Archives for posts with tag: my home my rules my way

Staying on Task

August 7, 2017 //

This week I begin working in earnest to rebuild the habits and routines that support my quality of life best. I spent some time last night rebuilding long forgotten “to do lists” and thinking over morning tasks versus evening tasks. I’d been letting myself “get away with” rather a lot of “letting that go for later” toward the end of my stay at #59. Still… yesterday’s mail came with some good news; I got my deposit back, in full. That’s a nice feeling, and a reminder that good self-care is often also good care of the environment in which I live. (There’s probably a larger message there…)

So, I spent some time cozied up with a digital “to do list” I am trying out. By the end of the evening, I’m a little astonished by the amount of “small work” I expect to get done in a day… every day… Seriously? It would be daunting, only… I generally do all that. lol Getting it down in an organized list may reduce the time it takes, by putting in a more sensible order. I like order. 🙂

My day started well, and I know that attributing that to having well-prepared lists of things to do doesn’t really make any sense; there’s no legitimate connection. I just feel good this morning. Prepared. That feels good. I’m okay with enjoying it as it is. There are so many little things I want very specifically to do each day, reliably. Building those habits that nurture good emotional wellness and quality of life takes a hearty helping of verbs, and continued reinforcement. It’s really easy to shrug something off one morning, let it slide, then… it becomes another morning, then continues until the habit isn’t just broken, but well and truly defeated. Pretty commonplace as challenges go. I also fight off having long-time habits simple extinguish themselves rather without any warning at all – as though it was never a habit at all. This is both frustrating and unpredictable. Having a good “to do list” helps with that a lot.

Why go digital when after all this time I keep returning to ordinary yellow legal pads for this sort of thing? I admit, I have my doubts about digital lists, but… there’s a built-in inefficiency involved in having to return to the legal pad, wherever I’ve put it down, again and again to check off something completed, or add something overlooked. I’ve tried digital lists many times: spreadsheets, notepad, specific list making apps, and time and again they have failed me mostly by not being quite the tool for the job in one way or another. Back the legal pad I’d go. So, this time I am trying out a digital to do list that really is that, and will sync across my devices (no going back to the legal pad on the other side of the house, or having to wait until I get home to check off things I’ve done outside the house). We’ll see.

I smile and sip my coffee, listening to a small brown bird offering early morning commentary on the imminent sunrise. I may be back to the yellow legal pad at some point. I’m not concerned with that, as a thing. It represents neither a success nor a failure. I notice my list reminds me to check account balances – it will remind me to do so, daily. Nice. I do that. I check it off the list. 🙂

Sometimes figuring things out takes some effort, some practice, some fails, some changes – all completely utterly normal and part of how we learn and problem solve. 🙂

Problem-solving, and practice. Incremental improvement over time. There are verbs involved.

With managing the small details, sometimes a list is helpful. Sometimes it is still necessary to begin again. 🙂 It’s time to go do that; I’ve got a list. 😀

Tags be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, making a list, meditation, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being

My First Homecoming

August 5, 2017 //

I took my first trip away from the new house this week. I departed on Thursday, plans in disarray, leaving from a point on the map that wasn’t what I planned, running additional errands “on the way” at the request of my Traveling Partner, resenting the heat of the day, and feeling excited, fussy, and a bit irritable.

It got worse before it got better. The first 33 miles I drove, the traffic was terrible. The first 9 miles of the freeway portion of the drive crept by at an abysmal not-quite-10-miles-per-hour. I was tired from days without good sleep. I was irritable in the heat and frustrated by the lack of good visibility with the car loaded to the roof with gear. I was more than a little stressed out by driving all that equipment so far, while I was so tired. My foot was aching. I had a terrible headache, and my self-care had been fairly poorly handled and thoroughly compromised for days because my planning had been so completely undermined, I didn’t have time for what needed to be done. It was pretty shitty.

Every mile of highway took me closer to my Traveling Partner, and farther from thinking about my headache, or the traffic, or the cargo, or the time, or really anything else besides getting to see him and reconnect and chill together.

We had a lovely visit. It was quite nice to be a guest in his home. It was … beyond words, really, the deeply connected time we got to spend together met so many needs. 🙂 We slept together, and that, too, was a rare and special treat. It didn’t much matter how little really restful sleep I got, I spent the night cuddling with my Traveling Partner as he slept, feeling his heartbeat, listening to him breathe. I dozed on and off, and certainly got enough rest to enjoy the day that would follow. He had to work for a couple hours. I used that time to get caught up with the woman in the mirror, and check out how my old home town has grown (I went to high school there… that’s the house I lived in, it’s changed a lot… that’s where my grandfather’s office was…), meditate, and also made a run to the grocery store for my Traveling Partner.

The plan, when I arrived, was that I’d stay both Thursday and Friday night, and go out into the forest late Friday afternoon, help set up a music event, and sometime much later be around to see my Traveling Partner perform, listen to a lot of great DJs doing their thing, and then… sometime in the late afternoon on Saturday, I would return home. By the time my Traveling Partner got home from work, it was beginning to dawn on me that actually, if I followed that plan, I was going to be pushing myself up the highway late on a Saturday afternoon, on even less sleep, tired, noise-sensitive, and in pain… arriving home to face dishes in the sink (because of my rushed departure on Thursday), unprepared for the next work week, and having no time to recover before diving back into another week of working for a living before I could really take that time I need…

The more I thought that over, the less I liked it. Sure, I’d like to see my Traveling Partner perform, that would be amazing and awesome, but I’m equally certain that neither he nor I benefits from me doing so on terms that reduce my quality of life, or contribute to poor health and wellness! He’d crashed for a nap after work to prepare for the long night ahead. When he got up I let him know I was thinking about heading back a little early… He didn’t seem surprised, and was very much okay with that, himself, although we were both immediately overcome with that sad feeling that comes of being attached, and also choosing to part, however briefly. He understands my needs.

So… I came home. The drive back was as uneventful and smooth as the drive down had been fraught with peculiar stress. I made good time, and delighted myself to note that my estimated arrival time from the perspective of planning the drive was within 5 minutes of my actual arrival time. I pause in this moment, right now, and give myself time to really appreciate that feeling again.

It was still daylight when I got home. The house was comfortably cool in the summer heat of late afternoon. The squirrel was on the deck rail, and didn’t run when I opened the curtains to the deck and saw him there. There were really one 1 bowl and 2 coffee cups in the sink, and the first sound I heard after I returned home was the sound of my own merry laughter. I’d even gotten home in time to communicate my safe arrival to my Traveling Partner before he was out of touch for the night. It felt good to come home. I feel welcome here.

I feel welcome in my life.

The day stretches ahead of me. There’s quite a bit to do. Some of it is the everyday sort of stuff that lands on weekend days most of the time: housekeeping, laundry, gardening. Other stuff on my to do list lingers from the move. There are still boxes to unpack. Shelves to organize. Things to do to make this space more usably obviously my own. There’s the woman in the mirror, too, she needs a few things out of the day, herself: meditation, some time in the garden, yoga, good moment-to-moment decision-making, a bit of fun (Farmer’s Market?), and all the love and affection I can provide to her. Rest. She also needs rest, and good self-care.

The sun is up. My coffee is finished. The fresh breezes of early morning have filled the house with the scents of forest and summer flowers. My thoughts are filled with love. What a pleasant moment on which to begin the day. 🙂

Tags are you going my way?, be love, breathe, choose wisely, Crush, emotional self sufficiency, going the distance, good self-care, how far would you drive for love?, I am my own cartographer, listening deeply, love, love and lovers, love me do, meditation, mindful loving, mindfulness for beginners, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, relationships, sufficiency, Summer Breeze, summer love, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?, you might die trying

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Figuring It Out

August 1, 2017 //

The morning is gentle on my waking consciousness. I’m glad of that. The headache pounding away at my forebrain when I woke has dissipated. I’m glad of that as well. I notice, at the same time I notice my half-finished coffee has fully gone cold, I never opened the blinds (or the window) here in the studio when I opened up the windows to let in the fresh morning breezes. It strikes me as odd, until I also notice my latent noise sensitivity is quite a presence, in fact, and recognize that I had simply not opened the window, to dull the sound of the morning commuter traffic, which I definitely don’t care to hear.

Who am I today? Am I headache-y? Am I well-rested and merry? Am I irritable? I’m not actually certain. I may be all of those things at some point today. Right now, in spite of a leisurely shower, a good yoga sequence, and the fresh forested breezes on a summer morning, I remain rather groggy, somewhat irritable, and annoyed by my stuffy sinuses (which may have been the cause of the headache I’d awakened with). The more I focus on this experience, the more it intensifies, and the more irritable I become. Interesting. Sometimes mindfulness brings uncomfortable experiences into sharper focus.

I breathe. Relax. Pull my posture more comfortably erect as I sit at my desk. My eyes close, and without giving it further thought, my hands rest, quite still, on the edge of my keyboard. I breathe. Relax. My eyes closed. Feeling this space, this moment. My shoulders sink down until they are no longer crammed up against my damned ears. The sound of the traffic blends with my tinnitus. I breathe. Relax. Time passes.

Some time later, some 30 or so minutes, actually, my eyes open. I’m smiling. I needed that moment, I suppose. Just some meditation time, right where I sat, no further fuss or bother. Nothing to disturb me. I feel better than I did. More comfortably aware of the commonplace discomforts that are a thing. I am a mortal creature. This fragile vessel is not always an entirely comfortable thing. lol

The house is nicely cool now. It is sometime past day break. I still have time to water the container garden, do the dishes, make my bed – all the things I like to come home to at the end of the work day. It’s just me, right? So… I gotta do the things. 🙂 That’s pretty much how adulthood works generally; if I want a result, I must do the things. Shopping around for other human beings to do the things on my behalf isn’t nearly as efficient. Partnerships are not a form of indentured servitude, or long-term service, and I’d far rather count on mine for shared experiences I truly cannot have solo in life… sex, shared laughter, intimacy, exchanges of touch and emotion… all stuff I really love, too. How nice to share it! Not to imply that reciprocity with the housekeeping and whatnot isn’t valued – in my relationships it is both valued and required. Everybody eats? Drinks water, coffee, tea, whatever? Everybody showers? Sits on the furniture? Then everyone works to keep the place nice. It’s sort of obvious and non-negotiable. 😀

It’s still early. A good time to begin on the housekeeping. A good time to begin again, living and being, and becoming the person I most want to be.

Tags a fair share of the housekeeping, ACT, an agent of chaos comes in from the cold, be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, choose wisely, consideration, creating order from chaos, doing my part, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, helping around the house, I am my own cartographer, living beautifully, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, Reciprocity, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being

No Words

July 31, 2017 //

I am brushing off my practice of not scrolling through Facebook, reading the news, or clicking shared links about events, and giving is a good restart. It messes with my head to be tossed into the festering pool of hate and despair that our political dialogue has become, and first thing in the morning I have little ability to protect myself from being sucked in, and reacting to it. So… there’s that. No more reading the news in the morning (again). It’s a poor practice for me as an individual.

This morning, I am thinking about the “no words” – boundary-setting language. I am thinking about what works, what doesn’t, and the how/why boundary setting can be so objectionable for some people that they immediately begin to rationalize, manipulate, or defy boundaries that have been set. I don’t know why I’m thinking about this, today; I woke up thinking about it. Well, sort of…

I didn’t sleep well. I was tired fairly early, went to bed “on time”, fell asleep promptly, but… it didn’t last. I woke around 2 am. I never slept particularly well after that, if I slept at all. I wasn’t distressed by my sleeplessness, that no longer plagues me in that fashion. There wasn’t any anxiety or stress over it, even knowing that if it persists for another day or two, I won’t be well-rested to make the 5 hour drive to see my Traveling Partner this weekend. I wasn’t laying awake in the dark thinking about boundary setting, though. Still… it’s what was on my mind as I woke. No idea why.

So I start the morning with my coffee, hot, and ideas to do with boundary setting swirling in my consciousness: agency, consent, saying “no”, saying “yes”, “reasonable” boundaries, consideration, respect… and on it goes. My thinking hasn’t really become anything especially share-worthy. My words this morning are unlikely to excite, inspire, or even to truly communicate. I am adrift in a sea of thoughts about boundaries, and boundary setting. There’s no stress over that, either, it’s rather a calm sea. 🙂

I’ve been struck by the seeming general lack of consideration between and among individuals of late. It’s probably quite subjective. It may not be at all an accurate experience of life. It just seems to me that people I observe are much less considerate than they were rather recently ago…but… when I attempt to take time to prove that assumption for myself, it falls apart when I attempt to show things were previously actually any better. I still subjectively feel that something “has changed”. I don’t know that the change is anything that affects the world… it could just be me. I am, perhaps, more sensitive to inconsiderate behavior, regardless who it affects, than I once was? Consideration is a big deal for me, personally. It’s one of my “Big 5” relationship values – something I value so highly, I both seek to practice it reliably in every relationship and interaction, and also require it, reciprocally, from others. My idea of “decency”, “civility”, and basic good manners requires consideration be a default behavior. Yes, and there are verbs involved.

The sky has grown lighter, and the morning is on the other side of day break. I finish my coffee, and notice that the house has cooled off completely. The morning breezes have blown through the open windows. It’s forecasted to be very hot all week. I’ve been very grateful to have already moved. My last place, without any trees shading the west wall, a floorplan with limited air flow, and no AC, quickly got into triple digits indoors if the outdoor temperature exceeded 86 degrees (F) or so, and if temperatures remained high, it gradually worsened, and reached dangerously high indoor temperatures poorly suited to human life. No joke. (It wasn’t that bad before the property management company cut down all the trees.) The new place is quite different. It is both well-shaded, and also has AC – and a floorplan that allows air to move efficiently through the place. Very livable. I pause to really appreciate how nice this is… and remember that I will need to water the container garden on the deck.

I hear a bird or creature of some sort, just beyond view outside the window. Curiosity pulls me to my feet… and the day begins. 🙂

Tags Agency, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, boundary setting, consent, emotional self sufficiency, I am my own cartographer, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, Summer mornings, TBI, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Big 5, Words

All Messy With Books

July 30, 2017 //

Yesterday I hung a few paintings. I vacuumed, did laundry, did dishes, watered the garden on the deck, hung out a bit with a friend who made the trek out my way, figured out what will hang over the mantle and got it to the framer’s shop. It was a sweet, quiet weekend, and yesterday was every bit as lovely as the day before it.

By evening, I was sort of just chilling with my foot iced and elevated, and staring at the empty book shelves was nagging at me severely; it seemed inconsistent with the rest of the weekend that the bookshelves were empty. One by one I brought in boxes of books, and emptied them onto shelves… which resulted, more than anything else, in a mess of books out, just everywhere, in small stacks here and there, crowding onto shelves that suddenly appeared to be “the wrong shelf for that one” and now my previously tidy living room is messy with books. A lot of books. A tiny library of books gathered over a lifetime, filtered by moves and gift-giving, added to, subtracted from, and the result being about 500 or so books very precious to me worth dragging around over a lifetime of moving.

Books are heavy. By the end of the evening, which snuck up on me rather unexpectedly, I was really tired, and also a lot more moved in… well, aside from (because of?) the mess of books that I created. 😀 I guess next weekend I’ll be connecting the tv and stereo (maybe tonight)…

…It hits me that my weekend is over. Today is a work day. It’s a new work week. I take a moment to get my expectations and sensibilities in order; being late is still something that causes me rather a lot of stress, so avoiding that circumstance is desirable, generally. 🙂 I look at the time. I look at the weather. I make a note to ensure the air conditioning is on, and that the thermostat is set to keep the house comfortable through the upcoming actual not-fucking-around-it’s-summer-for-real heat that is in the forecast for this week. 110 degrees (F)?? In Portland, Oregon? What the fuck is that about? I stick to a promise I made to myself yesterday, and quickly finish my coffee, and fill up my water bottle.

As I head back to my desk I notice a huge spider struggling in the sticky trap at the edge of the kitchen floor. Wow. A big one. There was one in the bathroom trap this morning, too… Curiosity gets to me. There really haven’t been many spiders on this move. Just 4 so far. (I’ve been keeping count, yes.) There are large ones, and some small ones, in every trap I placed over the weekend, after waking up with a single spider bite on Thursday morning. Yeesh. Ick. I sit down in my studio, paintings stacked everywhere (like spider condos…) and a grim chill runs down my spine; there are no sticky traps in here. (I ran out.) I find myself wondering how many spiders are watching me from crevices and corners right now…

I’ve creeped myself out completely now. So. Yeah. Great. It’s time for work. lol

… It’s time to start a new day. I can begin again. 🙂

Tags a quiet weekend at home, be here now, building a drama free zone, drink water, emotional self sufficiency, experience, good self-care, hanging paintings, I am my own cartographer, in the library, letting go of baggage, making it home, MBSR, meditation, mindful living, mindfulness matters, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, shelving books, spider bites, sufficiency, summer heat, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, unpacking boxes, walking my own path, what matters most?

Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, gardening, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer

Staying on Task

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My First Homecoming

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Figuring It Out

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No Words

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All Messy With Books

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