Archives for posts with tag: pain management
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First and Second

January 26, 2026 //
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I slept poorly. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I slept well and deeply until sometime after 02:00. My Traveling Partner was awake, in the other room, coughing. The coughing woke me. I went back to sleep, but from that point my sleep was shallow and interrupted, and I didn’t get much rest. I’m not even bitching, I’m just mentioning it as I sip my morning coffee and try to sort my thoughts into some kind of coherent bit of consciousness. I’m not “groggy”, exactly, just…disconnected and stupid. I’m feeling cross and out of sorts, and the morning is off to a somewhat poor start, but only because of the state of being in which I find myself. In the most practical ways, it is an ordinary Monday morning.

The font and type size look weird to me in the visual editor this morning, and I fuss with trying to figure out if they are actually different somehow, or if I “never noticed before”. There seems to be a lot of that kind of misleading bullshit going on these days; changes being made without notice to users on all sorts of apps and platforms. Updates pushing new integrated AI in a coercive involuntary way. Updates that impair user freedom and control over purchased hardware and software. Other similar shenanigans seeking to harvest just a bit more data (or money) from users. Having the cognitive quirks that I do, I definitely do notice. I dislike that I find myself trying to talk myself out of seeing what I think I’m seeing. That irritates me. I let it go altogether, because in this instance it does not matter at all that the font looks like a different one, and the type size appears smaller and more compact.

I sigh to myself. I’m vexed by pain this morning, on top of fatigue (they are ultimate related; I am less able to manage my pain when I am fatigued, and likely to feel it more intensely). I sit more upright, hoping that good posture will give me some relief.

…G’damn I’m in a shitty mood this morning…

I have The Clash “Know Your Rights” stuck in my head. In spite of making committed efforts to stay away from “the news”, I can’t help knowing that the masked government thugs besieging Minnesota have murdered another citizen, an American, a patriot, a legal-to-carry gun owner with his “paperwork in order”. His apparent crime? Well, apparently that’s not a requirement anymore, at all. The assault on our rights grows, and if it weren’t so incredibly terrifying (and depressing) I might find some measure of humor in the fact that this shit is coming from a Republican administration. It’s not about Republican and Democrat, it never has been, it is about power and greed on both sides of the aisle. Sometimes the scales tip briefly in favor of “the people”. Don’t expect it to last when it happens.

…Oh, yeah, really dreadful mood…

I cue up my playlist for trying times. I add a couple more tracks to it. I definitely don’t want to listen to pop songs or muzak this morning. My heart aches for fallen heroes, and those among us willing to speak truth to power – and pay the price. Dark days, America. Get your shit together before you lose everything.

My phone rings. Unexpected at 05:30. I answer it reflexively; I have been caregiving for a couple of years, and any time I step away from the house, I feel uneasy and alert for some need that may arise that requires me to hasten home. The voice is familiar, but I don’t place it immediately. An old friend from my years on active duty, calling to let me know he’s reached a breaking point, himself, an just… can’t. My heart pounds. (G’damn, surely he’s not calling me to tell me he’s going to end his life? I don’t think I could bear it.) No, it’s not that bad, but it’s a big enough deal that he wanted to tell someone, and somehow that someone is me. He’s moving to New Zealand. “As far as I could go away from here, before someone burns it all down,” he says. He asks me if I think he’s overreacting? I don’t think he’s overreacting at all. I might do something similar if my circumstances permitted it, and just yesterday my Traveling Partner and I were talking about maybe selling our lovely cozy home and going…somewhere else. Quieter? Fewer neighbors? More space? All of that, and a few other things besides. Maybe we will… I find myself wondering how many citizens have emigrated out of the United States since the first Trump presidency, and whether that has accelerated since he was re-elected?

My work trip to San Francisco unraveled, doesn’t much matter why, and I’m not alone in it. The winter storms have thrown transportation into chaos. Can we agree that a late January travel date for a work event was predictably short-sighted? lol

I’m realizing it is likely to be the sort of day on which I am prone to discontent and finding fault. That’s not going to be a particularly pleasant experience. I sigh to myself and ask the question “are you going to stew in it, or are you going to make a change?” It’s an important question and wants an answer. I feel myself set my jaw, full of resistance and irritation, like a kid asked to clean their room on a beautiful day. I don’t want to have to be bothered with being accountable for where I am with my experience, right now. I’d rather be peeved and pick at my grievances as if they are wounds. Ridiculous. Now I am both the woman in a bad mood, and the woman irritated by a woman choosing to be in a bad mood. lol Layers of irritability. It’s pretty silly, but acknowledging that isn’t getting me off the hook for the work involved in changing it – or the choices or practices required to do so. My black mood feels justifiable and vindicated…but it’s honestly just a bad mood. I’m in pain and I didn’t sleep well. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

Another sigh. Another sip of coffee. I ask myself where would I be and what might I be doing if I had the means to go anywhere at all and do anything I cared to do? Moments fill my recollection; morning coffee on the shore, or near a beach, or out among the trees in some silent ancient forest, or a quiet cafe in the 1st arrondissement in Paris… I like to enjoy my coffee with a bit of a view and some solitude in the morning. In that sense, generally speaking, I’m pretty much already doing that thing, eh? I sip my coffee grateful for the moment of perspective, even feeling a tiny bit less cross. I guess that’s progress.

When what we’re doing doesn’t work, doing something different just might. I think about that, and enjoy my coffee before the work day. Soon enough, I’ll begin again. It’s not world-changing stuff, but if I can improve this experience in some small way, that’s still an improvement.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

Paths and Choices

December 20, 2025 //
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I’m at this morning’s chosen trailhead, waiting for the sun, listening to scattered raindrops, and – between coughs – thinking my thoughts. I’m definitely feeling better, not 100%, but definitely much improved. This morning I’ll walk at least some portion of this trail.

Stars twinkle overhead in the gaps between clouds. The morning is a mild one, although the rain could catch up to me at any time and potentially stop me from walking. The seasonal marsh trail is closed for the year, and with good reason; the entire marsh and adjacent meadows flood with the autumn and winter rain, and portions of the trail are now submerged. The year-round trail is on higher ground, and remains quite walkable without regard to the season. It’s no less lovely, as walks go, just commonly more crowded, though I often walk at a time of day few other people choose to for a casual walk.

…As if called into being by my thoughts, another car pulls into the trailhead parking lot…

Winter levels of arthritis pain have now set in, which means winter levels of effort to manage it, treat it, or disregard it through an effort of will. Vexing, but it is a real detail of this human experience. Pain, I mean. We’ve all got some, if only occasionally. I persist in trying not to let it define my experience. My results vary. My thoughts wander to the holiday ahead. There are gifts yet to wrap. I check online orders and confirm that everything I ordered has now arrived. It will be a modest cozy holiday spent with my Traveling Partner and his son, at home.

I feel fortunate that I am not burdened by FOMO, a competitive nature, or some weird need to keep up with what other people have or want. I’m grateful that I don’t feel forced to define my success on any terms but my own, and that I am able to leave others to do the same. Holidays are surely more stressful if there’s a lot of keeping up with other people going on in one’s head. I’m content to walk my own path and celebrate my own way – and I hope you are, too; it’s very freeing. I choose the holiday details with care. An example? This year I didn’t send holiday cards to a long list of people. I didn’t really have the energy for it, the will to do it with care, nor the money to splash around on elegant commercially made cards. Instead, this year I’ll write handwritten responses to the cards we receive, and send emails and texts to those dearest to me who didn’t send cards. It’s enough. I don’t think I keep company with folks rude enough to be demanding about receiving a holiday card. 😆

Most of my holiday efforts and resources are going into a small cozy holiday at home. Changing tastes force me to rethink some things. I can’t easily fill stockings with exotic sweets from far away places, for example, because everyone in the house has cut way back on sweets, and don’t want a lot of chocolate this year for various individual reasons. So… fewer sweets, more small, interesting, fun, or unusual things of other sorts. I didn’t have the time or energy to make a plum pudding this year, either (and being frank, I’m the only person in the house who enjoys plum pudding, mincemeat pie, marzipan, or fruitcake anyway). Change is.

I sigh quietly, feeling unexpected tears welling up. I think of elaborate family holidays of the distant past, and long gone friends with whom I might have shared some moment or bit of holiday fun. By far the worst thing about aging – worse even than pain – is that we lose people we love along the way. We are mortal creatures. Each holiday is a unique moment all its own, unrepeatable. We are fortunate indeed when we share them with those dear to us. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rain taps gently on the roof of the car in the predawn darkness. I’m alone right now because I choose to be, and this solitude is precious – but I’m not made of stone, and I miss some of the people I’ve lost over the years more than I can say. I let grief “take a seat at the table”. There’s no shame in these heartfelt tears dripping onto my sweater. Emotions are also part of the human experience.

I’ve heard it said that the intensity of our grief is also a measure of our capacity for joy. I sit with that thought, feeling grateful. I must be capable of the greatest of joy to feel this poignant moment of sorrow so deeply. I smile at the thought. I know I am capable of great joy and love and deep delight, and get to feel those feelings often, in part because I do not stifle these moments of sorrow. The way out is through. The way to diminish the intensity of unexpected emotion is to feel it fully, honestly, and give myself a moment to “feel heard” by the woman in the mirror. The sorrow passes quickly, leaving behind other emotions and other memories.

…I remind myself to send well wishes and holiday greetings to my sister and my dear friends…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I meditate. I look over my writing for obvious mistakes and correct those. I think about far away friends and household chores that need doing. More cars arrive at this trailhead, which seems strange, and I find myself wondering if there’s some event bringing people here (turns out it’s time for the annual winter bird count). I grab my cane and headlamp, hoping to avoid a crowd on the trail so early. I decide to get started. I decide to begin again, now.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter, women, 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

A Moment Between Moments

November 25, 2025 //
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I’m staring at the bright blank square of light in my hand. I’m sitting in the dark at my halfway point on this morning’s walk, and rather oddly, my mind is blank. The morning is quiet and a few degrees warmer than it has been. The morning is clear and calm, a handful of stars peeking through scattered clouds. I have the sense that I had a worthwhile idea… yesterday. Not very helpful right now, though.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. We’re a day closer to Thanksgiving. I feel ready for that and grateful for my good fortune. I’m also grateful to see signs that the current terrible, corrupt, anti-science, anti-education, anti-fact, anti-American administration is beginning to falter. Hopefully the damage done can be repaired. G’damn, what were people thinking to set this shit in motion?! Our stupid “us vs. them” bullshit, partisan politics, and hateful “othering” has torn the country apart and has literally gotten people killed. Ugly. We can do better – we only have to choose to do differently.

I served my country. I watched the cold war end. I am so disappointed in what I see now. Do better.

Ah, but truly I am grateful. It could be worse. I pull my focus back to this moment, here, on a quiet autumn morning before dawn. There’s very little traffic. There is no one else on the trail. The homes and apartments on the other side of the small creek that runs alongside the trail are visible through the strip of forest that lines the creek banks. They are dark and quiet, too. The moment is mine. I soak in the peace of it, and fill myself with contentment and joy. Nothing to see here, really, a woman on a walk, pauses to rest and to write, insignificant to anyone but herself. It’s enough, isn’t it?

I shrug off my arthritis pain, and my tinnitus. I ignore the sensation of tendonitis developing in my left foot. I pay no mind to the headache that seems to accompany me everywhere, most days, now. I have no time for frailty! I laugh at myself; this refusal to yield to mortal frailties is only effective in the mornings, I find. By day’s end I will be too tired to fight it anymore, and I will be forced to give in to my limitations, reduced to limping from task to task, mobility clearly impaired. Very human.

In spite of physical pain and discomfort, I still manage gratitude. I hear the woosh of HVAC nearby, and recognize that my tinnitus doesn’t deafen me. That’s definitely worth a moment of gratitude. My arthritis and occasional tendonitis don’t stop me from walking local trails and being outside. I’m grateful to be on my feet and still walking. This headache vexes me, often, but so far it hasn’t been found to have any life-threatening cause (or potential outcome). I’m grateful to have unmeasured time ahead of me, in some amount, in this mortal lifetime, and even more grateful to enjoy it in the company of good friends, smart colleagues, and my beloved Traveling Partner. There’s so much to learn and do and enjoy yet in life!

Daybreak comes. I’m grateful for another sunrise.

Two more work shifts, then the holiday. I’m grateful to have a job that gives me holidays off. I smile, remembering that this weekend the Giftmas tree will go up. I’m grateful for the well made artificial holiday tree and the many beautiful ornaments I’ve gathered over a lifetime. I’m deeply grateful that my sister shared family ornaments after our mother died. Each colorful glass ball, icicle, star, and blown glass Santa sparks some recollection of Giftmas past. I’m grateful for those holiday memories, sparkling and twinkling in my imagination.

The path forward becomes clearer with the dawn. I sigh contentedly in the stillness, and get ready to begin again. New day, new opportunities, and I’m grateful. Right now, that’s enough.

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War, Words

This Is Nice

November 10, 2025 //
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I’m at the trailhead, sitting at my halfway point in the predawn darkness. I woke too early, jerked from a sound sleep by my own anxiety. I dressed quietly and slipped out of the house without waking anyone (as far as I could tell).

Anxiety, 11″ x 24″, acrylic on canvas with ceramic details. 2010

Anxiety is a liar. At least, my anxiety generally has been. I’ve struggled with anxiety for all of my life that I can remember. It was once far worse than it ever is now, and I’m grateful to have better tools for dealing with it these days. A gentle, nonjudgmental, “body scan” confirms the suspicion that developed shortly after I woke; this may not even be anxiety, actually, I’m possibly “just” in pain. Because my osteoarthritis (in my spine) begins at my fusion and extends upward into my neck, it puts most of the intensity in approximately the same general area of my body that I would experience the physical elements of anxiety. I am prone to conflating or confusing them as a result. So maybe I’m not anxious at all? Using the right tool for a given task is important to success…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Each subsequent deep breath and slow, complete exhalation would ordinarily begin reducing my anxiety almost immediately. Far less effective if what I’m fighting is actually physical pain being reinterpreted as anxiety. I’ve already taken my morning medications, and hopefully they begin being helpful soon. I shift uncomfortably and sigh. Yeah, this is pain. “Just” pain. I turn my attention to more appropriate self-care strategies.

It is a pleasant morning, not particularly chilly, nor rainy. The air is mild and fresh. A delicate sprinkling of rain fell very briefly, more a soft mist really, and it didn’t last. The darkness will soon give way to daybreak, and I’m in no hurry at all. I took today off from work. These quiet moments are mine – and so is the day ahead. I smile to myself in the dark. No drama. No chaos. “Nothing to see here”, and I like that just fine. The world is in chaos, I know, but these quiet personal moments for reflection and self-care matter every bit as much as which criminal cronies the corrupt cheeto-in-chief is going to pardon next. It matters more, probably, at least with regard to this one mortal life that I happen to be living, myself. (I just have to figure he’ll eventually get around to pardoning them all, he seems the sort to abuse that kind of power.)

I sigh and let that shit go. Sure, I’m disappointed in what Americans have allowed to fester within our government. I’m outraged and offended by the level of corruption in the current administration, and the ludicrous petty cruelty being demonstrated by people one might expect to know how to do better. It’s pretty horrible – and the horror is not reduced by also failing to take care of myself. Quite the contrary. Everything going on in the world feels more extreme when I fail to practice good self-care. So this morning I focus on that. No reason at all to even glance at the news this morning.

Another deep breath, another sigh. I can feel my pain medication beginning to help ease my pain, and as my pain recedes, my anxiety is further and further reduced. Daybreak comes, and the sky hints at a cloudy day ahead. The variable autumn weather definitely worsens my subjective experience of arthritis pain. Another sigh. Each one seems to somehow ease my pain in some small incremental way. As my pain eases, my attention broadens, and my world becomes bigger than this one moment here, now. I notice the treeline taking shape along the edge of the creek, beyond the vineyard. I see headlights sweep past as farm workers arrive to begin their day. I think about Thanksgiving, only a couple weeks away. I have a lot to be thankful for. I take time for gratitude while I sit watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day.

I catch myself smiling, feeling relaxed and merry. No work today. No time pressure at all, just a woman, a trail, and a moment. Later, I’ll head for coffee somewhere in town, and poke around in antique stores for a cool restoration project for my Traveling Partner. The day is mine, and I have clearly been needing a break. I’m glad I took one.

There’s always now.

When was the last time you took some time for yourself? Not time spent running errands or catching up on chores or long delayed projects – time for you. Time for self-reflection, for being, and for resting your mind is more what I’m asking about. If you haven’t been taking that time with (and for) yourself, why haven’t you? Won’t you be more capable and resilient if you take good care of yourself? It’s just a thought (and maybe a suggestion).

The sky begins to turn a soft shade of blue gray. No colorful sunrise this morning – but that doesn’t stop me from feeling grateful to see another day dawn. I am intensely grateful; I didn’t expect to get this far. On the other side of the trail, a plump racoon ambles along. She gives me a glance, and continues on her way, a single file line of youngsters following along. I smile. I am reminded that what we notice has a lot to do with what we are looking towards. We are each having our own experience, and in many ways, we’re creating it as we go.

… Choose wisely…

I sigh as I get to my feet, ready to finish my morning walk and begin a new day, again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, War and News of War
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