I slept poorly, last night, when I slept at all. It rained through the night, and I listened to it when I was awake, between restless naps. I figure the most likely cause of my restless night was having to abruptly discontinue several regular medications in preparation for a diagnostic procedure later today. I probably should have expected the difficult night.
I finally woke to stormy skies, and my Traveling Partner also (already, temporarily) awake. He was eager for me to get on out of the house for my walk and expressed hope that I would be gone “a long time “. It’s a work day, on top of a day with an appointment in it, and a day that follows a night of truly shitty “sleep”. I’ll plan to do my best to treat the hapless humans on my path with kindness and gentleness; they can’t know what I’m going through right now.
My head aches all sorts of ways. I find some limited comfort in an iced coffee (having already confirmed I would not have to give that up, too). My back aches (with my arthritis), on this rainy morning. My tinnitus is loud (so loud). Complicating all of these, my head is stuffy from not taking allergy medicine, my guts are all churned up (no idea what may have caused that) , my “sense of things” is just… off. I feel uncomfortable and irritable.
…It’s still a work day… my partner still also had a poor night of sleep…
I got a walk in, between rain showers. Now I’m contentedly sipping coffee in the car, watching the sky shift from ominous gray storm clouds to bands of blue sky peeking between clouds that hint at the chance of sunshine… but I see showers in the distance, moving across the horizon.
I start my work day from this pleasant spot, catching up my email and checking Slack channels. I pause for a moment of gratitude that this exists as an option. I can linger here pretty comfortably, and let my Traveling Partner sleep awhile longer before I take a seat in my office, and risk waking him with a meeting, or the sound of my typing.
As quickly as the sun broke through the storm clouds, it disappears again, and I see a rain shower approaching. I don’t much care, one way or the other; I can’t stop it from raining, and may as well enjoy the moment anyway. It’s just weather.
I sigh quietly to myself. I’m prepared for today to feel awkward and uncomfortable, and possibly a bit difficult, but so far things are okay. It’s enough and I feel pretty contented, generally. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I do my best to set myself up for success…
I’m sitting at the trailhead, having just finished my walk. I feel relaxed, comfortable, and accomplished; 3 miles in one hour. This was an important bit of “backsliding” in my general fitness I was eager to overcome. It’s taken awhile and required a lot of persistence and new beginnings. My bad ankle generally begins to ache noticeably around one mile mark, these days. My fitness being what it has become, by the time I get myself two miles down a trail, my back is often aching, too. I still want to go on, but some days it’s hard to push past the inconvenience of my pain. I don’t want pain to make all my decisions and determine all my limits. I’ve got a lot of living still ahead of me at 60.
Sunrise on a misty morning.
When I headed down the trail, the sunrise had inflamed the morning horizon with fiery hues of peach and orange, and Mt Hood was silhouetted against that bold background, still and dark and large on the horizon. Every picture I took of that vibrant scene somehow diminished it. I stopped trying and just stood watching for a while.
Mists on the marsh.
As I crested a low hill near a favorite stopping point, the view of the marsh below, mists clinging to the meadow grasses and the water spread across my view. What a gorgeous morning to be on this trail! I don’t have it all to myself this morning, and that’s not a surprise. Pleasant summery sort of morning on a Spring weekend? Of course there are other people here, most of them with fancy camera gear, heading to those favorite spots for capturing a view or for bird watching. Nice morning for it.
Lupines in bloom.
I pass by a hillside covered in lupines. The lupines in my garden are this same variety of wild lupines indigenous in this area. Mine are not yet blooming; they have more shade than these on this sunny hillside.
I walk with my thoughts and my pain. I listen to the thoughts, and mostly disregard the pain. This pain, particularly, has nothing much to teach me, beyond the resolve to overcome it. My thoughts on the other hand? My thoughts are as a playground for my spirit this morning. I walk and think, and consider the things in my life that may be holding me back, and what choices, changes, or practices could make the most positive difference…? The thinking, ideally, precedes the actions. lol I find value in self-reflection and “rational meditation”.
…In spite of the beauty of the morning, my thoughts this morning are mostly pretty practical…
The rising sun, a fitting metaphor.
As I turn back down the trail the way I came, I catch a glimpse of the rising sun. It illuminates the heights of the big oaks trees. I fill my lungs with the fresh morning air as I walk. The day ahead is filled with promise. The warmer weather is pleasantly encouraging, and I think about my upcoming camping trip. It would be nice if this weather continues.
…I think about getting into the garden…
I reach the car and notice the parking lot is quite full now for so early. I’m glad I took the less traveled trail! There’s new signage in the park, cautioning “no running” and “no dogging”… I chuckle, fairly certain that the intention is to indicate dogs are not allowed… but… “dogging” has a specific other meaning in English slang, and although I am certain that activity is also prohibited, I’m equally certain it’s not the intended meaning. lol
…What a lovely morning for new beginnings…
I feel the sun warm on my face. I sit sipping my coffee, listening to birdsong, and the traffic on the highway beyond the park. Loud voices of rude humans interrupt my reverie – maybe they’ll just go away? No. I guess I will, then. lol
This morning is a gray and rainy one. It’s fine. It’s the sort of rain that evokes childhood memories of waiting in the car, rain tapping the windshield and roof, or sitting gazing out a window to a rainy street daydreaming stories about passers-by, dazzled by the reflections of lights on wet pavement. I find rainy days generally pleasant, but the sound of rain does tend to make my mind wander. I sit with my thoughts for a timeless moment, watching the rain fall.
…The only thing I don’t like about a chilly rainy morning is the amount of pain I’m often in; my arthritis definitely seems to respond to the weather…
I nibble at my breakfast salad contentedly, in spite of having “no dressing” (I’d used up the last of what was on hand last week, and had completely forgotten about it). It’s fine. I drizzled a teaspoon of olive oil over the greens, and a sprinkling of salt and pepper. Seems adequate; it matters more that the greens are a nice blend of good quality baby greens (things like spinach, arugula, chard, small leaf lettuces) – flavorful on their own. I sip my coffee, which is surprisingly terrible this morning – but that’s fine, too. It’s honestly not worth fussing over, barely worth mentioning in passing. I’m satisfied with it; it feels like enough. Could I make fresh? Sure. Could I go get a coffee elsewhere and spend money on it? Yep. Not gonna. Doesn’t matter enough to bother with all that. It’s fine. lol
My mind wanders as I nibble at my breakfast. No rush. No pressure. A moment with my thoughts. My tinnitus is loud in my ears, though I easily hear the ventilation in the background, and a plane passing over heard, too; these definitely external sounds help prevent me from focusing on my tinnitus (which, subjectively, often makes it seem much louder). I feel prepared for the day, and well-organized. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let myself simply be here, now; a woman having coffee and a bite of breakfast before digging into the day’s work in earnest. It’s enough.
Nozomi – second to bloom this Spring.
The weekend was a rainy one, and I enjoyed taking it easy with my Traveling Partner. We spent time together on 3D printing projects, and conversation. It was a lovely weekend. I didn’t spend much time in the garden (just had a walk around once or twice), due to the fairly steady rain. It was fine, though. My time was well-spent.
I think ahead to my upcoming camping trip, which will take me away from home (if all goes as planned) for most of an entire work week (Monday through midday Friday). I know he’ll miss me. I think about things I can do to provide a sense of care and comfort for him, even while I’m away, and how best to stay connected and emotionally close while we’re apart. However much I need the solitude, myself, I am aware he gets much more of that than he needs. There’s a balance to be struck. He loves me, and recognizes I need the solitary time now and then. I love him, and recognize he needs to feel that continued sense of connection and closeness when I’m away. Love is worth learning the practices that build the skills it takes to make love last in an enduring and healthy way. (I’m still practicing, still learning, still working on becoming the woman – and the partner – that I most want to be. There are verbs involved, and my results vary.)
What are you going to do about it?
…I chuckle to myself when I recall my thoughts about this morning’s writing on my way to work; this is nothing like that. It’s strikes me humorously, simply because I often have some particular theme or idea in mind as I head to work, but once I’m here, and sitting down with the day, my head may be in a very different place. I “lose the thread” of those early morning thoughts, which sometimes vexes me, particularly if I “had it all sorted out” in my head in some way I thought worth putting into words. Other mornings, my musings – worthy or not – are less than ideally focused, or rather more negative that useful, and a few moments of meditation “puts my head right”, but throws all those earlier thoughts out in favor of … something different. That’s a bit of what happened this morning. I woke feeling, not exactly cross, just not… delighted with the day, somehow. After I sat with myself for a few minutes, listening to the rain fall, I felt fine. Upbeat. Fairly merry. Contented. It definitely changed what I ended up writing, though I’m not sure in any useful way. I’m sort of just… putting words into sentences. lol
…This is the thing, though; incremental change over time, and working through the chaos and damage, means more and more of my days are less and less “terrible”, and much more likely to be quite pleasantly ordinary – and that’s a good thing. The “excitement” of chaos and the highs and lows of living with trauma (and healing from it) aren’t the standard to strive for, at all. The point of seeking emotional wellness is to, over time, become emotionally well, which is often not particularly exciting at all, which is… fine. Quite fine.
I sip my coffee. Finish my salad. Look over my calendar for the day and the week, and check my notes from Friday. I’m ready to begin again.
I got a great walk this morning, watching the sun rise as I walked. My allergies, which typically flared up only rarely but seem more likely to be seasonal these days, were bothering me from the moment I woke. I’ve been dealing with them since, taking OTC remedies and walking back to the car with the pockets of my hoodie filled with used tissues. I’m also in a ferocious amount of pain this morning, and having already taken a prescription pain reliever, on top of the allergy meds, I feel stuffy and a bit stupid. Didn’t stop me from getting a walk in, but likely slowed me down a bit.
…It’s 4/20… Saturday. Once upon a time this “counter culture holiday” would have had great meaning for me, and my day would have been planned around it. Not so much these days, though my Traveling Partner made a point to wish me well with a holiday greeting and I returned the merry sentiment. My plans just aren’t built around this anymore, and cannabis is legal here and it’s use quite commonplace. So… yeah. Happy 4/20, though. 😀
My plans today are mostly to do with tidying up the deck and draining, cleaning, and refilling the hot tub, and I am hoping to do it all in spite of the pain I’m in… I hope I can. I’d really like to be using the hot tub.
…It’s sort of peculiar, I think, that I don’t easily account for pain in my planning. I would benefit from being more skillful about that. I’ve learned not to over-commit when I do plan tasks and projects, but I seriously underestimate the limitations pain may place on my abilities. This may be a product of routinely trivializing my pain, to attempt to prevent it from “getting the upper hand” or defining my experience. It’s a real limitation though, at its worst, and the result is that failing to account for it realistically sometimes fucks with my planning (or more specifically, my execution of said planning). I sit with my thoughts for a few minutes…
…fuck pain…
I sigh to myself. Drink some water. Look over my grocery list. I guess it’s already time to begin again…
The day began earlier than it needed to, and I am okay with it. I’m waiting for daybreak to get a walk in while my Traveling Partner sleeps. Afterwards, I will make a trip to the grocery store to stock up on things he likes (and can make pretty easily), and then do a bit of tidying up before I finally finish packing, load the car, and hit the road for a couple quiet days of (hopefully) restful downtime.
I spend a few minutes meditating. I look over my packing list for obvious omissions. I update my to-do list. I sit quietly, taking note of how my body feels, and “where my head is at”.
My tinnitus is loud today and I am in more pain than usual. I’m physically uncomfortable, but I also feel pretty good emotionally, and generally quite merry and eager to face the day. Learning to hold space for these very different experiences at the same time took a long time to learn, and longer still to recognize the value in doing so, but so worth it. Being able to acknowledge and enjoy what’s going well in spite of what’s going poorly is a way of preventing shitty experiences or feelings from wrecking my entire moment (or day). Handy, considering how often I am in pain.
I take a breath and sigh as I exhale. It’s early, but I go ahead and take something to help manage my pain. Self-care is important to my own well-being, sure, and it’s also something I can do to support my relationships; miserable people make other people miserable, too. I’m not miserable with pain yet, but I could easily become so, and that’d be a crappy way to start off on a few days solo.
I’ve packed my paint box. My camera is ready, too. I’ve put the Lord of the Rings “Return of the King” in my bag, planning to finish it. There’s very little packing left to do (my CPAP, my pillow, things I was using during the night mostly). I’m really down to doing things to maximize my Traveling Partner’s comfort and convenience while I am gone. I take a moment to sit in quiet contemplation; I am so grateful to have a partner who is comfortable with me taking a few days solo now and then, and who truly supports my emotional wellness.
I smile, thinking about how much I know I will miss my partner, even though I am choosing to be away, and really need this time. I also know I will return home eagerly and happy to see him, and to love and be loved. It’s useful perspective to miss each other now and then.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Soon it will be daybreak. Soon it will be time to begin again.
Evening Light 