Archives for posts with tag: ptsd
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Toxic Frustration

February 12, 2025 //
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I’m working on beginning again. A perfectly adequate reasonably pleasant ordinary sort of moment was poisoned so quickly by frustration. Frustration can be such a toxic thing – it hijacks my experience completely, if I allow whatever momentary bullshit to take over. In this case? The camera on my work laptop. I’m so annoyed by this. Somehow, the “privacy shutter” on this stupid thing is now toggled on, and every help file or article l I look at references some physical or software detail that is not at all how this particular laptop… is.

One suggests I use the small slider above the camera. There isn’t one on this laptop.

Another directs me to use the function key for the camera. This laptop does not appear to have that function key, specifically, and I haven’t yet found any clear guidance on what combination of other keys might get that result.

There are pages and pages and lists and lists of steps I could take, based on operating system – not one of them appears to match the details of this version that I’m using on this laptop.

…This difficulty only presents itself when I am on meetings, and has only done so since the meeting I had yesterday – on Zoom. (“Fuck this stupid bullshit” I snarl to myself, resenting having been talked into installing Zoom for one damned call in the first place.) I sigh to myself. Clear cache. Clear cookies. Uninstall Zoom. Reboot. Check all the privacy and camera settings I can find. All the basics. Minutes tick by unproductively, my frustration builds and spills over to… everything. I am annoyed and cranky.

“Stop.” I tell myself, gently. “Just stop. Give up on it for now, you don’t even have any more meetings today. Let it go. Reset. Begin again. Focus on other things that matter more. Fuck all this noise and bother over nothing.”

The view out the window, a different perspective on a moment.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I put myself on “pause” and look out the window into the blue cloud-streaked sky.

I sip my afternoon coffee, pleased that it is better than the cup I had this morning. I let that be my focus, for now, just me, this view beyond the window, this cup of coffee. It’s enough. It’s this moment, right here.

The hardest part of toxic frustration is choosing to let it go. Now that I have, though, I can properly begin again. I sit awhile, watching the trees on the other side of the parking lot swaying in the winter wind. They wave back and forth steadily, like inverted pendulums, rocking, waving, hinting at a cold wind I’m grateful I don’t feel. The sun streaming in through the window gives an impression of warmth, though if I put my hand on the glass, I feel the cold come through. Definitely winter.

I remind myself to leave the office early enough to stop at the store for my beloved Traveling Partner and pick up a few things he’s asked for. I’m eager for him to be driving again – soon – but I also greatly enjoy doing little things to be helpful. It’s a small way to show my love and appreciation. I feel needed when he asks for some little thing. He feels loved when I handle it capably. It’s an exchange. I smile to myself, feeling the way our love “balances the scales”. We complement each other in so many ways. We’re so similar, and also so different – we share so much, and enjoy life together so much more than we would without each other. I sigh contentedly; this matters so much more than the earlier frustration.

I finish my coffee, and begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Love, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, winter

No AI Here

February 11, 2025 //
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I write my own words. I share my own thoughts. I don’t get grammar or spelling assistance from an AI tool, nor use one for research, and on the very rare occasions when I’ve made use of some instrusive AI summary, I’ve made a point of citing my source (you can see that on my About page from 2023, when I “tried out” ChatGPT when it was new). I think that’s important; I see using AI to write as a cheat. I see AI “content” in most media similarly; it is not “creative”, and it definitely is cheating (and often plagiarism and uncited content theft). Just my opinion, I suppose, but it is how I see things.

When you read my writing, I am communicating my thoughts, ideas, and insights to you, human being to human being. We’re sharing something which machinery (or an LLM) can not “understand”, because it lacks any understanding in the first place. Perhaps someday that will change and there will come an AI that is truly intelligent, capable of comprehension, observation, and real understanding. (When or if we get to that moment in time, then we’ll also get to worry about our potential unwillingness as a species to truly respect the sentience of other species which are not like us. I mean, whales, dolphins, elephants, and chinchillas should be enough to get us there, but we are not that smart, nor are we that compassionate nor open to others.)

For now, it’s me, here, writing my very own very human thoughts, spelling errors and excessive ellipses and all, and you, here, reading them.

Think I’m making too much of a small concern? Think “AI is here for us” and a “value to humankind”? Maybe think again – and try to see beyond the human greed driving most of the outcomes, presently – think about the impact on your own ability to think and to reason and to solve problems without AI tools. If you rely on AI, now, and lose that cheat code later, what then? Well, apparently the “what then” is something we may already have some insights into. A recent paper by Lee, Sarkar, Tankelevitch, Drosos, Rintel, Banks, and Wilson, April 2025 “The Impact of Generative AI on Critical Thinking” gives us some early assessments to consider. If you’d prefer to have something “easier to read” and already summarized for you, there’s an article by TechCrunch you can take a look at, too. Just saying; now is not the time to “get dumb” – definitely not intentionally! Those reading, critical thinking, and creative writing skills are all very much “use it or lose it” items on the cognitive menu. Choose wisely.

No AI here. That is intentional. This is me. Writing for human beings who are reading. Every word is real. (Every error is my own. lol)

If you abdicate your responsibility to think for yourself, to learn and grow and understand the world around you, to communicate your thoughts and share your ideas with others, how will you create the world you most wish to live in? How will you prevent the “bad actors” among us from doing their worst? “Why you?” If not you (and me, and each of us), then who? I’m just saying – there is no use waiting on a superhero to save us all. We’ll have to save ourselves, and each other. We’re all in this together. Do your best.

I sigh quietly to myself. Another work day. I sip my coffee, grateful that coffee is still something I have available to enjoy, for the time being. I skip reading the news after skimming the headlines. Nothing new, really, and it’s time best spent on other things. Truly. We’ve got to take care of ourselves, and take care of each other, and that sometimes means putting down the devices and going outside, reading real books, having real conversations, and being – not doomscrolling through our feeds, and panicking in between advertisements. Just saying, there really is life to be lived. I sit with thoughts of life and love for a few minutes.

My Traveling Partner restored a treasured antique that my Grandfather had given me many years ago, and returned it to me yesterday evening; I feel incredibly loved, and very fortunate. I’d wept when this much-loved keepsake had begun to fall apart, the shaped metal delaminating from the wood beneath it, the old glue had finally dissolved, or whatever glue does when it fails and goes away. I had hinted that perhaps if it could be repaired…? I didn’t really think it could be, and I “said good-bye” to it, a little heart-sick, but understanding principles of impermanence apply to all things. For years and years I’d kept certain precious things in it, and those things have been sitting sort of… clumped and “lost” looking on a shelf, waiting for a place of their own. This morning, I smiled when I saw the small metal “purse” sitting in it’s place on my shelf, with no clutter around it, precious things safely within it. I am indeed fortunate to be so loved. My beloved did such a careful job of repairing it, cleaning it up (without removing all of the patina), and returning it to me – just in time for Valentine’s Day. ❤

What love looks like.

I linger on the feelings and sip my coffee.

Yesterday evening, I had arrived home so tired. Heart heavy with the weight of the world, too. It’s too much. My Traveling Partner reminded me gently to avoid becoming mired in distant events, and to stay present here, now, in this moment, wrapped in the warmth and love of hearth and home. He was making a good point – one I make, myself, right here, often. It was a timely reminder. I needed it.

I tried my best not to be cross, and (on a hunch about what sorts of things might further lift my spirits) gently asked the Anxious Adventurer to do a thing for me, if he might have the time… some painting rails I’d been wanting to install in my room, and in the dining room, if he wasn’t too busy…maybe… He not only did this thing for me, he made a point of doing it more or less immediately (which I did not expect), and with some helpful guidance from my Traveling Partner about placement, I ended my evening putting new pastels where I can see them and enjoy them, and I found this lifted my spirits quite a lot. I’m grateful. (I’m less than ideally skilled with a drill, frankly, and I am happy that he had time to undertake this for me.) I smile over my coffee. I’d forgotten to get any pictures of the paintings on the painting rails, but I can picture them in my mind’s eye with such clarity. My smile deepens.

Gratitude and coffee – a great way to begin a morning. 😀

Don’t let the terrifying shit going on in the world become your entire experience. Breathe, exhale, relax, and enjoy your joy. Take care of yourself. Begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Logic & Reason, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter

And Now for a Word From Our Sponsors

February 10, 2025 //
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Oh, hey, that’s right – no one sponsors this content. lol It’s just me, sitting here in the quiet of morning, before sunrise, alone with my thoughts. 😀 I like that arrangement.

I sip my coffee, sitting here quietly enjoying the warmth and comfort of a simple breakfast of oatmeal, with a handful of cashews and dried blueberries added. It’s not fancy. Hell, I don’t even like oatmeal. It’s a healthy choice, though, and I learned quite a long time ago that I enjoy it best with the least fussing; I add boiling water, enough to make it rather thin, and stir it around a bit until the texture suits me, and eat it. Not fancy at all. No added sugar (besides the blueberries, which are dried but not sweetened), just some nuts and dried fruit, in measured portions. It’s enough.

Although I see it as “simple” and “not fancy”, it is the sort of breakfast that comes at a “hidden cost”. Cashews? Cashews are an “exotic nut” that comes from far away places. They’re not cheap now, and I suppose they’ll be more expensive very soon. Tariffs. Dried blueberries? Well, if I’m going to insist on those being nothing more than whole healthy fruit, dried without preservatives or added sugar, I’m going to end up paying for that privilege – and it is a privilege. Also not cheap now, and with the mass deportations going on, it’s likely that farm labor for harvesting things like blueberries is going to become more limited, and more costly too. Well, shit. I sigh over my “simple” breakfast, grateful to be aware of what contributes to the experience I am enjoying. I am dismayed by the short-sighted petty bullshit and dim-wittery of the current leadership of the US government. Disappointed that everyday people voted these corrupt (and in some cases actually evil) clowns into office in the first place. What the actual fuck, eh? (G’damn do I hate plain oatmeal, too – but I may be eating it by the time summer comes.)

Sorry. It’s on my mind. I apologize to myself as much as to anyone else. No point getting spun up over this shit and losing my way, eh? Especially first thing in the morning. I sigh to myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pause for gratitude; it’s blueberries and cashews this morning, and it’s lovely. I’ve got a delicious cup of coffee, too; the office staff bought the Ethiopian beans I suggested, instead of the Columbian beans that are the usual supply in the office. A most pleasant morning, worthy of appreciation and gratitude, and I make that my focus. A pessimistic outlook may result in being “right” more often, but it’ll be a lot less enjoyable, generally, and being “right” is highly over-rated unless you have the will and the power to do something about the circumstances in some practical way. Just saying – don’t forget to enjoy the little things in life. They matter. A lot.

Life isn’t “perfect”. It’s never going to be – that simply isn’t a real part of the “human condition”. We’re wired with a strong negative bias, and our survival has often depended on being aware of imminent threats far more than it has ever depending on knowing joy. So – we have to work at enjoying joy. Worth practicing. Taking a moment for that, I make a point of reflecting on the lovely moments of the weekend just behind me, instead of becoming mired in some little thing that wasn’t “just so”, or some headache, inconvenience, or moment of pain. It’s always pretty easy to recall what went wrong at some given point in time, less so for the things that went right. So I sit with the recollection of my Traveling Partner’s smile. Of the cute Valentine’s Day gift he gave me early – just because. Of the warmth of his arms around me, and how good it felt to be in his embrace, and really feel the progress he’s making as he continues to recover from his injury. It’s been a long year of worry, and I’m so happy to see him back on his feet, and back in the shop, and to feel the warmth of his love expressed in a lingering hug. I smile to myself, thinking about the satisfaction of making a really good dinner and enjoying it as a family. I enjoy the sense of accomplishment of tackling some much needed tidying up in my studio/office/personal space. It was a good weekend. I still live in the United States, and holy fucking hell our government is still some sort of weird mockery of what it was, being run by corrupt criminal billionaires, fanatics, and grifters, but… things are nice at home, and it’s worth making that my focus for awhile. Enjoying the joy. Filling up on the love and the delightful moments. This is a really practical approach for building the resilience I’ll need to deal with the stress of “other bullshit” in a world very definitely filled with a lot of that.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit with my thoughts and my good cup of coffee. It is a cold winter morning, and I’m fortunate to be warm and safe and dry. I’ve got a good job, and it keeps the bills paid. I’ve got a good partnership, and we thrive together and get things done. Family life is good – maybe the best I’ve ever had it. The Anxious Adventurer has a good heart, and he helps out quite a lot. I’m learning to more clearly communicate my needs and expectations. The journey is the destination – and for now the path feels relatively smooth, the way ahead more or less clear, enough to walk my own mile with some confidence.

A faint shadow crosses my brow when I think about my Dear Friend. It’s been almost a year since she died, and I am thinking of her often. My mood brightens when I recall the recent visit of The Author, another very dear friend, and quite a delightful visit – he’s a good guest, and an exceptional friend. I can’t always see what is around the next bend in life’s path, but it’s proven to be a journey worth making. (The company we keep on this journey matters quite a lot.) I smile and finish my coffee, thinking about a second cup, already. I guess it’s time to begin again.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words

Strange Dreams

February 7, 2025 //
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I overslept this morning. Of course. I have an important meeting on my calendar, early. Not early enough to change the flow of my routine at all, just early enough to “feel different” and be on my mind, in the background. I dreamt strange dreams before I woke.

I dreamt that I worked somewhere quite different than I do, and that we worked uncomfortably alongside each other, me, “the boss”, and a bunch of classic stereotypical “mean girls” (basic bitches one and all with french tip manicures, heavy perfumes, high heels, and carefully sprayed hair-dos) – and “the other coworker”. She was a pleasant competent woman going through some difficult times, and in my dream I remember feeling affronted and dismayed to hear “the boss” making dismissive comments and giving her side-eye over absences to do with child-care and medical care. It was disappointingly real, and rather than endure more of that bullshit, I left for the day.

In my dream I struggled with my car seeming to go “too slow” – like, really slow. No traffic, it just went slower than I expected. At some point I noticed I wasn’t driving my car – I had taken someone’s scooter by mistake?! Weird. I don’t ride a scooter, never have. I found myself lost on what should have been a familiar route home and began to worry that I might be sufficiently late to worry my Traveling Partner. I called home and tried to explain about the terrible day, the mistake taking the wrong vehicle, getting lost along the way, and how I ended up in a strange town with a familiar name, but where nothing at all looked the same – and no gps. I was on foot by then, near an elegant restaurant, where I had parked the scooter planning to call the colleague whose vehicle that was to explain what had happened. I couldn’t reach her. I woke with a start, and realized I was dreaming, and looked around me to take stock of where I was.

I walked on, unaware that I was still dreaming. Everything around me was destruction and chaos. Desert (and deserted) communities flattened by warfare, all the way to the distant horizon. Pinkish-beige desert sands and remnants of stone buildings, and an eering silence broken by suspicious sounds of things scurrying unseen, and I walked on feeling a strong sense of dread and sorrow. A man approached me suspicious and angry, demanding that I identify myself, as I clearly wasn’t from around there. He refused to give me directions – or hope or reassurance. I kept walking. I was approached by another man, aged and twisted, who demanded I turn over my credit cards. He was pointing some kind of weapon at me. I burst into tears claiming not to have any credit cards, and starting to tell him all about my terrible day, which he clearly had no time for. He let me walk on rather than deal with my emotional bullshit.

I wandered into some sort of town-ish area, noodle shops and small restaurants, decorated with banners and signs in a language I did not understand, just opening at dusk, lights filling the cramped narrow streets. Cobblestones? I continued toward what looked like a main avenue, maybe somewhere familiar? I saw a road sign suggesting the freeway was somewhere ahead. I saw a lovely peculiar park, filled with irregular steps leading down into a verdant lush garden, with a small lake, candles everywhere. No leaves on the trees – winter? I tried to take a picture (to share with you) unaware that I was dreaming. I couldn’t get it to turn out, from any of the angles I tried. I turned to find my Traveling Partner arriving to help me find my way home. I felt incredibly reassured to have him by my side, and started to tell him about my strange day… He laughed, and held me close and wispered in my ear “you’re only dreaming, Baby, and it’s time to wake up, time to begin again…”

I woke from my peculiar dream, still not quite sure which was the more real circumstance… the here, now, or the dream? I went through my morning routine in a most routine way, and the commute was quite relaxed and there wasn’t any traffic; I’d hit the quiet pocket between batches of commuters rushing along on their usual timing, perhaps. The office is cold and quiet. My calendar is waiting for me – no surprises. Real life feels quite ordinary, and looking beyond the window, I see my car parked in the usual place. No scooter. No “mean girls”. My head aches ferociously – also quite ordinary and routine. A new day dawning, a chance to begin again. I sip my coffee grateful that I am not surrounded by the detritus and aftermath of war, but dismayed that this isn’t true everywhere, for everyone. There are whole communities left in rubble, unlivable, destroyed, and people struggling to survive there, any way they can. Those places just don’t happen to be here. Not yet. Maybe not ever (I can hope to be so fortunate, but I don’t think I can count on that).

Strange dream, I think to myself, reflecting on the details and wondering what I might learn from it. Am I trying to tell myself something, or was my brain just “taking out the trash” as I slept? I often wonder about dreams. I breathe, exhale, relax, and take a moment for gratitude and self-reflection before I begin the day in earnest. I have choices ahead of me. I hope to make only the most wise, most ethical, and most helpful choices I can – and to contribute in some small way to truly making the world a better place for everyone who lives in it. We’re all in this together, in spite of each having our own experience. I can do better than I sometimes have. I can begin again.

…So can you. It’s time to wake up.

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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, War and News of War, winter, Words

Lovely Day: How to Survive Disaster

February 5, 2025 //
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G’damn shit is getting real, lately. Seems like the nation is on fire, the world is at war, and the things we’ve learned to count on are all coming crashing down, doesn’t it? Sometimes? Stressful. I don’t have the answers, sorry – I’m still asking questions, and sort of wandering around with a “what the fuck??” look on my face. I do have some thoughts on getting through tough times, and some practices that have served me well, and continue to do so.

“Drone Strikes” pastel on pastelbord 2024
  1. Don’t panic. Well, okay, I mean – sometimes panic is our experience, but it’s not generally helpful. Take a breath. Take a step back. Give yourself a moment to think about things. Maybe just take a walk?
  2. “Sing a different song“. This is pretty literally a suggestion that the playlist you’re listening to be one that lifts you up. If you’re listening to angry music or music that pulls you down, you’re going to feel the weight of the world in a much heavier way (at least that is my own experience). Listening to music that lifts you up tends to frame things differently. It’s easier to have a pleasant moment when your heart is not heavy.
  3. Breathe, exhale, relax. Having a consistent meditation practice, over time, will pretty reliably give you some “breathing room” – a moment to connect with yourself, and pull yourself back to “now”, which generally speaking is probably not as bad as “everything going on in the world”.
  4. Perspective. As with meditation, making room to have a broader more well-considered perspective on events and circumstances eases some of the stress and reduces the sensation of being mired in disaster. Some things aren’t what they seem – so what are they? Stepping back from the media circus and reflecting on things quietly, yourself, and giving yourself a moment to consider matters differently can be incredibly helpful. What do you actually think about things? Where did your thoughts come from?
  5. Non-attachment. Another practice that connects with meditation, and perspective, practicing non-attachment is a useful way of separating your own here-and-now experience, and your individual actions, decisions, and circumstances from those of others around you, and this can help restore a sense of balance, and put some “guardrails” on an experience of being “consumed by circumstances” you can’t control. Don’t force yourself to be part of something you aren’t part of at all. Let things unfold with an observers mind, uninvolved, watchful, curious, uncertain.
  6. Self-care. No kidding – take care of yourself. Sleep. Drink enough water. Get some fresh air and sunshine. Put down the doomscrolling machinery. Read a book. Play a game. Have a shower and put on some clean clothes. Have a healthy meal. Enjoy a conversation with another human being in the real world.
I’m walking my own path. I am my own cartographer.

I can’t tell you “everything will be okay”, because I don’t really know that they will be. I can say – with fair certainty – that we don’t always know who is pushing information at us, or what their agenda is, or what they may gain from doing so, and if we are being emotionally manipulated, we won’t be “thinking clearly”. Give yourself a break from all that. Ask questions. Step back from the things that stress you out. Think critically – even about the things you think you believe most fervently. (And for real, y’all, do not trust strangers on the internet!) We become what we practice – if you want to be chill and calm and joyful, you may need to change your practices to get there. Change is. Choose wisely. The journey is the destination, and you are the one choosing your path.

Anyway. It’s probably time to begin again, eh? I should get started on that…

It’s always a good time to begin again.
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Categories 2024 Election, Allegories, anger, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Despair, Free Will, grief, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, War and News of War, winter, Words
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