, entirely over-invested emotionally). It was a hard moment. It was just a moment. It stung with frustration and internalized fear that I would never… something. Learned helplessness didn’t quite takeover, though it threatened to. I worked for some moments with tears in my eyes. I got past it.

It was harder to be supportive, encouraging, and soothing when my partner had his own moment – not because I don’t feel the feelings, but because it is frustrating to be apart when he needs me, and also… this injury. My TBI results in me being pretty vulnerable to reactivity, and I earnestly, urgently, wanted to help in some more substantial way! It was hard to stay focused on work, and remain in the moment, at my desk, doing what I am paid to do, when all I wanted was to go to my Traveling Partner, and be by his side in his moment of hurt and frustration and doubt. I am learning not to “multi-task”; it’s a lie that only results in a lack of focus, and lack of committed attention. Instead, I take a measured amount of time, and fully give it over to listening to my partner, between tasks, between meetings. When I work, I am fully attentive to the work – the single task – with which I am engaged. This works for me. My Traveling Partner experienced being supported. My work stayed on track. I didn’t feel distracted, consciousness fractured, or frustrated by mistakes. A win all around.

Yesterday, gray, rainy, still a good point to begin again.

When I look at yesterday after-the-fact, and consider how things really went, as an entire day, it was actually an excellent day – of work, of life, of living, of loving… nothing to see here. No bitching required. How odd that if I were to attempt to categorize or define the day, I’d say it was pretty crappy… because… well, it wasn’t, actually. I endured a couple of difficult moments, a measure of which was in no way directly my own experience, at all. Yesterday? Well, okay, I didn’t walk across the threshold of my future home… but how often does a person have that experience on a given day? Generally speaking, yesterday was a good day. I take a moment to redefine it in my thoughts quite deliberately, amused by the strange feeling of discomfort involved in doing so. (Some part of me really wants to hang on to that sense of misery and sorrow.) Yesterday, in nearly all other respects, was a good day; one moment of disappointment or doubt ought not be permitted to define an entire day.

So, here’s another day in front of me, filled with promise and mystery. I see a new physical therapist. I’ll review an updated list of houses seeking homeowners. I’ll continue to enjoy the love and enduring affection of my Traveling Partner. Later in the day, I’ll find the spelling errors in this blog post that I missed this morning (even using spellcheck), and maybe even remember to fix them. I’ll get a bunch more work done than even seems possible, and have maybe go to lunch with a friend. I’ll listen. I’ll talk. I’ll connect. There’s no knowing where the day will take me. Will a mysterious stranger approach me with keys to a cute turn of the century bungalow that needs some fixing up and say “please, take this house, I only want someone to love it as I have…”? (I know, I know, it’s not even at all likely, but… it’s a big crazy universe, and strange things have been known to happen – shouldn’t our daydreams allow for the possibilities that life itself is unlikely to afford us?)

I find myself smiling. It’s time to begin again. 🙂

 

Strange morning. I feel my Traveling Partner’s absence like a weight; he is traveling, truly, and far away. I wake and start my day in the usual solitary way, but somehow I still feel his absence from my larger sense of space. My own version of separation anxiety, I suppose. 🙂 Still, in the same sense that he is away, he also tends to be “with me”, even though we are not often in shared space lately, so although I miss him, I still feel loved, still celebrate loving.

I sip my coffee, distracted and vaguely… bored? Weird. It is an uncommon thing in my experience, and I find myself poking at the feeling with a certain curiosity and wonder. The boredom dissipates as I realize it isn’t that at all. I’m just tired. My sleep tracker notes that this makes the second night on less than ideal quantity and quality of sleep. No wonder I feel a tad “out of it”. I correct my posture. Take some deep cleansing breaths. Relax. I hear the horn of the commuter train approaching the platform. I feel the chill in the room. I take a moment to just be, without fussing. It feels comfortable and self-supporting to acknowledge the fatigue, to accept myself in this moment, and to be okay with it.

One more work day and another weekend. Oh, my yes! I can sleep in tomorrow, attend the baby shower of a friend, and quite likely see my Traveling Partner in the evening. Sounds like a lovely weekend. It sounds like enough.

Today will be a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror, to be kind, and to show kindness, to take the day a moment at a time, and to enjoy this life as much as I am able (which is a lot, and mostly). Change the world? I’ll add that to my “to do list”. 🙂

It’s okay to love all year long. It’s okay to love with my whole heart. It’s okay to smile, even every day. It’s okay to be kind, any time at all.

Go ahead. Love.

Go ahead. Love.

Valentine’s Day is here. Love isn’t about that, although Valentine’s Day is about Love. No reason to love on an annual basis. I plan to love all year. There are verbs involved. Opportunities to choose. There are choices. Practices. Moments to reach across a divide with intent, and affection.

Each moment is another opportunity to love again.

Each moment is another opportunity to love again.

Rationing love hasn’t ever helped anyone love more deeply, or feel more loved.

Every day is another chance to walk a path paved with love.

Every day is another chance to walk a path paved with love.

Valentine’s Day or not… today is a good day to love. ❤

I woke abruptly, disoriented in the darkness, and suddenly aware that today is Friday, one more work day left this week, and the icy certainty I had shut off my alarm and gone back to sleep, oversleeping some portion of the work day, gripped me fiercely. I took a deep relaxing breathe, then another, and let myself wake enough to look at the time through bleary eyes. It was hard to process what I saw. It said… 11:23… pm. Wait… 11:23? How is it not daylight? P.m? Did I sleep through the entire day and beyond? That wasn’t making sense for minutes. Then I understood. Just a sleep disturbance. I went back to sleep relieved not to have shot out of bed as if fired from a cannon to careen around the room pulling on clothes clumsily in my haste to exit the building. (I have so been there!)

I used to have those weird ‘lost in time’ dreams not-quite-a-lot-more-often-than-rarely. If I were sharing the night with someone else, their sleep would be ruined, too, because in my panic I would usually be verbalizing my stress and anxiety – and I had serious baggage around “time”, in general, back then. A panicked shrieking freak out over having ‘overslept’ a work shift, or an appointment time, that resulted in me being both entirely irrational and completely inconsolable until I recognized my mistake about the time would ensue, guaranteeing no one could feel calm enough to return to sleep with ease. Last night was different; I never even got up, and returned to sleep. Granted, my sleep last night was restless and disturbed, but I did sleep, and I do feel sufficiently rested.

I’m glad it’s Friday, though. I’m clearly ready for the weekend. lol

Practicing calm, renders me calmer over time, less reactive. I like it. It’s a change for the better. I enjoy the recollection of my disturbed sleep as if it were a good report card.

The view from the office.

The view from the office. Perspective matters; it looks very different in the picture than it does when I am just looking at it.

I spend more time than usual meditating this morning. It’s a lovely quiet morning for it, the rain quietly continuing to fall outside these walls, beyond these windows. I recall the rain shower that drenched me last night, soaking me, and leaving me to step through puddles in sodden jeans the rest of the way, happy to have waterproofed my winter coat – because it too was quite soaked, in spite of that. I smile with amusement at being taken by surprise by the sudden down pour; I’d been watching them pass through town all day through the big windows in the office. I am fortunate that I enjoy rain. However much I do enjoy rain, though, I was glad to arrive home to a hot shower and dry clothes.

The view as I headed for home.

The view as I headed for home.

The morning commute had been so different from the drenching soaking aggressively windy rain storm that took me by surprise on the way home. I had strolled in through the peculiarly mild weather, hood back, hair loose in the breeze, feeling the misty rain on my face with a big delighted grin that lasted the entire 1.97 mile walk across town to the office. I felt free and whole and eager to embrace the entirety of life’s experience, looking at the world through rain-spattered glasses. I know, I know – not especially “grown up”… on the other hand, how silly would it be to arrive at death’s door regretting things like not feeling the rain on my face, or the wind in my hair? I will certainly have my regrets in life, but I’m doing what I can to embrace and enjoy the simple pleasures, so easily within reach. I’m still routinely taken by surprise how much they matter.

The view through a misty morning rain.

The view through a misty morning rain.

I think about my Traveling Partner. I’m hoping to see him tonight, this weekend, dinner on Valentine’s Day, after work. I take a moment to appreciate being so well-loved. I think about his eyes, his smile, how much he cares for me… I think about how delightful it will be to have a little place of my own, and to enlist his help on projects to make it more mine, more livable, more a home than a house. Daydreaming about love, smiling, sipping my coffee.

Today is a good day to be fully where I am in life. If it isn’t where I want to be, it is nonetheless where I must start to go somewhere different. If it is somewhere I enjoy, then I’d be foolish not to enjoy the moment. I am okay right now, and that’s enough. 🙂

I woke from a long night of sound slumber. Rare, restful, delicious. I slept in. After yoga and meditation, and putting out peanuts and birdseed for my weekend brunch visitors, I sat down with my coffee and the latest real estate search list from my realtor. It’s exciting to be house-hunting for a wee place of my own.

I look over each listing in the search list very carefully. I imagine waking up there. I imagine walking through those rooms in the dark of night after a nightmare. I consider what the floors will feel like on bare feet, and whether the layout of the kitchen is going to fuck with my head for weeks or months, remembering how confusing it was to move from #27 to #59 – with all the light switches and appointments mirror imaged, and how long it took to stop clawing at blank wall for a light switch that wasn’t there. Those details matter for quality of life. Will the windows let in the dawn? The evening light? Will the house bake in the sun unrelentingly, or offer comfort and shade? Will the winter winds chill the floor with peculiar drafts? Which details are easily changed? Which less so? What matters most? It’s an interesting meditation, to consider with such care what living in a particular space might feel like. I easily rule out some of the listings I see by doing so; if I can’t feel living there with any comfort, I am not interested. (I trust that feeling – some of my PTSD triggers are fairly mundane things or circumstances. If my senses begin to squeal in my head that a space doesn’t feel safe, and I’m only looking at a photograph, I know to move on.)

I chat a while with my Traveling Partner, sharing pictures of places, getting his thoughts. Our individual aesthetic overlaps quite a lot, and his engineering background results in a first-rate reality check on things I am less likely to notice. Helpful, and another way to share love. I am eager to find a place to call home that he will feel equally welcome in, when he is spending time with me. As a woman of 53, comfortably and contentedly living alone, I have learned that “home” is something I bring with me, something I create for myself – houses are what I’m shopping for – the container in which to put my home. 😀 Honestly, that makes the shopping much easier. At 18, and even at 35, I shopped for homes, and felt endlessly disappointed not to find one.

I finish my coffee smiling. Enjoying a few moments of conversation with my Traveling Partner before moving on with the day. I’ve some adulting to do this morning: laundry, vacuuming, cleaning the kitchen and bathroom. Home-making. Good skills to have, worthy practices for taking care of me. First, a hike in the mild Pacific Northwest winter. Today that’s enough.