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

I didn’t sleep well, and woke too early. I feel generally okay, and it was nice to open up the patio door, and do my ‘sunrise yoga’ as the sun actually rose. I make a point of acknowledging and embracing gains in strength, flexibility, and overall fitness, hoping to limit the discouragement that can so easily creep in when progress feels so slow.

Begin again.

Begin again.

I’ll admit I face the new day earnestly reaching for a new beginning; the evening ending awkwardly, after some difficult moments there toward the end of the evening. I won’t berate myself and insist it was “all me”, that would be inaccurate, although perhaps in many circumstances involving my emotions, it likely wasn’t a 50-50 thing. I tend to keep a tight grip [too tight?] on my emotions when my traveling partner is with me… It’s not a value add, at this point, and I don’t do myself any favors to keep it up… but we so easily find ourselves mired in my bullshit, even now, over some momentary shitstorm of strong emotion that it’s more than tempting to try to ‘keep things in check’ minute to minute, and it’s not really something that works. I probably don’t have to explain that trying to hold back emotions by force of will has a pretty common outcome of unexpectedly strong emotions spilling all over the damned place, spreading across small issues, creating large issues, complicating communication; the signal quickly becomes the noise.  When my TBI-related challenges cross paths with my PTSD symptoms… well… it’s not pretty, and I’m frankly not at my best, and it is a thing that has everything in the world to do with me living alone. I don’t know how else to ‘protect’ the people I love most, but of course… there’s this. What a fucked up mess.

Love matters most.

Love matters most.

We found our way, more or less, by the time I made my way to bed. My partner moved the fan into a window, and tweaked things to keep air moving during the night, and ensured the apartment was secure. I didn’t have to ask, and it’s lovely to be able to count on him for small things that feel urgently important to me (whether they are important ‘in real life’ or not).

My restless night didn’t continue to distress me after I woke, and my “nightmares” weren’t terrifying; it was just my brain finishing up the day’s processing, reconsidering this and that, and shoving new information into long-term storage, I guess. No noteworthy content. I woke to birdsong, and a small amount of lingering bitterness that I suck so hard at managing my issues in the company of a human being with whom [for me] it matters most to do so.  I’m frustrated with myself. I’ll keep practicing. I’ll keep taking care of me. I’ll keep learning more about loving well. Then… I’ll keep right on being quite human. Awkward.

Anyway – the weekend is here. I get a fresh start with each new dawn. There’s nothing on my calendar for the weekend except love and loving. Today is a good day to dust off The Four Agreements, and begin again. 🙂

Stick with the basics - it's a great place to start.

Stick with the basics – it’s a great place to start.

I woke around 1:30 am or so. I never figured out what woke me, and it didn’t matter much. The night was quiet, and I almost went right back to sleep – then the anxiety hit me, out of nowhere, ‘about’ nothing, just washing over me, filling my awareness…

What does the darkness conceal? What can it show me?

What does the darkness conceal? What can it show me?

I got up for a short while, at that point, and there was no line to wait for a seat on my meditation cushion. 🙂 I opened the windows and patio door to let fresh breezes cool the apartment. Meditation during the night is some of my favorite, although I doubt I’d set my alarm to have the experience of it. My anxiety passed. I’ve no real idea how long I was meditating, and since this morning is a Sunday, there was no need to check the clock. I returned to sleep.

“Sleeping in” is a rare treat for me, generally, at least at this point in life. I woke much later than I typically do, unconcerned about the change in time or timing. I made coffee, saving room to laugh at myself; having made a French press to share with a friend yesterday, I’d forgotten to reset the quantity of ground coffee needed, on my burr grinder. This morning I inadvertently ground all the coffee I’d be needing for the entire day! Oops… Such a small thing could have been enough to set me off and destroy my mood for an entire day, once upon a time. It’s a nice change that this morning it only caused laughter.

I’ve no particular agenda for today, and my “to do list” remains a blank page. Today is a good day for it.  I could paint. Play video games. Garden. Clean up the ludicrous quantity of photos on my phone (8976). Read a book. Write. Practice on my bass guitar. Tidy something up that feels disorganized. Hike. There are by far more choices than there is time in the day. Hell, I could spend the entire day contentedly dithering about my choices for what to do with my time… and everything I listed seems quite a lovely way to pass the day [to me].

Isn’t contentment enough? Today I’ll be doing… something. I suspect I’ll be quite content, whatever I choose to do with my time, today. That’s definitely enough. Choosing contentment, and practicing the practices that put it within everyday reach, may not be ‘everything’, and maybe it won’t ‘change the world’, but it is enough – and it has profoundly changed how I experience my life. 🙂 We become what we practice.

Choose. Begin again.

Choose. Begin again.

My morning began quite gently with the rare treat of sleeping in. I emptied the dishwasher while water boiled for coffee. I made a wee celebration of turning the page on the notepad I use for my ‘to do’ list each day, flipping the page over boldly, fully disregarding anything remaining on yesterday’s page (at least for now), and then cheerily walking away from it without writing a single thing on the blank the page. Yesterday wasn’t a bad day at all – it’s still over. Entirely past. Done. Behind me. I’ve turned the page. 🙂

What's left of yesterday? Photographs, memories, and change.

What’s left of yesterday? Photographs, memories, and change.

Today my intention is to keep things simple and enjoy the day. I have committed to some general tidying up, studying, and sorting through my thoughts on a topic that inspires me both as an artist and as a writer. It may be days or weeks in the making, which feels… amazing. It is a topic that pushes me to think differently about connection, intimacy, individuality, identity, interdependence, image, authenticity, and where my value as a being truly lies.

What exactly is an 'individual', anyway?

What exactly is an ‘individual’, anyway?

This seems a nice morning for thinking thoughts, taking notes, making observations, and for balancing presence with insight gleaned from experience over time. (Caution: there are no fewer verbs involved when the work we do is within ourselves!) I enjoy intimacy, connection, communion with others; I am a social creature. I am also an emotionally injured human being. Emotional injuries are those that, whether they are also physical injuries or not, hit us in the deep down places where our being resides, seemingly safe. The result? Mental illness. Post traumatic stress. “Anger management issues.” Difficulties connecting, attaching, and being intimate. Difficulties being comfortable, trusting, being social, sharing, cohabiting. Hurt feelings. Drama. Weirdness. Strange negative assumptions and expectations. Fear. I mean…maybe not all of those, for everyone, every time, but… yeah.  The effort to clean up the chaos and damage, find a better way to live, maybe even find a way to actually thrive in life… it’s slow going, not easy, requires practice – a lot of it – and verbs – too many. (Totally worth it.) The point I think I’d like to make is that sometimes it feels as lonely and distancing to be working on cleaning up the chaos and damage, as it does to have it in the first place. That’s okay – it’s a bit of a solo hike, sometimes. It sort of has to be. 🙂

Look closer. How many individuals are in this picture?

Look closer. How many individuals are in this picture?

It’s reassuring to consider that I’m not really in this alone. I’ve felt so alone sometimes. But… Really? I’m not – it’s an illusion, one that is, itself, part of the chaos and damage, isolating me and suggesting I am too broken to be accepted as a human being, too broken even, perhaps, to be loved. My results vary, and there are verbs involved, and sometimes it seems damned slow going – but I’m learning to go beyond being warily, passively open to connection (hoping for the best, certain no good can come of it), to being willing to reach out, to actually being open. It’s a very different thing. To be open requires a measure of vulnerability and authenticity that can feel pretty scary… What if it isn’t reciprocated?? I find some solace and security in the awareness that individuality, however defined, isn’t sufficient to fully undermine how interconnected we also are as creatures; we are not alone. I’m okay with that. Sometimes it’s nice to share the journey – it’s a long one.

I am my own cartographer, keeper of the list, and adult-in-charge, in this life that is mine.

I am my own cartographer, keeper of the list, and adult-in-charge, in this life that is mine.

This morning, I am alone with my time and my chores. Later? So not alone. 🙂 It’s ‘date night’, and I’ll spend the evening in the charming company of my traveling partner, filling my moments with love and laughter. The time has come to set aside the morning in favor of the day… Today is a good day to pause and enjoy progress over time, and to appreciate and enjoy the woman in the mirror.

[note: my “liberal” politics are showing, please feel free to skip this post about “gun control”]

There’s no fiction in 50 lost lives in Orlando. Hell yes, it’s tragic. Now, in the aftermath, we’re subjected to reruns of tired ‘guns don’t kill people, people kill people’ rhetoric, somehow entirely overlooking that all practical measures proposed to address gun violence would apply to people, their behavior, and their access to firearms. Can we at least admit – whether we personally own a firearm or not – that some people are not as safe with a firearm as others? Please?

I am frustrated by the reflexive defense of gun ownership (in general) by people whose ownership is not being attacked. Is the defensiveness shown by so many purportedly responsible gun owners [when regulation changes come up in conversation] due to insecurity regarding their personal safety, or is it due to undiscussed concerns that they may not be as safe with a gun as they insist they are? (I know it was my own awareness that I was a living breathing risk factor for gun violence that caused me to give up owning a firearm, myself – it didn’t seem like a difficult choice to me.)

Personally, I don’t have any problem with, or concern about, responsible adult citizens owning a firearm for home defense, for target shooting, for hunting… although I do insist that we all be quite frank about the implied violence of firearm use. Firearms are tools, sure – for killing. That is their purpose. So…um… do we really want just any/everyone to be easily able to obtain a firearm – a tool for killing? Seriously? Even, say, people convicted of hate crimes? Domestic violence? Assault? Robbery? Rape? Hell – do we even want people with unmanaged mental health issues who haven’t yet been violent owning firearms, if they appear to have a high potential for violence in some noteworthy and obvious way demonstrated by ongoing observed behavior? Don’t we want to mitigate the risk of more hate or rage fueled shootings by restricting gun ownership to responsible people, and also to people actually emotionally fit to own a firearm? If those are things we want, then yeah, regulation of some kind is a given. Why is it so hard to stomach basic skills testing and licensing requirements? We do that with cars, and it doesn’t seem to have taken any cars off the road. Why is it so hard to contemplate some kind of simple ‘fitness test’ to rule out the obviously at risk of violence? Sure, sure, it may be difficult to craft a test that identifies people at risk well, without screening out people who are not at risk of mis-using a firearm – that makes it challenging, not impossible. Is it unreasonable to ask that people diagnosed with PTSD eschew firearm ownership until their care provider is confident they are not at risk of becoming unexpectedly violent? What is that so uncomfortable? (It seems entirely reasonable to me; I’ve seen what lies within the walls of the nightmare city, and I have waded through some deep corners of chaos and damage.)

Is the big fear [for people who already own guns] that someone will come along and attempt to place some apparently responsible gun owner into a cubby labeled ‘not all that god damned safe with a firearm actually’ and take their guns away ‘for no reason’? It seems unlikely. I understand being uneasy about it, though; human beings don’t have a great track record for acting reasonably, moderately, and with great care. Silencing the conversation about gun safety hasn’t been a great strategy for change either, though, has it? We’d do well to have the conversation, to listen more than we talk, to really hear each other’s concerns – from all sides, from all perspectives. It’s a complicated issue, but also an issue that seems to have quite a few potential solutions to consider that are less extreme than ‘take all the guns’.

Yes, I do understand that no additional regulation of firearms would be needed if we ‘addressed the causes of violence’… and… Well, given the ongoing contention regarding LGBTQ rights, the hostility toward women in everyday society, the commonness of domestic violence, and the difficulty with effectively diagnosing and treating the mentally ill, it doesn’t seem we’re quite ‘there’ yet with regard to managing the causes of violence – hell, we don’t even reliably treat people we love well, as a society. I’m totally down with addressing the causes of violence – let’s do that! So… how will we do that? I’m hoping the gun owners must have some thoughts on that, since they are so vocal about preferring to address the causes of violence as a solution to gun violence, rather than regulatory measures that might affect them, also.

I’m angry about this. I’m bitching. Words. More words. Impotent words. Words that get heads nodding when read by a like-minded reader. Words that rouse frustration and ire, or distance, from readers who disagree with my thoughts on the topic. No meeting of the minds is likely – no one really listening, I suspect, just reacting to phrases and buzzwords consistent with bias and programming. That’s really ‘the problem’, isn’t it? Argument doesn’t often result in people listening to the other guy deeply and gaining understanding or perspective, that’s left to conversation. When we feel attacked, we stop listening. When we defend ourselves, we are not listening either. To exchange ideas, we’ll probably need to let go of all that, and just talk, which implies really listening, too. Are you ready for that? To ask questions and listen to the answers? To take time to make sense of a perspective that isn’t your own? To accept someone else’s perspective as equally valid – equally valued – and seek solutions that respect mutually exclusive positions? I didn’t suggest it would be easy, I’m simply saying it isn’t outside the realm of possibilities – there are verbs involved.

Anyway. Keep your guns. Let’s figure out how to also allow everyone else to keep their lives. There are verbs involved. 🙂

It gets difficult to juggling all of the tasks, obligations, responsibilities, desires, goals, and ‘things in general’ with 40 hours (more) each week just lopped right off my productive lifetime. I’m feeling that fairly acutely right now, from the perspective of keeping that 40 hours and using it for myself; it’s a rare luxury, and I am doing what I can to take advantage of it from day-to-day.

Yesterday felt comfortable and natural, balanced between self-care, job search activities, and domesticity. Today is planned similarly. I am neither bored, nor hurried, which feels quite comfortable. “Comfortable” is a word that I find coming up a lot in the past couple of weeks, and I don’t mind over-using the word while I enjoy the experience.

The slower pace to life gives me an opportunity to more deeply consider the woman in the mirror, who she is today, where she is headed, what her choices and opportunities may be – and where they may take her. It’s a time for self-work, and for continued education. (I’m not passive about the time between jobs – this is my time, for me, and I hope to use it wisely.) Life – and the internet – provide plenty of opportunities to learn and to grow, like this exploration of emotion that I stumbled upon this morning. Taking care of me still requires attention to detail, commitment to action, and self-awareness – and I still need plenty of practice. At least for now, I really can put myself at the top of my list of priorities, and I do. Totally worth it. (There are still verbs involved.)

A quiet evening hanging out with my traveling partner became a good opportunity to improve on communication practices shared between us. I wake with my heart so filled with love for this one particular other human being that there is plenty to spill over as smiles available for every passing stranger – it feels like a very good day to be alive. That’s a pretty subjective experience, and as I recognize how tied to this gentle emotional climate it is, I also find myself aware that there are subtle choices involved, too; I could have responded (or reacted) differently to the evening, to my partner, to my circumstances… I could be living a very different life than I am choosing. Choosing when the choices feel easy and the outcomes feel pleasant isn’t difficult, or complicated, or messy, or at all challenging… Will I feel this good, or find life so simple, when the choices are more difficult, or the outcome – however desirable or needful – is less pleasant? Will I be able to reliably choose to take care of me, to enjoy my experience, and to live well (and beautifully) when things are hard, too? That’s a piece of the journey as yet unmapped, and quite likely just beyond some bend in the road up ahead at some point along the way. I smile when I hear myself (in my thoughts) hoping not to disappoint myself when the time comes; it has gotten much harder to disappoint myself these days. I am learning compassion, consideration, self-awareness, and love. (I still have so much to learn!)

Begin again.

Begin again.

Today is a good day for forward momentum, and for getting things done. Today is a good day to enjoy living, and to share a smile with a stranger. Today is a good day for compassion, for patience, and for perspective. Today is a good day for change. 🙂