Archives for posts with tag: ptsd

I woke too early this morning, got up to pee, went back to bed to grab a few more minutes of precious sleep. So tired. Ready for it. I laid down, instantly comfortable, and started to drift off…

…The world seemed to spin madly off its axis unexpectedly. Vertigo. Fuck. How bad would it be this time? I held on to the edge of the bed (no idea why it reliably seems this should help, it doesn’t, really), hoping it might just clear up right quick and perhaps I’d still sleep… No such luck. I rolled ever-so-carefully onto my back, reminding myself continuously in my head that the spinning isn’t real. I reminded myself to remain calm. To breathe through it. To let things settle down, patiently. This makes about half a dozen serious vertigo “events” I’ve experienced since the first one, which was, as I recall, back in 2014? 2015? Before I moved into my own place. After menopause, but before the headache came. It doesn’t matter in the moment that I’m enduring the vertigo, just gives my mind something to play with while I wait it out… like a string, offered to a cat. I remind myself to follow up with my GP that the vertigo is still “a thing”.

Best I can figure, with what I know, I most likely slept in one posture for too long, that may have pressed my neck “too bent” in one specific direction (in this case, tilted away from my left side toward my right, as I slept) and when I laid back down (on the other side, head bent in the other direction)… vertigo. It remains sufficiently rare that I count and make note of every occurrence. It’s problematic mostly because, from my own perspective, it is scary as fuck. It passes, though.

I moved on with the morning. Greeted my Traveling Partner. Made coffee. Read the news, briefly (long enough to be certain I didn’t find anything word actually reading waiting for me). Then face getting on with the work day ahead of me.

When I sat down at my desk, I leaned left (and tilted my head, also left) to turn on my laptop – vertigo. Fucking hell. I sit upright. Posture very correct. Very still. Breathing. Waiting. Holding the edge of my desk. When it passes, I go back to sipping coffee and start the work day.

It’s worth noting that I’ve recently been trying to get back to working on fitness goals. I enjoy playing Beat Saber in VR for some of my exercise – super fun. I started getting back into that over the weekend after some months away from it (the move, then time just got away from me). It’s rather taxing on my neck, and seems the likely cause of this recurrence of my vertigo. I find myself bothered that it has become “my vertigo”… a thing I deal with often enough to consider it a thing I deal with. Fuck.

Well… damn. I guess it amounts to another opportunity to practice healthy practices. To take better care of the woman in the mirror. To take my fitness needs seriously, but also approach them with consideration and care. To be patient with myself. To be thorough about taking note of changes in my health generally. Adult shit.

The day has begun in earnest. The sky is gray, the day chilly. My arthritis pain is noteworthy, but I am distracted by my concern over the vertigo, and overlook it for now. I need more coffee. There is a long holiday weekend ahead, and it’s already time to begin again. 🙂

What a peculiar and volatile time we are living in. A pandemic. The struggles of power and the trials of the powerful. Technological advantages changes what it means to be human, and how we think, and perceive the world around us. Social media “access” to the world that gives us each a megaphone to shout our opinions to anyone/everyone, unaware that we are still just as “unheard” as we ever were, but changes the way we hear others nonetheless. Messy. Difficult.

Change is.

First this change, then that change. Another change to another thing. A new different day. Another election or transition of power. Changes of jobs and roles and tasks and circumstances. Breathe through it. Another change is coming. lol Put it all on pause for a moment, and just sit with yourself. Let your thoughts and worries go, for a moment or two at least, and just be. Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Tears? Let them come. Laughter? Let it fill you up. Be present and fearlessly authentic in your own life – most especially when it’s just you, in a quiet moment, alone in some quiet place. Give yourself at least that one small opportunity to find calm, and to embrace contentment.

Breathe. Exhale. Relax. Begin again.

Autumn is a season of change.

Fighting off change doesn’t prevent or halt change from coming, but – and this is worth noting – very few of the shadows that fall over us signal impending doom. Most of them are just shadows. 😉

The morning began gently, with coffee shared with my Traveling Partner. It was a lovely quiet morning, followed by what is, so far, an utterly ordinary, rather relaxed work day rather typical of my Fridays. Good enough. The state is back on a strict “lockdown”, and more businesses are shuttered for the time being than were closed two weeks ago. Thanksgiving is coming… there’s still this pandemic going on. No big event for us, just a quiet joyful celebration-for-two at home. Still feels like something to celebrate. I’m certainly adequately thankful.

I eye my cold coffee mug after a last swallow of long-cold coffee. It’s a fine time for a second coffee… and that’s another chance to begin again. 😀

Rainy weather has returned to the Pacific northwest. I’m okay with it – I like the rain. It’s pure unfortunate coincidence that my arthritis pain flares up in wet weather. Also, right before wet weather. Also, when the weather isn’t entirely certain whether it wants to be wet or dry, or chilly, or cold… I mean, it’s not much of an exaggeration to admit that my pain subsides most notably in very hot, dry weather in hot, dry climates… and that’s not even “for sure”. I can’t count on it.

Rainy autumn days aren’t even rare or surprising around here.

I can at least count on change. Change is. I hurt right now, and I see the sun peaking out from behind morning rain clouds. Well, okay… so… this moment is painful, but the next one? It’s not a given, and I don’t know. Allowing room for uncertainty, in this instance, is supremely helpful. Rain or not, and whether or not I am in pain, I’ve got a life to live.

Perhaps a walk later?

I started out for a walk yesterday. The rain took a sudden turn for the worse and the tickle became a downpour that wasn’t well-suited to long walks. I shrugged it off and returned home. I glance at the time, and at the sunshine filling the studio, for now, with warmth and light. Maybe the sunshine will still be around later this afternoon?

I take a breath, and relax. I stretch, and get up from my chair and move around some. I take a moment to recall whether I’ve already taken anything for my pain today…? Maybe it’s time. The day continues, as days tend to do.

It’s time to begin again.

“I’ll be writing while I wait for the oven to pre-heat,” I said as I walked away, headed toward my studio. “Okay” he replied, already having returned his focus to the task in front of him. I smile, contentedly, figuring whether he actually heard me or not, it was probably enough to say so; he’d walk right past the open door of my studio if he sought some moment of shared time. There I would be. 🙂 It ‘s a strange moment to focus on, I grant you… It’s just, well, it was a strangely specific moment, and a lovely sensation of “being settled in”, and I don’t recall that I’d had it quite so intensely yet, since moving in to the house. I sat down to write, and the feeling lingered, dominating my thoughts.

…And here we are…

One moment of many.

It’s been raining. Still. I’m okay with that. I enjoy the rain. I set out to walk this afternoon, counting on a soft rain. The rain wasn’t going to have any of that – it came down as a drenching downpour instead. Instead of a walk in the rain, I put on my mask and went to the store. Change is.

The oven beeps to alert me it has pre-heated.

I head into the kitchen and get dinner going. I smile rather stupidly the entire time; I feel good. I mean, pain is pain, I deal with it. The rest of the experience is pretty fucking splendid – overlooking physical pain (this quantity, this day, this time) seems achievable. Mostly is. I make note to say something to my Traveling Partner about the lights, when I notice, all over again, how very much I like the new ones he put in, and the way they enhance the “feel” of the room. It’s interesting how much difference “the color” of the light in a room can change the vibe.

I feel the silky smooth surface of the keys of my keyboard. Already, some are more worn than others. The music in the background feels welcoming, and pleasant – “non-invasive” – adding to the sensation of “smoothness” in this moment. The juxtaposition of sensations extends even to my hair, grown long over the pandemic, resting heavily on my shoulders, spilling forward, ends curling across my chest. Soft. I breathe it in, and sit here with it, just… being. It’s enough.

…Change is… soon enough I’ll have to begin again.

Today is a good day to “be there” for someone – even if that someone happens to be you. Actually… I’m a big fan of learning to “be there” for yourself. For you, as an individual, you know – as if you were one of your own dearest friends. I mean… why would you not treat yourself at least as well as you treat the person you love most in all the world? Or for sure at least as well as your treat your bestie – right?

It’s a busy Monday. I’m sipping my second coffee between work tasks. A moment of curiosity sends me to the stats page of my blog wondering which posts have grabbed attention, lately. I find myself reading this one, about managing anxiety, and “being there” for one another. I read it again, and consider how well I am living up to my own suggestion to “be there” for myself…

It rained this weekend, pretty much all weekend. I spent lovely hours hanging out with my Traveling Partner. I’m grateful to share life with this person I enjoy so very much; it’d be a long fucking pandemic in the company of a human being I don’t care for. Worth a moment of gratitude, and then some more after that. 🙂

The autumn rain recently began quickly overflowing the rain gutters. One of the “perks” of homeownership, no doubt. I feel fortunate for the break in the rain yesterday morning, and the purposefulness of my partner getting to work cleaning the rain gutters out before the rain began again. Wow. I feel loved, and cared for. (Speaking of being cared for, he also reliably hits me up to take a break together at regular intervals during the work day, which I greatly appreciate – I’m the sort that forgets to take breaks. lol)

It’s a new day. Great chances to begin again. What will I do with that? (What will you do with that?) Will we change the world for the better in some small way? (We could… we should totally do that!)