Archives for posts with tag: ptsd

Nothing to Say Here…

December 13, 2016 //

I woke with a headache, to the sound of the alarm. I’m sipping my coffee quietly some time later, sort of waiting for words to come to me, which is not my most effective approach to writing. Have I used up all the words? Quite possibly, I suppose… there are only so many. 😉

I recognize, sitting here, that it is more accurate to observe that I’ve got things on my mind I haven’t worked out, yet, and since they are both on my mind and not yet fully considered, I find it difficult to write, generally. There is thinking and feeling to be done! I sit with that awareness awhile. There was a time when either the thinking, or the feeling, could have gotten in the way of living the moments, and I would write steadily throughout, reluctant to fully experience either the thinking or the feelings. Lately I find the participation in life, itself, highly engaging. I find thinking and feeling worthy of contemplation – fearless, fruitful, deep consideration, without rumination. Also without much writing. Later perhaps. There will be time, later.

I sip my coffee, and find it is at just that perfectly comfortable drinking temperature, pleasantly warm, not hot enough to burn my mouth. I finish the cup, and stare into the Giftmas tree for some moments, listening to the aquarium trickling in the background, and my tinnitus ringing, tinging, buzzing, and beeping in the background. (Yes, beeping; a short repeating morse code phrase, as if heard from a distance, quite audible to me though, in a very quite room.)

I make reminders to myself on my calendar: call for a doctor’s appointment, call to cancel a no-longer needed service for my Traveling Partner, make an appointment to get my eyes checked and order new glasses, connect with the realtor about a house I’d like to see. Life. Adulthood. Decades distant from most of the chaos and damage. How then does it still ever have any power to haunt and hurt me so much? Because I choose to allow it? Because that’s the very nature of post-traumatic stress disorder? Because I have a brain injury? Because that’s how our negative bias works? Because we become what we practice, and I’d practiced maintaining that state of things far longer than I’ve yet to practice something different? All of that? More? Other? Sure, okay, even all of that – there are new beginnings within reach, every day. New practices. More time. This life thing truly is a process and a journey; the destination is in the living moments, each one, here, now. 🙂

A second coffee sounds good. There’s time for that. Time for meditation. Time to begin again. The headache sucks, but that too will pass. 🙂 I’m here, now, and I have this moment. It’s enough.

Tags be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, emotional self sufficiency, meditation, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, TBI, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being

Gnōthi Seauton

December 12, 2016 //

No, seriously, do it. Take time to sort yourself out, to figure out who you are – based on your values, your understanding of your experience, your wants, your needs, your chaos and your damage – the highs, the lows, all of the whole of your experience are part of the answer to the question “Who are you?”. The answer itself is that first step on any journey, whether the answer is held in our awareness or not; whether we take the step is part of who we are. Who we are fills that moment, often imperceptibly brief, between when we form the thought or feel the impulse to step forward, and the moment we lift our foot to take the step. It is in the thought itself, and the impulse.

Today is “team building” with my professional peers. I’m okay with that. I find reflection powerful. I find communication useful. I enjoy growth, and relish connection. Should be a fun day.

Along the way, of course, there is structure to which I must succumb, and I find myself doing so with some amusement; I have been here before. Personality tests are often a part of these experiences, intended to foster improved understanding of one another. A younger me would go into it with less comfort and more resentment, understanding that these tests and quizzes have literally zero actual evidence backing them up as having any particular accuracy or validity whatsoever. (I’m not bashing on whatever your favorite eye-opener is, I’m just saying that generally speaking, things like the Myers Briggs test and DiSC assessments have no scientific basis, even after many years of use and data gathered. They are corporate America’s astrology, best done for ‘entertainment purposes only’ and taken with a grain of salt.) I find value in the sharing and communication. I enjoy working with people who feel connected and informed. If a quiz can open those doors, then let there be many such activities! 🙂

I don’t need to be “right”.

I know myself. Well, better than most other people know me, at least. I’m still working on the rest. Am I the “ENFJ-A” of this morning’s Myers Briggs? Hardly. I am a more loosely defined, more variable set of characteristics. I live. Any one quiz, however many questions, makes observations based on a snapshot, a moment, a few answers of ever-so-many more that may be available. An astute observation that results in improved self-awareness, easier authenticity, and a more enjoyable life-experience overall is surely welcome – but I won’t be changing my mind about what I know of myself on the basis of an internet quiz. 😉

I do put effort into this whole “knowing myself” thing, though; there’s more to learn. Like the vastness of space, or the unfathomed depths of the oceans, there is much I do not know about life, love, and the woman in the mirror. On every journey there is an unexplored horizon in the distance.

Today is a good day to walk on, more questions than answers, eyes-wide open, awake, aware, and engaged in this moment.

Tags are you going my way?, be here now, being and becoming, experience, Gnothi seauton, I am my own cartographer, listening deeply, perspective, ptsd, relationships, TBI, the map is not the world, walking my own path, what matters most?, who are you?

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

Giftmas Wishes

December 10, 2016 //

Giftmas is approaching quickly. I am feeling merry and cheerily invested in what is as likely to be a solitary holiday as not; there is no certainty in my planning these days, and I am learning to be okay with that. It is in the planning that my own comfort lies, and in clear communication and expectation-setting when plans begin to shift, or go sideways unexpectedly. Each of life’s disappointments, hardships, and changes open my eyes to some new perspective or opportunity, a little like a holiday advent calendar.

Let it snow? Sure, why not? Or don’t – that’s okay, too.

Last night was wonderfully merry, and definitely my idea of a festive holiday season. My early Giftmas present arrived on my doorstep, and when I got home one of my neighbors brought it over; he’d taken it in knowing I was not home. I had no time to open the box before a small posse of my former colleagues from another company (and dear friends) stopped by for some holiday cheer and catching up on things. We enjoyed a (rare treat for me) glass of sherry together, and hung out sharing anecdotes, and generally enjoying a couple precious hours together. I miss those guys; seeing them every day was the best part of that particular job. It’s always been the people that matter most, though I didn’t always understand that. 🙂

Eventually, alone again in my quiet sanctuary on the edge of a marshy meadow, fire reduced to glowing embers, I opened the box. I cried happy tears that couldn’t be held back. I ran my fingers along the glossy black enameled lines of the new mixer. Some feminist, right? Standing in my kitchen in fuzzy spa socks, caressing a kitchen appliance, crying happy tears. I laughed out loud, still weeping with joy. Down to the tiniest detail, that man loves me. Fuck, I hope I am truly worthy of such profound emotion.

This mixer is black… it replaces a beige one, a color that was, at the time, a compromise; I had wanted a white one, then. My traveling partner ordered this new mixer, standing in my kitchen while we talked of other things. He chose one that matches my current appliances, understanding my aesthetic. He may even have understood that there is significance in how very “opposite” the glossy black is in my eyes – a gift given truly from a place of love, utterly the opposite in every way to the off-white mixer, which was given out of obligation and delivered into a relationship characterized by violence, violation, and destruction. (Although I loved the old mixer for its exquisite functionality and utility and purpose, every time I used it old damage and pain would surface to fill my consciousness again…over decades.) This morning, I stood in the kitchen making my coffee, smiling at the beautiful black mixer on the counter, alluring, promising good times in the kitchen, and reminding me only of love.

This morning the apartment is filled with music. There’s housekeeping to be done; my Traveling Partner is planning to be over tonight. The mixer stands ready for adventures in baking, and I have a stack of cookbooks next to me that I began flipping through last night. I look at them, and smile, and somewhere in a dark corner one of my demons lays down and dies, as happy tears slide past my smile. “I’m free!!” something inside me shouts with joy. I’m not sure quite what, or quite why. I’m okay with feeling this good in this moment.

Today is a good day to be merry. Giftmas is almost here. Today is a good day for giving, and a good day for loving. Baking holiday treats may not change the world, but they’ll sure make the house smell wonderful! 😀

Tags begin again, giving and receiving, Have yourself a merry little Giftmas, Kitchenaid is good, love, love and lovers, love in the kitchen, mindful loving, p.s. I love you, perspective, ptsd, relationships, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

Just a Reminder

December 7, 2016 //

Be kind. Be considerate. Be careful. Be aware. We’re each having our own experience – all in this together, sometimes not completely aware that we are interconnected. We each feel our own pain, sometimes thinking it hurts the most, of anything, ever, forgetting – often – how much other pain exists, and how much suffering there is in the world, generally. We forget to be our best selves, sometimes when it matters most. We forget we can begin again.

Today is a good day for reminders, best practices, consideration, openness, and helping each other out. Today is a good day to share a moment with a friend, and to be kind to strangers. Today is a good day to be and to become, and a good day to embrace change.

Tags ACT, are you going my way?, be here now, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, emotional self sufficiency, I am my own cartographer, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, what matters most?

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

Where’d I Put That Soapbox?

December 6, 2016 //

I could write hundreds of words today about how banal and commonplace it has become to spout actual lies and defend them as opinions. There are uncountable examples of it, and it’s easy enough to demonstrate that undermining people’s sense of reality in such a fashion is beyond odious; it’s harmful. This morning, I don’t much feel like deep-diving that grotesque practice of distorting reality.

I could write hundreds of words about Aleppo. About war. About conflict. About lost lives and lost children. Would I even be heard? Would my handful of words “matter”? Verbs, actions, matter more…

This morning I have other things on my mind, closer to home, more personal… A friend, a dear friend, someone I greatly love, has checked himself into a mental health care facility. I feel… concerned. Depression is an ass kicker. Mental illness is still so completely misunderstood by such a great many people. The feelings of isolation, despair, of distance, of agonizing doubt can be actually quite crippling, however illusory. Clawing ones way from that pit of gray fatiguing encompassing bleakness isn’t even a given, however much it seems, from the outside, that it would just be a matter of choosing… something… differently. 😦 I want to fix this. I can’t fix this. It isn’t a matter of words. My actions are not the actions needed here. I struggle. I don’t have to; this one isn’t mine, and I can let it go. Only… fuck. I want to fix this.

I shift gears and chat with my Traveling Partner about modifying equipment. I refrain from making lewd jokes about his “equipment” – however amusing now and then, the chronic, continuous, often completely inappropriate for the circumstances, lewd jokes and innuendos are symptomatic of my injury as much as they are a hallmark of my characteristic behavior… each time I am aware in the moment enough to willfully choose not to make one, I experience a sensation of positive change and growth. There really are times when such things are not welcome; I am learning to recognize that, and to also be able to act on it. Incremental change over time. I think about the handful of friends who might protest that this amusing quirk of mine is something they cherish, and enjoy being entertained by – to which my response could be “so, hey, while you’re being entertained, I’m struggling to keep jobs, relationships, and have comfortable conversations with strangers… so… yeah, I’m working on this”. We each walk our own mile.

Today is a good day to begin again. Every day is. Choose one. Grab a verb. Get walking. You are your most powerful instrument of change. ❤

Tags ACT, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, checking in, checking out, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, just checking, MBSR, meditation, mindful living, mindfulness for beginners, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, TBI, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, what matters most?

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, winter, Words

Nothing to Say Here…

Share this:

Gnōthi Seauton

Share this:

Giftmas Wishes

Share this:

Just a Reminder

Share this:

Where’d I Put That Soapbox?

Share this:

Archives