Archives for posts with tag: practicing the practices
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Better Than Bad

September 25, 2024 //
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Nice morning. Mild. Quiet. I’m okay. I got a decent night of sleep after several restless nights of degraded sleep. I needed it. Dreams instead of nightmares. The morning started pretty well, and I’m not in much pain this morning. Manageable.

I sit quietly at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I watch a pair of walkers hit the trail in the darkness, with a flashlight. The light swings and bobs as they disappear up the trail, the faint shapes in the darkness becoming formless shadows as they reach the first bend along the path. I don’t prefer to walk the trail in the dark. I become hyper vigilant rather quickly and it’s not much fun to walk along scanning the environment for unseen threats. I am unavoidably aware that those potential threats are not foolish imaginings; human beings can be quite dangerous.

So… I sit and wait for the sun.

I had planned to skip my walk today, to be certain of finishing the work day early enough to get home to take my Traveling Partner to physical therapy. On top of that just being a bit unnecessary, he messaged me during the wee hours; he’s not feeling up to it. Understandable. He’s tapering off a medication and the process fucks with his head, and his physical experience. I feel for him. When I saw the tapering instructions I was dismayed at how little regard appeared to be given to how the drug actually works, and it’s half-life. Doctors often seem to be fairly fucking uninformed about the psycho-pharmacology of the drugs they so casually dispense. Profit and process over people. It’s disappointing.

I am momentarily distracted by the bright lights of a freight truck rolling by on the highway. It’s decked out in so many lights! I am delighted by the display and grinning like a little kid. It’s a weirdly joyful moment. I wonder if the driver knows? Was the choice intentional? Do the lights make them smile, too?

I sit quietly awhile with my thoughts.

Daybreak soon.

This quiet time is so important for my well-being. I’m fortunate to have the will, the opportunity, and the partnership that support it. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit quietly, meditating, writing, and waiting for the sun. It’ll be daybreak soon, and time to begin again.

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

Too Little Sleep, Too Many Feelings

September 24, 2024 //
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Work is work. I’m doing my best to be focused and present, engaged in the tasks at hand. Meetings? I wear a pleasant mask and hope for the best. It feels inauthentic – and entirely necessary.

Something like a view. Perspective.

An old old happy song fills my ears, and I crumble. Just tears every-fucking-where. I am grateful for an office and a door that closes. I just give in to it. 1977 was a long time ago, indeed. It’s not that I was “happy” then – I was just…young. I didn’t know what the future held, I only figured it had to be better than the past.

I held on to some optimism for a while after that, before that became a mire of cynicism, pain, disappointment, and my eventual descent into trauma-related mental illness. Somewhere within, I still find that young heart, and that feeling that love is real and “fixes everything”. Somewhere past all these tears… I’ve disappointed myself so often, sometimes it’s hard to remember that tears eventually dry.

I miss old friends no longer around to talk to. I’m at an age where people have started… dying off. I’ve still got tears saved up for them, too. It’s just too much today. The world is full of chaos and violence and bloodshed… that’s worth crying over, too. Fuck. I’m a mess today. Funny that the music of my youthful years still feels so relevant… I feel grateful for that.

…So…I cry. I just let it out and hope for the best. There’s work to do – “the best” doesn’t come cheap, and it’s never free. There are verbs involved. Sometimes one of those is crying. There’s no shame in honest tears. I check my calendar – I can’t cry forever. It’s a work day. I’ll have to pull myself together for the next meeting and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, grief, loneliness, Moments, pain, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights

Do Not Disturb

September 24, 2024 //
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Well shit, yesterday went sideways abruptly after what had been a very pleasant day. Tempers and hurt feelings flared. Perspectives on individual experiences clashed. Unmet and unstated needs collided with the force only human emotions can create in such a short time. “Unpleasant” doesn’t even begin to describe it. I said things that were incredibly hurtful and will be difficult to apologize for adequately, if that’s even possible (and I am ashamed of having lost my temper so severely). He said some terrible things I can’t unhear. We hurt each other’s hearts – and the appalling thing about it is that we are each the person the other turns to for love, support, understanding, care, consideration… all the things. The person we hurt so deeply is our fucking partner.

… I didn’t sleep much last night…

Even after things calmed down and some sort of apologies were offered, the pain lingered. I went to bed unhappy. I don’t doubt he did as well. The house was quiet when I woke. My heart was heavy. Still is. Can we come back from this? Tears well up with the question every time it crosses my mind. I behaved appallingly.

I make my Traveling Partner’s morning coffee, put out a fresh glass of water, and a glass of iced tea, with a couple of fig bars to start his morning when he wakes. I hope he sees these things as the gesture of love I mean for them to be. I can’t imagine my life without him…

I’m not sure how we got to “this place”, and I sure don’t want to stay here. I remember a very different “us”, even quite recently (although it’s hard to stay mindful of how recent it was and that these changes are the result of injury, infirmity, and legitimate struggle, that truly will pass). I can do better. I’m confident he can too, and even that he means to. The medications he’s on make him more volatile and less clearheaded (no less so while he tapers off). The pain and fatigue I’m struggling with shorten my fuse and I rather stupidly try to avoid burdening him with information about my condition (that he actually needs to know to do his best to support me as much as he is able).

… I failed us both last night…

Fuck. The refrains of annoying 70’s break-up songs play on a loop in my thoughts. I snarl back at the unwelcome “programming”. I push them aside, because the feeling of hopeless and wistful futility that wells up is really terrible. I put on actual music (grateful for the technology that puts it within reach). The most positive thing I can think of for the circumstances… The Monkees, “A Little Bit You A Little Me”. Nailed it. I listen to Davy Jones singing words that remind me of my partner’s own pleas for me to “talk it out”. There’s wisdom there and hope. Don’t we deserve that for – and from – each other?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The path isn’t always smooth. I’m still glad we’re walking it together – I’d be pretty spectacularly lost without my Traveling Partner. I hope he still feels the same about me.

We’re in this together.

There are apologies and amends to make. Work to do, and to do better. My results clearly vary… And I need more practice to become the person I most want to be. I’ve got to begin again. I hope he’ll continue this journey with me.

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Categories anger, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Frustration, grief, health, loneliness, Love, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5

Thoughts and Daydreams

September 22, 2024 //
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I’m waiting for another sunrise. It’s quite early, and I am at the trailhead ahead of daybreak. Again. It’s the first day of autumn – the equinox. There’s a thin mist clinging to the ground, rising up from the river. I sit quietly with my thoughts awhile before turning to writing.

Street light dispursed through the mist.

I’ve got a handful of drafts, work in progress. None of them hold my attention this morning. My thoughts are not there. I often “work on” a new bit of writing as I drive to the trail, but this morning I was lost in pleasant daydreams instead. So, this morning my writing is impromptu, raw, unfiltered thoughts-in-the-moment lacking any sort of plan or editing. This is, perhaps, my preferred approach, generally. Certainly, it is the most authentic, spelling mistakes and all.

The first hint of daybreak in the darkness.

This morning I am mostly thinking about love, and hoping my Traveling Partner is getting the rest he needs. He continues to make slow progress towards recovery (from his injury and subsequent surgery). He continues to worry (and so do I) that something got overlooked or misdiagnosed. It’s a reasonable concern. We are concerned, together. As with many things (most things?), we’re in this together… while each having our own experience. Individual perspective. Shared experience. This very human journey is a strange one. I feel fortunate and grateful to share it with him.

My thoughts drift from love (and gratitude) to art. I am looking forward to my October coastal getaway. I’m eager to devote a handful of beautiful autumn days to my pastels. I have so much inspiration welling up from within. I need to take the time for myself. Funny – as soon as the thought forms, it is followed by a question; “can my Traveling Partner make coffee for himself, now?” This seems an important (if very specific and practical) detail, even though the Anxious Adventurer is on hand to help out. Would I even feel comfortable going, if my partner were unable to make a cup of coffee for himself? I think about that for awhile. We are so intertwined, so interdependent. We rely on each other. We’ve “been there” for each other for so long now… In May, it’ll be more than 15 years. My longest romantic relationship. What a beautiful complicated journey. I am fortunate to be so loved.

The gate to the park opens with a slow screech and a dull clang. It’s still too dark to safely walk the trail along the edge of the marsh. It’s the equinox and the sun is sleeping in this morning. lol

Faint hints of the sunrise to come, and the end of a starry night.

I sit quietly with my thoughts of love and a heart full of joy and contentment. This is a truly pleasant and satisfying moment, though in most regards the facts upon which it is built are very like many other quiet moments on other mornings before sun rise. Funny how that is. I sit with my smile and my thoughts, content to be happy, now, without any promises or expectations of future moments feeling similarly. Feelings are feelings. It’s enough to savor the moment and preserve it for future recollections.

A smudge of orange along the eastern horizon hints at the imminent sunrise. I’m glad to see another one. Grateful. How many more? No way to know. I’m okay with the uncertainty. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I swap my shoes for my sturdy boots. I can see the ground, now. Looks like a good time to begin again.

Here comes the sun.
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Categories autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Details Get Lost in the Mist

September 21, 2024 //
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Peculiarly foggy morning, now that the sun is up. The mist crept up from the river bed slowly as the sun rose. The morning, before dawn, was crystal clear and chilly. Summer is already becoming fall.

My Traveling Partner pinged me an early greeting that became a 30 minute conversation, before I set out for my walk. No point trying to walk and text chat at the same time; it renders the experience little more than distracted mindless exercise, which I don’t particularly enjoy. I like to be where I am as I walk, taking in the sights, the changing light, and breathing the fresh air. The exercise is a bonus.

He pings me several times more after my walk begins, but explicitly says “read after your walk” and I mute my ringer happily and walk on. I’m in pain this morning and I definitely need this self-care time. He’s in pain, too, and cheating myself of good self-care doesn’t serve either of us well. I walk on.

The trail is noisy and crowded this morning. I’m in no mood for cheery greetings and human voices, but I set off on my walk much later than usual, choosing conversation over walking, and love over solitude. Choices. I’m okay with it. I just keep walking. The leaves of the oaks take on a golden glow high up, even as the mist swirls around their bases, covering the meadow grass. The horizon is obscured. When I look towards the sunrise, the mist is a golden wash of color, trees and distant buildings silhouetted but not revealed. It’s an interesting effect.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I walk, wondering what the day will hold. What do I want out of it? What needs to get done? What can wait? What might bring me joy? My thoughts are imprecise and vague, not unlike this misty morning, details lost in the fog that has gathered. I don’t make any effort to force things one way or another. It’s a Saturday. I just let my thoughts come and go, like an autumn mist in the morning, trusting that it’ll clear up later. It’s enough to enjoy this moment, walking with my thoughts.

Soon enough I’ll begin again. Until then, I’ve got this moment. I take a few minutes to relax at the edge of the marsh, on a convenient bench at my not-quite-halfway point. I write a few words. Watch the Canada geese drift across the water of the pond nearby. Watch the sun rise. Breathe. Nice morning for it…

… Isn’t this enough..?

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