Archives for posts with tag: love and lovers
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A Moment With My Thoughts

October 1, 2024 //
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Another quiet morning, aside from the ringing in my ears. I could do without that, but tinnitus is most vexing when I focus on it, so I turn my attention elsewhere. Inward. It’s a chilly morning. Definitely autumn and I am grateful for the sweater, and my fleece. I sit with my coffee and my thoughts.

… Just a couple more work shifts separated by an evening at home, and I’ll be heading to the coast for a much-needed break from… “everything”. Hilariously, to get this much-needed rest, this opportunity to recover from day-to-day exhaustion, I’ll have to exhaust myself further first, to ensure I’ve adequately prepared for my Traveling Partner’s comfort. Enough fresh towels available. Snacks and things within reach. Fresh tissues and such. Freshly made bed and clean linens. His laundry done and put away….

…Oh, and anything I need for myself…

… G’damn, I am so fucking tired. lol

Yesterday evening, as I happily prepared to gently lay newly arrived pastels in various hues of green into their places in my pastel case, I opened the case and… a tray stuck, then unexpectedly released and fell askew, dumping the fragile sticks. Several fell against the hard edge of the case, others to the firm surface of the wood tabletop. They don’t take well to such rough treatment and several of the delicate beautiful sticks broke into pieces. I suppose it’s no great tragedy, but my eyes filled with tears and my heart with disappointment and hurt. My fault. Broken things. I fought crying. It’s not as if the damage rendered them less useful at all…it just pained me to see them less than perfect, and by my own hand. My Traveling Partner was tender and supportive. He knows I’ve got strange baggage to do with such things. The evening finished quietly, without madness or hysterics. Win.

…Hell, I’d even forgotten about it, until just now, and I’m okay – that’s real progress!

I sit awhile with my thoughts. I watch the traffic on the highway beyond the trailhead parking lot. There won’t be daylight for walking before work this morning, but I came to this place anyway. It’s on the way to the office and lacks the glare of office lighting. lol I find a few quiet moments in a parking lot preferable to those same quiet moments in the office. (I could walk… I’ve got my headlamp. Taking “time for me” takes a variety of forms. This is one; just these few quiet solitary moments writing and reflecting.)

I catch myself missing my partner as though I had already gone. I think of him sleeping (I hope that he is) and tenderly wish him well. My heart is full of love and yearning. I love him and that experience is a huge part of my life. Has been for… going on 15 years now. Wow. The time seems subjectively so much shorter. My longest intimate relationship over a lifetime. He’s stuck with me through an impressive assortment of circumstances and challenges. I’m grateful and… something else profound and heartfelt and joyful that I haven’t got a word for. Interesting. Maybe I can find the colors to describe it somewhere in my pastel case? lol

… I think it would be nice to get a short walk in, in spite of beating the sun to the trail this morning. I reach for my cane and my headlamp. It’s a good time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Do Not Disturb

September 24, 2024 //
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Well shit, yesterday went sideways abruptly after what had been a very pleasant day. Tempers and hurt feelings flared. Perspectives on individual experiences clashed. Unmet and unstated needs collided with the force only human emotions can create in such a short time. “Unpleasant” doesn’t even begin to describe it. I said things that were incredibly hurtful and will be difficult to apologize for adequately, if that’s even possible (and I am ashamed of having lost my temper so severely). He said some terrible things I can’t unhear. We hurt each other’s hearts – and the appalling thing about it is that we are each the person the other turns to for love, support, understanding, care, consideration… all the things. The person we hurt so deeply is our fucking partner.

… I didn’t sleep much last night…

Even after things calmed down and some sort of apologies were offered, the pain lingered. I went to bed unhappy. I don’t doubt he did as well. The house was quiet when I woke. My heart was heavy. Still is. Can we come back from this? Tears well up with the question every time it crosses my mind. I behaved appallingly.

I make my Traveling Partner’s morning coffee, put out a fresh glass of water, and a glass of iced tea, with a couple of fig bars to start his morning when he wakes. I hope he sees these things as the gesture of love I mean for them to be. I can’t imagine my life without him…

I’m not sure how we got to “this place”, and I sure don’t want to stay here. I remember a very different “us”, even quite recently (although it’s hard to stay mindful of how recent it was and that these changes are the result of injury, infirmity, and legitimate struggle, that truly will pass). I can do better. I’m confident he can too, and even that he means to. The medications he’s on make him more volatile and less clearheaded (no less so while he tapers off). The pain and fatigue I’m struggling with shorten my fuse and I rather stupidly try to avoid burdening him with information about my condition (that he actually needs to know to do his best to support me as much as he is able).

… I failed us both last night…

Fuck. The refrains of annoying 70’s break-up songs play on a loop in my thoughts. I snarl back at the unwelcome “programming”. I push them aside, because the feeling of hopeless and wistful futility that wells up is really terrible. I put on actual music (grateful for the technology that puts it within reach). The most positive thing I can think of for the circumstances… The Monkees, “A Little Bit You A Little Me”. Nailed it. I listen to Davy Jones singing words that remind me of my partner’s own pleas for me to “talk it out”. There’s wisdom there and hope. Don’t we deserve that for – and from – each other?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The path isn’t always smooth. I’m still glad we’re walking it together – I’d be pretty spectacularly lost without my Traveling Partner. I hope he still feels the same about me.

We’re in this together.

There are apologies and amends to make. Work to do, and to do better. My results clearly vary… And I need more practice to become the person I most want to be. I’ve got to begin again. I hope he’ll continue this journey with me.

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Categories anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Frustration, grief, health, loneliness, Love, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5

The Feels

September 20, 2024 //
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I’m sitting quietly, waiting for the sun. I’m sipping an iced coffee, feeling mostly grateful, and mostly in love. Life (and love) has its ups and downs. Aging has the benefit of bringing a bit of perspective, maybe some wisdom, but…it also kinda sucks, fairly often. This mortal sack of flesh feels like a trap as often as it behaves as a useful tool. Maybe that’s my headache talking?

I’m feeling vaguely nostalgic this morning, yearning for a “simpler” time that frankly doesn’t actually exist for me. Those recollections of bygone simplicity are bullshit – fragments of experiences that were far less simple than memory suggests, and far more complicated. Memory, in my experience, is much less nuanced than the lived experience in the moment.

I think about walking the cobbled streets of old Augsburg in the 1980’s… My memory lies to me about what a time it was. The reality? Mental illness was overtaking me, I lived in terror due to domestic violence, and I was fraught with constant anxiety (both personally and professionally). The shopping in Augsburg was great. The people were friendly. The climate was delightful. The holiday market was splendid and the cafes were amazing. So… what is “really true” about my time there? Was it grand or terrible? It’s hard to say. Sometimes I miss Augsburg.

My mind wanders to Fresno. What a very different time in my life. I worked my ass off in construction – but only half of the year, generally. The money was good while the work lasted, each season, but I was trading my health for those dollars one brutal hour at a time and struggling to make ends meet between jobs. I was wracked with constant anxiety and being stalked by my ex. I was living a life of unsustainable extremes – the delights were too delightful, the lows were dangerously low. My self-care… wasn’t care-ful. I was “using myself up” without really understanding the consequences of my choices. I cultivated some amazing (lasting) friendships. Because of those friends, many of whom are no longer in Fresno, I still sometimes miss Fresno in spite of, well… Fresno. lol

My mind wanders to “the woods” at the end of the street where we lived when I turned the corner on childhood and began the painful journey through adolescence. I ran the paths through those woods so many times. Walked them on quiet days seeking peace and solitude. I sat among the trees in the summer heat, listening to the trickle of the creek that flowed through the woods and the buzzing of insects. …I was sexually assaulted there. Somehow, I still remember those woods with great fondness (and, to be fair, the trees themselves were in no way responsible for me being raped).

Funny how nostalgia tries to “tidy things up”. Life – reality – is more complicated than that. Understanding (and accepting) the complexities of life is useful for healing. I can choose to hold on to, and savor, all the beauty and splendor of this mortal lifetime, and set aside the pain (mostly), and learn to bounce back, to let go, and to learn what lessons I can. I can savor the precious memories. I can experience gratitude for the wonders I’ve seen and the love I have experienced. I can reject the darkness and refuse to let it own me.

Nostalgia is weird and complicated. I sit with the good feelings, occasionally stumbling on some painful recollection that finds its way into the mix – like stubbing my toe on a pleasant walk. It’s weird, unexpected, and momentarily distressing. I breathe through the painful memories when they come; they’re part of my life, and I am the woman I am today because life is so much more complicated than a beautiful memory. There’s more to my story, more to my journey, than beautiful sunrises.

I sigh and sip my coffee. Daybreak comes with a hint of orange low on the horizon. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This? This is a lovely pleasant moment, and I am enjoying it. Quiet time well-spent on self-reflection and a bit of nostalgia. I don’t read too much into it. This too shall pass. Moments are brief. Change is. It feels like time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, loneliness, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Sh1t Gets Real

September 18, 2024 //
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It’s a rainy morning. It was only a hint of a drizzle as I left the house, but here at the trailhead it is a steady rain. Still, I wait for the sun; this is my quiet time and I am alone with my thoughts. I probably need to be. We are mortal creatures and bad news weighs on me a bit. I use the time to process my thoughts, emotions, and the content of my dreams.

Sitting with the questions, and the feelings, waiting for the sun.

Yesterday evening was “stormy” – emotional weather. As strange as it seems (to me), I feel rather more hopeful about the future after the frankly painful discussion with my Traveling Partner, and my lingering concern that it was potentially somewhat one-sided in a way that could prove problematic later. Having the conversation at all feels like progress, and I am grateful that my partner insisted on bringing it up and following through on it.

I slept well and deeply. I woke from strange chaotic dreams of death, dying, and traumatic change – but my dreams lacked any particular amount of emotion and seemed more typical of “corporate training videos” than nightmares. I woke with Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us” in my head, and the recollection of my partner saying “it’s mixed really well”, and my own thought that this is also so true of life. It’s “mixed” really well; there’s a lot going on, and somehow events seem to flow one to the next in a progression that generally makes some sense. Strange wake up.

I spent the drive to the trailhead thinking about love and partnership – and mortality. Uncomfortable thoughts about healing and change, growth and failure, and the all too limited time we have to be and become, filled my head as I drove. Finding real true abiding deep love is no easy thing. It takes so much more than happenstance. Sustaining that love if we’re fortunate enough to find it, (particularly if we’re traumatized wounded fancy fucking monkeys askew with chaos and damage), is this whole other journey of hard fucking work, and a commitment to vulnerability and change that a lot of us just can’t bear to contemplate at all. Doing it? Fuck that shit. It’s too hard. Isn’t it? So hard. But I’m here, still, and I want to be here, traveling life’s journey with this singular extraordinary human being who I love so dearly. Bumpy bit of path, this, that’s all. There’s real work involved. No room for complacency. No time for coasting on what once was.

We talked a long while yesterday evening. I cried a lot, while trying not to cry at all. He yelled some, out of frustration with not being heard, while trying not to raise his voice at all. A lot of useful relevant things got said out loud, maybe not for the first time, but taken as a whole it was worthwhile to hear them said. I listened a lot. I listened deeply. There’s no loss of love between us, but there is a lot of work to do. Seems like we both want to do the work, and it sounded like we have a shared idea of what the outcome could look like. Progress. I keep thinking about it.

Grief comes up. He soothes me best he can. Pain comes up, we do our best to commiserate gently and comfort each other. We talk about loss, and mortality, and open up about our fears. It was an intimate and connected conversation, although painful and emotionally difficult. I’ll probably be thinking about it for awhile. I probably won’t share more of/about it than I have. Too personal. Too…real.

… Seems like the sun is taking its sweet g’damn time coming up this morning…

I sigh to myself. Good morning for thinking and meditation. Good morning to begin again.

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, grief, health, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Surfing the Wave

July 18, 2024 //
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Yesterday went sideways fast, mostly a byproduct of pain (mine, and his), and associated emotional volatility. Mine. His. It sucked and generally speaking the entire day was pretty much wrecked by it. Oddly, from an outside perspective, apparently, the details of the day amounted to “a great day” characterized by numerous successes, but the emotional qualities of the experience were wildly out of touch with any of that. Being human is complicated sometimes.

As bad as the day seemed, generally, it began and ended well. Not my usual experience, and it seems (on reflection) somehow associated with the addition of the Anxious Adventurer to the household dynamic. Interesting. Looking back on the day it “doesn’t seem so bad”, but good grief I am glad it’s behind me and I am hoping for better today. I’m in less pain… A promising start.

Here comes another opportunity!

I hit the trail just at daybreak. The morning had a slight chill to it that felt refreshing. The sunrise began as a smudgy streak of a reddish hue, like a wound becoming infected. The air was still, and hazy in the distance. My tinnitus was far louder in my ears than the sound of distant traffic. I walked along, listening to my own steps, thinking my solitary thoughts.

…10 days until my coastal getaway…

The case I purchased to hold, protect, and transport my pastels arrived yesterday and I took a moment to put the delicate sticks of colorful pigments into their new home. No more small boxes – just one tidy case. I’m delighted with the result, and feel more prepared for my upcoming trip to the coast to paint. I sit at the halfway point of my walk, thinking about art, love, and inspiration, and watching the sun rise. The work day will begin soon enough, and I’ll turn my thoughts to work when it does. For now, my time is my own.

I’m looking forward to the weekend, though it seems likely to be quite a busy one. I’ve got a number of boxes set aside, filled with small objects and items quickly packed and moved out of the way to make room for the Anxious Adventurer. Now that things are settling down, it’s time to take a closer look, to dispose of what lacks value, to display noteworthy curiosities and decorative things, where space permits, and more carefully pack those things worth keeping but for which the time is not now. Then whatever boxes there are will go to storage for a while. It’s a process that can be a bit emotional, and although I am not dreading it, I’m also not looking forward to it.

I breathe exhale and relax. The sun is deep luminous orange as it rises above the horizon. I save my draft and turn back up the trail. The sunrise dazzles my eyes as I walk through the oaks.

Don’t stare into the sun!

The air is already warming up. I’m thinking about coffee and new beginnings, and change. I’m feeling pretty good this morning, aside from the headache that accompanies me most days.  Getting to the car, I sit on a nearby picnic table to finish my writing, change my boots for softer shoes, and sit for a moment, just being. I watch the sun through the trees and contemplate how I would compose the scene on paper and how that might work in pastel. Old thoughts, new medium.

…Fuck, my tinnitus is so loud. I make a point to listen to myself breathing, which helps “put the tinnitus in perspective” and anchor my awareness to externally audible sounds.

…My Traveling Partner pings me…

It’s hours later. My plans were upended pretty quickly. My morning walk had served to give my partner a bit more time to get the rest he needs, but the Anxious Adventurer has his own routine, and his own work hours, and his own plan, and my partner was awake earlier than he’d hoped, with no likelihood of getting more rest if I were to be working from home, as I’d intended. It was early enough in the morning to make a change, easily, with no particular stress and I offered to do so, and hastened home to grab my laptop and head to the office. It’s nice to have the option. My day ends up starting a bit later than I planned, which means it will end later than I’d like, but if my Traveling Partner gets the rest he needs, it’s a win for both of us.

…The necessity to begin again comes in a lot of forms. The willingness to make a change based on circumstances is a useful first step. Then, by beginning where I actually am, I can proceed to the next thing, the next need, the next plan… the next moment. So far, it’s still a lovely day – and all I had to do was begin again. 😀

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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