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No Card, No Gift, No Flowers

February 14, 2023 //
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Oh, hey – Valentine’s Day again. lol My thoughts on this day are complicated…

2013 – How about I be my own Valentine? (oddly my most popular post of all time)

2014 – (Love is) Enough Already

2015 – A Little Matter of Sufficiency

2016 – Love’s Magic Mirror

2017 – It’s Okay to Love

2018 – Happy VD!

2019 – Let It Go (not even about Valentine’s Day)

2020 – Press Pause (also not actually about Valentine’s Day)

2021 – I just didn’t even write, at all

2022 – It’s Got a Good Beat (actually written the day after Valentine’s Day)

Some years I’ve spent Valentine’s Day alone. That hasn’t been a problem for me. Other years I’ve enjoyed the companionship of friends, or in the embrace of a lover, or with my Traveling Partner. In the abstract, I enjoy the idea of a holiday celebrating sexual and romantic love very much. I still think it is super weird that card giveaways by multitudes of school children have anything at all to do with that. Just seems wildly inappropriate to mix all those things up together, is what I’m saying.

Last night my Traveling Partner looked over at me, “I didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day” he observed with a somewhat regretful tone. “I didn’t get you anything either.” I replied, rather matter-of-factly. I immediately felt that perhaps I should have – although most years we haven’t done anything much about Valentine’s Day besides love each other. Last year was unusual – fairly spectacular, honestly. This year I made plans to make a really nice dinner for the two of us, nothing exotic, just good cooking. I am even counting on myself not to be shy about romance and instigating some adult fun after work. My anxiety can sometimes get in my way, and the awareness of it alone can provoke it, but I’m feeling good about myself and the day, and my partner, and love generally, so… I have hopes for a pleasant evening of companionship, love, and romance. Expensive gifts are not a requirement.

It hits me out of the blue; intimacy needs presence not presents. I could have taken the day off and spent it in the company of love. Fucking hell. How is this only now something I think of? I make a reminder on my calendar in the distant future – a year away, minus a couple weeks, “Get Valentine’s Day Off!!”. Along the way, I notice the long weekend coming up with unexpected relief and delight; I apparently thought ahead to planning Friday off in advance of the 3-day President’s Day weekend. Damn, I hope I don’t blow it with my bullshit… we could really use a lovely long weekend spent enjoying each other’s company.

“Lovers” 1991

Love takes work. Not one day of cards, flowers, gifts, and chocolates – real work, every day. Real commitment. Real consideration. Real respect. Real caring. No faking it with love, either. Love sees through fakery pretty easily, in spite of all the “love is blind” shit we hear. Love can be hurt. Love can be damaged. Love can even be destroyed – how tragic that is! I take a breath, and think about love. I sigh out loud in this quiet space, and remind myself how many delightful wonderful experiences still take some effort, or some practice, to really “get it right”. I think about love for a few minutes, just sitting here smiling and sipping my coffee.

…I’m fortunate to be so well loved…

“Cherry Blossoms” 2011

I yawn and stretch, and watch the dark of night give way to the pale blue gray of a wintry dawn. I think about my Traveling Partner, still asleep at home, unaware of the snow that fell during the night. I hope his dreams are pleasant. I think back on all the things he’s done to make life better for us over the past couple of years since he moved back in with me… it’s been, what, about 4 years? December 2018, I think…? Wow. We’ve come so far together in such a short time. 😀

I sit here just smiling for awhile, thinking about this human being I love so dearly. I think about yesterday’s bit of writing, and better ways to demonstrate my affection day-to-day…

…It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Art, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, Love, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Big 5, Words

Building a Model

February 12, 2023 //
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Imagine trying to build something you’ve never actually seen and don’t have a detailed description of. It would be predictably quite difficult, wouldn’t it?

What does a great relationship actually look like, for real? Not “what is perfect “, because that’s not a thing. Certainly not whatever the fuck the dizzying fantastical first 6 months of passionate certainty that “this is for real love” is (although the vibes of new love are amazing, that rarely seems to last beyond a year or two at best). I mean that spectacular, deep, reliable, hilarious, fond, and comfortably intimate love that develops (for a lucky few) and deepens over time – what does that really look like? What are the rules? The guiding principles? The obvious necessary practices that sustain the energy of adult love over decades?

There are relationship books aplenty. I sometimes find some useful tidbit or practical suggestion in such books, but rarely more than that. There are therapists who specialize in relationships and family therapies, and no surprise there are plenty of relationships and families that need help. But what does a healthy relationship even look like? For real? (And who said so?)

I am for sure no expert. My early-life relationship models were all absolute train wrecks of relationships, shitty experiences if not explicitly abusive. So… of course, I do find “getting it right” quite difficult, even after years and years of therapy, and a couple “do overs” (I’m on my 4th long-term relationship). My relationship with my Traveling Partner is by far the best and healthiest romantic relationship I’ve ever had, free of violence, free of intentional mistreatment, with it’s foundations clearly based on a deep and lasting affection for each other. It’s still a relationship with me in it, though, and I’ve got issues. I could definitely “do better”.

partnership

Hold on a minute… No, I’m not missing the point that there are two of us here and we’re both very much responsible for the quality of our relationship. I write about my life from my own perspective, and it would be both an injustice and also beside the point to make statements about what he could be doing about things; that’s for him to handle. I’m accountable for my own thinking and behavior, and making changes is within my hands. My work. My practices. Reasonable for me to discuss. I can’t do those things for him, or on his behalf, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to be making assumptions about his thinking, or what he “needs to do”, and it is an opinion of mine that attempting to do so would be, at best, ineffective. So, I stay focused on me. What I can do. What I understand. Where I find value. What does or does not work for me.

“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details, 2012

What do I want from love, and what does it require of me? Am I truly up for it, once I am confident I understand what it takes? These seem like important questions to ask and answer, preferably before getting all tangled up in a relationship based on love. My Traveling Partner and I have been together 13 years. In May, we’ll have been married for 12 (seriously?? where has the time gone…?!). Here I sit, though, thinking about love over my morning coffee, and wondering whether my expectations and understanding of love are… realistic.

What do I think a “healthy relationship” looks like? I listen to a drenching rain pounding the roof overhead and think about it. I think (for me) a healthy relationship would be characterized by:

  1. Mutual respect
  2. Mutual consideration
  3. Mutual encouragement
  4. Mutual support
  5. Shared values
  6. Compassion
  7. Clear expectation-setting
  8. Clear communication without mockery, contempt, or condescension
  9. Skillful listening
  10. Equitable distribution of labor

I read that list back to myself, thoughtfully. If this is what I want, myself, how well do I deliver on these qualities in my own relationship, right now? I think about the “wins” with some satisfaction… I probably do very well at … 4 of these. Fucking hell. Really? That’s it? 4 out of 10? 40%?? So… yeah. A failing grade. Altogether fairly shitty. Wow. I will admit I did not see that coming, as I wrote… I’m betting my Traveling Partner won’t be particularly surprised.

I’m now understanding a bit better some of his beefing about “us”… and I am a bit saddened by it. I’m also feeling… encouraged and hopeful. Easier to practice something when I’ve got a clear idea what success looks like. Keeping the list limited to practical qualities that would appear to build and support a healthy relationship instead of listing desirable results seems to have had the intended outcome, too; I can see more clearly where I miss, and what I can work on for best long-term results over time.

I find myself wondering what my Traveling Partner would say characterizes a healthy relationship? I wonder how he would score his success? I sip my coffee thoughtfully…

Looks like a lot of fucking verbs in that list. A lot of practices to practice. …And a lot of changes to make. As daunting as that seems, it does put a lot of control over the outcome in my hands. I’ve just got to do the verbs. Practice. Recover from my failures. Savor my successes.

…I guess it’s time to begin again.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Big 5, Words

Icy

December 24, 2022 //
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The winter storm hit so precisely on time, here, that I marveled at how far the science of meteorology has come just in the years I’ve been alive and aware of weather forecasts being a thing on the news. Amazing. I did what I could to be prepared, and my Traveling Partner did his part to ensure that shopping lists were complete with various things he might also want or need, himself, as I ran a couple last minute errands. I got to my preferred grocery store – my last errand – and laughed; I was not alone in my desire to plan well for the home-bound holiday. I’ve never seen that parking lot so full. Customers were cruising up and down the parking lot rows awaiting a space to open up, grabbing it, and doing what they could to get in and out efficiently. People were merry, cooperative, and respectful (well, except that person, you know the one – sitting there blocking the way waiting for someone to unload their groceries and back their car out, instead of driving on for the next opportunity the way everyone else was politely doing! There’s one in every crowd).

My Friday off yesterday was lovely, end to end. Well, almost. I ended up pretty cranky at the end of the day, for a few minutes before I went to bed. After dinner, I discovered the sink was clogged and alerted my partner (instead of randomly fucking with it and maybe making it worse). No panic, it was just a bit stressful, a bit gross, and totally unexpected – and I think we were both a bit worried it might be a frozen pipe. My partner set to work on clearing the clog, and we both hoped it would be “easy”… Nope. I offered to bail out the water to make things a bit less gross and maybe easier, and he accepted and pointed out there was a convenient empty bucket near the door on the deck. Sweet. I went to get that and… fell on my face trying to get back into the house. The deck, like everything else in our neighborhood, was completely and entirely iced over – as in, encased in a fairly thick layer of glossy clear ice, following some hours of ice-rain. I guess I’m not surprised. It was crazy slick and I lost my footing as soon as I hefted the weight of the bucket (which had a fat slab of ice in the bottom). I hit the ground with a thud, and knocked the wind out of myself. I couldn’t get back up – the icy deck was too slick. So, I pulled myself over the threshold of the patio door (still open) and once I could do so, pulled myself up, and brought in the bucket.

…An hour later, I felt like I’d been in a fucking fist fight, and I was bruised and banged up from hitting the deck so hard, and yeah, I was pretty cranky and in pain…

Anyway. The story isn’t really any more complicated than that. I bailed the water out of the sink. It wasn’t even a frozen pipe, just a proper clog because I’d somehow rather stupidly (apparently) put a wrapper from a stick of butter into the disposal…? (Why the fuck would I do that? I know not to do some dumb shit like that!!) My Traveling Partner cleared the clog in the morning, and all was well. We’ve been having a lovely day. He’s a proper charmer and we’re both feeling pretty merry. It’s not a fancy morning, although it is Giftmas Eve Day, just a day we’re enjoying together over shared content.

It’s a lovely holiday. I’m not sure that I’ve ever had better. It’s a modest one in comparison to some. Hell, I’d even say it is modest compared to Giftmases in some years that had no business being as lavish as they were in the first place. This one, though? There’s something really wonderfully special about it. It’s sweet, and wholesome, and loving – and rather amusingly practical in most regards. The stockings won’t be ridiculously elaborate, just filled with carefully selected chocolates. The food is good, carefully considered and prepared, and delicious – I’m eager to make tomorrow’s strip loin roast for Giftmas dinner. I’m gonna sous vide that sucker and then give it a reverse sear (on the grill if the ice is gone). There’s ice cream. Plum pudding. Cookies (I made shortbread and strawberry thimble cookies this year). Chocolates – including personal favorites I only buy once a year.

There are gifts under the tree, and the house is filled with love. The icy weather does nothing to diminish any of that. I smile to myself and feel grateful for my good fortune. I hope you and yours are warm and well and safe and merry. Enjoy it while it lasts – and maybe don’t look at the news for a couple days. 😉

Merry Giftmas. ❤

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Love, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, winter

Merry Giftmas Eve Day

December 24, 2021 //
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I “slept in” – for some values of that expression – and woke to a rainy rather mild winter morning. I made a point to go to the store one last time, yesterday, hoping to enjoy the entire holiday weekend at home without venturing into retail spaces at all. I made this excellent coffee which I continue to sip on, now. There is holiday music playing in the background, with a warm, cozy holiday café scene as a backdrop on my monitor. No children live in our home – I’ve still got NORAD’s “Santa Tracker” up, where I can see that famous fat man in red flying around the globe in a sleigh pulled by reindeer (somehow, it still “makes sense” to me that this is even a thing! lol). Giftmas at home.

So merry

…Giftmas. At home. So many moments lead to this one, now, and I feel content, merry, and wrapped in love. My Traveling Partner woke around the time I did. It’s a lovely morning. So far, every detail of the holiday is just delightful, and seems lavish and rich in keeping with childhood expectations of the season, without actually being costly, or built on unaffordable excess. It’s just… pleasant. We took a modest approach to the holidays this year to focus more on longer-term goals. You know that pandemic thing? Yeah, that’s still going on, too – so the thing we’d likely both like most to do more of, which would be socializing in various settings, maybe having a holiday dinner or a party, these are all things that are pretty much not on the menu for us. We’re still masking any time we go out (or answer the door), and practicing fairly strict social distancing – we’re definitely not ready to invite a mob of friends over to party. Not yet. Hell, we haven’t even had a housewarming party yet, or had my partner’s brother over (who lives rather close, a couple towns up the road).

…As content as I am to spend time alone, or with only my partner for company, I am also “feeling the pandemic” as it wears on, month after month. Funny how much life we’ve lived in spite of that, and how much we’ve gotten done. lol I miss friends, though. I take a minute imagining how much harder it may be on my partner, who is much more social. He’s pretty much stuck with “just me” for company day-to-day. I doubt that he finds that boring – but it probably gets super annoying, sometimes. Maybe lonely, too.

Holidays aren’t always so easy as this one. I feel fortunate, and grateful. I think about other Giftmases, some long past, some even quite horrible, others so magical as to become defining moments in how I celebrate the season, even to this day.

When I was a kid, I didn’t really “get” how much actual work my parents both put into making Christmases magical for us. I mean it was pretty hardcore stuff that I only learned later; late nights into the wee hours assembling various “some assembly required” items – like my first bicycle, one year. Mornings no doubt came far too early for them, with eager kids waking nearer to 5 a.m. than to sunrise. When we were little, even the tree itself was part of the magic; it sat in a bucket of water for a handful of days, on the porch, and I truly believed then that it was part of Santa’s work to put up the tree, and decorate it – because for a couple years (at least) that’s how it all went down; no tree when we went to bed, and a world transformed on Christmas morning. Wow. The wonder still saturates my memories. That is some difficult shit to live up to! LOL It’s no wonder my Mom’s first thought on Christmas morning was coffee.

One year, Santa deviated from his usual routine. I must have been around… 9? (Sisters at 6 and at 3 years then.) I woke early on Christmas morning – super early – and there was… something heavy on my legs. I quietly turned on my light and discovered my Christmas stocking was there, at the foot of my bed! OMG OMG! Santa had come!! I went to my parent’s bedroom and tried to wake my Dad and tell him… he woke only enough, and only long enough, to tell me to “go back to bed for a little while” and that I could open my stocking quietly, and enjoy that. “Santa must have known your Mom and I want to sleep in a bit.” (“Sleep in” my ass; they’d probably just barely dropped off to sleep at that point! LOL) So, I did go back to my bed, and crawled back into the warm blankets. I started joyfully exploring the sweets and toys in my stocking as quietly as I could; it was stuffed almost to bursting. My sister woke minutes later, and came into my room (seeing the light under the door, probably) and excitedly told me about their stockings, on their beds, too. I passed on the encouragement to enjoy those, in bed. I think we were all still happily playing, nibbling chocolates, and enjoying our quiet holiday when my parents woke later (still properly early, but closer to something like 7 a.m.). It was splendid! It happened that way every year after. For me, it made stockings singularly important to the holiday in a whole new way.

Thanks for the magic, Mom & Dad. I haven’t forgotten.

Santa’s flying over Pakistan, apparently. This cup of coffee is almost gone. The rain continues to fall. Merry Giftmas. Here’s wishing you the happiest of holidays, however you choose to celebrate.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, winter

This Headache – and That One

November 19, 2021 //
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I’ve got a headache. The usual. “Nothing to see here.” I’m also feeling aggravated, frustrated, and annoyed with commonplace (fairly ordinary) communication challenges with my partner. Right now, I don’t really know what to do with that, besides my very best to maintain a cool head, a calm demeanor, and a better than average attempt at “holding my tongue”. Allowing things to escalate, over something so incredibly petty, would not be a good demonstration of adult communication. So… okay. Working on that.

It’s not the communication itself, in these circumstances, that is petty – it’s very much the small shit that so easily gets out of hand, becoming a source of conflict. Manufactured conflict. Unnecessary conflict. Pointless conflict. It’s the sort of thing human primates are super good at. (Creating conflict, I mean.) I snarl quietly inside myself. I’m so completely fed the fuck up with human beings creating drama. I’m fed up with us/them bullshit arguments that are little more than territorial pissing matches, and ridiculous vortices of righteous anger and outrage used to justify terrible behavior. Unclear expectations. Untested assumptions. It’s not even about my partner, or our relationship in any direct specific way. It’s… all of us. People. “Society.”

It reaches me unavoidably through the limited media I consume, and even in the behavior of passing strangers on city streets, in unexpectedly crowded shops (“There’s still a pandemic going on, ya fuckwits.”)(I’m shopping, too.), and in parking lots. Most people think they’re right – about something. Mostly those same people are not actually “right” about the things they are so invested in being right about. They just have a fucking opinion. I’m no different. We’re each having our own experience – but we’re all human beings. We’re not very good at being our best selves. We treat each other – even our loved ones – pretty fucking badly, rather often. It’s incredibly shitty and I’m feeling cross just actually being a fucking human being, at all. We kind of suck, as creatures, rather a lot. We mostly don’t even make a fucking effort to be better today than we were tomorrow. I’m saddened by that.

A thoughtless harsh word, a moment of frustration or anger, of disappointment, or hurt feelings, and my whole experience feels colored by that moment. How is it that moments of intense joy don’t have similar impact, across an entire day or experience, in the same way? That seems unfair to me, sitting here right now. I feel chilly. The room is not cold; it’s me. I’m fighting back frustrated angry bullshit tears I don’t choose to indulge. My headache worsens with the effort of pure will at the end of a long day and week. I’m alone in this room, in this moment, because this is not about him. He’s got his feelings and experience, too; those are his. This? This right here is about me. Me, seeking to be and do my best, struggling with some things that are definitely not me at my best. Me, working to get over my bullshit and baggage, and manage my chaos and damage. Oh, I’m not being an ass to myself, and there is no cruelty here. I’m not being down on myself, but this is hard emotional labor, right here, and I need focus and concentration, and some quiet space to do it.

I practice being better than this petty moment of provocation. It’s just not very easy, as practices go. I love my partner. He’s earned my respect, and has my enduring affection. He’s my best friend. My lover. My Traveling Partner. My spouse. I’m still just fucking maddened by some of our small challenges, now and then. I’m sure he feels similarly. It can’t be easy living with me. I’ve… “got issues”. (Who doesn’t?)

I take a breath. Exhale. Relax. Let it go. Let all of it go. Just… breathe. I listen to the computer fan spin up, slow down, cycling as I type. I listen to the steady ring, chime, shimmer, and ping of my tinnitus, in the background, louder than any sounds from the other room. This too has started to become an impediment to good communication; I watch people closely when they talk to me to avoid missing an important detail. I often mishear things when I don’t see them spoken, like when I am walking away. It’s frustrating. Now and then it gives the impression I’m “not paying attention”.

I’d planned – considered? – writing something quite different, but the idea (which I really liked) was washed away by my irritation. Another bit of aggravation, this evening. I take another breath. I blow it out fiercely, childishly, crossly. I take another breath, and insist on exhaling it gently, without hostility or resentment.

My partner sticks his head in the door. He smiles and there’s so much love there. We’re in this together. “Still cranky?” he asks. Yeah, yeah I am – but it isn’t so bad. I feel very loved, and that matters more. Even when my head aches. Even when I’m cross.

…I guess I’ll just begin again. 😉

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Categories Allegories, anger, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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