Archives for posts with tag: ptsd

…I woke this morning feeling especially appreciate of leisure time in the mornings, very aware that the future may be built on a different routine. My anxiety comes and goes, in general, and seems more or less well-managed, though I’d be more than happy to dispense with it entirely and simply be. I’m still working on that one.

I sat down at my desk with some thoughts in mind, and a very good cup of coffee, and was immediately thwarted by The Grand Distraction – no, not Facebook, but close; Google. Yep. Google politely advised me that I had exceeded my storage limit between going to bed and waking up… (wth??) and I was sternly warned by an alarming red font, bold, and highlighted, that I was at risk of not being able to send or receive email!

Now, realistically, that’s not much of a legitimate crisis, and could have been managed at some point other than ‘now’ – but I am not wired that way, and all the practice over many years has not yet changed my lack of impulse control in some areas much at all… I immediately went into overdrive, deleting redundant files, cached images, copies of copies, archives duplicated elsewhere, saved folders of unsorted zipped images… until…at last… Google grudgingly admitted I am once again under my limit. It was not all that mysterious; I had the benefit of “50 Gigs of free storage with the purchase of a…”, and recently relied upon that to copy precious files while my OS was updated – just in case – and entirely overlooked deleting those copies, and then… last night… my “50 Gigs of free storage [for one year]…” expired. Check the fine print. 🙂

Life is full of fine print. Be sure to read it. 🙂

Much of my leisurely morning is… gone. Filled. Used up. Completed. It is in the past, already. I’m pretty certain I didn’t put the time to the best possible use – or the most fulfilling. I’m irked with Google over it, although it is hardly their issue that I still react as often as I respond to life’s small challenges. There’s a lesson worth studying there.

Today is an ordinary enough work day. My last day at my current job will be Friday. Feels a bit strange to simply say so. Choosing to make this change is more than a little scary, too. I want to feel more certain that I am doing ‘the right thing’… but… there are more than a few ‘right things’ I could choose to do, each very dependent on how I view the circumstances, the options, the opportunities, and what matters most.  What does matter most? Is it healthcare – or cash flow? Is it contentment – or financial gain? Is it fulfillment – or being prepared for retirement? Is it meeting my own needs over time – or providing for my family now? Is it “always” a choice?  (Quick answer – no; most uses of ‘always’ or ‘never’ can be safely assumed to be hyperbole, resulting in logical fallacy, being immediately ‘not true’ because it takes just one exception to disprove them. Still…always a best practice to test your assumptions. There. Enjoy that.)

Life goes on about its business in a mostly very usual way, in spite of the fierce storm of change so imminent on my horizon. I find myself generally fairly calm, hopeful that ‘it all works out’… getting enough leisure to take care of me, finding out my health concerns may be more easily addressed than I feared perhaps, then conveniently falling into a dream job well before cash reserves run out… I know one thing – there are verbs involved.

Although it was a busy day, there was time for the garden. "Baby Love" blooms first this year.

Although it was a busy day, there was time for the garden. “Baby Love” blooms first this year.

Today is a good day to recognize that change is, and to enjoy ‘now’.

This morning is quiet. The noise of the trains coming and going in the distance seems muted. The traffic on the nearby busy street is still infrequent, and hushed. The loudest sounds this morning are my fingers on the keyboard, and the occasional clatter of raindrops spattering window panes and eaves. I am in a manageable amount of pain.

Change is a thing. I find myself embracing it willfully, constructively, and using that profound power of choice to craft something of my life that suits me better. It is a process that is both incredibly exciting, and indescribably nerve-wracking. My anxiety comes and goes, and between anxious moments I feel… alive.  I noticed quickly that my anxiety most commonly surfaces in the context of taking action in my own favor in any way that doesn’t seem to ‘fit the mold’ I’ve been nudged into over a lifetime. From my perspective, that makes the anxiety itself quite suspect, and I look upon it now as ‘baggage’, more than as any legitimate warning of danger or risk. When it surfaces again, I make a point of ‘letting it go’. Yes, it comes back, and sometimes quite quickly – I repeat the process, letting it go, soothing myself with meditation or intellectual engagement in some other area of interest. It dissipates. It returns later. It is a process. Surely it will take at least as many repetitions of letting go of the anxiety to teach myself the lesson that the anxiety itself is the illusion, the baggage, the issue… didn’t it take many such repetitions to build the experience of chronic disordered anxiety in the first place? 🙂

What better time than now?

What better time than now?

I heard birds singing outside my window. The sky is light now. I hear more of the steady distant roar of commuter traffic, and the wail of the train seems louder, too, as if to make a point of getting the attention of sleepy morning professionals hurry in to the office. I remind myself to get some real down time very soon – maybe a couple of weeks off between jobs, or a weekend camping out in the trees now that the weather is sufficiently mild [for my own needs]?

Today is a good day for choices, for beginnings, for next steps and new things. Today is a good day to change my world.

Sometimes enough really feels enough. Sometimes the choices are plentiful and obvious – but not so numerous (or complicated) as to become difficult to consider. Sometimes outcomes are quite favorable. Sometimes life feels easy – love, too. Sometimes there isn’t much to say about things, or events, and being here matters so much more than anything I can say about it.

I am sipping my morning coffee and enjoying the quiet stillness of early morning. I am feeling grateful to enjoy both the moment, and the context in which I am experiencing it. I am feeling buoyed by love (and friendship) and partnership, and content to be human.

Life is enough.

Life is enough.

This morning I really want to listen to The Beastie Boys. I have a particular track stuck in my head that fits my mood this morning. It’s not really the sort of thing for a quiet morning, and with my partner sleeping in the other room I find myself feeling the lack of a good pair of headphones. How is it that I don’t have headphones? lol I didn’t need them before. It’s simple. I’m not complaining; I have a well-developed wish list of odds and ends and quality of life improvements. I add headphones to the list, for mornings. 🙂

I spent a quiet evening of study and meditation last night, time well-spent. I didn’t realize I had gotten so far behind on planned reading, and important [to me] study material. This morning, I meditate, things I read creep in and I find my thoughts again and again turning away from the woman in the mirror, to the reflection of her experience I so often see in the reaction and words of my partner. A different perspective on ‘who I am’, sometimes distorted in strange unexpected ways. We are both so different than we once were… Change is. There is still room for surprise, for wonder, for joy – and also for frustration, for misunderstanding, and even for anger (it is my least favorite of the emotions I know best), sometimes sadness; we continue to love and to learn – about each other, from each other, with each other. Partnership. He’s got his broken bits, and I’ve got mine. I am quite attached to the idea that we both do our best to care for each other and treat each other well, and like to believe that it is true; I don’t test it very rigorously, and simply accept that it is so. Funny how that sort of things works. 🙂

I open my everyday ‘to do list’ and add some housework tasks to it. (I may forget them far too long, otherwise.) I move on to other things.

I’ve benefited greatly from the additional time meditating the past couple of days. I find myself more invested in myself, and in this safe space that I’ve built to live within, and less focused on the stray agita and stress of humans being human that can be so easy to become mired in, otherwise. I consider what I can be doing (or doing with greater skill or consistency) to support and nurture my partner…and wonder whether he is aware of the things he could be doing to support and nurture me in turn? For the time being this is a shared journey, and in my certainty that I can take better care of myself, I am aware I can also take better care of him, without doing myself harm; it is a journey that requires steps, and covers distance. I’m sure there’s a metaphor in there…

Sharing the journey? A good opportunity to be love.

Sharing the journey? A good opportunity to be love.

Today is a good day to be love.

 

 

 

What do you suppose is the ratio of positive to negative feedback you receive? How about the ratio of encouraging observations, versus critical observations? What about the number of compliments you receive, versus the number of insults or mean remarks? Or the ratio of kind and compassionate interactions versus the number of judgmental ones? Do you feel life’s stings and papercuts more often than love’s kisses? Is the result worthy of the enduring effort? Isn’t “love” an emotion produced by verbs (a whole lot of verbs!) (and chemistry) which results in more of all the good stuff, less of all the rotten bullshit human primates are capable of flinging at one another? So… what are you personally doing to improve the ratio in each and every relationship – or interaction?

Sometimes it’s hard not to just sort of stomp around feeling exceedingly criticized. There is an ever-loving fuck-ton of shit I do not do well, and I quickly find myself overloaded with a “self-improvement list” so long I end up wondering if my existence is holding back world progress. I’m also pretty good at some stuff; generally that seems much less relevant or noteworthy. (That observation gets a sentence now and then, the rest gets a fucking blog all its own.) I remind myself of two very important pieces of understanding that don’t change much, however ‘picked on by life’ I may be feeling:

  1. Criticism is basically just a very poorly worded request.
  2. Agreement #2 of the Four Agreements – Don’t Take Anything Personally

Generally, if I can hold those two understandings in mind when I am feeling particularly criticized and beginning to feel devalued or angry, I can more easily ask a very important question, “what is this person/situation really asking for (what is the unstated need), and how can I reply gently, while best meeting my needs over time?” Remember that bit about ‘an ever-loving fuck-ton of shit I do not do well’? Yep. Here we are; I need more practice. I’m struggling not to take things personally, today. I keep practicing.

To be fair, I woke from a troubled restless sleep this morning to immediate decision-making that went mildly awry. In the moments of disappointment that followed, the nightmare I’d had returned to my thoughts provoking painful emotions, a feeling of inadequacy and unworthiness, that seemed supported by the morning thus far. Not only that, I was in pain. I was in a lot of pain – still am – more so than usual. At this point, I’ve taken all the steps to manage it that I know, and I’m mildly sedated, which doesn’t really improve my experience in a wholesome way; it definitely slows my thinking and dulls my reactivity. I earnestly need to spend some time alone, and spend some time creatively. I’m struggling to figure that out – partly it’s the pain, but partly it is this peculiarly plaguing sense of feeling criticized, and the way that feeling sort of ‘weighs me down’ emotionally, and stifles me creatively. It was even hard to write this morning.

Today I am finding communication difficult. Simple answers to clear questions evade me. I struggle to make sense of the context of questions or observations, resulting in mystifying misunderstandings. Everything sounds too loud… I am tempted to wonder if that’s the pain, or the TBI, or… truth is, it doesn’t actually matter; what matters is learning to comfortably state the simple need in simple terms, gently, safely, as an honest request for support – and sometimes for change. Yeah, I’ll just go right ahead and add that to the very long list of ‘an ever-loving fuck-ton of shit I do not do well’ and I’ll get right on that, too, also, as soon as I can – that’s even sincerely meant. I literally do try my best to actually improve on each and every fucking minute detail of some weirdness or other that doesn’t fit my idea of comfortable emotionally safe socially productive interactions…every moment at risk of being so vigilant of my ‘failings’ that I end up feeling chronically self-conscious and anxious. It’s a delicate balance, and honestly – I mean to treat myself much better than I often do. I am only easily able to treat people dear to me as well as I treat myself… so… it matters greatly to ‘get all this right’. Yeah – that’s a ludicrously high standard to hold oneself, and it is a set up for failure, internal criticism backed up by acceptance of external criticism – real or imagined – with the painful outcome of anxiety, conflict, emotional self-harm, relationship sabotage… blech. Drama and bullshit.

I can do better. I do some days. Today is not a great day for me on a couple of levels. The pain and my sound sensitivity are physically difficult, and drive the emotional volatility and loss of balance. I can’t imagine ‘my happy place’ – and I’m standing in it.

Here’s the thing about improving my emotional ‘golden ratio’ though; it’s not actually about what I hear from other people, or how they see me, or the feedback they give me. It’s very much about whether or not I ‘drink the poison’. It’s about my own choices, and about how I feel about the woman in the mirror. If I am being that hard on me, it’s even more difficult to take care of me when someone else is hard on me, too, or I have to deal with a shitty day, or a lot of pain. There really are some great practices to fall back on. Meditation. Yep. Still works. It does work best to actually do it. Most practices work that way. Getting enough rest is a great practice – and I didn’t. So. Yeah. Mindfulness… ooh, I like that one so much (it’s so hard though…); it helps me stay aware of myself in this moment, and helps me be more compassionate with myself. I really am in that much pain – it makes sense to show myself some kindness. On and on I go. One practice, and then another. One moment to consider some observation that serves me well, or another: perspective, mindfulness, sufficiency, adequacy, worthiness, compassion… I keep at it.

I do hurt… and I’m okay right now.