Archives for posts with tag: pain and pain management

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. πŸ™‚

I had taken notes yesterday for a very different blog post. It’s something I experience rather regularly; my thinking changed, my mood changed, my experience changed, and the my awareness of context and my perspective changed along with them. I woke this morning in “a very different place” though I am in my usual surroundings. My notes no longer “make sense” – oh, I get where I was going with those observations, but… no. Not today.

Another perspective on the day

Another perspective on the day

My perspective changed. Perspective shifts are a pretty wonderful “natural resource”, when I allow them. Last night’s concert, for example, was actually pretty dreadful – unexpectedly so, although after-the-fact, looking back, I knew when I purchased the tickets that the artist was working the trailing end of a lifelong career, and “tired” probably doesn’t describe the end result in appropriate terms. The artist attracted a bizarre mix of elders, middle-aged rockers, and rather peculiarly – some real creepers, actually frightening “do not talk to me, sir, I don’t know you” sorts of creepers. The smell of booze, body odor, and heavy perfume was thick in the air. Ick.

My traveling partner caught up with me in line, and we went to our seats. It was clear in minutes that the seats behind us were occupied by stereotypically entitled rude douchebags, demonstrated primarily by such loud talking that it was difficult to hear my partner seated immediately next to me, and it was highly distracting. I expected they would stop when the show started, but that wasn’t going to happen – when did everyday people become so incredibly rude and inconsiderate? It irked me most especially that they’d probably go about quite proudly on Veteran’s Day thanking Veterans for their service without even once thinking about the contradiction implied by being so heinously rude in a concert venue that they were potentially ruining the quality of the experience for the Veterans who may be attending. Dicks.

After the show started, I turned around and asked them politely if they could lower their voices. I’m a woman. They ignored me with smirks that told me it wasn’t an oversight that they were blowing me off. My partner turned next and straight up, quite firmly, told them to stop talking. Heads turned. There were approving murmurs to my right, and heads nodding in the seats on the other side of the aisle. The two loud-talking dick bags did stop talking loudly – instead, they kicked the backs of our seats regularly, like vengeful children on an airplane. It would be funny if it weren’t so demonstrative of “the state of things” that seems so common and scary in people’s behavior these days. Certainly, it is inappropriate behavior for an adult.

Intermission came. With it, our shared admission that the jack asses seated behind us weren’t really all that… just people being annoying. For a really stellar show, we agreed we’d both endure that, and shrug it off having made our point politely… only… The show was actually quite dreadful. That’s enough to say about that, I’m not a reviewer or a critic, and there is so much in the world I do not know. We mutually agreed, with some relief, that our perspective was shared and neither of us was feeling hurt over the other’s disappointment in the event. We left during intermission, talking and laughing and enjoying the night out. The drive home was pleasant and unhurried. We hung out late into the evening, sharing each other’s company – really that’s what the evening was all about, anyway. Being authentically who we each are saved our evening from an evening enduring a mediocre concert event in the company of children masquerading as adults.

Damn. I sound all sorts of judgmental this morning… and that’s what I was actually going to write about, from my notes yesterday! We do have and use our judgment. It’s so easy to turn that critical voice on ourselves – and then on each other. On the other hand, I don’t see being non-judgmental as requiring me to accept mistreatment, or tolerate indefinitely an unpleasant experience. It can be a matter of judgment to choose to speak up, or to walk on; I see that differently from “being judgmental”. I realized this morning, I’m not sure I have the words to explain why… so… maybe I am incorrect in an assumption somewhere, and this requires further thought? I’m okay with that. There’s time. This is a journey – and the destination is not the point of it.

I slept quite late this morning after the late night. I woke up in pain. I remind myself again to call the doctor’s office this morning. My traveling partner checks in with me about doing something today. Doing things is good – I have today off. I just hurt today, and don’t really care about doing anything. I haven’t finished my first cup of coffee, and suddenly I feel cross. Oh! I’m hungry. I chuckle at myself; I’m not yet awake enough to really understand that my self-care is thrown off by sleeping in. I’m prone to misunderstanding myself, my surroundings, the context of my experience, and more than usually reactive. Another coffee, then, some yoga, a hot shower… maybe later doing things. lol

Today is a good day to begin again. Today is a good day to enjoy the moment that is… and another cup of coffee. πŸ˜‰

 

 

Thinking about the future. “Here it comes…“. It is a morning with a theme song. πŸ™‚ It’s also 4:30 am. So… a theme song, and headphones. Again this morning I am thinking about the reality and the fantasy, considering options, considering needs, considering what it takes to take care of me, over time. What do I really need, versus what do I yearn for but can so easily do without? I continue to plan this next move, and in the planning I find my anxiety and stress about it greatly reduced.

I ended the evening last night in great pain. Yoga, physical therapy, acetaminophen, medical cannabis, a hot soak in Epsom salts, meditation… I did the things, it was still a struggle. I managed to avoid reaching for Rx pain relief, though, which is a win. I woke without much pain, in spite of the very rainy morning and the chill in the air.Β My calves ache from muscle cramps during the night, a weird new development along life’s journey.Β The thought distracts me with the idea of pain, and I find myself mentally listing all the things that hurt, or are uncomfortable, and before I know it – I’m completely immersed in the experience of pain, and actually hurt more than I did minutes ago. We really do create a lot of our experience with the power of our thoughts and our words.

I take a moment to breathe, relax, and let go of (at least the thought of) the pain. I set a reminder to call my doctor for an appointment to discuss changes in my health, and pain management in the coming winter months. What’s to be done about the neck fracture recently identified in X-rays and a CT scan? That’d be good to know…

Pain again? Damn it. I change the music to something more defiant. Sometimes it helps to tell pain to fuck right off. No bullshit. I have an entire playlist of music with big beats and great grooves that all basically tell someone, or something, to fuck right off with great enthusiasm. Some days defiance is what it takes to move past the pain. I remind myself to be very mindfully aware of the things that don’t hurt, and the moments I am not in pain – however brief. Soaking in those experiences, savoring them, appreciating them fully helps preserve the memory of not hurting, and improves my implicit experience – otherwise, over time, I’d slowly lose touch with having any experience other than pain. This morning, I teeter on the edge of pain; when I am not thinking about it, this morning, I don’t hurt nearly as much.

This morning is a good one for music and dancing, for yoga and another cup of coffee, for meditation (on a timer – it’s a work day!), and for taking care of me. On the other side of the work day… a quiet evening. In between: rain, meetings, spreadsheets, questions, an important task hand-off, deep-diving some puzzles, lunch, thoughts of love, a couple miles of walking, and a new look at a view of the city I love. Each day a new beginning, a step on a much longer journey to becoming the woman I most want to be.

Every day has its own qualities, its own joy, its own suffering. Begin again.

Every day has its own qualities, its own joy, its own suffering. Begin again.

Up at 4 am works for me; I don’t fight it. There’s time for coffee, time for words, time to change the tone of the morning, and regain the leisurely feel of the morning that I enjoy so well. Today is a good day to take care of this fragile vessel that serves me so well. Today is a good day to slow things down a little bit and enjoy the morning without rushing. Today is a good day to embrace what matters most: perspective, mindfulness, sufficiency – and love. πŸ™‚

It’s a quiet morning. I’ve had very little sleep. I went to bed in pain, which is not uncommon in the cooler, wetter, autumn months. I didn’t fall asleep until much later, although I wasn’t restless – just sleepless. Sometime after 11 pm, I finally slept. I woke at 2 am, in pain. More pain? Different pain. Chest pain. I spent some time fussing and dithering over it, tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position, and finally giving up on all that, taking a chewable aspirin, and spending what remained of the night meditating.

Hours later, it’s morning, and time to begin a new day. The dull ache I still feel might be my “chest” – or might be my arthritic back being felt differently, because of the peculiar position I’d finally fallen asleep in, sort of curled in on myself. Awkward. The uncertainty causes some stress, but I’ve been here before; the last time I “took it seriously” and made haste to the ER it was nothing. Clearly it’s not “nothing”; I am in pain, and uncomfortable. I feelΒ quite normal, “besides the pain”… only… even that has a certain normalcy in my day-to-day experience. Generally, I can count on most of life’s discomfort to be less than urgent, and so this morning I treat myself gently, watchfully, aware that I am hurting, and mindful that this could warrant further attention. I’m about due for a physical, anyway. I set a reminder to make an appointment.

I sip my coffee contentedly. The yoga this morning helped with the pain. Now I feel thatΒ I was probably just “twisted up in knots” more than anything else. I’ll regret the lack of sleep as the day wears on, possibly, but even that is commonplace. I think about a friend going through some changes. She is struggling, and it sometimes feels that I can’t really communicate across the gap in years… How do I share what I’ve learned? How do I say “this too shall pass” in words she will be willing to hear? How do I communicate that so much of the struggling is a choice? We are each having our own experience…and living from such differing perspectives. I make a commitmentΒ to hang out, to listen, to be “be here”; we all want to be heard.

My traveling partner sleeps in the other room. I smile, thinking fondly of his presence, his love, our shared journey. Pleasant thoughts to start the day on. Even that is a choice that changes my experience over time. In a life filled with turmoil and chaos, it can be a profound act of rebellion to choose calm, to craftΒ stillness, to cultivate compassion, and even simply to enjoy one quiet moment without guilt, reservations, or rushing it through. It does take practice. πŸ™‚

We become what we practice.

Today is a good day to be the person IΒ most want to be. It takes practice. πŸ™‚

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This is a busy week. Doctor’s appointments, work, life, errands, decisions, choices, practices – and love – it’s a very busy week, indeed. Some of my appointments will bring me face to face with long-time concerns, some will require emotional presence – and emotional work. Work and life and errands and all the things that feel urgent or important or necessary may result in some stress to be managed. The love will be there, in background supporting me, in the foreground as something to be nurtured and invested in with good choices, consideration, and some verbs. I am a bit pre-occupied, particularly with the doctor’s appointments, and while I am hopeful that results may lead to quality of life improvements and a reduction in day-to-day pain… I don’t know what the outcome will be, really. I have questions.

I have rather a lot of questions. Maybe this queuing up of questions is more to do with any perceived feeling of being busy than all the things I am feeling busy with? Today seems a good day to ask questions. I can get on with answering them another time…any time. Some of them may not need answers at all – funny how some of the questions we ask work that way.

I list a bunch of questions. I mean seriously – a lot. Then I realize it really comes down to just a handful ofΒ questions that mostly cover it all.

What do I really want out of life from this perspective? Am I making the choices I need to in order to head in that direction? Am I willing to make different choices, or take greater risks? Do I have a good understanding of what my choices really are, and what the outcomes may be? Have I considered how each possible choice affects other areas of life – andΒ people who matter most to me?

Walking my own path, one step at a time.

Walking my own path, one step at a time.

I “come up for air”, returning to this present moment, reminded how very ‘now’ life really is, as I consider questions that look forward. I missed two important [for me] questions…

What is enough?

Am I okay right now?

Isn't it enough to find balance?

Isn’t it enough to find balance?

Today is more about questions than answers. I am okay right now. Answering the others needn’t be rushed.