Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness

I’m groggy this morning. Yesterday I was, too, I think, but the days are blurring together, already. I’m tired. Two short evenings in a row, and less sleep than I really need… for days. This can’t last – I need to get some rest, and the week isn’t half over. So far, no noteworthy negative consequences, I’m just tired.

So tired.

Still, the search results from my realtor get my attention when they hit my inbox this morning. My coffee is good. My shower felt wonderful, even if I did almost fall asleep standing up before it quite woke me. I’ll get through this day to another evening, and an opportunity to get an earlier night.

The secret to this puzzle, the trick to this as-yet-not-unlocked level in the game of Adult; I do not know how to get 8 hours of restful sleep between the hours of 10 pm and 4 am, and I find it difficult to fall asleep earlier in any reliable way, or to sleep in much later (with or without an alarm clock, generally). Work weeks get me up by 4:30 am, to the sound of the alarm if I am fortunate to be sleeping deeply. I need that time to really wake up so that when I leave for work I’m actually quite awake and fully able to function. I know going to bed earlier is needed – it’s hard to fall asleep earlier, many nights. Even doing all of the “good sleep hygiene” things is not a guarantee. I have sleep challenges, it is a thing I am aware of about me, having lived it for so many years. So many nights that I manage the bedtime and waking time details with skill, my sleep is still shortened and degraded by restlessness and wakeful interruptions during the night. My sleep tracker says I slept 6 hours last night, and shows the many interruptions in my sleep, and how little of it was deep sleep. I find myself frustrated that this doesn’t seem at all unusual. No wonder I am tired. When a busy week and my poor sleep quality and assorted sleep disturbances collide, it doesn’t take long for fatigue to build, and quickly become exhaustion.

My head aches, and I realize that I’m overly invested in bitching and moaning about the sleep I’m not getting, while rather groggily sitting here ignoring my coffee while I write. I sigh aloud in the chilly quiet room and sip my now cold coffee. I listen to the rain fall, tapping the windows, and rumbling through the downspout on the corner of the building. I hear the distant horn of the train approaching the commuter platform nearby. I pull myself upright, correcting my posture; it’s too early to create more pain later. I think about a second coffee and wonder whether what I put on this morning will be what I actually wear to work… an autographed MC Lars concert t-shirt is suitable casual attire for the office, right? I smile contentedly; I’m fortunate to work in a casual dress environment. What I wear to work is of very little consequence. (Which is good – I’m barely awake enough to do more than pull on jeans and throw on a t-shirt, honestly.)

The morning moves on, and the forward momentum of my life doesn’t halt for groggy mornings. There is still adulting to do, and the woman in the mirror needs me most on mornings like these. There are dishes to do. Counters to wipe down. Trash to go out. Small things handled before work that I won’t have to deal with after I return home, more tired. I frown at my bed with irritation, in passing. I would appreciate coming home to seeing it made, but that would require making it now… I silently tell myself, and that bed, to fuck right off, I don’t have to if I don’t want to! I let the moment pass on my way to making a second cup of coffee…

…While I wait for my coffee… I make the bed. lol

One by one, I tackle the small things I like to see finished before I leave in the morning – because coming home to order and tidiness is very pleasant (to me). I’m tired, and being tired finds me enduring continuous rather disrespectful commentary from my “inner adolescent”, which is quite probably just as annoying as it would be to deal with if there were a real life sass-monster following me around the apartment. So human. Today the practicing pays off; I have many more good self-care habits than I once did, and when I’m this tired I lean hard on habit to get me through. I look at the time and see there is still time for meditation before work.

Today is a good day to take the very best care of the woman in the mirror. There are verbs involved, and practices. There are challenges to overcome, and small frustrations to manage. There is perspective to be maintained and relied upon. There’s me. There’s you. There’s all of this that we have to work through, and even though we’re all in this together – we’re each having our own experience. I’ll do the best I can today. It’ll have to be enough. 🙂

 

I woke with difficulty this morning, and didn’t sleep well. I don’t hurt as much now as I did when I went to bed. The twinges of arthritis pain that begin the day are likely to be a sign of more pain, later on. It’s hard to be anything other than uncomfortable – just the physical discomfort itself, is uncomfortable, I mean. Kind of obvious, I know. It’s just that my mind, foggy with the struggle to fully wake up for the day, is focused on other things (if it can be said to be focused at all, just yet).

House hunting moves forward a step at a time. The work week continues. Lunch with a friend sometime this week. An evening with my Traveling Partner, maybe even tonight. Days. Days filled with moments. I remind myself to make a doctor’s appointment. Then I just go ahead and make it, online, rather than stalling still/again.

A fairly ordinary Tuesday begins here. A quiet morning like so many quiet mornings, a cup of coffee, a few minutes writing, some time for meditation, a few minutes tidying up before heading to the office… the days are days. What changes is my perspective, and my choices.

Today is a good day to begin again. I know there will be verbs involved. I know that I am having my own experience. With some practice, today is enough. 🙂

I’ve no good title today. No subject in mind. No moment that seems noteworthy with which to approach my writing, today. Still… There is this moment to write. I sit with it quietly for some extra moments, waiting for it to “speak to me”. I swallow the last bit of cold coffee from the cup I made for myself around 2 pm, forgetful that it was 2 pm, well after I generally stop drinking coffee for the day. I eat an orange, enjoying the scent of it, the sweetness, and that messy moment grinning like a little kid, when I realize I didn’t think to also grab a napkin or paper towel, or something. There is juice on my fingers and on my face, sticky and sweet. I am in pain. The cold weather, windy, icy rain, sleet, and just winter, wraps my apartment in whatever it takes to remind my body that I have arthritis. Still.  Nothing new there. I endure. I breathe, and relax. At least in this moment, my pain is not calling the shots for me.

The work day is behind me. It started early, because it needed to, and I am done for the day – and for the week. The weekend stretches ahead of me, mostly unconsidered. I have no plans beyond what I am planning not to do. I’m planning not to do Facebook. I’m not doing the news. I’m not doing outrage. I’m not doing angry. I’m planning to gently take care of me, nurture my heart, rest my mind, enjoy some quality time with the woman in the mirror – and maybe I will see my Traveling Partner at some point. It won’t be tonight. The icy weather is foreboding to travelers. That’s okay. It’s a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror, instead. I am already eyeing my yoga mat with some enthusiasm, and thinking wistfully of my meditation cushion. I am looking forward to the gentle evening ahead.

It was an icy morning. My visitors seemed pleased to hang out a while.

It was an icy morning. My visitors seemed pleased to hang out a while.

I sit quietly in this still place. I haven’t put any music on yet today. There is a lovely fire crackling away in the fireplace, and the wind, the wind chime, the birds, and the geese have filled the day with another sort of music. I think about dinner… but… I continue to just be, here, in this moment. Quietly. Still. Content. I think to myself how very much I must have been needing this saturating moment of stillness, to dive into it with such abandon. Perhaps I shall sit quietly all evening? Content to gaze through the patio door into the winter beyond, feeling the warm of the fire… It would be time well-spent. It would be enough.

An entire flock of Canada geese stopped by.

An entire flock of Canada geese stopped by.

I smile, and feel strangely perplexed and muddled for a moment – when did I become this person? When did I develop “a softer side”? When did I learn to really care, and to really love? When did things – material things – stop seeming so important, and when did I stop “keeping score” in the rat race? At some point, I know that I did all of those things. I made changes. Why is it that I don’t remember those changes as specific moments? Slow progress is funny that way – I don’t find it easy to see through the eyes of the woman I once was.

My patience pays off.

My patience pays off.

I breathe. Find myself enjoying this moment, here, just exactly as it is. It’s enough.

I woke this morning feeling calm and sure of myself. I often wake well ahead of the alarm, and wasn’t surprised I had this morning… then I actually looked at the clock, to turn off the alarm that wasn’t what woke me. Huh. It was half an hour later than the alarm would have gone off… I had “slept in”, on a work day, and lucked out by waking up in plenty of time not to rush to work. Fortuitous. I begin the day feeling less complacent, and well-prepared to check my assumptions before they teach me hard life lessons. 🙂

I woke in pain, but it is manageable and an anticipated byproduct of the change to colder temperatures. I do my yoga and more or less mostly manage to disregard my pain. I go to make my coffee, but my preferred coffee is… out. I forgot to get more last night. Damn it. No matter – I make a cup of the coffee my Traveling Partner favors, instead. It’s quite good, but my senses easily recognize that it is different. It colors the morning with that hint of difference… so many of this morning’s details do.

Wind chime

The wind blows without regard to my preference, or my assumptions.

The wind chime on the patio is clanging away rather rudely. I know from this that it is a windy morning. The wind in the tree tops beyond the meadow makes a distance roaring sound that blends with the morning traffic, and the sound of the train even farther beyond the trees. I enjoy the moment precisely as it is, without reservations, and without diminishing it with all the many human dramas playing out across social media, news media, and my Facebook feed. I have not yet looked at any of that. I find the morning starts more pleasantly choosing to save that for later.

I write a bit more. Delete it. I repeat that experience two or three more times, then realize – at least for this morning – I really don’t have more to say, just now. The day starts well in spite of over-sleeping. I am letting it start well. The morning is pleasant in spite of being rather noisy, quite cold, and my coffee tasting not at all like I expect, sip after sip. I am choosing to allow the morning to be pleasant, because the differences in routine and expectation are not the sort that matter (to me)(this morning). It’s still a choice. I could make different ones. I am sufficiently pleased with these choices, here, now, this morning.

So much of my experience is choice. So often the difference between terrible and lovely is only that – the decision I make about the experience I will have. A choice. That’s not even about “positive thinking”, but I find it difficult to communicate how simply and authentically we can transform so many moments through our choices, and through a letting go of assumptions, and being in this moment, right here, now, uncluttered by if/then/maybe, and the narrative in our own heads.

I sip my coffee. I enjoy this moment. Right now, that’s enough. 🙂

I had to remind myself last night, and again this morning. Last night, I hit that point in response to a “pics or it didn’t happen” reply to a comment I made, supporting inclusion and diversity, and being a welcoming human being. I laughed out loud when I read the troll’s demand – I mean, honestly, in all frankness, that isn’t actually how reality works. The lack of a photograph isn’t really a determining factor in whether something is or is not “real”, or whether it happened, or whether you experienced it, or whether that is your perspective. I took a step back. Happy to enjoy the moment of laughter, instead of taking the bait. I moved on with my evening.

images

This morning, again, I got sucked into Facebook, reacting to expressions of hate and frustrated by the weird skewed perspective some people have taken on. I endure only so many “what the fuck??” moments before I remind myself that one of the fundamentals of our very human consciousness is that we are easily able – and prone – to just making shit up that fits our world view and calling that “true”, without any particular attention to whether it really is true, or factually accurate, or even loosely based on something someone actually may have once experienced, ever, at all. It must be equally frustrating to be a person whose world view is constantly challenged, fought, disputed, denied, contradicted, or laughed at… Oh. Wait. That’s like, literally, all of us. Human primates. Damn we’re fancy. It’s not always useful and in our favor, but holy cow we can make some shit up, and then insist it is important.

The hate is hard, though. I’m saddened by the quantity of fear and hate in the world. It would be lovely to halt the tide of hate. I guess… one thing I can do, myself, is to choose not to hate. I’ll work on that. I’ll start by asking clarifying questions, instead of reacting based on my own assumptions. I’ll work on staying mindful that each of us likely thinks of ourselves as the good guy in our own internal narrative. I’ll treat myself, and others – even those with very different thinking – with consideration, empathy, compassion, and start interactions from the assumption that we are all trying to improve things, from our own perspective. Maybe I will learn something useful along the way. Hate is hard work to sustain, and not very productive. 🙂

Still, and again. The very best practices work that way.

Still, and again. The very best practices work that way.

To be clear… I’m no less angry by what I see going on in the news. I’m no less concerned about fascism taking over America – that’s some scary shit, and it’s not okay – but blinding myself with reactivity and stress renders me one more agitated voice in a crowd, and could result in the sort of emotional fatigue that could quickly become learned helplessness. So. I breathe. I back up out of the comments. I think about what matters most, and how to be the woman I most want to be; this is my life. I take care of me, and do my best to take action in the world, in the ways I can – and I do it without disadvantaging anyone else. It’s a good place to start. It’s enough.