Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness matters
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Invited to Dinner, Left With the Check

March 6, 2015 //
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One lovely day...

One lovely day…

Yesterday was exceptional.

Change is. Impermanence is. Human beings are human. We are each having our own experience. Fantastic days sometimes end with unpleasant emotional moments. I still slept. I woke to the alarm having slept through the night, once I fell asleep. My morning shower featured plentiful hot water. My coffee tastes good. I’ve got some uninterrupted quiet time for myself; morning yoga and meditation mellow me out before my brain attacks me with reminders of the unpleasantness the night before. I roll with it; more meditation.

The title isn’t literal; I don’t know people who would treat me that way in a literal fashion. I think the experience of being welcomed, then rejected later is probably relatively common. It feels crap-tacular, because rejection feels bad, and nothing more.  Rejection just doesn’t feel good.  Rejection feels even worse at the hands of loved ones, or people from whom we have any expectation of being supported emotionally. Delivering rejection to another person, though, is a useful tool for maintaining personal boundaries… Rejection from the receiving end, however necessary it may seem to the person delivering the blow, packs a huge emotional punch; we reliably take a step back from being rejected. Whether the moment of rejection seems unimportant to one person or another  isn’t relevant to someone else’s experience of the same moment.  Handled well, rejection is something small and we move on secure in the long-standing affection of the person asking for some space, or declining an invitation, or withdrawing from an affectionate moment, because that rejection wasn’t threatening in any larger sense; it probably still stung a little, and we let it go.

Delivering rejection with gentle courtesy and receiving it with gracious perspective are not the same skills. (For what it’s worth, I’ll observe that I lack skills in both areas, and this is not a blog post written from a place of hurt; it is a morning to consider where further growth may take me.)

It’s the ‘handled badly’ moments of rejection that devastate me, more often than not: the terse or angry words, the unexpected rejection, or the abrupt withdrawal of affection. I don’t doubt at all that I am perceived as stronger than I truly am; I know how I feel on the inside when I feel rejected, and I seriously doubt anyone who loves me would want me to have that feeling.  I am also much stronger than I understand, myself, because as dreadful as rejection feels – it is totally survivable. It hurts most to be rejected when I am attached to being accepted as a measure of affection or support; but we are each having our own experience. It is unquestionably going to be true that not every moment will be shared with me, and that not every moment shared with me will be lovely, loving, pleasant, joyful, or satisfying. Some moments are not for me. Some moments are not pleasant for me. Some moments will be more pleasant to contemplate than to live out. Some moments will hurt far more than seems reasonable, and linger too long in my consciousness. They are still only moments. Like so many things about thinking and feeling, although the feelings associated with rejection suck completely, they are still merely emotions; there is chemistry involved…our thoughts are chosen, crafted, built and nurtured from within – and they have only whatever reality or truth that we give them, ourselves.

Being rejected does suck…what sucks most about it, for me, is that I followed the moment of rejection almost immediately by also rejecting myself.  I followed implicit blame from someone else with explicit self-directed blame. I built on that self-directed blame by tearing myself down, and followed that by refusing comfort from the person who rejected me… it was a terrible way to treat myself, and I don’t recommend it at all.

There’s more to consider; the underlying concern still troubles me, but I am not strong enough this morning to pursue it with clear thinking. It is what it is; sometimes ‘taking care of me’ means allowing myself time to get past something that hurts before considering it further. It is a choice that prevents me from becoming mired in a negative emotional experience; a serious risk for me, and one of my challenges with my TBI. (The PTSD and TBI do not play nicely together.)

Strangely relevant; I had a very powerful, positive, growth-directing, encouraging therapy session this week…I am already having to rest on those skills, and feel sad that timing has been such that there was no opportunity to celebrate them. Even the slightest attention on those hurt feelings rouses the lingering feeling of rejection lurking in the background waiting to attack me again (I admit that I feel unimportant that this thing that matters so much to me, personally, was of no interest or consequence whatsoever to anyone else in the household that day; there were other things going on, and we were each having our own experience).  So, yeah, today dealing with feelings of rejection seems important… It’s time to take another step on the path of emotional self-sufficiency, and to learn more about counting on being accepted and encouraged by me, myself, with such strength and reliability that no external rejection can really touch me. (Hey, that’s a goal – maybe a little over-reaching, but it’s a start.)

Perspective promises so much... there are still verbs involved.

Perspective promises so much… there are still verbs involved.

Today is a good day to understand that rejection does hurt; but it’s only a moment, and an emotion. We choose to react or respond, we choose how important we allow the moment to be, and we choose whether to inflict additional suffering on ourselves as a result of rejection. Today is a good day to allow rejection to direct our attention to someone else’s needs or boundaries, and understand rejection as ‘poorly handled boundary setting’ with compassion, and acceptance. Today is a good day not to take rejection personally. Today is a good day to change the perspective on rejection. Today is a good day to change my inner world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Spring, The Big 5

Another One of Many

March 3, 2015 //
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This is a lovely gentle moment. Last evening was also very nice. In between these moments, ideally, would be several hours of sleep. I am content with the handful of hours of sleep I got, and a couple more of rest and meditation, and I woke to my alarm feeling comfortable. My arthritis is felt as a distant thing, this morning, managed and of no real consequence. My coffee is very welcome. My jeans, a size smaller than I’ve been wearing, feel comfortable, relaxed, and soft against my skin, like very old broken in favorite jeans – a very nice way for a new pair of jeans to feel. There is a lot to smile about, this morning (and even most mornings).

I will take today as it comes, practicing good practices, shoring up practices that I know work that I may not be fully committed to, practicing not practicing practices that don’t work as well…and treating others well.

One spring moment of many, with all the possibility and potential of any new moment.

One spring moment of many, with all the possibility and potential of any new moment.

This is a lovely moment. Many of them are, actually, even in the face of my own chaos and damage; so often it is embracing the fundamental loveliness of some ‘now’ moment or another that calms my storms, and helps me ‘find my way home’ to a gentler heart. A few deep breaths, a moment or two of real stillness, the solitude to find calm; these are so essential to maintaining balance and building resilience. Learning to allow myself to meet those needs has been challenging, and totally worth the time and effort to learn, and to practice.

However loving the lover, however caring the caregiver, however tender the heart of someone who wants to support me, first and perhaps of greatest importance has been learning to love and care for myself, my own heart, my own life – and not because there’s no one else out there, or because others cannot be relied upon, or because the world is in any way ‘unworthy’ – but because it is my own ability, and will, to care for myself well that shows everyone else ways to love and care for me, too. Besides, who else would be a better fit as ‘lifelong super best friend’ for me than me?

Does it seem odd to bother with writing such a simple post, on such a slim bit of an idea? I find that some of life’s best bits are painted across my experience with a very delicate brush – it’s not all drama, big deals, or epiphanies. Some of the stuff that has mattered most to me is pretty simple, basic, every day living. I’m okay with that; simple is easier to practice. 🙂

Today feels full of possibilities. Today is a good day to embrace the moment with wonder and enthusiasm. Today is a good day to connect, and to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5

72 Minutes

February 25, 2015 //
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I had an amazing evening with my traveling partner, last night. It didn’t end as well as it started, and I went to bed feeling off-balance and a little sad. I wrapped myself in my blankets and wept for a few minutes, even tolerantly allowing myself a few ‘it’s not fair!’ and ‘it isn’t me!’ moments. I didn’t notice, but at some point I realized I had moved on; my tears had dried, my breathing was deep, relaxed, and even, and my heart felt calm. 72 minutes. Tears became meditation pretty quickly, and very naturally, and I don’t know quite when, but it was 72 minutes from when they began to fall, to when I began to fall asleep, and realized that I was actually entirely okay in that moment – and that moments being what they are, the earlier one that caused the heartache was long over.

Moments are not a big deal; they are moments.

Any one moment, utterly unique, and filled with potential.

Any one moment, utterly unique, and filled with potential.

Moments do not define me. I define me.

We really, truly, are each having our own experience, moment to moment, day-to-day, and it any one such moment we may each – or all – be at odds with one another, because those individual subjective experiences are our world, and we view the rest through those filters, on the backs of our assumptions, and doing our best to find our way through our very own chaos and damage. “Being right” doesn’t really enter into it, for me at least, because “being right” is just as subjective as our experiences, themselves. The challenge for me, last night, was in figuring out how to stay aware and engaged with my hurting partner, and make room – compassionate, tender, understanding, supportive emotional space – for him to have his own experience right along side me having my own.

I have room for improvement. This is a very general statement I believe to be universally true of my experience.

So often things seem more complicated than 'this versus that'. Perspective matters. Relevance matters. Compassion matters.

So often things seem more complicated than ‘this versus that’. Perspective matters. Relevance matters. Compassion matters.

I found my way last night with the awareness that the moment didn’t define me. The challenge we were having communicating and loving wasn’t a characteristic of ‘who I am’ – it was a moment. A challenge. Sure, it’s pretty easy to take that challenge and turn it on myself as a weapon, but where is the value in that? Growing as a person is more easily fostered in gentle conversation, shared insights, connecting and discussing needs, limits, boundaries with compassion for each other, and present with each other even when/if we are hurting. (It sounds easier than it seems in the moment, at my current skill/awareness level.) Remembering that I define me, and that my experience of myself is 100% reliably true to the self that I am when I allow it to be was powerful.  However hurt a lovers feelings may be, those are their feelings, about a moment (their moment); their feelings do not define me, (and considering how little tie to objective reality emotions may truly have, it seems a very poor practice to internalize someone else’s feelings, or taking them on as characteristics that define me, for myself).

xxx

We each make our way using the perspective we have, and the tools we develop. 

I woke feeling pretty awesome this morning, and very centered. It’s a lovely way to start a day. Today is a good day to be reminded we are each having our own experience, and that they co-exist with equal validity. It’s a good day to reread The Four Agreements. It’s a good day for love.

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Categories Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, Words

Silhouettes

February 20, 2015 //
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Yesterday was a pretty good day. The evening, too, was gentle and pleasant. My overall level of pain felt manageable, and by the end of the day my anxiety had almost entirely dissipated. I enjoyed the walk between the office and the train station, taking time to appreciate the subtle colors of the cloudy sky.

Evening sky on a strangely warm winter evening.

Evening sky on a strangely warm winter evening.

Initially, it seemed quite nice to hear from a faraway old friend on such a mellow evening. Life’s curriculum isn’t always an obvious lesson at the outset. My boundaries were quickly tested with OPD (Other People’s Drama), and firmly reinforcing those boundaries resulted in conversational strategies I find objectionable: manipulation, wild assumptions used as ‘proof’, personal attacks, assertions regarding the thoughts or intentions of others unsupported by confirmation, and even deceit – followed up by a demand that I involve myself in this friend’s personal drama by taking actions on their behalf, in the context of circumstances I am not part of, have no exposure to, and do not care to participate in, regardless. I ended the conversation when it was clear it was not a frank one; hidden agendas irritate me.

Like a tree silhouetted against the sky, I see that I am no longer who I once was.

Like a tree silhouetted against the sky, I see who I am now.

I found it relatively easy not to become involved. Setting those boundaries didn’t feel as difficult as it once might have. I didn’t get sucked in – although I am contemplating the conversation, itself, even now (learning from it matters that much). Considering the potential end of a friendship doesn’t feel very comfortable – but I am not to be used, taken advantage of, or made into a tool or weapon for someone else’s gain, without my explicit consent and willingness to participate. I would have thought that was an obvious thing – but to be fair, it wasn’t obvious ‘before’, so why assume it is now?

I didn’t go on the offensive with my friend in conversation, but I did ask clarifying questions about the assumptions being made, and point out where life experience (my own) suggested specific assumptions must be verified, rather than acted upon, because they didn’t seem rational, or likely to be correct. Admittedly, pointing out logical fallacies isn’t always the most tactful choice in conversation, but it can be done gently and with reasonable good-nature and a positive approach, to further the conversation with greater clarity – and a disinhibiting TBI makes it damned difficult not to point an obvious logical fallacy, at least for me. When clarifying questions result in personal attacks, I know it’s time to set a firm boundary and walk away.

Perspective matters; we are each having our own experience.

Perspective matters; we are each having our own experience.

Now what? Well, now I have more information than I wanted to about this friend’s circumstances, behavior, and thinking on some sensitive topics – about which we clearly have very different values and understanding. Now I am aware that this friend may be more interested in how I can be useful, than how I’m doing these days. I found the conversation so off-putting in both content and outcome, that I am wondering what the state of this friendship really is…and whether it is actually a friendship, at all.  When we change and grow our friends don’t always come along on the journey; I still find that very hard to take, sometimes.

Sometimes there's more to it than circumstances; we choose much of our experience.

There’s more to it than circumstances; we choose so much of our experience.

It’s a lovely morning, and a new day. I slept pretty well, and woke feeling rested. No anxiety this morning, which is always a nice thing. Always. My coffee cup is hot in my hands, a pleasant sensation in the morning chill. The house is quiet. The weekend is only hours away. Today is a good day to accept change, and turn the page on life’s text-book to the next lesson.

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5, women, Words

Quite Deliberate and Willful

February 19, 2015 //
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This morning I woke with anxiety riding shotgun. I woke early, and abruptly, feeling unable to take a breath. In the face of imminent panic, I managed to grab hold of the nearest practice – in this case, simply breathing – and focused on that, instead of the anxiety.

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011

With the first deep breath, in and then slowly out, I observed the quiet environment, and the lack of immediate threats to my safety or wellness.

With the second, I observed my own body and state of being, finding and gently letting go of tension, then self-soothing by improving my posture, and comforting myself with reminders to be present, now, and letting the safety and comfort of the moment soak into my awareness more fully.

With the third breath I acknowledged Anxiety traveling with me this morning, and instead of panic, I gave myself a mental pat on the back for dealing with her – and my PTSD – so well these past couple days.  I took a moment to refresh my understanding that my TBI sometimes prevents my chemistry from appropriately returning to baseline because the inhibition/disinhibition circuitry – and other executive functions – are impaired; this too will pass, but it may take longer than I’d like, and I’ll probably have to help it along.

By the time I complete 5 deep cleansing breaths, my heart stopped pounding, and the surreal terror eased. Was it something in my dreams that woke me so badly? It hardly matters. I am okay, and a new day is beginning. I anticipate the anxiety may come and go today, as it eases over hours without new stimuli. I smile realizing that it feels almost natural… almost easy… to take care of me in the face of my anxiety. It is quite deliberate, very structured, almost ritualistic, extremely practiced, and in no way ‘natural’ or ‘easy’ – but it is lovely that it feels that it easy, and that’s more than enough to bring a smile to my face, this morning as I sit with my coffee, quite alone, and recognizing anxiety as merely an emotion, rather than envisioning it as some powerful super-being capable of destroying worlds.

The tools and practices I have invested so much time and study in really do make a difference. Using SuperBetter regularly helps me stay focused on practicing good self-care practices, and reminds me of all the variety there is in self-care tools and skills, and in creative ways to break problem patterns of thinking and behavior. Directing entertainment consumption towards the educational (TED Talks, SciShow…) has proven helpful, too; the brain is a sort of ‘use it or lose it’ tool, itself, and the sharpest elders I know are people who continue learning well into their elder years as a lifelong passion.

…And then there’s love.  I don’t want to overlook or underestimate the value of supportive relationships, emotional nurturing by loved ones, the comfort in someone listening, or the emotional safety in being accepted and loved – exactly as I am.  Being loved is a bit like buried pirate treasure, though; even though I suspected it might be ‘out there’, and even with a map that had a spot marked ‘X’ to point the way, it took some searching and some persistence, mostly because I did not understand that the love I most yearned for above all others needed to come from me, and until I found my way to that safe haven, no searching would ever turn up the pirate treasure of romantic love in the arms of another (because, even if someone loved me that much, in that way, I would struggle to recognize and feel it, having no similar feeling about myself).

It’s a lovely morning, and a good day to tell anxiety to take a hike – I will choose, instead, to walk with love, deliberately and willfully. Today is a good day to practice good practices, and to take care of me. Today is a good day to enjoy what works, and improve on what doesn’t work so well. Today is a good day to change the way I deal with my world.

 

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