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MIx ‘n Match

June 7, 2015 //
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I woke to a lovely summer morning, and enjoyed the sunrise filtered through the blinds of the front window, and the sounds of birdsong. I woke early, but not so early as to feel like a lack of sleep. I slept well and comfortably and woke with no new insect bites. It makes sense that the insect situation has improved somewhat; I am taking strong measures to ensure I am able to provide myself the best possible self-care: vacuuming every day, removing things from cabinets and replacing them differently (also improving how things are stored, and getting rid of stuff I don’t need in the process). I have stuffed gaps in screens, and around doors and windows with pyrethrum soaked fabric to prevent uninvited visitors (and tomorrow I will ask the management to replace all the screens with new ones that actually fit the windows sufficiently to function as screens). While spiders are busily reproducing in our region, I am also wiping down exposed skin with Deet – even when I know I will be indoors, and yes, even before I go to bed. I am also laundering my linens and changing them on the bed every day. It sounds ludicrous, I’m sure, but spiders don’t prefer spaces that are disturbed frequently, and the tiniest baby ones easily enter the house through gaps in poorly fitted screens – vacuuming every day does a better job of getting rid of those little ones than I could ever do by looking for them. I minimize my risk of additional bites even further, keeping my feet and legs well covered – socks and a tight base layer of wicking fabric, which has been working very well, although when the day gets warm I find myself grumbling. (I’d rather be wearing a sundress and going barefooted.)

I feel basically  moved in, but there is more to do and I use the spider abatement measures to also continue to get more moved in than I already am. I’m hanging paintings, sorting through historical paperwork, reconsidering items in my wardrobe that I just don’t wear, or that no longer fit, and refining storage solutions. It’s wonderful; I am creating order from chaos. 🙂 I am living my life.

I spent yesterday in the company of friends. Over the course of the day I enjoyed hanging out with a friend of many years (almost two decades) that I haven’t been seeing much of for a while. I also spent time with a friend whose association with me is less than a year, and with whom I connect very well. He enjoys some peculiarities of mine that are often seen as limitations or challenges in other relationships, an interesting and delightful experience.

Today I’d been looking forward to seeing my traveling partner, after he indicated he’d really love to see me, and hang out over coffee, and I was feeling less cross with the itching of the spider bites – but plans are not ‘actuals’ until they happen, and he woke up feeling ill. We postponed without hurt feelings or distress, and the day unfolds with chores, laundry, correspondence, and perhaps later if the day is not to hot, I may venture forth into the retail wilderness for a new bathing suit; the community pool opened yesterday, and I’ve lost enough weight that my old bathing suit hung off my body in a most ineffective and unsuitable way. 🙂  It will definitely be hot enough for a dip in the pool to feel quite nice, later today.

A lovely day to walk my own path.

A lovely day to walk my own path.

It’s a lovely summer day. There are choices to be made, most of them quite pleasantly practical. I can choose from chores that need doing, and from the fun things that I enjoy, and numerous nurturing self-care practices, and from the things that fit more on the list of opportunities to explore something new… It’s a pleasant Sunday with no firm agenda, and a good day to mix ‘n match from all the possibilities and enjoy the day gently. That will be enough. 🙂

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Love and Lust

June 5, 2015 //
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I woke in a good mood this morning, in spite of the challenges last night. I’m definitely settled in enough now to sleep easily and deeply, and through the night. That’s a big win. The worse my sleep is, and the longer I go on less-than-ideal sleep, the more the volatile I am, emotionally, and the less skilled I am at managing the routines and practices that build something I can count on as executive function – and trust me, having a disinhibiting brain injury throws some career curve balls, and the most loving partner will have a surplus of ‘wtf??’ moments with me. Good sleep matters a lot.

This morning I am smiling over my coffee, and the nice note from my traveling partner – he’s very understanding about rescheduling our possible hang out time this weekend. He’s no fool, and recognizes that the furious itching and whatnot of these [probably] spider bites will impact our time together, and not for the better. It feels good to set boundaries for myself more skillfully, and without rancor. It’s these easy moments that I feel his love, even at a distance.

Today the way ahead seems obvious and pleasant.

Today the way ahead seems obvious and pleasant.

I was reading an article that the FDA has approved ‘female Viagra’ for women suffering from low sex drive (who decides their sex drive is low in the first place?), and there have been brief periods in my life when my own rather unfortunately robust sex drive dropped off (usually because the partnership I was in was a sex drive killer emotionally, or because I was on medication that affected it). For me, personally, the issue of sex drive hasn’t been one of a deficit at all. I have a disinhibiting brain injury – trust me, there’s no shortage of sex drive – and on top of that, an early life sexual trauma history that tends to result, as a package, in sufficiently high sex drive to have negatively affected most of my relationships over the course of a lifetime. The big driver in my lifelong lack of monogamy has been my sex drive. Reading the article, I couldn’t help wondering how many women will take this new medication, increase their sex drive, and find themselves faced with partners who don’t want the same amount of sex? There’s this strange myth lurking out there in some corners of the world that women don’t want as much sex as men do… that hasn’t been my experience, at all.

My high drive used to be an easy thing to deal with through my utter lack of monogamy. There was no shortage of willing folk to have some fun with. I’m in a weird place in life, now, with myself…at some point I lost interest in sex that lacks a good connection and authentic desire between willing equals. I can’t (and don’t care to) fake that. Now I’ve got this crazy sex drive, and the bar is set pretty high… It is not easy to imagine wanting to increase my sex drive from this place life. Hell, my sex drive was one of the things the VA used to justify putting me on powerful psych meds that were not actually appropriate for my issues. They didn’t actually reduce my sex drive, either. You know what kills my sex drive? Being treated poorly. lol

One thing I do find encouraging about the existence of a female Viagra, and it’s a pretty big deal; it implies acceptance that women want and need sexual fulfillment, too, and that it’s normal and okay to want more of what feels so good. That’s actually a very big deal in such a sex-negative culture, and a sign of real cultural progress. Now if we could just shift the cultural perceptions that older women, women with physical limitations, and very heavy women don’t want sex, or are not sexual beings, that would be amazing. At almost 52, I want sex as much and with as much fervor as I did in my thirties and forties – and way more than I did in my twenties. lol I not only want more – I’m way better at it. 🙂

Sex makes life sparkle - your results may vary.

Sex makes life sparkle – your results may vary.

It’s Friday, and the weekend is ahead of me. I will perhaps hunt down a wee allen wrench and finish hooking up the stereo. Saturday I will go to brunch with an old friend, and visit the Farmer’s Market. Sunday I’ll get some laundry done, and catch up on correspondence. An ordinary weekend, in an ordinary life; there are verbs involved, and sure – my results vary. 🙂

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Learning to Live with My Bestie

June 3, 2015 //
1

I slept well again last night. It’s wonderful. I definitely needed the sleep. By midday yesterday, after a great night’s sleep the night before, my body and mind were pretty certain sleep was the thing, and I wanted more than anything to go home at lunch time for a nap. 🙂 Instead, I went home for a sandwich and some yoga, enjoyed a walk in the fresh air, and got back to work. It was a long day, but a short ‘commute’ home – I was ‘in for the night’ by 7:00 pm , and by 8:00 pm I was fed, showered, and curled up under the covers teasing myself with the promise of reading for a while. I went straight to sleep and woke to an alarm clock I had fortunately remembered to set.

This morning, my pour over coffee is luscious, warm, and crafted according to my preferences. I didn’t have to ask, or compromise, or go out for it. I can count on me for a good coffee in the morning. I am learning how much I actually can count on me, for all sorts of things. The last two times in my life I have made an attempt at living alone were characterized by fairly chronic anxiety, insomnia, and poor decision-making, and like living with an ill-tempered child. This time is rather like an idealized version of living with my best friend. It’s still just me, here; I  have learned to treat myself fairly well. What matters most [to me] is clearer, and what to do about it seems more obvious [to me].

Although I am having my own experience, I am still a human primate; intimacy, connection, and contact are important to me. I thrive on love. Affection matters. Touch matters. Feeling valued matters. Being visible is a big deal, emotionally. Adjusting to how those things fit into this new context is taking some time, and firm adherence to good self-care practices; I rely on myself to take care of me almost entirely now. I’ve been here before, but this is my first shot at doing it skillfully, effectively, and achieving notably good results. I still want, need, and count on the positive interactions I enjoy with others to fill emotional needs for connection, and contact. I am a social creature, and even at my most reclusive I thrive when I enjoy close connections with others. There are, of course, verbs involved. My choices matter; interactions are not all equally valuable, or equally pleasant. My results vary. 🙂

Yesterday I went to the mail box after work, I’m not getting much mail here yet but I know bills and statements will be coming to this address now. There is a certain loneliness in an empty mail box, living alone. I opened the box…nothing. Oh, wait…there at the back…an envelope. I noticed happily that it appeared to be a real letter, and from someone dear to me. A ‘welcome home’ card! The handwritten note inside commented that she thought I might like to get some mail that isn’t a bill. I felt understood, valued, and loved. It was a nice moment. I am peculiarly sentimental about such things; I will keep the card for some time.

A smile came in the mail today, wrapped in a plain envelope.

A smile came in the mail today, wrapped in a plain envelope.

I still write letters on paper, and send cards, myself. I do it because of how I feel when I get one, at some moment when I am feeling distant, disconnected, or alone. A few minutes, the price of a stamp, the effort to address an envelope, and the consideration it takes to put the words together and follow them with a 🙂 and a signature are a small price to pay for the powerful moment delivered in a plain envelope. I find myself thinking about sending sweet notes, pictures, drawings and cards to my traveling partner – a sort of love delivery service. Living apart I do miss those small moments of connection, and finding new ways to connect over distance is something I consider often. (Consideration being one of my Big 5, this makes sense to me.)

In moments of great hurt or anger, I find value in letter writing, too, although of the sort I would not generally consider sending; there is clarity in seeing words on paper, and it can be a calming perspective, allowing me to take a step back from the moment, and see things through new eyes. I find writing a good self-care practice, generally, and the act of writing to an individual, about relevant things shared between us, can often soothe my heart in moments of hurt, or ease my anger or doubt, and sometimes helps me gain perspective or understand something better than I did before I saw it in words. I can’t point any fingers at my TBI on this one – I have no idea whether this is a shared experience that many people value, or unique to  me. I am learning to doubt ‘uniqueness’ on a number of levels. 🙂

There is power in our words. We choose them and express what we can. Our lies can affect someone else’s reality. Our anger can do real damage to someone else’s heart. Our lack of consideration, or disregard, can tear down a relationship. Our support and compassion can tear down walls. Our love can change someone’s mind, or heart. Hell, our love can change the world – it just takes a lot of it to overcome the chaos and damage. Even the words we direct at ourselves, in the privacy of our own minds, have enormous power over how we understand our experience, and how we experience ourselves.

I had observed, hanging out with my traveling partner over the weekend, that living alone I miss the welcome home greeting each evening when I get home from work. It’s a poignant moment these days; I unlock the door content and smiling, and there is this instant of pain when I step across the threshold into silence, alone. It’s a hard moment for me.  I wondered last night what I could do, myself, to meet that need. If words matter…can I throw words at the problem? Last night I explored that a bit with a sticky note in the bathroom, on the mirror, reminding myself of some task I didn’t want to forget…and at the bottom of the note I drew a wee heart, and added “You are loved, and thanks for taking care of this right away. You matter.” I had forgotten about it completely when I woke – and seeing it first thing made me smile in much the same way getting the nice card from my aunt did, last night. I don’t know that I have more to say about it, right now. It doesn’t quite rise to the level of a practice, but it was interestingly effective and thought-provokingly so.

I have plans to hang out with my traveling partner this evening after work. I am eager for the day to pass to get to that point; our time together is precious, and pretty wonderful. Living apart highlights the value of the time together, and small things stay small; we both put more into ‘now’, and appreciate the time together in a more willful way. It’s lovely. I don’t waste time wondering why it took living apart to feel this secure about love; I am content to act on what I observe, and I am eager to be in his arms, feeling the warmth of his flesh, and his smile.

I bloom when conditions are right, and in my own time. Don't we all?

I bloom when conditions are right, and in my own time. Don’t we all?

Today is a good day to enjoy the company of a ‘best friend’ I can count on every day, every moment, without ever wearing out my welcome [me]. Today is a good day to appreciate love and lovers, and the value of a hug, and a welcome home. Today is a good day to treat myself well, because it is the best way to treat me. Today is a good day to enjoy the journey.

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

A French Press and a Playlist

June 2, 2015 //
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This morning I woke, unexpectedly, at the sound of the alarm. I had called it a night fairly early, still feeling the fatigue of moving in sore muscles, and the effects of reduced sleep quality over many days. Last night, though, was different – I fell asleep pretty quickly, slept deeply, and through the night. I woke feeling like dancing. No kidding – I literally woke feeling like dancing. It matters [for me] that much to enjoy good quality sleep.

I put on water to boil and danced through “Happy“. I took my new French press down from its place in the cupboard and ground coffee sufficient for two cups and got it ready for hot water, and danced through “Uptown Funk” and “Turn Down for What?“. I added water to coffee, and used “Freek-a-Leek” as my timer, and danced through that, too. I poured my coffee, set it aside, and danced through “Goodies“, and “Anaconda” before sitting down to sip my coffee, and write – and let’s be honest with each other – to recover my breath. 🙂 This is the sort of morning that is hard to have without disturbing other members of a household – not everyone wants to wake up to a great beat and some bass first thing in the morning. Score one more point for living alone! lol

The  morning tends to remind me how much value there is in the quality of the music in my environment, and I find myself eager to get the stereo hooked up and test drive my speakers in this smaller space. I’ve been fussing over how hard they are to decorate around…but…that’s significantly eased if the issue is not about placement of a colossal monitor for watching movies… if it’s just about the music, that’s a game changer. I spent more adult years without a television than with one. Perhaps I can look at this challenge from a more useful perspective. 🙂

Perspective is a big deal. I easily wander from my intended path when I am distracted by lost perspective, or focused on a vantage point on circumstances that tells me only one part of a story, or obscures useful details. Moving into this small space that is entirely my own to manage and arrange is a powerful reminder that perspective itself is also about choices. I sip my coffee contentedly, enjoying the feeling of muscles warmed by exercise, and a heart uplifted by ‘a joyful noise’, and filled with the delight in the small decisions that make this space more me than not… Even in this endeavor, at least for now, there are more questions than answers. T.V. or no T.V? Microwave or no microwave? Which space-saving measures work for me? A few large paintings on the walls, or a lot of little ones? Rugs over carpet, or some other solution to cables or cords that may cross the floor? (Maybe I want to take the time to lift the carpet carefully, run the cords under it, and reinstall the carpet and also improve the lay of the carpet in the process? I have the skills to do it from a prior partnership.) Curtains over blinds? (Okay, okay – some of these have very obvious answers for me, personally  – I mean, hell yes there will be curtains over the damned blinds. lol The room doesn’t look finished to me without them.) You get my point, I’m sure – it’s the small things that make a space feel comfortable for me and reflect my taste.

Choices of all sorts - even choosing from the choices is part of the experience.

Choices of all sorts – even choosing from the choices is part of the experience.

This change in lifestyle is already having a lot of impact on my experience day-to-day, in powerful positive ways. I feel more myself, and this sensation is almost intoxicating, on a morning when I can wake up, turn the stereo on, and dance through my morning. 🙂

There are some eye-opening, horizon-broadening, perspective-enhancing, mind-opening opportunities on the path ahead…I see them on this map I have made with my choices. More verbs involved, sure, and I am eager to see the path unwind ahead of me. Small things (like room to live my own values) become bigger things (like room to paint) and change is; all that is needed from me is the power of my choices, and the result of my actions. Exciting.

Embracing this lovely moment is also a choice.

Embracing this lovely moment is also a choice.

Today is a good day to dance, and to choose. Today is a good day to accept what I love about me, and invest in those qualities without hesitation or doubt. Today is a good day for love – and I think I’ll have some of that for myself, from me, too. Today is a good day to enjoy the power of my choices.

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Categories Art, art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women

New Shadows, New Noises

May 27, 2015 //
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I got moved into my new place over the Memorial Day weekend. Movers came and went, and my travelling partner gave me a hand on moving day by taking a look around the house and spotting some things I missed when I carefully sifted through a shared household of more than two years, attempting to gently extricate myself and my household goods from the life I would be leaving behind. All that remains is to move my aquarium later this week. I am surprised at how much I miss my fish.

There was little sadness to it for me; it was a long time coming. I need space to paint, uninterrupted time to write and to meditate, and prefer to live in an environment of reciprocal courtesy, consideration, and shared values – or alone. I don’t cohabitate easily with others, and I am pleased to be at a place in life where choosing not to is quite acceptable.  I handled most of the move entirely alone, aside from the movers – that was eerie, and by far the most disturbing thing about the move was the peculiar way the household withdrew from me in the days prior to moving day. Aside from noticing it, though, there really wasn’t time to invest in that experience emotionally. There was too much to do to allow myself to be distracted by emotional bullshit or games.

In the nights leading up to moving day my sleep became disturbed and restless. Fatigue was a probable culprit in the few emotional moments I did struggle with on moving day. I’m still not sleeping deeply, or through the night, yet. It may be some time before I get to that place; there are new shadows, and new noises, and in the dim of night the shapes of things are no longer familiar. I’ve stubbed my toes several times, and my shins are black and blue from walking into things that are not where I expect them to be. I am in familiar territory here, and this will pass as my implicit memory of my living space improves over time. I am at least getting the rest I need, nightly, and I am not anxious when I am wakeful.

Simple beauty

Wild roses along a new path.

So…here I am…in my wee home, surrounded by paintings not yet hung, and silence – well, at least right now it is very still and quiet. It is just past 4:00 am, and the loudest thing I hear is my tinnitus. I woke around 2:30 am. Meditation didn’t ease me back to sleep. I am in pain, and although yoga helped relax me, and ease the pain, it did nothing to improve the odds of going back to sleep, tonight. I tried another strategy or two or three…and laughed out loud in the darkness when I realized that there was no chance getting up would disturb anyone else, now. 🙂 One luxury of living alone; my restless nights don’t mean a restless night for anyone else.

With so many things about living alone, so far, it is the ease that stands out. I have come too far to make assumptions that I will remain in a state of continuous contentment, or that I will never feel lonely, insecure or fearful. I have no expectation of perfect uninterrupted delight, or heightened satisfaction in all things. Assumptions and expectations hold so much potential to wreck a good experience, or to mislead me. I am content, for now, with simply being, and taking time to sort out who I am, and what I want and need from my experience of myself. I am enjoying the luxury of living alone, and I do so knowing I am quite human – there will be dark days, moments of sadness and doubt, and I will surely cry tears that I don’t see coming, sooner or later. I’m okay right now, though.

There is still a lot to sort out to get my new place in shape to paint without making a mess of things – and I’m eager to be painting again. Now that the move itself is behind me, it’s time to figure out new routines, and new self-care timing. Many of the cues and reminders I have counted on have been associated with shared experiences, or the behavior and activity of others. Hot flashes this morning remind me that I will have to rely on myself much more…and I obviously overlooked my hormones last night. I pause to drink water, take medication, and set calendar reminders and alarms. One miss is a mistake, and oversight – missing regularly, or chronically, would be a choice. Yep. There are still verbs involved.

I don’t enjoy living with most people, my traveling partner is a rare exception and I definitely miss him, often. I realized some time over the weekend, as I unpacked so many things that matter to me…I’d been missing me for a long while, too, and I am very much enjoying living with me, now. Right now, it is enough. 🙂

Sometimes the least familiar path is most promising.

Sometimes the least familiar path is most promising.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Roses, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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