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An Eye-Opening Moment

July 19, 2015 //
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Life is rich with eye-opening moments. Some of them are heart-breaking (like the moment I realized I was only a resource to someone I thought loved me, many years ago). Other eye-opening moments are simply moments of greater awareness than the moments that preceded. A few are literally moments at that point at which I open my eyes – like this morning, when I woke, opened my eyes, and found as my initial eye-opening experience that I am in tremendous physical pain this morning. My arthritis. It’s not a crisis of any magnitude, and there’s not much to be done about it that would be new, or particularly noteworthy; I take my pain medication, and I head for my yoga mat. After my morning coffee, I will soak in a hot bath and hope that the saturating heat will ease my pain and stiffness further.

My arthritis is in my spine. I rarely think much about how I rely on my spine until I find myself mostly unable to make use of it in any sort of flexible way. This morning getting out of bed was complicated by both the stiffness and the pain. I rolled off the side of the bed, letting my legs drop to the floor, and leaning on the wall to slowly stand. Sitting and standing maneuvers are difficult today, even after yoga eased some of the stiffness.

The pain is another matter. Even after easing some of the stiffness in my spine, I am hurting too much to find joy in the day, so far, which makes me cross. I reach out to my traveling partner and cancel plans to hang out. I am in no mood to be in the company of others, and for the time being, all I can think about is the pain. While that may change as I practice good self-care practices, I can’t really rely on being able to hold on to a pleasant demeanor long enough to be certain of treating others well. Solitude is a good choice when I am in this much pain. I don’t mind the solitude – and I definitely dislike finding that I have treated my traveling partner poorly over something as trivial (and commonplace) as pain. It was an easy choice to make, and my traveling partner does not complicate such things with manipulation, tantrums or drama; he appreciates being treated well.

Summer flowers are everywhere; I only see them when I look. Awareness matters.

Summer flowers are everywhere; I only see them when I look. Awareness matters.

The weather forecast is for a hot day. I take a moment to appreciate the existence of air-conditioning, sip my coffee, and pretend to plan my day in some way that isn’t centered on the pain I am in – but I keep finding myself accounting for the pain in a very frank way as I figure out what I want to do with this day – I keep having to remind myself that some of the things I might like to do are going to be damned difficult if I can’t bend, reach, lift, carry, get down on the floor and back up, sit in one place, or generally move with any ease. I am irritated to be stalled by pain. I remind myself to be kind to myself; this fragile vessel can only do so much on a day like this, and there’s nothing lazy about that.

I sip my coffee indifferently, contemplating just going back to bed…but that won’t work either; it was the pain of being in bed that woke me, earlier. I frown at myself for a moment; I am not making taking care of me easy, at all. I pause and put the focus on the good qualities of the day, the pleasant features of this moment, just beyond the pain…

Clematis on a summer morning is lovely even when I hurt.

Clematis on a summer morning is lovely even when I hurt.

…It’s a lovely morning, in spite of the promised heat of the day. The early morning sunlight is clear and bright, and filters through the blinds casting interesting stripe-y shadows that I enjoy greatly. The coffee I have been sipping with such disregard is quite delightful – a darker roast than I have been drinking (I tend to prefer darker roasts, myself). I am enjoying the warmth of the mug in my hands when I pause to take a sip.  (I nearly always finish my coffee in sips, consuming it well before it cools off, most days.) The a/c kept the apartment quite comfortable through the night, and I slept well and deeply, and woke feeling alert and clear-headed. Most of the housework on my ‘to do list’ for a Sunday can be done with relative ease, even when I am hurting, and occupying my time in that fashion will quite likely take my mind off the pain for a time. I have a couple new books to read, and it looks like a great day for that, too. I can choose from  Pablo Naruda‘s “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair”, Thich Nhat Hanh‘s “Anger”, or Naomi Wolf‘s “Vagina”. Taking breaks between chapters to do yoga will help ease my pain and stiffness if I find myself sitting too long.

It’s admittedly easier to focus on the pain; it shouts at me within my consciousness in a way that the pleasant details of the morning simply don’t compete with easily. It is worthwhile to patiently choose to be aware of more. Like so many practices, it does take practice, and there are verbs involved. My results vary. 🙂

The heavy scent of summer jasmine reminds me of my childhood home. I wonder why I haven't gotten a potted one for my patio yet?

The heavy scent of summer jasmine reminds me of my childhood home. I wonder why I haven’t gotten a potted one for my patio yet?

Today is a good day to practice exceptional self-care, and to treat myself well. Today is a good day to make choices that result in not treating others badly. Today is a good day for good choices, good practices, and an awareness that there is life beyond pain. Today is a good day to enjoy everyday moments of delight, and to practice self-compassion. This fragile vessel can only do so much, and there is no rush to complete living as though it were on my task list; the journey is the destination.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized, Words

Who Ordered This??

July 7, 2015 //
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This morning I woke in pain; my arthritis has flared up after many days of not bothering me much at all. The hot dry days offer relief…but…it’s still hot. It’s still dry. I am in pain. I slowly rose, patient with the stiffness of my spine. This is a morning for music and dance, cool breezes be damned. I peer through the patio blinds and notice with some surprise that already the days are shortening and dawn is coming later…did I wake ahead of the alarm? I double-check. It went off. It woke me. I no longer remember hearing it. Pain is a distraction.

I start the day with Usher, and coffee. Facebook tells me my computer is infected with malware. I glare at the page with skepticism and irritation. Why is Facebook telling me what to do? I log out with a promise to myself to let my traveling partner know; I trust him, and his skills, more than any app or browser warning. Hell – the warning probably is the malware, requesting permission to get started. For the moment I find myself in contemplation of all that is unclean and vile about the internet, and my head aches with the weight of the suspicion, and distrust. The pain, again, is a distraction.

I reach for my coffee, and burn my tongue, then spill it in my lap for the added delight of hot coffee held to tender flesh by coffee soaked jeans. Seriously? Who the hell ordered this day? I snarl at myself, managing to knock over my chair as I get up, too quickly, to change clothes. The chair falls on my foot. Great. The top I wanted to wear doesn’t go with the pair of jeans I just put on. The top I’d wear instead is in the laundry. I break a nail reaching for an acceptable alternative. Are you fucking kidding me? What is up with today?

Pain is no joke. The unexpected return of significant arthritis pain this morning easily throws me off, which would be, perhaps, just a little amusing in the face of words like ‘chronic’ and ‘long-term’ – if I were in any mood whatever to laugh about it. Right now I just hurt. I hurt and I’m sort of mad at the day right now. Don’t say it. I know what works. There are practices to practice and it’s time for that. I get it. Pardon me while I take a few minutes to take care of me.

Yes, yes. I know.

Yes, yes. I know.

1. I took my medication on time, and it’ll take another 30-40 minutes to be fully effective. It only addresses the symptom: pain. There is more to do to put the day back on track.

2. Medical cannabis helps by potentiating the Rx pain reliever – and it will take the edge off my quickly deteriorating mood, and wipe the snarl off my face promptly…and make yoga easier.

3. Putting the rest of the morning aside, yoga is next, and I take my time with a long sequence of postures that lengthen and gently flex my spine, easing the pain where the pain lives. The headache begins to diminish.

4. Then, meditation – this is an Rx that goes straight to the brain, literally, and is a first/last/always step for me these days…although, sometimes, like a child resisting bedtime I fight the necessity irritably for no good reason.

5. Coffee. I take my time making a really first-rate cup of coffee for myself, and sit down to enjoy it, feeling very much that the morning has been ‘reset’.

It is once again a morning filled with music and I am smiling and sipping my coffee as contentedly as if I woke up on an entirely different morning. Choices, verbs, patience and self-compassion, and the willingness to accept that the potential to improve a poor experience exists…and practicing practices for the win. 🙂

Enjoying other moments.

Enjoying other moments.

The morning moves on, time passes, I sit quietly enjoying pictures of a walk with the wanderer after work, yesterday. If I spend more time thinking about the rough start to the morning, lingering on uncomfortable sensations, unpleasant emotions, or the difficulties themselves, than I do savoring the delights of other moments with similar depth and clarity, over time my negative bias will increase, and my ‘background experience’ will become more negative as well. I take this understanding very seriously, and commit to enjoying my coffee and thinking about the evening behind me. I linger over the recollection of finally taking a photograph of a dragonfly.

He's there, really. (I have no idea why I like dragonflies so very much, but I do.)

He’s there, really. (I have no idea why I like dragonflies so very much, but I do.)

I think, too, about the later conversation with my traveling partner, and the feeling of connection and warmth in spite of the physical distance. That takes my thoughts all sorts of lovely places, thinking about love, Love, and loving. At this point there is no hint of the morning’s challenges remaining in my experience of the moment, and I find myself ready to move on with the day.

Am I achieving emotional self-sufficiency? Do I need to ask this question now? Living the experience is, perhaps, enough.

Beautiful.

Beautiful.

Today is a good day for practicing practices, using verbs, and having my own experience – if it’s mine, I can change it. 🙂

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

The Happily Ever After Myth

February 20, 2015 //
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I love fairy tales, and stories with a strong heroine, who faces a challenge, learns a lesson, and grows to become someone wonderful. I like a happy ending. I read a lot of ‘happily ever after’ endings over the years, and at some point ‘happily ever after’ became an implicit goal. That’s especially maddening because that is basically the least attainable goal ever imagined. I enjoy feeling happy. I find ‘joy’, ‘delight’, and all manner of pleasant happiness-related, happiness-producing quite wonderful and worth experiencing. I didn’t have much success making the whole point of existence getting to some difficult to define ‘happily ever after’ place. Quite the contrary, I think making ‘happily ever after’ something to chase resulted in a lot of personal unhappiness.

I don’t actually understand why happiness seems so much more common now that I’m not chasing it…but it does tend to be the experience I am having.

Unfolding like spring flowers.

The loveliness of simply being.

I am okay right now. It wasn’t my best evening. I enjoyed the day in relative physical comfort. By the time I arrived home, after a chilly drizzly commute, I was in pain and irritable. If I could fold time, I would put this moment, here, adjacent to my arrival, and perhaps enjoy myself and my family more, being in a better mood, and less pain. I’m not complaining, and I don’t recall being unpleasant, just in pain and perhaps too tired to be more considerate with my phrasing; I know it takes a lot to hurt my traveling partner’s feelings, and I know I succeeded. I will make amends in the morning, learn from the experience and move on. It’s okay to treat myself with great care, even though I feel badly about the evening going a bit sideways, and I have spent the evening gently, managing my pain, watching South Park, and writing. It was my intention to do these things when I arrived home hurting so much, and it’s pretty satisfying to find that good self-care has indeed helped a lot, although I am still in too much pain to be able to sleep just yet; yoga will help with that a lot, and meditation afterward is a nice way to finish the day.

Every time something works out just a bit better, I take time to really appreciate it, notice it, and hold onto the experience for some minutes. I ‘let it soak in’. I make a point of continuing those practices, and even investing more time in those that are regularly part of some new moment of personal success. In the most difficult moments, I am sometimes very briefly so bitter and hurt that I am unsure these things really matter, or that I am actually making progress day-to-day. The doubts are incredibly painful, and I am very relieved each time I get past that moment, to this place when ‘I am okay right now’, and able to enjoy the moment of progress, or resilience, or emotional safety – successes, all.

Stormy sky, quiet evening.

Stormy sky, quiet evening.

I feel more vulnerable sharing successes, than I do ‘failures’, or learning experiences. Vulnerable is okay, too. It’s a nice evening.

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Categories Brain Injury, Love, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Big 5

One Challenge at a Time, Please

October 22, 2014 //
1

I woke early, and in pain. I crashed early last night, after dozing off sitting up, shortly after getting home from work…but didn’t fall asleep until past 10 pm, although I drifted in and out of real wakefulness without any particular schedule. I’d have probably slept, I try to tell myself, if it weren’t for the blast of icy cold water in the middle of my hot shower…but as a long time insomniac with a variety of sleep disturbances, realistically, I know that isn’t necessarily true. Last night, as tired as I was, just wasn’t a night I was going to sleep well. Pain is an everyday challenge, and autumn – my favorite season – is the worst for pain every day.

Mushrooms after rain.

Mushrooms after rain.

Today isn’t a bad day. I just hurt. I don’t hurt more than what is endurable (see? I’m here, enduring it.), but it isn’t pleasant. Perspective is in the recollection of worse pain on other days, and the understanding that there are other people who hurt more, out there in the world, right now. There is value in not obsessing over it, and in not making it worse with the power of my thoughts; I smile as I observe the phrasing and note that my traveling partner would almost certainly point out that I framed it up ‘in the negative’. He would, perhaps, wonder if there were more positive emotional value in it, if I used positive language. 🙂 (We learn from love. Love helps us become who we most want to be – when we allow it.)

One of my challenges, a small one in the scheme of things, is learning to use more positive language.  I tend to reply to a question like “how are you?” with something like “not bad”.  It is phrasing that lingers from a much more discontent, wounded, fearful time in my life; admitting how good something seemed was a direct path to having it taken from me. Harsh. That’s not my life now, and there’s no danger in saying I’m in a good place today, or that I enjoy something.  Positive language doesn’t come naturally to me. I keep at it; growth and change come with practice, over time. Change is what changes us.

When conditions are right, growth happens.

When conditions are right, growth happens.

No coffee this morning. There’s only enough left for one beverage this morning; I forgot to pick up coffee last night. I’m not surprised at the miss. I was so tired walking home from the train station that I don’t actually remind remember the walk at all. I leave the remaining coffee for my partner, who will wake unaware of the shortage. This morning I am enjoying a cup of tea, brewed very strong. It’s not at all the same experience, but it is an acceptable morning beverage enjoyed by millions every day, and I am content with tea this morning. I’ll pick up coffee today.

When I take time to look, I see. When I take time to listen, I hear.

When I take time to look, I see. When I take time to listen, I hear.

It’s a quiet morning, on a therapy day. My work schedule has caused me to cancel a couple of appointments recently to attend important training. I find myself wondering, just for a moment, ‘important for who?’  It is a worthy question, and answering it is one more small challenge. I was going to add yet another rather mundane challenge du jour, faced with needing to track down some military paperwork…then while I was framing the thought and wrapping it in words, I found the paperwork precisely where it most rationally would be based on the way I organize such things. lol Clearly, that one was only a challenge in my thoughts, in anticipation of the action. The finding of the paperwork was actually a bit of a let down. I find myself smiling at the incongruity; pleased to find the paperwork, and ever-so-slightly irked that it really wasn’t a challenge – it was the anxiety around not finding it that was the challenge, and that turned out to be entirely in my head.

Our storms are not without value; it is after the rain falls that mushrooms grow.

Our storms are not without value; experience teaches perspective.

When I feel overwhelmed, however large or small the individual challenges, issues, needs, or upcoming events may be, every one of them seems huge, insurmountably difficult, and together they seem too numerous to easily manage. Often I find myself later admitting what a small thing most of them were, taken singly. I think for a moment of some common call center advice that seems applicable, “take the calls one at a time”. Yep. The challenges are easier one at a time. Problems that need solving are often much less puzzling taken individually. Decisions that I face are often less complicated separated from all the other decisions to be made. “Each time for the first time. Each moment the only moment.” (a favorite Jon Kabat Zinn quote) Sort of brings me back around to the mindfulness practices that are tending to see me smiling every day, even in the face of challenges. I can’t stop life from adding challenges to my experience, and change is. I can breathe calming breaths, and take the challenges one by one; it is enough.

Today is a good day love, and let love in. Today is a good day to take the challenges one by one, and be mindfully aware we’ve all got some. Today is a good day to be kind. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories autumn, Brain Injury, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Words

Pain and the Moment

August 21, 2014 //
1

I hurt this morning. It’s ‘just arthritis’, and my spine aches, and I’m stiff even after this morning’s predawn yoga. It’s not new. Hell, it doesn’t even get in the way of a good time, generally. I feel it, however, and it intruded on my meditation more than once. Some of you are likely in pain, too. It sorts of goes with the whole ‘human experience’ package; this is a relatively fragile vessel, prone to injuries that accrue damage over time.  As excited as I am by how much the yoga and meditation do help…I still need additional pain relief to be comfortable much of the time. Taking pain killers comes with risks of its own, and even the Rx pain-killer I take doesn’t eliminate pain. I’m probably grateful for that, actually; how much damage could I do myself entirely by accident if I could not feel any pain?

Pain tells me something about my experience – both right  now, and the experience I have had over time.  Pain tells me something about how I am taking care of myself, and it tells me when there is more that needs to be done.

What pain is not, is ‘everything’, although it can certainly feel like ‘everything’ sometimes. Today isn’t that, I’m just thinking about pain in this moment, and feeling compassion for the myself regarding the pain I am in, and how it limits me (or how I choose to allow it to limit me), and I am thinking about the pain you may be in as well. Your pain also matters. Whether physical or emotional, the pain any one of us is experiencing in the moment may not be ‘everything’ – but it colors our experience, and may influence how we interact with, or perceive, others.  It’s so easy to get from ‘I hurt right now’ to ‘someone must pay for this bullshit!’ and find myself treating someone else poorly, because I hurt.  As I prepare to head into the world today I contemplate that and consider the pain other people are in, and hope that the effort to be mindful that we’re each having our own experience, and that for each of us the pain we are in, ourselves, is the pain we feel the most will keep me on track to treat myself and others with compassion and consideration – in spite of my pain. [That was a long and awkward sentence, my bad. Please read it again if you need to, before we move on…]

There’s not really more to say about pain. I’ve got mine. You’ve got yours. We’re all in this together. We’re each having our own experience. I’ll head out and do my best not to be unpleasant with people, and chances are you will to. If we should chance to meet, I hope it is pleasant for both of us, in spite of our pain. 🙂

"The Stillness Within" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow.

“The Stillness Within” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

I had a wonderfully intimate connected evening with my at-home partner last night – and that, too, in spite of my pain. We had dinner, and did a small bit of fun decorating, a little shopping, and something new. After we did yoga together, we also took time to meditate together. I am fairly shy about that, honestly; it feels very intimate on a level I lack language for, and it was wonderfully connected and calm and loving and… I definitely want to do that again. I’m not a yoga instructor; I practice because it works for me, helps me stay flexible, touches something in my heart, and helps me build emotional resilience, and recover a beautiful shape as I lose weight. I don’t think any of that means I have what it takes to go around teaching people something. My at-home partner really prefers to practice yoga with someone, rather than alone, and expressed some frustration with her lack of flexibility. Practicing together gave us a wonderful way to connect in a physical way, to share, to comfort, to enjoy each other; I was surprised that I didn’t feel self-conscious about gently sharing personal ‘best practices’ for some of the challenges she shared. It was a nice life lesson; we can each share what we know with the ones we love. Gentle coaching, loving communication, and heartfelt welcomed touch requires no certification.

It was a lovely evening to practice new skills. I found myself tapping new learning from some powerful books: Emotional Intimacy, Mindfulness for Beginners and Just One Thing come to mind. We shared new music suggested to us by our traveling partner with our yoga and meditation, which was a lovely way to connect him to the experience we were sharing. I don’t remember any pain from those moments, although I was in serious pain beforehand, and obviously so later, too. Funny how that works. How does that work? I’m glad it does.

Unfinished canvas...what will it become when the moment arrives?

Unfinished canvas…what will it become when the moment arrives?

Today is a good day to enjoy the moment. Today is a good day to acknowledge progress, however small. Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day to treat people well – even myself. Today is a good day to change the world.

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Categories Art, art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Relationships, The Big 5, women
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