Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness matters

The family arrived home yesterday much earlier than I expected. It was a happy homecoming of tired travelers, making the pot roast dinner in the slower cooker a welcome touch for later. It was a relaxed afternoon, and a pleasant end to the weekend.

Late in the evening I felt a touch restless, and my pain was aggravating me; I went for an evening walk. It was well-timed…for a duck, or a goose, perhaps, or some other sort of waterfowl; I got as far from the house as I intended to go, and the skies opened and it just poured down rain. I returned home utterly soaked – and laughing. It didn’t do my arthritis a bit of good, but I felt revived and refreshed, and delighted – like a child – with the sensations of it.

I crashed fairly early, slept fairly poorly, and woke in pain this morning. Somehow, I am still merry and content. Love is amazing stuff. My coffee is delicious, and as a treat I bought some almond milk creamer for my morning coffee, making this Monday morning seem just a little unusual. I’m still groggy and waking is coming slowly. I woke quite easily at 11:11 pm, after crashing early. I woke again, quite easily, at 2:52 am. Pain? Some other member of the household moving about in the night? There was no anxiety or distress, no need to fight off some stray attack by my own brain; it was simply night, and something woke me. In both cases, I returned to sleep with relative ease using meditation and breathing. As I opened my eyes in response to the aquarium light coming on with a quiet ‘click’, the alarm started to beep. I shut it off. I’m still trying to wake up completely.

What a lovely weekend. I enjoyed me. I enjoyed life. I enjoyed fellowship. I enjoyed love. I also enjoyed pot roast; my best one so far, I think.

It could be that I’m figuring out some of the changes with sex, love, sensuous connection, and intimacy that have come with menopause… I don’t actually know. I know the weekend felt natural and lovely, and that from a physical perspective it also felt nurturing, satisfying, and complete. This morning, that’s very much ‘enough’, and I don’t find myself making emotional demands on love’s future performance-to-goal; neither love nor Love take kindly to direct supervision, and are unlikely to accede to mortal demands. It’s pretty pointless to make a To Do List for Love and start insisting on things. (Inventing systems of thought and rules for loving hasn’t done much to improve humankind’s ability to love, or success with finding and keeping it, just saying.)

A few words on a pleasant Monday. I’m glad love has returned home. Today is a very good day for love.

Mmmm...Love, love, and loving.

Mmmm…Love, love, and loving.

I’m quietly contemplating my evening’s ‘crash landing’ and wondering why? The house is quiet, but it isn’t late and I don’t know that anyone is sleeping. I know I am not.

It wasn’t a bad evening, quietly hanging out and watching videos of this and that. Calm. Pleasant. Eventually ‘good nights’ were exchanged. I am feeling very mortal waiting for the test results from my biopsy. I find myself ‘trying to be brave’ like the small girl I once was and hoping to let it go until I get the results – any other choice seems silly in the abstract. I am so very human.

Stormy weather...

Stormy weather…

I hurt tonight. I’ve got a terrible headache, probably stress or fatigue. My arthritis hurts. How is it I hurt this badly and still want romance? It’s frustrating. I’m not exactly approachable; I am fragile, reactive, and emotional. That’s really where it all breaks down – in one simple question, and in an instant of contemplation, “How are you doing?”. “Well, shit, I was mostly fine until you asked, actually…” but I never manage to say that. I blurt out the details of how I am doing – however that happens to be, and with the force of whatever emotion is bound up in it all – and it tumbles forth in words…and emotions, in no particular order, and with full real-time intensity.  It must suck on this whole other level to live around this injury, and the chaos and damage I wade through every day – I just don’t have the same perspective on it. How can I?

I don’t know what I’m to learn here. There’s something to be learned, I’m sure of that. It’s late, and these tears don’t matter a tinker’s damn to the massive ills of the world. This is some minor league suffering, right here, and there’s a chill calm part of me that recognizes the subtle difference between the simple sorrow, itself, and the wave of suffering that follows, self-inflicted. Part of me feels foolish to be so storm-tossed, like an adolescent girl; the thought reminds me it’s only been a bit more than a week since I started on the medication I was given – hormones. There are so many moving pieces to this whole ‘taking care of me’ thing. I feel like a dick for having a minor meltdown when I was unwittingly on the brink of being handed a few moments of connection, contact, and affection that I sorely needed at the end of a difficult week.

Sitting here quietly in the darkness, I also feel: sympathetic, compassionate, warm – understanding. What did I expect with the hormones, the headache, the fatigue at the end of a long day, hurting well beyond what my Rx handles, and waiting for test results? I sit calmly, wondering what to do to take care of me most skillfully, and with greatest love. Sleep, soon, probably…

There’s a new day, tomorrow. Love is pretty ‘forgive-y’ (if that’s even a word)…but choices have consequences, I’ve hurt someone dear to me, and tonight I am alone. Perhaps the dawn will come and find me smiling…certainly there’s enough love to go around if only I am open to it. There are verbs involved.

...I still have so far to go.

…I still have so far to go.

No fooling – warm indeed; my hormones have been all over the place this week, and at the moment I am uncomfortably warm, window open on a winter day, trying to cool down. Hot flashes are odd; I’m definitely feeling ‘hot’, as in ‘the temperature is too high’, and I am sweating uncomfortably, and feeling weighed down by my clothing. The room is a comfortable 70 degrees…and my body temperature is normal. Hormones. I feel what I’m feeling, and it’s real enough…but…it also isn’t something that directly affects anyone else, unless I start racing around panicked and tearing my clothes off, trying to find relief in the open refrigerator door, or throwing all the windows in the house open, or some similar foolishness. Now and then it can be pretty comical. In the moment, it mostly sucks. It’s not so bad, today; enough to notice, but not so much that it is really disruptive.

The hormone thing that is such a huge part of a woman’s life is complicated. Compassion for that complicated experience is valuable. Real recognition that not having experienced it from within means there are likely elements of the experience won’t be obvious, or easily understood is nice, too. I’m fortunate that my traveling partner is generally very kind, accommodating, and understanding about ‘the hormone thing’; he’s also very perceptive, and sensitive to the shift in comfort and mood, which results (less fortunately) in feelings of discomfort for him more often than either of us would prefer. The easy answer on both sides is love, and giving each other some space. I like the love; the need to take some time apart in order to care for each other most efficiently (on the principle of ‘this too shall pass’) is something I enjoy less, but value having a partnership that makes it easy. Hormones are what they are, and the machinery is winding down, an understandably complicated process. I am fortunate to be well-loved along the way.

Life isn't on rails, we have choices, and our path is our own to choose.

Life isn’t on rails, we have choices, and our path is our own to choose.

Raised voices on the other side of the door interrupt the flow of my thoughts. Today I woke earlier than the rest of the household, for the first time in many days. I’ve enjoyed the luxury of late nights, sleeping in (well, as much as I am able), and living without the ticking clock of the work routine in the background. This morning, I was up, and having my first coffee well before anyone else stirred. I didn’t bolt into the kitchen to throw my arms around my traveling partner; neither of us is at our best first thing upon waking, and the loving thing is to give the man some room to have some coffee and wake up. At the moment that I considered heading into the great room for good mornings, hugs, kisses, and happy greetings, I heard raised voices, and the vocal tones of stress, irritation, and frustration. I decided to let that moment pass.  The house is quiet now, and I feel calm and content with the choice to take care of me.

My coffee is almost finished. I’ll have my second coffee in town, with a friend. I’m looking forward to the outing most especially because we no longer see each other as much, now that we don’t work together. Then it’ll be home, and laundry, and getting ready for the work week. The holiday is over, and it’s been mostly quite nice. I’ve enjoyed the time with family, with love, and with myself. It’s been a very good time for growth, and contemplation, and I feel more prepared for the new year than I might have without this interlude.

The stereo comes alive with a favorite Santana track…the day begins in earnest. Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day to be kind and considerate. Today is a good day to change the world.

 

My day is a bit like ‘Schrödinger’s Day’, today… I am in my own space, behind a closed door. Events on the other side of the door exist, but exist without context or definition; I just don’t know what’s on the other side of that door. Once I open the door, the day is what it is. Having not yet opened the door (well, since my last interaction with my traveling partner, who made this tasty latte in front of me) the day remains all potential, and unanswered questions.

I could make assumptions about what is on the other side of the door. Assumptions of any sort I might make would give me something on which to anchor decision-making about whether to open the door, certainly. There’s no reason to further assume that any such assumptions would be accurate. They’d be entirely made up within my own thinking, based on what I know historically about my experience, and then filtered through my baggage. Perhaps not ideal decision-making material?

I could eschew further in-the-moment assumption making, and go with ‘expectations’ of what is on the other side of the door. Expectations are assumptions I’ve made in advance, and planned around…not really any more useful for decision-making about whether to open the door. The outcome could be more stressful, too; assumptions that fail the test of reality can be frustrating, and cause me confusion and stress, but not on the same order of magnitude as when reality doesn’t ‘measure up’ to expectations. The disappointment that can carry with it sucks, and I’m not a fan of creating disappointment for myself. As experiences go, I prefer disappointment be a rarity, and that I not inflict it upon myself needlessly.

Being present in this simple uncomplicated moment gives me a chance to really consider that closed door, and what may be beyond it, and to practice some fundamentals of awareness, observation, and presence. It’s a closed door, nothing more. I am here, now, in this safe and quiet space, quite solitary, content, and safe. The specific experience I am having now is quite calm, relaxed, and pleasant; things on the other side of a closed door may not be relevant to me, at all.

It's worth taking a few moments to pause and reflect on a change in perspective, or a moment of growth. I am learning to spend more time on the good stuff.

It’s worth taking a few moments to pause and reflect on a change in perspective, or a moment of growth. I am learning to spend more time on the good stuff.

This may not seem like a big deal for many people, and quite naturally so, I’m sure. As a survivor of domestic violence, emotional abuse, and trauma, that closed door has often felt dangerous, threatening, limiting, frightening, powerful – and I cowered in fear behind the limited safety it offered from whatever was on the other side. Raised voices, angry yelling, slamming things, stomping (pretty much all the sounds of intense negative emotions) are fairly easily able to trigger symptoms of post-traumatic stress, for me. Reaching a place where that closed door is neither an enemy nor an ally, and is simply a closed door is a pretty big deal… I can open a closed door…or not. That’s simple stuff, as decision-making goes.

Today is a good day to make simple decisions to take care of me. Today is a good day to consider the hearts of others. Today is a good day to live well, to love freely, and to be kind. Today is a good day to change the world.