Archives for posts with tag: osteoarthritis pain
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Name That Emotion

October 15, 2026 //
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I woke with a certain feeling clinging to me as I pulled myself free of my dreams to face a new day.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I noticed the pain in my hands as I woke. Then the neuralgia in my face. I snarled silently at Thursday morning, thinking to myself “so it’s going to be like that, is it?”, as I dressed.

As I left the house, I stared at the starry sky with wonder. It still fills me with awe and delight. I recognize Orion overhead and smile; that was the first constellation I learned to recognize. The starry night sky inspires me.

I walk the familiar trail thinking about art, starry night skies, new moments, and inspiration. Nice morning for it. It’s dark but not cold. We haven’t yet had our first frost. That’s not strange here, only an observation. I pause on the trail at a spot with a particularly good view of the night sky, a little vexed by the pointlessly bright lights of the nearby construction site. I star gaze for a few minutes, rubbing my aching hands and enjoying the view before walking on.

I spent some time in the studio after work yesterday. I’m grateful that I could, and that I have dedicated space for creative work. That is an incredible luxury and I am fortunate.

“The Drain”, soft pastels, 2026

At my halfway point, I indulge myself with a long look at a picture of the piece I painted yesterday. It evokes something for me that I can’t quite name. I’m not entirely clear whether the art flows from the emotion…or creates it. At least, that is the case with this one. I felt pulled into the studio yesterday, as if drawn towards a painting not yet conceived, and walked out with a sense of something certain and final. Completed work, yes, and also as if I’d said something I didn’t have words for.

… What is that emotion called..?

I sigh and stuff my phone back into my pocket. I let my eyes readjust to the darkness. I rub my hands – more specifically my thumbs, where the newest arthritis has turned up. It seems likely that over time, perhaps quite slowly, it will become progressively more difficult to paint, as it becomes more difficult to hold pastels or brushes comfortably. I sit with the awareness awhile, not picking at it, not trying to wish it away or argue with it, simply aware, observing the sensation of pain and feeling the poignant hint of sorrow and maybe future disappointment.  No reason to drag all that into this moment from a future that hasn’t yet occurred. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let the moment pass.

I meditate under the stars. The morning here is peaceful. For the moment, that is enough.

I catch myself squirming and twisting slowly, trying to find physical comfort. Yes, the arthritis is sometimes an absolute motherfucker to deal with, but…it could be worse. So much worse. I stretch and adjust my seated position and my posture. I silently acknowledge to myself that it’s the best I can do for the moment, and take my morning medication. That will help, too.

I write a bit, and watch the sky slowly begin to lighten. I love seeing the various gradual changes as night becomes day. Another sigh. I get to my feet. May as well begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, Words

Start, Stop, Begin Again

December 1, 2025 //
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Sometimes things feel harder than they seem they should. Misinformation everywhere. The practical details of life getting more costly every week, every month. Paychecks don’t keep up with that unless you happen to be among the very affluent (and then it’s less that the paycheck keeps up than maybe you don’t need to notice the minutiae or count the pennies). (Remember pennies?) Balancing the load takes up a lot of mental bandwidth, even for folks who are very organized and pretty prepared. It’s exhausting.

…It’s okay to admit it when you’re tired…

My head aches. My arthritis pain is actually making me feel ill. I’m distracted from one priority task by the next ostensibly higher priority task. Subjectively, I feel like I “used to be better at juggling all of this”, but I’m not sure that’s literally true. I suspect I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed by the lingering artifacts of chaos that arrived ahead of me (to this job) or which defy attempts to bring order (the chaos and damage in my own head), or perhaps I am succumbing to the stress of watching the decline of democracy, in spite of my attempt to avoid spending potentially productive time on that bullshit. (It’s not bullshit because it isn’t real, it’s bullshit because it doesn’t need to be this way, and we somehow chose this shit in spite of being told what was coming if we did.)

I’m tired. Not because I’m working my ass off on some construction job site, or laboring on a factory floor, or in a fulfillment warehouse, or on my feet all day. Brain tired. Soul tired. It’s feeling too much like a hamster wheel, some days, and too little like living.

…This too will pass…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take a moment to scrounge in my handbag for another dose of Rx pain management, only to discover I’ve already taken that, and I’m already “maxed out” for a work day. Well, shit. I sigh to myself, finish the watered-down dregs of my morning coffee, knowing I’ll likely regret that later tonight. I pull myself upright, and pause to offer someone a compliment for work well done. I find giving others sincere encouragement or expressing gratitude for some task or service someone has provided often distracts me from the pain I’m in. Certainly it’s a better reaction to pain than sobbing or throwing a tantrum. I’d happily just sit somewhere gazing out a window, letting my mind empty itself of concerns, and even thoughts. Parking this fragile vessel and leaving her to idle for awhile would feel pretty good, but… I don’t have time.

…The clock is ticking…

It helps to have a break, and I’m glad I took one. It’s not enough, but it will do for the moment. I imagine the stern look on the face of the woman in the mirror, right now, she knows I could do a better job of taking care of myself than I often do. I make her a promise I probably won’t keep, and hope that she understands. It has to be enough… it’s the best I can do right now. Isn’t it?

…”No. Do better.” I imagine her answering, “You matter. You can at least take a proper fucking break…”

I sigh again, and get up from my desk to take a proper break. The sun is shining. I go outside and get some fresh air, and watch the squirrels play for a few minutes, and stretch. It’s chilly but not cold. The sunshine feels good. Now I feel ready to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War

Around the Bend

April 29, 2025 //
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There is a future, and the details of the specifics are unknown. Mostly, things will probably be fairly ordinary, because generally speaking, they are. I think about that as I walk, and wonder, and plan. No amount of planning and thinking will directly change the future, but it may lead to better choices.

Blue sky afternoon in Spring

I think about my garden as a metaphor. I can calculate the average yield of each plant I’ve planted, and plan ahead to do the necessary work, but these actions don’t determine what my harvest will actually be. My plans won’t determine what I actually get done. Circumstances will be what they are. I’ll know the outcome when I get there, and weigh the harvested produce. Will it be abundant? Will it fail to be sufficient? I can only guess, do my best, and hope to be prepared for all of the most likely outcomes.

Yesterday was sunny and pleasantly warm. I spent time in the garden in the evening after dinner. It felt like summer approaching. I planned to do some gardening on my breaks today (working from home). I woke to rain. It’s not raining heavily or steadily, though it obviously rained quite a lot during the night. I still manage to enjoy my walk. Drizzly now, but not raining hard. It’s not a good day for gardening though. It is sloppy and muddy and my arthritis is giving me a bad time. Yesterday, my view of today was obscured. I didn’t see this rainy day coming.

Spring in the Pacific Northwest

I sigh to myself as I walk, and I’m all the way back to the car before I take a moment for meditation and writing; my favorite stopping point on this trail was soaking wet and surrounded by mud.

I definitely don’t know what the future holds. Probably a lot more of all of the usual, which could be a bit of a buzzkill, until I consider how much of that future is within my control to at least some degree, all the time. I may not be certain of the outcome, but I do have a lot of choices. I can create and embrace change. I can hold space to succeed and to fail, and to find my way regardless of the circumstances. I can practice and build emotional resilience, contentment, and joy. Being present in this moment makes the journey a slow pleasant walk into a future I feel mostly pretty prepared for. Practicing non-attachment ensures that the bend in the path ahead is part of the journey, and not a cause for anxiety.

I smile to myself. My awareness of pain doesn’t make the morning less pleasant, only more human. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and prepare to begin again. The clock ticks. The sun rises. The rain falls. The journey continues.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

Snowfall; the forecast is not the reality

February 3, 2025 //
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I left the house in the usual way this morning, amused to see a dusting of snow on the car. It hadn’t been sticking on the ground. It was a loose powdery sort of snow that the windshield wipers easily brushed away. Snow was falling as I got into the car. Snow fell as I drove through town, and the streets were white with it in some of the colder places. “Funny”, I thought to myself, recalling the forecast from the night before, “we’re definitely below 500ft”.

…The weather forecast, complete with a winter storm warning, was pretty clear that the chances of snow were near 0 below 500ft, and more likely above 1000ft. Plenty of rain in that forecast, at the elevation where I make my home, which is around 150ft of elevation. Unimpressive as elevation goes. Agricultural low-lands. No particular expectation of snow in the forecast…

I drove to the office grateful that my chains were in the car, at least initially. The snow fell plentifully the first handful of miles. The closer I got to 300ft of elevation, the less snow fell. The peak elevation of my commute to the office is only about 420ft, if that. No snow. The pavement wasn’t even damp. Clear skies and dry pavement the rest of the drive to the office, on the highway and on the side streets, too. “Nothing to see here.” I chuckled to myself. There wasn’t much traffic for a Monday morning, and I felt certain a great many people likely looked at that forecast and made plans to work from home if that were an option (or to be absent from work due to the potential for inclement weather if it wasn’t). The office is empty and quiet.

It’s a useful metaphor for all manner of anticipated or predicted disasters. The plan is not the event. The forecast is not the weather. The map is not the world. Panicking over what is not yet (and may not ever be) is an enormous waste of emotional energy, and a big contributor to stress. We humans tend to expect the worst, generally. I sigh quietly to myself, breathe, exhale, and relax. I pull myself back to “now” – this moment, this very real actual lived moment of my life – right now, and any time I find myself all wrapped up in something that hasn’t even happened, or isn’t happening to or near me. I’m not saying I “don’t care” about what is going on around me, just that it isn’t helpful to get lost in a moment that is not my own, and may not be happening at all. There’s a lot of completely misleading bullshit in the media we consume, that isn’t true or real at all, and often things that are true are presented in a way that provokes far more emotion or demands more attention than is useful or necessary. Perspective is a handy stress-reliever. Non-attachment is a good practice. Finding peace in presence is healthy.

…None of this defies what is true and real; there are some really terrible things going on in the world. It’s just that we may be more able to provide whatever help we can if we’re not freaked out and stressed over the things that are far removed from our lives, or quite abstract, or not actually happening (yet)…

Another breath. I sip my coffee aware of my “winter pain”. The cold and damp make my arthritis so much worse. I take a moment to do the things I know help the most; I stretch, I move around, I take my pain medication, I distract myself with something engaging and positive, I breathe and set my timer for future breaks so that I don’t find myself stiffening up from sitting too still for too long. Practices. No, it’s not enough to get rid of the pain I live with, but the pain would be much worse without taking the steps I do. The rest is “noise”, and I’ve mostly gotten used to it. It’s not ideal, but it’s real; I live with chronic pain, like a lot of people do. Letting it wreck my life moment by moment isn’t helpful, so I do my best to avoid that (when I can). Today is better than a lot of days. Worse than some others. I breathe, exhale, and relax – and let that go. Again.

I think about the snow, this morning. It was so pretty while it fell. A beautiful moment, and like a lot of moments, so brief, so temporary – a lived moment that will never repeat. Ichigo ichie. It’s already time to begin again – here comes the next moment.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter

Don’t Forget About the Basics

January 31, 2025 //
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This fragile human vessel is so… fragile. The biochemistry of life is complicated. Maslow’s hierarchy is worth keeping in mind. Self-care really matters. Yesterday evening I “hit a wall” – low blood sugar, pain, fatigue, stress… rough. My Traveling Partner reminded me to slow down and care for myself, suggested having a snack while I was rushing around trying to end the day. He was right. It made a huge difference.

I’m thinking about it now as I deal with my physical pain on a rainy day and deal with the background stress of the constant swirling discussion of stressful government madness. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about dinner. I look out the window at the rainy day. I remember to take pain medication. I drink water. I stand up and stretch and move around. I refresh the content of my thoughts with a pleasant distraction. Basic stuff.

It’s a gray rainy day. Not particularly cold, though it may be over the weekend. I sigh quietly and consider the imminent end of the work day. I think about far away friends and wonder how they are. I think about my Traveling Partner at home, also dealing with pain. Pain sucks. Still… it could be worse. The office is comfortably warm, and home will be as well. That’s no small thing. I think about dinner, again, and wonder if maybe pizza would be good…?

I smile to myself, grateful for what I’ve got, and what works. Hopeful, because that feels better than despair. There are verbs involved – and a lot of those have to do with self-care. So, I do a few of those things, and look forward to a hot shower after I get home. That’ll feel nice… a good way to begin again.

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Categories breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Practices, winter
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