Archives for posts with tag: mental-health
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Comfortable and Familiar

July 29, 2013 //
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The morning was lovely; calm, centered, friendly conversation between lovers, practical and affectionate, supportive and tender. My day starts very well, today. It feels wonderful, and comfortable.

As I walk to work I find myself thinking of what is comfortable, and what is not; recognizing as I walk that some of the most uncomfortable things are on our path to growth. This is not an original thought. It has been pointed out to me by teachers of great wisdom, as well as by very wise teachers, and the most humble of friends, too. Struggle is part of our human experience, as are change, and ideally, growth. I’m thinking about these things because yesterday sucked on a level of sucking that was both remarkable, and tediously, unforgivably, like an oft-watched re-run; in spite of knowing all the dialogue, and the eventual outcome, it plays out from the moment the opening theme is played, until the last name listed in the credits rolls by, and the commercial break begins, simply because I do not choose to change the channel. I could be angry with myself, this morning, because it was what it was. I am choosing differently, and hoping that the choice makes a change.

I observe as I walk that my jeans, are very comfortable – and worn. They drag the ground a bit, and the hems have frayed completely away at my heels. They are spattered here and there with paint, and worn in places from specific work, or play. They no longer fit, having become too large as I close in on my weight and fitness goals. My shirt, too, is soft and comfortable, worn and broken-in, as favorite things so often are. It is also too big now. I feel relaxed in my clothes – they barely embrace me, due to the loose fit and I feel somehow very free. I continue to contemplate what is comfortable, and as I muse about my comfortable clothes that do not fit, tears begin to fall while I walk, and I am thinking about other things that no longer fit, however comfortable they may be; out of date coping mechanisms, long-since toppled poor assumptions, defense strategies to protect me from attacks that don’t happen in this life (or this partnership), a personal narrative based on what is ‘acceptable’ rather than ‘what is’, misplaced commitment to values I didn’t actually choose, or no longer share…other things, too, but these are obvious and I’m still not finished with my coffee. My tears fall as I walk, and I consider how much there is that ‘doesn’t fit anymore’ and what to do about that…recognizing that what will fit nicely in the future may not be very comfortable initially. I think of a favorite pair of combat boots from some lifetime before this one. I trudged along uncomfortably for many days, and uncountable miles, before those boots felt comfortable…I wonder if growing up feels that way, too? Will I ever be ‘a proper grown up’? Will my broken brain allow that, or will there always be bits and pieces that don’t quite fit, and things that don’t quite work?

Comfort…discomfort…change…continuation… I admit to a bit of fear and confusion. I would like to have a map, a Sherpa  a firm plan that leads neatly from starting point to destination… instead I find myself quite alive, and life seems to be rather chaotic and messy, and all sorts of trial and error, and damned little certainty. So, instead, I am determined in my studies of life and love, and hoping to learn the formula for turning discomfort to comfort, and fear to wonder…finding life’s ‘comfortable jeans’ would be a nice thing…to feel ‘free’…

some metaphor about growth...

some metaphor about growth…

Yesterday is behind me, completed, filed, available for later review. Today is an entirely new experience.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships

That’s Neither Here, Nor Hair

March 7, 2013 //
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I’d like to have a caution sign for the inside of my bedroom door. One of the safety yellow ones seen at the roadside for any number of upcoming hazards, and I want it to have one of those crazy squiggly road symbols for dangerous curves, and a falling rock symbol, and also a symbol for potholes. At the top, I’d expect it to say ‘Caution’, as most of them do, and perhaps at the bottom ‘Life Ahead’. Frankly, I could probably use a quick reminder every day before I head out into the world and get hung up on some ‘obstacle’ that isn’t actually an obstacle at all, but more of a lesson. 🙂

Short night last night, and a good morning anyway. Stayed up a bit past my ‘bell-curve bedtime’ watching a movie with my partners. Totally worth it. Lost a little more sleep to the happy sounds of life and Love, before my awareness distilled to a few moments of self, then dissipated to dreaming. Also, totally worth it.

This morning I am still turning over the Conundrum of Hair. I put it in capital letters to highlight the experience that this relatively simple question has come to serve as an interesting life lesson about decision-making and taking care of me. I mean, seriously? I’m talking about whether or not to get a hair cut – not exactly life-changing stuff, as changes go. I keep turning it over in my mind, trying to figure out not only what I want (for an outcome) but also learn more about my decision-making challenges in general.

I grew up hearing ‘Do something, even if it isn’t right!’ as an oft-repeated instructional slogan intended, I think, to foster a high level of productivity, initiative, motivation, and, oddly, effective decision-making (defined only as ‘making a quick decision and acting on it).  I learned it, and became an adult quite capable of making very bad decisions very quickly, and firmly, and taking prompt action on them – but I did not also learn to make the best possible decisions, only quick ones. lol. Life needs a bit of both, I’ve learned.  Often the decisions I’ve made quite slowly, over time, with a lot of consideration, and some false starts and mind-changing, plan-changing, or self-changing have been more worthwhile. I was taught a lot of disrespect for ‘dithering’, ‘vacillating’, and ‘being indecisive’. Funny how complicated these things have made deciding whether or not to cut my hair! Watching the process unfold both as an observer and as a participant is interesting, itself, and I’m finding value in taking a step back and asking myself some new questions.

I asked myself why am I considering getting my hair cut short right now? Why is the idea of getting my hair cut short – very short – scary? (I’ve had very long hair all my adult life) What does having all this long hair mean to me? What does the hair itself represent in my experience? Does the experience of having long hair have any intrinsic value? What about the experience of having long hair do I value? Am I willing to give that up to experience having short hair? Do I actually want to do this? Is there any other reason to cut my hair short besides ‘because I want this’? I’ve been turning these questions over in my mind a lot. “Long hair is sexy.” Yep, sure is – but so is short hair, because ‘sexy’ isn’t a hair style.  “I like the feel of my lover’s hands in my hair.” Mmm, yes, yes I do.  Does sensuality end with a hair cut?  That’s clearly not the case, since tons of men have short hair and don’t seem to lack for sensuality. “I won’t look like me.” Um…I am not a hair style. lol. “You can’t tell me what to do!” Somewhere inside I still feel the helpless anger and resentment of being controlled, in the memory of having to get a short hair cut because it was too much work to keep long hair neat when I was a child – it’s way past time to let that baggage go. lol.  I have a memory of crying to my father about a short hair cut I didn’t like…I must have been quite young…I remember mostly the feeling of hot tears spilling down and wailing “Daddy, I’m so ugly! I won’t be sexy – I look like a boy!!” and my father’s amused reply “Baby, there’s nothing about you that looks like a boy.” Well, at 49 and with the curves I’ve got, there’s sure no way to mistake me for a boy! lol “My partners like my long hair.” Ouch, that’s more difficult than I want it to be…sure, some people really like long hair, find it sexy, enjoy seeing it, touching it, and it may be part of how they see someone they love…but it’s just hair; it is not identity.  One of my partners is presently letting his hair grow longer after years of wearing it short. It’s sexy both ways – because he’s sexy; it’s not the hair. He looks different than he did with the shorter style; he is still himself. AND, although when he considered growing out his hair, he did mention it, and discuss it, and ask me what I thought, he did not ask for my permission, or make it about my needs or desires when he made a choice to change-up his look. Oh, ok, so that wasn’t really that difficult, after all. LOL 😀

Every internal objection, each moment of resistance, all the arguments from any angle are so easily knocked down when I am calm, centered, and willing to be compassionate with myself about old hurts, baggage, and internal weirdness.  So, now it comes down to what it really comes down to – is this what I want? Does it meet my needs over time? I still have not decided…and there’s no need to rush.  Now it is just a hair cut.  😀

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Turning 50, women, Words

What’s It Worth To Ya?

February 19, 2013 //
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A couple observations about ’emotional budgeting’:

  1. The most valuable thing I can build today is a better relationship with someone I love.
  2. The most expensive things I can break are someone’s heart, or someone’s will.

We each have limited resources… our choices matter today, and every day. I hope mine are wise today, and add value to my life and relationships, and enhance my experience in both meaning and quality. When I make mistakes, I hope I learn and grow from them, and have the wisdom to try something different next time.

 

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Categories Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Perspective, Relationships, Turning 50, Words

Calories, Cookies, and Communication

February 18, 2013 //
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I believe I could still, to this day, easily eat an entire box of Girl Scout ‘Samoas’… but each one of those tasty temptations is 75 calories! A cookie just about 2″ across, with a hole in the middle… 75 calories. “One serving is 2 cookies.”. Huh. I believe, in practice, one serving is closer to one box. LOL. I enjoyed the two cookies, one serving, entirely mindfully… tasting the sweet caramel-y flavor… noticing for the first time the slight wax-y quality… savoring the chewy goodness… no ‘will power’ necessary, apparently… it’s pretty easy to eat just two cookies, it seems, by doing nothing else but experiencing the cookies in that moment.  Interesting.  I wonder if I would similarly be satisfied with less sex if I were able to willfully savor each element of those experiences in fullness, also? Sounds like a very fun bit of theory to validate… would emotional experiences be more profound, more meaningful, or more ‘valuable’ if I really… did something different… and felt more of/about the feeling? I’m not sure at this point what I am attempting to express… something that feels very important. Language itself is getting the way of communicating.

Let’s talk for a minute about that – about language impeding communication. “Language functions by agreement.” I’m certain I am quoting someone…but when I google the quote, I don’t find it cited anywhere/when. Frustrating. I’m quite sure it is not my original thought. lol. It seems true enough, though, doesn’t it? As logical propositions go, it’s hard to argue with productively. When we don’t have a shared definition of terms, it’s pretty easy for any two or more people to find themselves having very different conversations (and reaching different conclusions) than they – or some other participant, or audience member, may think they are having. Confusion and misunderstanding become easier (and more likely) than any real exchange of information, problem solving, or consensus building effort.

Let’s use those cookies as an example… If I say to a friend “I had a couple tasty girl scout cookies today.” and their understanding of ‘a couple’ is quite specifically ‘2’, and two cookies is what I had, then we obviously understand each other clearly. On the other hand, if I used ‘a couple’ more loosely, to indicate some ‘acceptably low number of cookies, not further specified’ and my friend understands me to mean ‘2’, and what I actually ate was an entire box of those cookies, we no longer have a meeting of the minds on simply how many cookies I ate, or a number of later possible topics of conversation… like… weight-loss goals, and personal concerns about achieving them, or matters of self-control and the relative ease or difficulty of maintaining it… Hmmmm… someone important once suggested I use ‘simple, clear language’ to be more easily understood.  I see the wisdom of it… but damn, there are sooo many fancy lovely words… I’d hate to see all those wasted! 😉

It’s a Monday, time to move on from words to numbers… I didn’t get much sleep last night, and find myself now both fatigued and distracted by things more important to me, than to the world, but the work day is here and I’ve a limited window of reliable alertness ahead of me, and putting the focus on the work at hand is now the thing. It’s a good Monday, though, a good day in general. I am, for now, enjoying my experience.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Turning 50, Words

Be My Valentine? How about I be my own Valentine?

February 14, 2013 //
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Valentine’s Day is a strange sort of holiday in the US. Really the only holiday on our calendar that can be viewed as a fairly frank celebration of carnal and romantic love, it just isn’t about children, cherubs, deities, saints, religion – or even cards, flowers, or candy. It’s not. It’s about romance. It’s about sex. It’s about the erotic and sensuous in life and the things that excite us about Love. Oh, I’m sure there are pre-school children everywhere happily giving and receiving lovely red paper cards with cartoon characters, cherubs, or hearts on them, and no doubt people will give friends and parents, or even colleagues, cute cards of one sort or another with some sap-tastic message of affection, and in some years it seems history books and the internet all but eliminate any discussion of sex, let alone holidays that might be sexual… but seriously? Look again at that stylized heart, please? That’s pretty representative of female genitalia. That arrow? Huh. Don’t you think it is curiously suspect, and perhaps more than a little phallic? Sure, sure, hetero-centric obviously. If you’re willing to move past that with me, can we at least acknowledge that the messaging is predominantly sexual – and admit that’s totally ok? Why not have a holiday to celebrate how awesome sex is? My sexual identity, the meaning and value of my sexual experiences, are a large part of ‘who I am’. It would be nice, what with all the conservative right-wing anti-sex messaging, to have a more honest holiday celebrating sex… but as a culture we are clearly not there yet. (No doubt part of the price we pay for allowing Puritans to ‘found a nation’!)

I actually do ‘celebrate’ Valentine’s Day every year. It’s not about religion, or rituals, or necessity, or obligation. It’s not about Hallmark, spending money, or competitive gift giving. For me it is simply a day set aside on which I take a moment to express to my partners, individually, that they are precious to me as romantic sexual beings in my life, and that I value those qualities about them that make them sexy and exciting to me, qualities that feel good – qualities of emotion and elements of our sensuous experience together. This year, when I was writing the wee notes on the hand-sketched cards, I found myself in the midst of an eye-opening moment of self-appreciation… I was about to write ‘Be My Valentine’ on a card… it rang in my thoughts ‘Be Mine’… and although my consciousness quickly flashed through all the iterations of semantic weirdness that develop around that turn of phrase in a poly-amorous relationship, the thing that hit me hardest was… ‘what about me?’ (It wasn’t as hideously narcissistic as it may sound in the telling, now.)

I’ve been struggling a lot recently with some deeply meaningful personal challenges that are intertwined with deeply personal events in my life, troubling elements of my history, feelings of loss, anxiety, and fear, and trying to build healthy relationships while I destroy unhealthy bits and pieces of who I am, myself. Complicated self work and it drives a lot of difficult emotional experiences. A thought hit me last night, and I woke with something less half-baked and more of an epiphany this morning. On some levels, my life and experience really are entirely ‘all about me’ – and can’t be anything else.  It does matter to me when one of my partners is hurting through my actions, words, or choices – perhaps it has mattered too much. Their opinions, their evaluations, their judgements are still their own. I can’t own that, even if it causes me pain, and even if they are factually correct and reasonable in their view.  It’s my own opinion, evaluation, and judgement of myself and my actions, and choices, that must count most with me… or I face my life in constant pain, frustration, and disappointment, while lacking the potential joy in the good things about me that may go unnoticed by others. I’m the only one on the inside of my experience. I’m the only one who hears my words from within my thoughts, and the only one who truly knows my heart. I am the only person in my life who has been along for the entire journey.  I have been letting hurt – my own and my lovers’, come between my existence and my experience (that probably doesn’t convey what I’m trying to say…).  I love my partners.  Their hurts matter to me enormously.  Their insights into my strengths and weaknesses are valuable to me.  I have a great respect for what they share with me about their perspective on who I am, and what their experience with me is like for them… and this morning I actually understand that this doesn’t change that their perspective, and their experience, are not mine.  How very liberating this feels!

I’m 49. I am living an amazing life, filled with tragedies, triumphs, pain, fun, confusion, trauma, learning, joy, opportunities, chances, choices – both good and less so – and this wild ride is far from over.  I have an amazing – if slightly damaged – brain, and a creative drive that is astonishing to live with. I have a compassionate nature at this point in my life that causes me great joy, now, and great shame for the way I treated people when I was younger. I have some measure of wisdom, largely gained through profound errors in judgement and poor decision-making. I know how to cry, and I am also a woman of proven strength, will, and candor. I’m funny. I’m wordy. I enjoy the things that give me pleasure with a will to surrender to those moments that most people don’t seem willing to explore. I grieve the things that hurt me most with a frightening level of abandon, and a clear lack of control, that scares me. I am a reasoning, free-will adult with decades of experience. I am sometimes a child, still too eager to please.  I am sexy… stronger than I know, and always when I need it most… prepared for more things that I can list, and well able to plan for anything.  I love a lot of who I am.  How did I lose sight of that? Because someone I love got mad at me? Because I disappointed someone? Made some bad choices? I think this year, I will be my own Valentine – and love me for all the wonderful things I do for me, how well I have survived thus far, and the amazing potential I have in my future.

Happy Valentine’s Day. I don’t belong to someone else (neither do you!) – I think I will ‘be mine’.

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Categories Anxiety, Art, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, Words
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