Archives for posts with tag: ptsd
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Chaos and Heartbreak

July 27, 2026 //
2

Emotions are messy. I could probably just stop there. We all have emotions. We all understand how easily our emotions, or the emotions of others we interact with, can complicate things. Hardly worth mentioning, I guess.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

My morning is off to a difficult start. My emotions are in the way. I’m sitting by the side of the trail crying and feeling very much in doubt that the journey I have shared with my beloved Traveling Partner has many more miles in it and my heart aches from the weight of it. The tears make my eyes burn and blur my vision. I can’t see the trail.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

The details frustrate both of us. It’s nothing to do with any sort of lack of affection. Nothing to do with violence. But it’s a vexing persistent problem for us and I’m frustrated and overcome with a feeling of futility.

…So I’m sitting by this trail crying…

He calls. We try to talk. It goes poorly; I’m trapped in my emotions. Angry. Hurt. Frustrated. Overwhelmed. Sad. He hangs up abruptly. Calls back. The clock on my phone mocks me; the minutes left to pull myself together for a new work day are running out. Panic begins to set in. PTSD rears its head. Now I’m fighting that too.

… The alarm for my morning medications goes off. I take them without delay to avoid forgetting and making things much worse later…

He calls again. I’m failing us. I’m choked up with uncontrolled emotions. My voice is hoarse. I’m congested from crying. I’m still panicked about being presentable for another work day. I can hear him trying to connect with me, trying to be calm and de-escalate the conversation, reduce the heat, reduce the drama, get to a place for calm conversation and connection. I’m struggling to breathe, choked by sobbing. I feel far away, in a waking nightmare of my own.

… This shit is hard. Too hard? Very human. Is love enough? Maybe it isn’t? Maybe it is. I don’t know. Right now I don’t feel like I’m enough. I feel defeated. Low…

I take a breath. I take another. I try to anchor myself in this moment. My tinnitus is crazy loud this morning. My head aches. Work emails begin pinging me. Fuck. There are after work errands to remember, a trip to the pharmacy… something else? Check the mail. Another breath. My sinuses are completely congested now, from crying. Crappy start to the day. No peace. I open a new pack of tissues, feeling peculiarly disconnected. I remind myself that “the way out is through”, and re-engage my emotions. The tears begin again. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Breathe. Exhale. Repeat. I guess the “relax” bit will come later. I hope.

I am filled with despair. I remind myself it will pass. Moments reliably do. I don’t know what is down the path ahead, but I guess I keep walking. We become what we practice. I didn’t do so well this morning. I remind myself rather halfheartedly to be kind to myself. To be kind to him.

My beloved reaches out seeking to reconnect and anchor to more positive details in our shared experience.

…I remind myself to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

A Recurring Dream

July 24, 2026 //
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I have this recurring dream, it turns up now and then, neither a nightmare nor pleasant, nor even hinting at illumination. It’s just a dream, but it haunts me and has since the very first time I heard the adhan in the desert.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

For some time, (weeks? months? years.) I’ve dreamt that I am walking barefooted across hot desert sand. It is dawn. I walk between rows of ancient stone columns. I hear the call to prayer, at first faintly, becoming louder, as I walk. I feel a breeze against my body. Walking takes effort. I walk towards the sound. I feel tears dripping down my face. I keep walking, east, towards the rising sun. As I crest a hill or dune or reach the edge of something, the light of day spills over into a valley spreading out below me. There are bodies everywhere. There is blood, so much blood. I stand there feeling betrayed and forsaken, hearing the adhan wailing across the desert, bereft. Mournful. The call to prayer goes on, reaching across the desert, across the world… but no one comes. I weep, and see that my hands are covered in blood.

I generally wake at that point, drenched in sweat, hands slick with it, eyes stinging with tears. It’s been years now. I was in the desert when I first had this dream. I woke from it, actually hearing the adhan in the distance. It seemed to call to me, personally.

… How is that not a nightmare, you may wonder. I promise you my nightmares are worse. This dream feels more poignant and deeply sorrowful than frightening…

Last night I woke during the night, from my dream of hearing the adhan as I walk through the desert. No tears, just a deep and abiding sorrow and the weight of collective guilt. I exhaled slowly, letting it go, before returning to sleep. This morning I woke to the soft sound of my Traveling Partner’s voice, a far more comfortable way to wake up. I dressed and began my day, but in my memory that call to prayer lingers, along with the guilt.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The sun begins to rise on a new day, pearly pink with hints of orange, pale and pretty. A new day. I walk as the sun rises. The trail is firm beneath my feet. The breeze smells of mown grass and summer flowers. The only sound I hear is my tinnitus. I’m here, now. No bombs, drones, or flyovers, here. Sadly, that isn’t true everywhere.

I sigh to myself and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, grief, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Post Traumatic Stress, Summer, War and News of War, Words

Coming Home

July 20, 2026 //
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The car is unloaded. I’ve had a shower and mostly unpacked everything and returned my gear to storage. There are still thoughts to think, and some metaphysical baggage yet to unpack. It was a good getaway. Time well-spent. I’m glad to be home, though. As with most plans, reality got to have her say and I’m glad I’m an adaptable sort of creature – it came in handy. I’ll tell those tales over the next several days. Today is about coming home. It is everything, for now, and it is enough. 😀

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

At home in the forest.

No connectivity for three days. My walk-in camp site was too far to lug some of the gear I brought for this trip out into the trees. It was an oddly stripped down bit of time away, and the lacks of convenience served to push my focus to the moment I was in, without regard to my comfort. I needed that more than I knew. I spent my hours in my own good company, easily able to hear myself think.

…Friday I was too tired to bother with lugging my pastels and my tabletop easel to the camp site. Saturday I was in too much pain. By Sunday I had “found my way” – and it didn’t involve painting, or long hikes, or looking at the world through my camera’s lens. I spent my time in thought, giving myself the rare treat of my own undivided attention. Three days. Well, almost three days – more than two. lol The long drive to (and home from) this forest was definitely one of the nicest parts of the journey – what a beautiful drive! Very little traffic.

The best part of the trip, and the most wonderful part of my days of solitude? Coming home to my beloved Traveling Partner, for sure.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

One Day of Many

July 9, 2026 //
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I have a splitting headache and my sleep was interrupted. I’m tired and cross, and feeling very much that I’d like to be left alone. I’m grateful for these few moments of solitude in the morning.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I’m sitting at the edge of this trail wondering. I take a welcome sip of the coffee I carried down the trail with me. The morning feels chilly. It’s probably me, not the weather. The coffee is warm in my mouth and down my throat. I’m grateful for the moment of self-consideration that directed my groggy decision making this morning. Coffee sooner was a good choice this morning.

Tears fill my eyes and threaten to spill over. I brush them away angrily. “I don’t have time for this weak ass shit this morning,” I snarl to myself softly, “and fuck this headache, too.” My tinnitus is loud in my ears. I didn’t get enough restful sleep (haven’t for days) and my thought processes are slowed way down. My pain is poorly managed. I’m feeling very human and very fragile. My eyes sting from tears that finally begin to fall. Too much? Not enough? I feel broken and out of alignment. Out of step. Faltering on a path that has seemed certain and clear on other days.

… Moments pass…

I’m finding little reassurance in aphorisms and platitudes this morning. This morning I am uncomfortable with uncertainty and impermanence, and I feel myself clinging. Wanting certainty so much. Yeah… good luck with that shit. I take a deep breath in, and as I exhale I find myself weeping. Just fucking crying by the side of this trail, sitting in the summer sunshine on some random Thursday morning. Wondering.

…Is the sky still blue…?

I begin again. Breathe, exhale, relax. I shift gears. Meditation. Failure. Breathe. Repeat. The morning is not off to an ideal beginning. I’m struggling with my demons, and although for the moment I’ve got some sort of tearful stalemate, I still feel pretty shitty. My pain meds begin to kick in. So does the coffee. Eventually, I’ll “mask up” – put my work face on – and begin the work day. I don’t know, maybe the utterly disappointing ordinariness of it all will anchor me to here, now, and I’ll feel less hopeless.

… The clock is ticking…

The sunshine in the oak trees is beautiful. The air smells sweet. Songbirds sing merry songs. The tidy vineyard rows are a playground for so many little birds. I watch them flitting about, and try to identify as many as I recognize, but don’t put much effort into it. I am distracted and preoccupied. I keep letting this shit go. I breathe, exhale, and relax… and find myself back in the mire again and again.

I sigh out loud, frustrated with myself and the shitty start to the day. (And also? Fuck this headache.) I watch the dawn become day. Sooner or later, I’ve got to begin again… only I don’t know where this path leads, and I lack enthusiasm for walking it.

…

…

… This too will pass. Everything does. Change is.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, loneliness, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

You Break It, You Pay For It

July 6, 2026 //
0

This just in from the Department of FAFO; our nation is burning, and it’s not just our incendiary politics to blame (although maybe a little… pretty sure DOGE and Trump’s platoon of criminally unqualified bootlickers cut staffing in some critical areas…)

From the wildfire layer in Maps this morning.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I sigh to myself as I set off down the trail. Nice morning for walking. Cool, clear skies, dry well-maintained trail, and the quiet time to make the walk without rushing; it’s just about perfect. There’s just this subtle haze over the hills on the horizon that isn’t a byproduct of distance alone, and this wildly colorful sunrise. In combination they tell me things elsewhere are burning. Fire season is here. I’m grateful it isn’t closer and that the sky hasn’t turned that sick orange-brown that results from fires nearby.

…I enjoy a colorful sunrise…

I walk on, thinking my thoughts and wishing I’d allocated my time a little differently over the weekend. I had intended to spend some time painting, and I have a head full of ideas. Instead, I chose to hang out quite a lot with my Traveling Partner (time well spent, in spite of some contentious moments mostly to do with miscommunications of various sorts). We’re both studying for our drone pilot license (part 107), and it was pleasant to share that time and the studying is more fun together. As fun as that was, I had still intended to carve out time to paint, and failed utterly. Oh well, at least the laundry got done.

I get to my halfway point and stop awhile to meditate and to write. The bold pink hues of the sunrise have faded away, revealing another likely hot day ahead. The sky is clear and blue. The air is still, and still cool. It’s already warmer than when I left the house, though. The forecast suggests 30C/86F today – a proper summer day. I’m grateful for the luxury of air conditioned spaces, and clean drinking water. I consider contrasting my experience with “less developed” nations, then recall Flint, Michigan, and am reminded that there are people in this “developed nation” that still don’t have reliable clean drinking water. For fucks’ sake, really?? Really. Pretty appalling.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let that go, and everything else that isn’t this moment here, now, too.

Some time later, I realize I’m sitting here frowning, thoughts of packaged items to be returned, a work day ahead, and a short list of small things vexing me somehow already (still?) on my mind. A litany of little reminders plays on repeat in the background of my consciousness like some surreal but very practical chyron. I sigh, frustrated that I’ve failed completely to quiet my mind. Prescriptions to pick up. Figure out dinner later. Drop off the returns. Follow up on that item from my boss from Friday. Hang up the rest of my laundry. Change the linens on the bed. Do I need to stop at the store? Remember everything that has been forgotten, and get to all the meetings on time… All routine and ordinary… and much.

… How the hell do I finish a relaxing three day weekend by starting a new week already tired? It’s not as if I didn’t get enough rest! What annoying bullshit. 😆 Very human. I could do a better job of taking care of myself.

I breathe, exhale, and relax – and give meditation another chance. It is, after all, a practice. We become what we practice. I silence the endless reminders in my head, and get ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, Words
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