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Good-bye, Old Friend

May 23, 2013 //
2
So many metaphors...hard to choose just one. (detail from "Anxiety" 2011)

So many metaphors…hard to choose just one. (detail from “Anxiety” 2011)

I’m saying good-bye to an old friend.

A steady rain falls this morning, like a lifetime of tears falling in a day; the sort of respectable rainfall that farmers count on, and that quickly turns a pleasant walk into a test of endurance. I like rain. I especially like rain from a warm, dry vantage point with a hot cup of coffee. I’ve got my coffee, the rain, and if I want to reach into my heart and touch something that hurts, I have my share of tears, too. I also have a headache. The headache is part of this particular good-bye.

You see, after more than a decade, I am finally saying good-bye to prescription anxiety medication. Aside from this headache, and a few somewhat surreal days, it hasn’t been too difficult. I was most concerned about some potential that I’d suddenly be taken over by the level of anxiety that was my everyday experience before I embraced Big Pharm’s tempting sales pitch. A decade is a long time to take a drug, and I’m not surprised that the experience of withdrawing from it is more profound than the assurances and platitudes the literature provides; nearly all the research I’ve been able to access is based on clinical trials of short-term use (6-8 weeks), and none of it is based on a decade or more of continuous use.  Actions have consequences. A decade is a long time to take a drug.  There is too much information available, and a lot of recent reporting, regarding how business interests have resulted in a substantial amount of medical research being suppressed, or actually manipulated for a desired outcome, and similar sorts of things that frankly scare the hell out of me every time I look in my medicine cabinet. I’m painfully aware, too, that doctors are people, not gods, and just as prone to fraud, deceit, greed, error and simple incompetence as anyone else. I am serious about embracing a genuine experience of who I am – of being myself. Really being myself. So, the time had come to back up my recent progress with real trust that my experience is improved, and that I am more whole than I had been, and am capable of continuing to grow and improve my experience, and heal my ancient hurts. I decided to take care of me in a different way. Big Pharm didn’t fix my issues, and couldn’t – they had 10 years to make it happen. lol. My turn. For real. I’m learning, healing, growing…and I am happy to see 50 without having to take mind-altering drugs to endure my experience, pacify my fears, or ‘make me presentable’ for the rest of the world. The headache today is worth it.

...not going to dwell on it... (detail of 'Broken' 2012)

…not going to dwell on it… (detail of ‘Broken’ 2012)

I’m still human. I still feel anxiety. I still have things to work on, to work out, to understand more clearly. I have more to learn. I still have PTSD, and I’m still learning new skills for managing that experience more effectively. I still have a TBI, and I’m finally learning things that address that part of my experience directly, and that matters more than I ever know how to describe.

There’s always another lesson in life’s curriculum, isn’t there? My morning thoughts and contemplation are interrupted. I am finding that my concentration is limited for now, as I say good-bye to this ‘old friend’. I’m not sorry to see it go. But it is a complicated good-bye.

...each having our own experience. (detail of "Emic" 2012)

…each having our own experience. (detail of “Emic” 2012)

It is sometime later, now. The serenity of the  morning didn’t last, and while that is disappointing, I’m finding that I am ok, myself.  Anxiety is what it is, and I’m ok. My own experience, right now, right here, is one of relative calm; concerned, aware, and finding significant perspective in the beauty of a rainy day, and the many shades of green I see. Some experiences have more value than others, and for the moment a rainy day trumps anxiety and ‘what if’ scenarios.

Respect…consideration…compassion…reciprocity…openness…my ‘Big 5’ only look easy on paper. I’m finding that getting there is still a destination, and the journey requires an everyday commitment to mindful choices, and awareness. I want it to be easy. I accept that both effort and will are required; this is not about easy.

I’m tired and my head aches. That’s worth it, too. I’m giving myself my self for my 50th birthday.

"Who am I? Wait...I had something for this..." (detail of 'Kronos' 2002)

“Who am I? Wait…I had something for this…” (detail of ‘Kronos’ 2002)

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Categories Anxiety, Art, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Turning 50, Uncategorized, women

Tears, Love, and Alfred

March 29, 2013 //
1
A latte, and some light reading

A latte, and some light reading

Yesterday was not my best day. That’s ok, too, I’m still very much a student of life and love, and learning mindfulness and practices that will nourish and sustain me heart and soul will be a lifetime endeavor. Funny what hurts, what doesn’t and what I do about it. I screwed up yesterday, well, I chose poorly. I put work over heart, understandably I suppose, and simply refused to take the time for myself that would potentially have put my heart at ease. Another lesson. Ten minutes for me would have been a small thing to take from the work day, and of enormous value for taking care of me.  As it was, I held back tears for hours.  I got home, let my partners know I would take some time for me, and eased myself into a hot bath…and let the tears fall.  I breathed deeply, relaxed slowly, and practiced being in the moment, feeling the feelings happen, then dissipate. It was a huge relief, and yes, crying does seem to drastically reduce stress very quickly when I am in the moment and aware and just ‘now’.  I could summarize…”Yesterday sucked, then I went home and had a good cry and felt better.”  There was more too it, but that’s basically it.

One of my loving partners met me at the door as I left the bathroom. “How are you doing?” There was love and concern in his eyes. “Ok, I guess. I’m not sure I’m fit company, tonight…” and as I said the words, looking into his loving eyes, more tears began to fall.  I disregarded them, and heard a universe of love and acceptance when he replied “I understand. I feel it.”  I recall a warm embrace…but I’m not sure we actually touched with our bodies, and that isn’t relevant to the feeling of being wrapped in his affection and encouragement.  I went to share a moment with my other partner, wanting to be sure she, too, could have that moment together and know that things will be ok.  Something strange happened… I learned a powerful lesson in mindfulness…from a fish.  My partner happily shared with me a new fish in our aquarium. The delight of watching him happily doing his thing, no sense of anything but now, sort of snapped into place.  We all shared a quiet chill evening together, a little conversation, but mostly just warmth and engagement on another level, watching a comedy show, laughing together as the evening turned to twilight, then to nightfall.

I woke to a different experience today.  Well-rested. Serene. Here and now.  An exceptional latte and a few moments of study, then meditation was eventually followed by a pleasant walk to work on a spring morning. How are the simple pleasures of a good life of any less significance than distant pain? I make this mistake far too often. I’m learning, though.   There are so many odd slogans in life that ring so true as I explore this mindfulness thing… how about ‘stopping to smell the roses’? I don’t think it has to be literal roses, so this morning I stopped for a different flower, and it smelled quite sweet.

Stopping to smell the flowers

Stopping to smell the flowers

Oh, and we named the fish ‘Alfred’. 😀

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Menopause, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Spring, Turning 50, women, Words

There’s Sand in My Oyster

March 19, 2013 //
4

I woke in an ok place this morning, after an ok night’s sleep. I’m feeling better, but…small things…I am struggling with small deviations from the routine, small chronic frustrations with every day life, minor mishaps and disappointments, more than seems appropriate.  I want to shrug it off as being ‘a little cross’ with myself, or ‘waking up on the wrong side of the bed’, or anything at all that minimizes it and ‘makes it go away’, but those things are not true.  I’d rather be disappointed to the point of heartbreak that my brand new blow dryer didn’t work this morning, or irritated that my cell phone battery didn’t recharge, or anything at all that isn’t what is really grinding away on my consciousness, in the background.

I don’t know that I have the words, or the appropriate forum, to discuss what’s on my mind – rape.  For me to discuss rape honestly requires the willingness to face a level of information sharing that is ‘too much information’ on multiple levels, and possibly damaging to hear, for some people.  The internet is buzzing with it anyway, and that’s why it’s grinding away on my own consciousness –  I’m a rape victim, myself. How can I not be affected by politicians negotiating whether or not I can have an abortion if I get pregnant from a rape? How can I overlook that there are people who actually think the consequences of a rapist being convicted are worthy of more serious dialogue than the consequences of the rape itself for the victim? How can I overlook the horrible numbers, the statistics, the historical data – the strong likelihood that just about any woman, anywhere, is probably going to face some kind of sexual assault at some point in her life? I feel agitated and ‘trying not to be’. I feel fearful and struggling with a veiled feeling of hostility. I feel anxious.

How did we ever come to this? ‘Civilized’? Hardly. I could almost feel the smugness mingling with the horror of so many voices in the wake of one heinous Delhi gang rape in December…but Steubenville was already seething in our cultural undercurrent, it happened in August.  Where are the good guys? Where are the heroes? Where is the country where there is no rape?

I feel sad. I feel wounded. I feel lost.  I will fill my ‘now’ with the day’s work, and hope that the distraction from ancient hurts will ‘be enough’… I need to feel wrapped in love, in the arms of lovers who would never hurt me…but for now, fluorescent lighting and the low steady din of ‘busy as usual’ will have to do. I am learning more about living mindfully every day, and practicing meditation, learning compassion…but just at the moment I feel rather as if I am attempting to apply a small band-aid to a sucking chest wound…or gasping for air in a vacuum…or drowning…

…Wait..wait…am I missing this moment? Is there a lesson here, too? I will take time for me, before I move on soaked in fear, and just breathe…I mean, hey…it’s just a Tuesday. I’m certainly worth a few minutes of my own time and compassion…it hasn’t all been easy, and hurting sometimes is probably a given. I hurt right now, but I don’t always…

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Rape, Relationships, Uncategorized, women

The Parable of Poison

March 18, 2013 //
9

A Person comes to a Friend bereft because a Loved One offered poison to drink, and having consumed it, this Person was in terrible pain and agony. The Person and the Friend commiserate at length the nature of the crime, the motive to offer poison, the sort of poison it was and how agonizing the pain. For days they spoke and there was no relief from the agony. The Person and the Friend went to the Law to address this grievance, and the Law spoke at length on the punishment suitable to the crime, depending on the sort of crime it could be determined to be. For days the Law spoke and there was no relief from the agony. The Person went far and wide with the pain and the agony, speaking at length with other persons, looking for agreement that a crime had been committed. The Person railed at and against the Loved One, demanding redress, acknowledgement, change and even vengeance, and shared the anger and pain and terrible agony far and wide with many other Persons.

One day, the Person met a Wiser Person and related the tale and the pain and agony of having been given poison by a Loved One. The Wiser Person listened carefully, and asked “Why did you drink it?”

Hmm…

I read something recently that gave me some clarity around the emotion of anger, but differentiating clearly between the emotional experience (‘the feeling’) of anger, and how it moves us to behave (‘the expression’) being called hostility, instead of also calling that anger. Nice wordsmithing, actually, because that actually gave me a foothold on greater understanding of a complicated piece of my experience.  Anger isn’t pleasant, but the emotional experience is pretty personal, and limited to the individual experiencing it – until they share it with another, in the form of hostility, and it isn’t all that different from offering someone poison… but if I am offered poison, in theory, I don’t have to drink it. 😀

Yesterday I woke in a good mood, but considerably sicker than the day before, and drained, exhausted, and suffering a pretty horrible headache, too. The morning went sideways when my limited emotional reserves met real-life unexpectedly – and it really was as if someone I love had walked right up and handed me a cup saying ‘here’s this poison, I made it myself, have some?’ and sure enough – I drank it right down. lol. Learning compassion and practicing mindfulness haven’t put me beyond the realm of human experience, for sure, and I not only took the whole mess quite personally, I over-reacted more than a little. As sick as I was, my supply of good decision-making was also diminished and I found myself out in the world, walking and crying like a madwoman, and under-dressed for the weather, which was a dumb choice since I was already ill. All too human, right? lol. I sort of ‘forced myself’ to make some better choices; to go home, to have some calories, to rest, to let the small stuff go, and sure enough things sorted themselves out – because it wasn’t my experience that had me wound around the axles in the first place, and I didn’t really have to drink that poison.  I am hoping to learn how to politely say ‘thank you, no’ when I find myself ‘offered poison’ in the form of someone else’s anger being directed into my experience as hostility…

Other ‘cups of poison’ being handed round recently include a variety of news articles about rape and rapists, after the news about the Steubenville rapists being convicted.  Another blogger really ‘gets it’; being sympathetic to the convicted rapists rather than to the victim is more than inappropriate, it is offensive. They said it better than I would have, and it’s definitely a share-worthy message.  I’m glad I’m not reading/watching media news right now – the heinous insensitivity of the talking heads on parade could easily have triggered my PTSD for weeks, and I just don’t need it.

It’s a good Monday, in spite of being sick, and I am eager to be well and able to enjoy spring.

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Categories Anxiety, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Menopause, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Rape, Relationships, women

All Too Human

March 16, 2013 //
1

I’m home sick today, plans cancelled, wrapped in comfy clothes and a bathrobe, unconcerned with much of anything besides being comfortable. It’s no dire illness. It isn’t terminal. It won’t be chronic or particularly prolonged, I’m sure. It’s really just a cold virus of some sort. Miserable, irritating, fatiguing, but it isn’t a crisis. It is, however, very human.  So here I sit, pretending I am still drinking my tasty mocha, but it went cold a while ago, and started to become ‘decor’, poised on the coffee table, reminding me how nice being loved feels when I am not feeling well, myself.

Yesterday was a good day, and I spent it working on things that matter to me, heart and soul, mind and body, and I didn’t write at all. By the time I got to thinking the sorts of thoughts that inspire me to write, it was late, I was clearly already ill, and sleep seemed the more rational, nurturing choice. I did get my hair cut, and it was an incredibly fun experience, as it turned out, and I love the new look. Funny what we hesitate to do over our fears and insecurities.  I’m a little glad I’m sick this morning, in one respect, it tended to temper  my first sight of my short hair ‘first thing in the morning’. lol. Oh my… I did not really think ahead to ‘morning hair’!  Yeah, I admit, that first look, first thing, was far more startling that having my hair cut short in the first place, and being ill kept me from taking it at all seriously.

I find myself bouncing between amusement and annoyance that it took me so long to be in a place to heal my heart. Pain sucks. Meditation practices and mindfulness practices have been around for thousands of years and are the basis of multiple cultures and philosophies, and yet, somehow I got to be 49 years old before ‘mindfulness’ became a word in my vocabulary, or a concept for living well that was within reach for me…one day I will be well and whole enough to contemplate the meaning of my life’s experiences, trauma and all, and have a sense of the value it all has, to who I am in my here and now. For now, I am content with making progress, with learning new practices that bring me more balance than I had before, more peace than I understood I could experience, and the gentle warmth of love and compassion for this amazing vessel I am wrapped in, this loving heart contained within it, and this rich life I am privileged to experience.

I hope your Saturday is a good one, and if it sucks, I hope that has something of value for you as days go by.

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Categories Healthy Living, Menopause, Mindfulness, Perspective, Relationships, Turning 50, Uncategorized, women
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