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Fleeting Thoughts

July 18, 2015 //
2

I slept well and deeply, although I didn’t sleep through the night. I woke for a time, around 1:00 am, and although I was not anxious or in a lot of pain it was clear I was not going back to sleep easily. I did some yoga, meditated, and read a chapter of a favorite book – sleep was not far away at that point. I slept so well, actually, that I overslept my loose plan to take an early morning hike. Since there’s nothing I want or need to escape from, and no necessity to aggressively pursue exercise outside the home, and plenty to do (and to entertain me) right here, I am content with the spontaneous change of plans brought on by sleeping in.

There is enough structure and symmetry in life, there is no need to impose more.

There is enough structure and symmetry in life, there is no need to impose more.

I have the day ahead of me, to think, to be, to write, to do… it doesn’t seem necessary, today, to impose more structure on myself; I have a list of things that I’d like to get done, and I will likely do a great many of them today. It’s a good day for verbs. Some of the tasks on my list are utterly mundane day-to-day things like doing the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, or watering the garden. Other tasks on my list are a combination of tedium and delight that are both time-consuming, and requiring great care and attentiveness, like sorting and archiving my digital images, and updating my art archives with photos of more recent work. Some of the tasks on my list are creative endeavors, such as working on my manuscript, writing poetry, writing in my journal, or painting. Others are social endeavors; I have a long list of people I mean to write letters to.

Enough.

Enough.

 

I have not committed to any specific plan of action for now. I am simply enjoying my coffee. It is a remarkable coffee, too. Brazil Nossa Senhora Fatima – it has amazing aroma and flavor. I find myself wondering why I have explored so few Brazilian coffees in the past. I will no doubt have another cup or two; it is Saturday, and if I choose to ruin the upcoming night’s sleep with too much coffee, it is the one night of the week I can easily do so with few consequences. 🙂

I face the morning aware that I have recently had a number of significant moments that resulted in recognition that ‘this would be a good topic for a blog post’…and failing to write them down along the way, they are lost to me, for now. My memory doesn’t work as well as it might (I make jokes about my corrupted file system), and I know that when I don’t make notes on an idea for writing, or for painting, I am at risk of losing it altogether, and quite quickly. I no longer treat myself poorly over it – there is no ill intent, just this TBI, and being cruel to myself over my limitations has not done anything to ease the limitations themselves, in the past. It was a poor practice, and I have given it up.

The cool morning air pours in through the open patio door. Dawn has become daylight, and the sunlight on the lawn beyond my patio holds my attention for a time. I lose track of the moment, gazing out the window, listening to the aquarium trickling in the background. I wonder, after time passes, is this another sort of meditation, this rapt attentive gaze into the beyond, lacking in active content, simply breathing and seeing…or am I ‘stuck’ on some ‘damaged sector’ of my metaphoric hard drive? My mind wanders again, from thinking on that question, to some other notion. I realize I have been sitting quietly, holding my warm coffee cup in my hand, for some considerable time now. 37 minutes. Is it wasted time – or does this lovely stillness, content, aware, and calm, nurture some part of me that doesn’t get the attention it needs day-to-day in the fuss and bother of busy 21st century life?

Eye-catching bits of morning often catch my eye - is it a distraction, or is it the point of living?

Eye-catching bits of morning often catch my eye – is it a distraction, or is awareness the point of living?

Taking time for me takes many forms. Today is a good day for it – pretty nearly every day is, actually. Today is a good day to enjoy taking care of me, and applying verbs to my to do list, putting my effort where it pleases me most, and meets my needs over time. I build this beautiful life with my choices, and my actions. Today I happily do so with a grin and a challenge – to do so without the need to acquire more, or go elsewhere; I have what I need right here at home. That’s enough.

 

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

Austerity is Harder Than Planning

July 17, 2015 //
0

Yesterday I had to choose; a really cute floor cushion that is ‘just the right thing’ and a lovely set of high thread count king size sheets that suit my color theme quite perfectly… or not buying those things right now, at risk of having to pass on them all together – they are on sale, and not regularly available in any case. It’s a difficult choice, and I fight myself; I have a budget, and financial goals – one of which is buying myself a little home of my own, which, however small the home itself may be, is by far the largest budget impacting goal I can imagine for myself in this lifetime. Buying a set of sheets, itself, holds no potential as an individual purchase to derail my longer term goals…only…things like that are so rarely really individual purchases. I don’t mean that they are reliably associated with the purchase of additional (or impulse) items – I’ve gotten pretty decent at staying on budget and resisting those temptations – it’s that they seem small and insignificant in the moment, but annualized they end up amounting to a larger sum than easily predicted – because they are not entirely, fully, 100% planned.  “Needed but not planned” is a category of expenses I have yet to fully master.

I’ve come a long way with learning to handle my finances with some measure of skill – my TBI being what it is, I also rely on a fiduciary caregiver – someone whose role in my life is to assist me with managing my money, through budget assistance, financial planning, coaching, reminders, regular activity monitoring and regular reviews of progress to goals. (I have been financially abused in prior relationships often enough to be uncomfortably aware how much I need the help – and how risky even the help has the potential to be; it’s scary sometimes.) I still have challenges – and most of my day-to-day challenges with managing my money fall in the “needed but not planned” category. It has been the threat of potentially facing old-age destitute that forced me to consider having help with the money piece of my puzzle, and so far it has been a very wise decision.

Yesterday on my lunch walk I wandered through a nearby retailer filled the with joy that the sense of the recent payday tends to provide me. I spotted the cute cushion – and it is so perfect – and oh hey, those sheets are just the right color! I resisted the impulse purchase (hey! go practicing!) and assured myself that I could easily walk back after work and buy those then. I got back to my desk some time later and checked my budget and my bank account – which has become a habit, a regular practice, when I consider any unplanned expenditure. I expected to feel that satisfying feeling of confidence and self-assurance that comes of managing my affairs so skillfully these days…and…oh. Wait…what?? My balance was lower than I expected (not low, just lower), and I felt crushed for a moment, and deeply disappointed with myself. What had I done ‘wrong’? I emailed my traveling partner, agitated and stressed out by my findings, and feeling worried and somewhat frantic. He called me back with gentle reminders that goals are ahead of me, progress is incremental, and that everything is okay. Reassured I moved on with my day.

Heading home, I felt the pull of that cushion and those sheets… the urge to walk that way, look at, and touch those things was very powerful. I also know so much more about how my injury works, and why there have been so many times in my life when I would literally be checking out at the register paying for things I could not realistically afford, all the while negotiating with myself, trying to talk myself out of it…until I was at the exit, at which point I would switch to trying to justify the mistake I had so obviously just made. Disinhibiting injury. Loss of executive function. Not a game – and holding so much potential to destroy my future. 😦

The only thing in life that's all about the money is the money itself.

The only thing in life that’s all about the money is the money itself.

Yesterday, the power of incremental change over time, and practicing the practices, made itself clear; I kept heading for home, thinking about the cushion and the sheets, and the purchase I am not making now – but may make later. I get home, and add those things to my list of ‘things to have maybe’ (I generally  use my Amazon wish list for that purpose), which I consider each payday with great care, and an eye on the future. “Needed but not planned” is restricted, these days, to things like grocery essentials, and toilet paper – stuff that just can’t wait if I have run out, truly legitimate needs. Everything else goes to plan. This is what works for me, day-to-day. [You are not me; your results, and your best practices, may vary.] Any time I recklessly stray from that practice, I end up facing some moment of fearfulness and panic – or regret – when my budget and financial planning suddenly don’t add up. (That’s what caused me to be taken by surprise regarding my account balance yesterday; a reasonable, affordable – but not planned – purchase, made on the recommendation of my traveling partner, definitely affordable – still, not planned – and I had failed to account for it over the following days of other spending that had been quite planned… but not adjusted to account for the unplanned expenditure.)

I’m not good at skillful self-indulgence. I get easily carried away and take things too far, spend too much, lose sight of my longer term more important [to me] goals. I’m not good at managing panic and regret, either. The extremes of too much and too little mess with my head (thus the ongoing emphasis on sufficiency, contentment and ‘enough’). Attempting to practice austerity or extreme frugality to balance poorly planned spending, or reckless over spending don’t work very well for me, either; I react to the emotional sense of deprivation, privation, and ‘you can’t have that’ and find myself acting out against those feelings before I take time to remind myself that “I’m in charge around here, and I did this to me” – I would call it childish, but truly it is simply part of living with the combined challenges of my PTSD and my TBI. Struggling to work around the damaged bits isn’t ‘childish’ – it’s just complicated sometimes. I am very human. I have grown so much, though! I am actually frankly delighted with myself this morning, even joyously celebrating the small win that is not buying that perfectly cute cushion and that exactly right set of sheets – it’s a far bigger deal that I managed it so comfortably, than I know how to share. This morning I can see a future where I may not be destitute, living in poverty, homeless, abandoned, broken, and finished off by inevitable starvation or disease! Wow. Win and good. 🙂

When I consider money from the perspective that it is the spendable form of my very life force, I understand more easily what value it has, and find it easier to respect the needed planning and careful decision-making required for a comfortable lifetime.

When I consider money from the perspective that it is the spendable form of my very life force, I understand more easily what value it has, and find it easier to respect the needed planning and careful decision-making required for a comfortable lifetime.

My lack of skill at long-term austerity, if required, or basic day-to-day frugality when resources are limited drives continuous practice of those practices that seem most effective for me – and most of those have to do with planning, and capitalizing on the fact that I am good at planning, enjoy the planning, and leverage the planning for the joy of anticipation – which is quite as exciting and nice as the joy of spending right now, for me. Relying on my ability to plan, and follow a plan, not only gives me great delight in minutes and hours of happy anticipation and eagerness – those feelings give me opportunities to practice day-to-day resolve to stay on  plan (yep, reinforcing feedback loop for the win!) and give me a window of opportunity to carefully reconsider what I really want and need in my life – often things that are exciting in the moment (like a really super cute cushion, or just the right set of sheets) may lose their luster over a few days of consideration. I remove things from my wish list regularly, happier that I didn’t make the purchase, at that point, that I would have been to enjoy the item if I had bought it. It is rare to actually feel regretful over things I did not purchase – in fact, that generally only comes up with things like art, where a piece is one of a kind, never to be duplicated; in those cases the sting of regret is unavoidable, and may last a lifetime, for me. It is what it is; in some cases I will never have the funds to afford some piece I yearn to see in my home – in a roundabout way it is an element of what drove me to become an artist, myself. 🙂

Today is a good day to remember that resources are limited, and to plan accordingly.

Today is a good day to remember that resources are limited, and to plan accordingly.

Funny…so many words this morning, and really just to say ‘practicing the practices is effective’ and ‘incremental change over time does happen’ – and of course, ‘choosing the most appropriate practices is a pretty big deal’ and finishing it off with ‘your results may vary’ – because of course, ‘we are each having our own experience’. 😀

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized, Words

Forgive Some of This Right Here

July 14, 2015 //
0

…Or, well, don’t. I can’t really help much on the topic of forgiveness. I’m not an expert on it – hell, I barely understand the concept, and I am pretty sure I suck at ‘forgiveness’. (I hear the recollection of 20-something me, in the distance past, snarling at an associate “there are things even your god does not forgive!” in a moment of unreserved hurt and rage.) I am having to come to terms with some things about the idea of forgiveness, though. Firstly, that ‘forgiveness’ is not a religious tenet; it’s a concept available to anyone for their own benefit, at any time. Secondly, forgiveness says nothing at all about the person being forgiven – and says a lot about the person forgiving. The last thing I am coming to terms with is that to grow beyond ancient pain, and ancient rage, sooner or later forgiveness comes up as a topic; I can’t move on, or let go, without the power of ‘forgiveness’… Which means sooner or later, understanding the concept would be useful.

I resent the hell out of being faced with any expectation or demand that I forgive some heinous transgression. I’m very human. When I hurt I want it ‘made right’ with me by the person who hurt me, and no substitute will do. There is no room for ‘apology by proxy’ in my heart. These feelings give the anger a foothold to become bitterness over time, and the hurt to become a festering wound that changes who I am. That’s powerful – and not in a positive way. When I find myself unable to let go of a hurt over time, it has the power to slowly see me evolve to become that thing that hurt me so, or something worse. Hell of a puzzle there; failing to forgive someone who hurt me gives them the power to continue to influence my heart and mind!

"Broken" 16" x 20" acrylic on canvas w/ceramic & glow 2012 Once the damage is done...then what?

“Broken” 16″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic & glow 2012
Once the damage is done…then what?

Not knowing how to forgive, and not being permitted vengeance or retribution, I have sometimes found myself trapped, holding on to pain, frustration, impotent rage – slowly poisoning myself from within. This is not a condition in life I would wish on myself, and recognizing that one key to the puzzle of ancient pain may be this ‘forgiveness’ thing I hear so much about, perhaps it is time to consider it further?

I have some experience with forgiveness. Childhood experiences mostly, in some cases rather scripted – the parental ‘say you’re sorry to your sister’ example comes to mind, where following the steps end with just letting it go, and returning to play. Compassion may be a natural quality of human beings, but I am pretty sure ‘forgiving’ has to be taught to us. Forgiveness was not emphasized in my upbringing. Is it a process, more than an emotion? I’m pretty handy when I have the steps of a process written down in front of me for practice…maybe that’s what I need to do here? Figure out the steps to forgiveness, write them down, and…oh yeah, you know what comes next right? Practice.

Why am I on about this, this morning? I read a quote on the internet recently that got my attention, and resonated with me in the moment, and lingered:

Forgiving someone doesn’t mean condoning their behavior. It doesn’t mean forgetting how they hurt you or giving that person room to hurt you again. Forgiving someone means making peace with what happened. It means acknowledging your wound, giving yourself permission to feel the pain, and recognizing why that pain no longer serves you. It means letting go of the hurt and resentment so that you can heal and move on. ~Daniell Koepke

It is from a larger article, that I didn’t have time to read and bookmarked for later. The quote has stuck with me for days. I’d never understood forgiveness in those terms. This matters, at least to me; I have long struggled with the idea that forgiveness gave that other ‘a pass’ – they ‘get away with it’ – they ‘win’ – and at my expense! It seems so incredibly unfair. When I read this quote it opened my heart to understand that forgiveness isn’t ever about that person who hurt us, and it isn’t something we do for them – is it the ‘missing puzzle piece’ that allows me to move on, to heal, to ‘let it go’ on my own terms, and in my own time? That’s a pretty big deal. Definitely worth further consideration.

Life finds its own path, sometimes the 'obvious' choices are not the only choices.

Life finds its own path, sometimes the ‘obvious’ choices are not the only choices. (A rose seedling growing in the crook of a tree.)

Life’s curriculum continues to put the most challenging coursework I can manage in front of me for my continuing education. 🙂 I’ve come a long way to be ready to study forgiveness; it seems like ‘advanced studies’ to me. It dovetails with a recent discussion with my therapist about anger, and another that followed on that topic with my traveling partner. Anger is another very big deal, and difficult for me to discuss without rousing the beast within; is forgiveness also a path to cooling the heat and ferocity of ancient rage so that I can at last actually just talk about it? I feel a bit as if I opened a chapter in the text-book that opens with a promising paragraph that ‘connects the dots’ in a much bigger puzzle, but does so using new vocabulary that I don’t really understand. I am eager to continue.

Taking the obstacles one at a time, and taking the journey slowly; there's a lot to learn along the way.

Taking the obstacles one at a time, and taking the journey slowly; there’s a lot to learn along the way.

Today is a good day to study, and a good day to embrace new knowledge. Today is a good day to grow, and to become more that woman I most want to be. Today is a good day to take a different look at the world I live within; it is of my own creation, and perhaps it is time to change the emotional landscape?

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

It’s Not a Competition

July 11, 2015 //
3

I slept well last night. I slept in this morning. I woke sufficiently early to enjoy the dawn. The kitchen is filled with the aroma of freshly ground coffee. The overcast sky promises cooler weather. The cool soft morning air fills the apartment by way of the open patio door. The morning is quiet, even serene.

Cooler weather and lovely overcast skies often come at a cost for me, and this morning this is the case; my arthritis pain is significantly worse after many days of not bothering me much at all. I shrug it off – at some points quite literally for the relief that movement gives – and wait on the kettle to put coffee nearer to ‘now’.

I look around my home contentedly, and without dissatisfaction, although it is Saturday following a week interrupted with stress; there are chores to do this morning. There generally are on Saturday morning, and I don’t offer myself any criticism that one or two things I could have done Wednesday or Thursday wait for me today. Why would I? My home is lovely and well-kept, and in any case, the rules are my own, the standards are mine, and the outcome need please and satisfy only me. I am enjoying this moment.

You see, it’s not a competition – until or unless I choose to make it one, of course. I don’t. I dislike competition [in life] rather a lot. I enjoy ‘game-ification’, and I don’t mind working to measure up to the standard I have set for myself, but frankly – there is no one else I compete with for my success, my sense of self, or my enjoyment of my experience. You can’t have what is mine [me] – and I can’t have what is yours [you] – on a level beyond mercantile goods, destination vacations, just the right schools or just the right neighborhoods; we are each having our own experience, and all the purchasing power in the world can’t change who we are. Of course, you could choose differently. You could choose to focus on what someone else has, what they enjoy, what their life looks like from an outside perspective, and you could make all your effort focused on getting there, being that, and doing those things. Let me know how it turns out? I haven’t seen any remarkable success stories on that front, mostly tales of frustration, discontent, disconnection and woe, instead. I have found that when I strive to be something or someone I am not, the less easily able I am to enjoy who I actually am – and the less easily able I am to grow or change. I consider my choice to fully embrace authenticity quite fearlessly to have been one of the most profoundly positive things I have ever done for myself.

Having said that I don’t find life to be a competition, myself, I admit that this is based on the choices I make, and what I enjoy in life personally. Perhaps you enjoy competition? I won’t [can’t] take that from you – but I won’t be keeping score with you, or making any effort to participate or ‘keep up’. I don’t invest in relationships in which it becomes clear the other person is ‘competing with me’, generally. I dislike it when people undermine someone else’s experience in order to get ahead, themselves, and don’t favor those sorts of people for relationships, either. It comes up a lot out in the world. Is your house bigger? (Probably – this place is small. And enough for me.) Do you make more money? (A lot of people do, it’s really not the focus of my goal-setting or effort, nor do I measure my own success in dollars.) Are you leaner, stronger, fitter, or more muscular? (I bet you’ve worked hard to get there! I’ve worked hard to get where I am, too. There are verbs involved, regardless of the goal.) Are you famous, expert, or highly sought for your opinion, or your charm? (Is that filling when  you are hungry? Does it secure better sleep for you at night? Are you well-loved and secure in the companionship of those you love?) I guess my point is that there is always someone with more, someone with less, and those quantities are not truly relevant to living well and being a skilled and loving human being.

Have I drifted off topic? I was thinking about housework on a Saturday morning. Ah! I was thinking about my Granny being, perhaps, appalled that there is hair in my hair brush, or that my bed is not yet made. I am thinking about my first husband as I notice that vacuuming is a thing, and that today is a good day to do some. I glance at the kitchen and recall other kitchens, in other conditions. For a moment, my thoughts turn to laundry. My wee home is quite tidy, but so small that any disarray whatever is very obvious – and I’m okay with a bit of disarray before dawn on a Saturday morning as I sip my coffee; there is no rush, and this is not a competition. There is literally, quite definitely, no competition at all – this is my home, these are my rules, this is my way. After coffee, chores – it’s a lovely Saturday morning and that’s enough.

I grin at myself thinking back to other circumstances, and being annoyed at getting sucked into the ‘housework rodeo’ because someone would be coming over; it is the antithesis of ‘being myself’ to radically change my environment to impress someone, or to measure up to my assumptions about their expectations. I can’t imagine any of my friends would be so rude as to come over to visit and criticize my housekeeping – it’d be the last time they were invited in and given a chance to do so. I feel pretty much the same about family – and every bit as willing to be very frank and to say out loud “how dare you be so rude and ungracious – get out.” lol Even my late grandmother’s spotless home filled with antiques from all around the globe lingering in my memory does not fill me with the drive needed to compete with her by cleaning my home to meet her expectations – and…um…why would anyone else’s expectations of my home be relevant to my own experience at all? Just saying.

More than the housework, the stacks of paintings not yet hung, and not yet stored, cause me some concern; I hesitate to paint because they are so very much at risk of damage stacked here and there, out in the open. If I lose myself in a creative moment, I could so easily find, later, that I have damaged existing work that I greatly love. My traveling partner is eager for me to get a loveseat, so we can cuddle and watch movies or talk. I’d like that, too. My own needs in the moment have more to do with finishing getting moved in…which means doing something about the stacks of paintings. One of the cabinets I generally use for that purpose is currently filled with my valued porcelain; I have no curio to display them in, yet, and the sideboard I lovingly hauled all over the world for 25 years is gone now. So…what is the most practical next step? What best meets my needs over time? That’s a tough one. I do enjoy cuddling my traveling partner… I also enjoy painting, and seeing my home in a very ordered state. (Stacks of paintings here and there do not seem especially ordered, to me. lol)

Enough.

Enough.

Needs of self. Needs of others. Needs of Love. Expectations. Unanswered questions. Well…it’s a good thing enjoying a pleasant Saturday does not require that all of life’s questions have answers. Today is a good day to be, unanswered questions and all. It’s not a competition, and this, right here, is enough.

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Categories art and the artist, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Where Was I?

July 10, 2015 //
0

I spent yesterday taking care of me: getting some rest, treating symptoms that had flared up, meditating (not at all the same thing as getting some rest), and putting some gentle distance between myself and Wednesday. (It wasn’t that Wednesday was so terrible, it was that small things about Wednesday found me very reactive, and got my PTSD going, which wrecked my sleep…etc; it’s a spiral that has to be interrupted as quickly as practical.) Real sleep was a challenge and other than a very restful nap in the late afternoon, the construction work nearby kept sleep just out of reach until evening. When evening came, I slept easily. I slept well. I slept deeply.

I was so tired I don't remember taking this picture.

I was so tired I don’t remember taking this picture.

I woke this morning at 4:59 am, just ahead of the alarm – my honest preference is to wake on time without the alarm going off. I dislike the sound of it, and hearing the noise of an alarm first thing before I am even awake does indeed ‘alarm’ me. I did not have to hear it this morning, and I woke feeling alert and… ‘ordered’. I don’t have the right word for that. I need a word that means ‘the opposite of disordered’. It would be more easily pursued and goal-worthy with its own name. 🙂

My coffee is a treat this morning, brewed from a blend of Latin American beans in a medium roast (“Pamplona“) it is a departure from my usual morning preference, which is generally for darker roasts. I am enjoying it without expectations or assumptions, and finding it quite pleasant, with rich, complex flavors. There’s really nothing much else going on right now. It is very early, the sky only beginning to turn shades of blue, and even the crows are quiet for the moment. There is no movement outside, beyond the open patio door, there is no sound besides the trickle of the aquarium and the hushed hum of humanity’s existence, and the rhythmic tap of middle-aged fingers on a mechanical keyboard. It’s quite lovely and still.

A bit at a time, I am getting to know myself on an entirely new level – the ups and the downs take on more meaning; I face them alone these days, most of the time. I am learning not to run from the difficult moments, which are often more manageable than my fears tell me they will be. I rarely cry. That’s a strange realization; I do not know what dried my tears. Is it really so hard just living side by side with other people? Has that, all by itself, been so much of the difficulty all along – more than hormones, more than being the older one, or being the one working, or being the one not sleeping, or… well… or any of it? My PTSD flares up less often, and less severely lately. My headaches are somewhat less frequent, and often less intense. I sleep more soundly, more of the time. Wait…am I right about this? Or is it merely the perspective of the moment?

Perspective matters. Is it a forest, or some trees?

Perspective matters. Is it a forest, or some trees?

I frequently make generalizations, and sometimes keep them. I’m quite human. From the perspective of this lovely moment, it is easy to reach back in time and connect it to other moments, create trends out of memories… Is there ever a way to be more certain of the truths on which my perspective rests? I give that some thought, and smile. For me there is; I write that much. I’ve kept a journal since I was a ‘tween; I still have every volume since I was in my twenties, although older ones were lost between moves at some point. I paused my journal writing in 2012; it had degraded into obsessive rumination and was doing more harm than good. When I picked it up again, about the same time I went into therapy in 2013, I focused on observational writing: simple, aware, nonjudgmental [at the request of my therapist, and often in a ‘homework assignment’ or ‘question & answer’ format] – and I continue to write, here in this blog, there in my journal, every day. I make notes about my life and my experience. I can ‘fact check’ myself – and regularly do. I don’t use my notes, or my journal, to attempt to correct the misunderstandings or perceptions of others; it is not my role to build, manage, or maintain someone else’s world view, but I have my own, and it is not easily shaken by argument. I have data.

Coffee and journals.

Coffee and journals.

I recently had a conversation with a friend, about a former associate. He said “she remembers things very differently than you do…” I don’t recall the context, but I recall smiling a certain knowing bitter smile. “I’m sure she does.” I said, preferring to move on without further discussion. There is no argument possible on the details, not only because was I there the first time; I made notes. Simple notes. Observational notes. Notes about actions taken. Notes about things said, and behavior in the delivery. Notes that detail chronology very clearly. I have rather a lot of notes, taken daily and summarized weekly. I can refer to them any time. I make a point of doing so because I am on a very particular journey to become the woman I most want to be. Understanding and perspective on who I am are valuable tools. I make a point of checking my notes when the risk of being mistaken is also the risk of hurting someone who matters to me; I am human, and fallible even in my own memory. Human beings rewrite their recollection of events to best suit their own understanding, and generally, more often than not, to make themselves the good guy, regardless how damaging their actions may be. Cognitive dissonance exists. I know where that bitter knowing smile of mine comes from, and it isn’t a happy place; I know people rewrite the how and the why of their actions to excuse mistreating others, because I have chronicled my experience with being mistreated. No stone throwing from me, I’m also human. Bottom line, it is not possible to rob me of my perspective of events, or persuade me to change my view…unless you bring data to the table.

In spite of the note taking, the study, the archived emails, “being right” is not important to me as an experience, and I dislike arguing. It is not a successful way to build an intimate connection, or to enjoy my experience, and my perspective is not subject to outside persuasion in that fashion. We are, however, each having our own experience. That doesn’t take anything from the underlying facts, and whether any one human being can or does acknowledge a fact does not alter the existence of the fact, itself. (More easily expressed as “science does not care what you believe”.) The point I’m making is… of course we each remember things differently than each other, even when we share an experience; our perspective is our own. My violent first husband didn’t consider himself a bad guy, or that his actions were ‘wrong’, generally. I certainly know how damaging his actions were, and the lingering damage definitely suggests he wasn’t ‘a good guy’. Perspective is a very big deal – I rely on my own these days, although I am also learning to listen deeply to the perspective expressed by others, whether I agree or not – it improves my understanding of that human being, what they are capable of, and the relationship we share.

People get very invested in ‘being right’. It isn’t for me to decide that is a mistake for anyone but me – I know my stress level went down a lot when I let go of that baggage and allowed myself to be open to change, open to new understandings, open to learning new information, open to being wrong, and to being mistaken. Being open takes so much less effort than being ‘right’, and it is so much less likely to find me being factually incorrect while demanding that my error be given validation as a truth. Being ‘wrong’ turns out not to be particularly scary, and it opens all sorts of doors to new knowledge, improved perspective, growth, and perhaps at some point, wisdom.

Walking my own path, finding my own way, seeking illumination.

Walking my own path, finding my own way, seeking illumination.

Today is a good day for perspective, and a happy genuine smile; my perspective is my own and can’t be taken from me, even by force. Today is a good day for growth, and just being, instead of ‘being right’. Today is a good day to embrace authenticity, and take ownership of my journey – we are each having our own experience, and I am my own cartographer. The map? Yeah, it’s still not the world.

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Categories Brain Injury, Fiction, Free Will, Logic & Reason, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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