Archives for posts with tag: ptsd

It is a very quiet morning. The keyboard ‘sounds loud’. I park my mechanical keyboard and opt to use the soft quiet keys of my laptop, typing with the most delicate touch I can manage. I am alert and a bit sound and light-sensitive today, and recognize it is something to be aware of as the day wears on. I don’t often get such a good opportunity to get ahead of my issues this way. I even have a good idea what the drivers are, this morning. Hello, PTSD-as-residual-of-domestic-violence. It can be a complicated experience.

I am not surprised that I am faced with managing my symptoms; my traveling partner is spending a great deal of time here, struggling with his own challenges, needing more than usual emotional support, frustrated, hurting, and understandably angry with the use of emotional weaponry in another relationship. It’s too easy to let his anger, the emotional experience itself, resonate with me; he does not ‘deserve’ this, I often find myself thinking. While that’s true (I mean, who does?), it’s counter-productive to providing emotional support. I practice listening deeply. I practice compassion. I work on finding a comfortable balance between soothing the hurts, and providing requested input without making it about me – this is sometimes complicated by my reliance on metaphor and comparison to similar experiences I’ve had to gain understanding or clarity. I keep practicing. I definitely need the practice. This isn’t mine to ‘fix’.

I began re-reading The Four Agreements. “Be Impeccable With Your Word” is most specifically the agreement I am reading, although… it’s the first one, and I’ll read the entire book. I am re-reading it for a refresher and deeper understanding of the first agreement, “Be Impeccable With Your Word”. I think of other experiences in life, other relationships, and of finding myself on the receiving end of some angry accusatory tirade in which some practice or way of thinking, recommended in the self-help aisle has been launched against me as a weapon. I remember also a tense, peculiarly cathartic sight of  young, angry, 20 -something, literally throwing a self-help book at the face of a partner in a public argument – a public moment of a human being lashing out directly at another human being physically – screaming “it’s a self help book, you asshole!” I had almost burst out laughing with understanding. We can only ever work on ourselves, really.

Being impeccable with my word, The Four Agreements makes clear, is not about ‘telling the truth’ precisely, or about ‘keeping promises’ either, well… not only those things. It’s vastly more complicated, subtle, and nuanced. It is a favorite practice of mine, and my own understanding of it is as a fundamental statement of mental and emotional purity, as in ‘don’t fuck with people’s reality, and especially don’t do that on purpose’. Lying counts, so does misleading someone with great care through choice of language or use of misdirection. Explicit expectation setting on which there is not intent to follow through is also a failure to be impeccable with one’s word. Then there is name calling, beratement, judgement – yes, even that; the things we say to people can cause them great pain. We all know it. Sowing discontent is another way to undermine the impeccability of our word. Mean jokes, too. Even just being irritable and cruel. Yeah…basically, the idea is that language is a powerful shared tool for human primates akin to actual magic. Being impeccable with my word is a practice intended to keep me on the path of treating myself and others well. (I may not say out loud the words I use to/about myself, but those count too.)

I breathe through my increasing irritation about how my traveling partner is treated in another relationship; I can’t fix it, and it’s not mine to fix. It’s hard to be on the sidelines watching someone use their words as weapons against someone so dear to me such that he is further hurt, further tested. I contemplate my own similar experiences, the choices required to take care of myself. I know there are verbs involved, and that it is a journey with many choices. It’s hard to watch, though. I find myself puzzled why more people don’t recognize that they are crafting their own hell-on-earth with the way they mistreat people they say they love – hell, the way they treat people generally. Sounds a little judgmental when I see the words hit the page. I return my thoughts to my own experience, my own actions – things I can affect directly through my choices. I am human. I can do better, myself. I observe in moment of cynicism, that this is one of the great challenges in a human life; I acknowledge I can grow, change and do better – a lot of people do – and then there are others, seeing that acknowledgement and replying through their own choices and actions ‘you go right ahead working on you, thanks, you owe me that and I’m not changing shit myself, so… yeah’.  It’s a thing. It’s frustrating – and more. Still… this is my own journey, my own path, and although there is immense power in the words used aggressively or wickedly by others, I don’t have to drink the poison. I can choose differently.

I hear the wail of the morning train not so far away. My cup is empty of even the last cold swallow of coffee. I feel the chill of the room sitting in a soft cotton camisole and wondering where I left the sweater I chose to wear to work. I feel a moment of gratitude that my traveling partner has such a good heart. It is a lovely quiet moment, this one, filled with opportunities to embrace the best qualities of my experience, and build my day on that foundation.

Today is a good day to walk my own path, and use my words with care, kindness, compassion, and awareness. Today is a good day to listen more than I talk.

Today is a good day to walk my own path, and use my words with care, and compassion. Today is a good day to listen more than I talk.

…Is what I want to say. I hear the echo of the intent in my thoughts any time life or love go sideways, even for a moment. I’m not so good at getting the words out there… soon enough? Calmly enough? Sufficiently lacking in any expression of emotional intensity that might tend to cause skepticism about my intentions? Yeah. Probably all of that. More. Other stuff I don’t think to manage, to deal with, to minimize, limit, regulate, scale down… I’m right here, every bit of me. Ferociously human. You too?

It’s a very quiet solo evening. I do need this time, he’s right about that. I miss him anyway. I manage to miss his scent, his voice, his hugs, his laughter – everything about his presence that is easy I miss with a fierceness akin to physical pain, as though something I need has been taken from me. I sometimes miss the harder stuff too, the qualities that challenge me to be the very best human I can, the very best lover, the most well-intentioned, authentic, supportive, affectionate and gracious being I could ever craft from the raw materials I’ve got… He’s every bit as human as I am myself, so there’s plenty to challenge me to grow. We fail each other regularly in small ways, rarely in any big ones.

Love matters most.

Love matters most.

The week together has been an interesting mix of easy and challenging. I find myself thinking over the things that worked so well, the things that didn’t work as easily, even taking time to tenderly consider the moment or two that went poorly; it’s nice to notice how few of those there really were. I know that in our human hearts those can sometimes weigh most heavily in our thoughts. I’m no expert, but I’m definitely done with treating myself badly when I fall short of my own expectations – and those are hard enough to keep up with – I am done, too, with beating myself up when I fall short of someone else’s expectations. I’ve a long journey ahead as a human being. One step at a time is fast enough, and slow progress is still progress. For him, too; love can afford to be patient, to be kind.

I still struggle with interrupting people, especially if I am especially passionate, engaged, or excited about the topic being discussed. Listening deeply doesn’t come naturally to me. I practice. I do my best. I let it go when I don’t get it right, and I begin again. It matters enough that practice is worth it, and incremental change over time is enough. ‘The interrupting thing’ is especially difficult for people to take. I get it. I get interrupted a lot, and even by people who ‘don’t do that’ – because I don’t limit my speech to short phrases, very simple language,  and don’t do brevity with any ease… or even staying entirely on topic, I suppose. I speak very much the way I write. Whatever this is. Wordy. Verbose? Too much sometimes. I know – I accept it because it’s who I am, and I don’t mind it. I like the poetry of language, and the connection of good communication. I have time to listen, the interest, the intent, the desire to be sufficiently considerate and dialed in to the person I am talking with to really make a great conversation… only… I also interrupt. I’ll keep working on that, World, if you’ll just keep showing up so I can practice.

Tonight is easy. At long last, at least being alone with the woman in the mirror is easy. It wasn’t always. Tonight, this is enough.

 

It’s a lovely quiet morning. Yoga, meditation, coffee, an article linked by a friend, some reading on a very perspective-altering web site, some handful of very still moments – no music, no typing, no conversation; it is a seriously quiet morning, punctuated periodically by the nearby wail of the train passing by. The day is alike an unopened box, contents unknown. What will I find when I open the box?

What's in the box? What of the unknown?

What’s in the box? What of the unknown?

My evening last night ended gently, after hanging out with my traveling partner for some lovely chill hours. My night ended with love, and my traveling partner observing that he loves what I’m doing in the studio. (I do, too, and I love that he appreciates me as an artist.)

My morning and my day are as an unopened box. I’ve no idea what it holds, and the possibilities are numerous. I meditate on boxes, packages, packaging and contemplate how the unexpected can be so consequential – or so irrelevant. I think about ‘baggage’, and consider the box as a metaphor, and recall some number of boxes I have recently opened in life: boxes with needed household supplies, boxes shipped to me out-of-useful-sequence, boxes containing more than I expected or something that surprised me, boxes that were mostly filled with air, boxes that were too heavy to lift without help, all varying in size, most a pretty plain squarish rectangle-y sort of shape – what other shape do boxes come in? Isn’t that funny about a plain brown box? How similar they all seem to be on the outside? I rarely consider the box itself when a package comes; I tear through the tape, jerk open the flaps and get at the mysterious contents with haste, generally. Why so much force to overcome a humble box? Why the rush?

I am likely noodling around contemplating boxes-as-a-metaphor trying to understand something very different indeed… I stay on my path, practicing good practices, and gently sorting out how to most easily and comfortably do so, while also enjoying my traveling partner’s time here. I feel encouraged noticing that I’m managing that pretty neatly, so far, for now. I find myself wondering what his experience is, and making a mental note to be attentive for the things he says that tell me – like his observation that he likes what I am doing in my studio, his enjoyment of my cooking, his consideration for my time, space, and practicing, and his day-to-day tenderness. I smile, and remind myself to also just ask. 🙂

Meditation is a favorite practice; it's like opening a box.

Meditation is a favorite practice; it’s like opening a box.

Today I’ll ‘unpack this box’ with as much appreciation for what the box is, as for what goes into it. Today I will practice being awake, aware, and considerate. It’s a good day for good practices.

My traveling partner arrived, blowing in unexpectedly like a spring shower after a dry winter, and every bit as welcome. I’ve been enjoying his time, his company, his humor, his love, his delights and charms. All the best bits of people being together, it’s nice. There’s a lot more I could say, but I would likely encroach on his story, and that’s not my intent. Having no particularly firm expectations or certainty, I embrace the moments, enjoy them without reservation, and…

Love doesn't watch the clock.

Love doesn’t watch the clock.

…I quickly find that I haven’t been on my meditation cushion, or yoga mat, in days – and haven’t taken time to write. My ‘habits’, however helpful, positive, nurturing – or longstanding – break easily. I begin again. It’s practice. Practices are ongoing. I rarely think in terms of ‘habits’ so much any more, because they are so easily broken.

Love is reciprocal.

Love is reciprocal.

Last night I arrived home to his warm embrace and loving smile. I made a point to gently take the time I need for meditation; however much his wounded heart needs the comfort of home and companionship, I need this time for myself,  or I would quickly find I am unable to provide the listening ear, and loving arms he needs so much right now. I have plans to hike with a friend today. I haven’t canceled them, although love is on my doorstep. Love doesn’t benefit from me abandoning my friends. Before bed, I set expectations that I’d be up early, and would want to write in the morning. There is no drama or animus in it, or in his reaction. He is up early this morning, anyway; sleeping deeply in a strange place takes getting used to. I make us both coffees, and enjoy mine at my desk, fingers contentedly clicking away. “Hey, Baby… I’m going to close this door, okay?” He says it as he does it, and there is no interruption, only my reply as I write, “Okay.” I hear music in the background and smile. It’s a good day that begins with love.

I keep practicing. There are so many practices worth practicing, worth maintaining over time or renewing if they have grown stale or become disused. “Begin again.” So simple. Where did it come from? I read so much… In its simplest form, as an idea, it seems the sort of pairing of words to associate with ‘always’, but recognizing this has been rather a long journey, and that I have indeed ‘begun again’ so many times… I’m still not certain that the words held so much meaning for me before sometime after 2013. Life had reached this place where the chronic mistreatment by one partner, and the generally very good but sometimes surprisingly variable treatment of another, required me to begin again, in a lot of ways, on a lot of practices, and finally in some rather magical way ‘beginning again’ in my life, itself, by moving into my own space. Beginning again with my traveling partner as we healed both shared and individual hurts. Beginning again as an artist in a very confined space too small for large work. Beginning again in this lovely bigger space with room to work in abundance. Impermanence once sounded like a fairly ominous concept to become entangled with. Turns out it’s very much all tied up with beginning again. 🙂

My ‘hiking season’ begins again, today. I will walk a trail I’ve never walked. I will see a literal new point of view. I love living metaphors. I will head into the trees and metaphorically ‘walk on’. Solo hiking is another form of meditation, and a favorite one, and there will be time for that. Today, I go with a friend. Here, too, there are practices to practice, and beginnings aplenty. She makes good conversation, and has a good heart. (These are qualities most of my friends have, actually, as I give it some thought.) I will practice listening deeply, and speaking simply. When we’ve had our fill of the trees, birdsong, wildflower sightings, and laughter, we’ll return to the car, return to our routines, and all the details that fill the days and nights and leave me feeling so busy will have renewed luster, and fresh purpose. Well…that’s often the outcome of a good hike out in the trees. It’s been a long while since I arrived home from hiking to be greeted by love. I am eager to enjoy it, without expectations. (I mean, seriously? He might be out of the house in that precious limited moment I arrive home. lol It happens.)

Why yes, thank you, I shall.

Why yes, thank you, I shall.

Today is a good day to begin again. Today is a good day to love and be loved in return. Today is a good day to renew a sense of purpose where purpose is needed, but perhaps fallen flat. Today is a good day to walk on, and to practice – there are still verbs involved. With practice, I change my experience. With enough practice, we change the world.

One of the sweetest outcomes of the choice to live alone is how much more obviously precious time with my traveling partner is. There’s little to share about last night. It was an intimate connected evening spent having dinner, hanging out, and enjoying conversation…about life, about love, about the future of our shared and individual endeavors, about recent appointments with doctors…words, shared between lovers. It was a lovely evening, and ended gently with time left over to spend in the studio inking details on a landscape, still thinking about love.

Practice the practices that take you closer to being the human being you most want to be.

Practice the practices that take you closer to being the human being you most want to be.

One of the things I most value about a strong partnership is the mutual support for individual endeavors. So many conversations amount to “Can you…?” “Yes.”, and “Will you…?” “Sure.” – and we know that other person so dear to us isn’t just throwing empty words into the space between us; they’ll really be there, as indicated. We offer ourselves, our time, our thoughts, to each other. We nurture the best within ourselves – and the best within that person we so adore. It’s a rare and beautiful thing, and it involves a lot of choices, and a lot of verbs. Totally worth it. It also turned out to be less about finding some ideal human with whom to have such an experience, and a whole lot more about being a human with whom someone can have such an experience. (Thank you, Love. It’s a journey very worth sharing.)

Getting here was a journey - it is a journey to sustain love, too; there are verbs involved.

Getting here was a journey – it is a journey to sustain love, too; there are verbs involved.

I sip my coffee and continue to linger on the recollection of last evening. I consider where life is taking me, and what choices ahead could most benefit me while also supporting my partner’s long-term needs. I think about these things in the context of community, of enjoyment, of sustainability, and of lasting-value. Mostly, I think about love and loving. I think about retirement; timing that carefully might result in being able to step away from the corporate grind into a handful of years supporting my traveling partner’s business directly, before retiring in earnest to paint and write full time. Suddenly, the idea of buying a little place of my own – our own – takes on a new dimension for me; how best to also serve my partner’s long-term needs becomes an important question. It’s a lovely morning to think about love, to ponder a shared future with someone so dear, and to enjoy my coffee with no agenda but my own. My choices matter, and it feels very good indeed to be so well loved, so thoroughly considered, so completely respected and valued, so heard, to be dealt with so openly and with such compassion. I enjoy the reciprocity in our partnership; my needs are as important, and as thoroughly discussed and supported together, as my partner’s are.

I smile when I realize my writing this morning reads a bit like a love note to love… Seems reasonable, really. Isn’t love worth a few words? 🙂

As I near the end of my coffee, my thoughts turn towards more practical matters. I get no criticism about that from myself; there are tasks to handle, things on a to do list, and stuff to get done. I find all the fuss and bother of adulthood a bit more manageable if I organize my thoughts – and my activities. I consider my limited time, and the priorities of things needing to be done. What matters most? How important is it? Is there a matter of time or timing? I find myself less fearful and overloaded if there is more than one thing that just must get done in any one day than I used to be. (Many thanks, Google Calendar, Mint, and SuperBetter!) I even feel as if there is just a bit more time in each and every day… although… to be fair… I did move so close to work that I can walk there in less than half an hour, through a beautiful park, which cut my daily commute from a 3 hour+ round trip each day to less than a hour – I do have ‘more time in each and every day’. 🙂

Taking care of me has been a journey about choices and practices. As it turns out, taking care of love has been a similar sort of journey – fraught with choices and practices, growth and change – and enduring affection. It was the affection that was missing from my journey with the woman in the mirror, for far too long. How powerful it was to make that connection, to revitalize my experience of life with and for myself – and how delightful that the result has been how much more I am able to love, and enjoy being loved in return. 🙂

A thread in my tapestry, a color in my palette, so much of life is fueled by love.

A thread in my tapestry, a color in my palette, so much of life is fueled by love.

Today is a good day to love, to be loved, to share love – to choose love.