Archives for posts with tag: ptsd

Dear Santa,

It’s been awhile since we’ve talked, and surely the days of sending you long lists of retail delights is behind me… mostly. It’s not that I ‘have it all’ or wouldn’t benefit from a quality of life improvement here or there, it’s just that – generally speaking – I have what I need, and it’s enough. Still…you have quite a job ahead of you, and all you ever ask of me is that I do my best all year – and give you a list of what I want for Giftmas.

I think it’s safe to say that most of the time this year, I’ve definitely done my best – or what I thought was my best in the moment. So, that being said, I’m making a point of fulfilling my end of the bargain, Santa. Here’s my list:

  1. Please give me a moment – just whatever you can spare – to take a breath and rethink what I’m about to say to some other human being, long enough to avoid being thoughtlessly callous, or missing their point. I’d like to improve on how well I listen this year.
  2. Please also give me any spare reminders you may have laying about that we are each so very human, so that I also take a moment to pause before I react to what someone else’s experience is, and avoid taking it personally. I’d like to be more easily able to show compassion, without the detour through over-reacting in the moment.
  3. Santa, I know you’re going to work your sleigh off on Giftmas Eve, and spend the next 280 days or so recovering – can you spare some of your self-care best practices, because I gotta say – you’ve been working that magic once a year for decades, and I get tired just thinking about it! Please fill my stocking with self-regard, consideration for my needs over time, and a jolly approach to taking care of me – I promise to share.
  4. While I’m thinking about it, how about more Love, Santa – I want all of the love, the loving, and the sweet romance that can be crammed into my calendar all through the holidays and beyond. I’ll be so good –  next year, too!!
  5. Santa, please help me remember, all year long, how good this feels right now? I’d appreciate it very much, especially some time down the road when I feel insecure and doubtful, wounded, kicked-around, or bleak; this ‘now’ right here is quite wonderful, and I’d like to hold on to the comfortable certainty that there will be other such lovely times in the future.
  6. One last thing, Santa? The chocolates and sweaters and twinkly lights are wonderful, and I smile and smile for so many days – please tell me how I can hang onto this sense of wonder and delight until Giftmas comes around again next year? You can bet I’d share that, too!
Merriment, love, and fun -  what's on your list?

Merriment, love, and fun – what’s on your list?

I’m still loving Giftmas after all these years, Santa, and hoping I am on the ‘nice’ list…

Your Friend,

E.H.

I left work smiling yesterday. It was a bit later than I had planned to end the day, and twilight had already settled in. The flooding from recent heavy rain has receded, and I took a chance on walking through the park. Some of the trails and walkways are covered in mud or debris, and there are occasional puddles. The signs warning of high water levels and flooded trails are still in place. I found the walk so satisfying I continued on past the point at which I generally turn up the walk headed to my apartment. I finally reached Number 27 in a round about way, an hour or so after I left the office. It was lovely to listen to the sounds of life around me, walking, thinking about love, breathing the chill night air and feeling contentment in each breath spreading to my finger tips as if it exists in the very air I breath. I reached my cozy apartment feeling quite tired, and generally merry.

There isn’t anything more to this, really. It was a lovely evening for a walk in the park. Some practices speak for themselves.

Some moments are enough, just as they are.

Some moments are enough, just as they are.

I am sipping my coffee and thinking about sweaters. Well, actually, I am thinking about a particular sweater I like very much that just doesn’t go with the rest of what I am wearing at all, and immediately after finding myself wishfully thinking it would be nice to have this particular sweater in a number of other colors, I realized all I’d have to do to have that is learn to knit or crochet and get to work on it. That’s not my most likely choice in this instance, but it got me thinking about life’s vast menu of possible choices, and how little of that vast unlimited potential I actually consider day-to-day, myself.

When I dine out, I expect generally I will be choosing my meal from a menu – the restaurant prepares the menu, and it is the nature of menus to limit the choices presented. It is a system that works out pretty well. They tell me what they offer, and I choose from that list. If I don’t like the choices, I can go eat elsewhere and choose from their menu.

When I go grocery shopping, I may not have a menu, but I will nonetheless choose from the limited selection the grocery store offers me, and if I need or want things they do not supply, I can take my shopping elsewhere, and choose from the products offered by some other merchant.

When I attend classes, I choose from a list of available courses. It is clearly not a complete list of all possible knowledge I could choose to study.

Simple or fancy, the menu is a limited list.

Simple or fancy, the menu is a limited list.

Choices seem to generally work in the observed fashion; we are presented with some limited selection and we choose from that, or go elsewhere in search of something we want that is not offered there. I don’t often stop to think about the implied limiting factor: whatever is on the menu, or on the shop shelves, it is but a small sample of ‘all the possible foods’ or ‘all the things to buy’. Life is like that, too, only… I’m the person I generally find to be responsible for limiting my own choices; I am writing the menu, myself.

That sweater isn’t going to knit itself – and, by the way, I’m not likely to be the one knitting it either. I don’t know how to knit. I could choose to learn…if I chose to… Learning to knit doesn’t seem to appear on ‘my menu’ of things to do in life. I could make excuses about being thumb-fingered, or having tried before, or any number of lame reasons why I don’t choose to learn to knit, although I really love sweaters and could learn to make my own. On the other hand, when I first began playing around with watercolors on paper, painting wasn’t just ‘on my menu’ – it was akin to ‘the special of the day’ in that moment in my life; I chose it before I could consider choosing it, and it is a natural part of me. Who wrote the menu? This internal list of what my options are in life – where did it come from? Who maintains it? When I feel as though I ‘have no other choice’ that isn’t likely to be the literal truth of it – and even recognizing this is often not enough to immediately open my eyes to the impossibly unimaginably vast potential array of choices truly in front of me.

Be love.

Be love.

The year is ending, and it is a season of contemplation and of questions for me. Where now? This has been a remarkable year for change, for growth, for love to blossom as though new – and I have so many choices possible in the year to come…but…what are they? Am I open to all of them, and equipped to choose what will tend to support my needs most over time? Will I choose to be a better human being than I was yesterday? Have I limited my menu too much by rejecting very promising opportunities, projects, or adventures because I don’t see myself as that person – or because I think I ‘can’t’ or ‘shouldn’t’?

It’s funny – when I was a kid there was a lot of push to send the message to children that they could do or be ‘anything’ they might wish to do or be. It’s even sort of true. Then there was a swing in the other direction, to refrain from encouraging children in an unrealistic way, and more in favor of being ‘practical’ and ‘real’ with children about their potential and abilities and and to avoid ‘setting them up for failure’ with overly high expectations. That’s even sort of sensible. Both approaches touch on real things; it is rare that we really understand the vastness of our potential, and we are able to overcome so much to achieve what we desire! On the other hand – there are obstacles in life, verbs involved, and some things may not be so simply done. I hesitate to say ‘impossible’ about any particular human achievement, myself: moon landing, space shuttle, space station, solar power, tunnel bridges, The Beatles, eggs fertilized outside of wombs, women on the Supreme Court, the internet, Google, Microsoft, Tesla, and all within my lifetime! How many of these things seemed impossible at some earlier point? So, when a little girl wants to be president – why not? On the other hand, it sure isn’t going to be easy to get there – and success won’t be a given.

Even Santa has a list...

Even Santa has a list…

I am sipping my coffee in the glow of holiday lights, and listening to the heater click and pop as it begins to take the morning chill off the room. I am wondering if I might like to learn to knit, although I had once attempted it without much success perhaps I have changed? I smile, and let other choices and options I might not generally consider drift past my awareness: encaustic? through-hiking? remote travel? exotic cuisine? a martial art? disc-golf? a musical instrument? another language? a silent retreat? a cruise? As I list options something strange happens just at the edge of my awareness and I pause to consider it; the longer I go on, the more similar to things I already do, or have done, or are very like my existing interests each thing becomes – I have to almost fight myself to allow experiences or events significantly outside my norm to reach my awareness and hold my attention for a moment. That’s something to consider further.

I choose even my perspective; I am my own cartographer on this journey.

I am able to choose even my perspective when I am aware that choice exists.

If I am writing the menu for myself, then even the choices regarding how I filter or limit my choices is mine to choose. What will I choose today? What will I choose tomorrow? What matters most – what I choose, or that I choose? Today is a good day to consider ‘all the options’ – and what that means, and how I am limiting myself in life by limiting my choices. Today is a good day to update the menu.

Well…or something similar, I don’t expect I’ll write much about diet, exercise, weight-loss, fitness, or related topics; it’s not my area. As is so often the case for me, though, putting myself back on a path that has some forward momentum on a topic that matters to me in a very personal way seems to have ‘boosted the signal’ on the value in my day-to-day self-care and quality of life. I don’t really understand the mechanism involved, but I do know that when I’m stalled on one thing, other things in life are also affected. It’s a very pleasant and encouraging feeling, and recognizably delivered from me to the woman in the mirror; getting back on track with my nutritional needs, and fitness goals feels good.

I didn’t sleep much last night. I’m not sure why. I am also not sure why I managed to wake feeling fairly well-rested, and in very little pain; I hurt so much when I laid down to sleep that it kept me awake well past midnight. I woke again around 2:30 am, and then the alarm went off shortly before 5. I may be numb with fatigue later in the day – but for now, rather mysteriously, I feel pretty good.

Enjoy each precious moment, there are so few of them in a single life.

Enjoy each precious moment, there are so few of them in a single lifetime.

…I find myself just sitting here, quietly, sipping my coffee. I’m okay with that. You know…actually… I’m so okay with that, I think this morning that just sitting quietly will do just fine. I think I’ll go do that, and see how the days builds. 🙂

This weekend I didn’t chase anything, didn’t force anything, didn’t insist on anything, didn’t apply pressure to myself, my experience, or my time. I suppose I could have. I could have gotten very stressed out about finding just exactly the perfect finishing touch Giftmas gift for my traveling partner, and blown my weekend on an unhealthy bit of hysterics when inclement weather messed with my plans. I could have held on to an assortment of assumptions and expectations of the weekend, and found myself facing Sunday with bitter regret – for both the things that did not happen, and the behavior that did. I didn’t do those things.

Instead, I allowed the weekend to simply take its course, embracing events as they occurred, and making the proverbial lemonade where lemons seem to have been provided…although…sitting here sipping on a tangerine mocha, made with fresh-squeezed tangerine juice from tiny sweet juicy tangerines so perfectly ripe they were not going to keep over days of eating, it’s hard to taste lemons. I made a fire in my fireplace, last night. I made another today, and contentedly kept it going through the gray rainy afternoon; it crackles in the background now. It’s been a weekend of contentment and satisfaction. It’s been lovely in spite of the rain.

Welcome in my own experience.

Welcome in my own experience.

The weekend is almost over, and a new work week unfolds ahead of me – the last before the Giftmas holiday. I’ll be out of the office for a few days (the week of Giftmas), and for a few days the next week, too. I pause, for a moment very aware how badly I really need this rest. I recognize that I am tired on a number of levels. This was an emotional year with a lot of complexity and change, and there is much to consider about the year to come. For now, I am content with contentment and that is enough. I sip on my mocha, making a mental note to finishing putting away the laundry that finished up just before dinner. Dishes, too. A box by the front door is my reminder in the morning to take it to the recycling bin; it arrived late in they day, during the pouring rain, and I didn’t take it straight out as I ordinarily might.

I've been very busy relaxing.

I’ve been very busy relaxing.

The evening is a quiet one. The lifestyle, too, is a quiet one. I’m not sure I knew sooner that this is what would suit me so well, when I looked ahead from many years younger. The mundane details aren’t dull to live; it’s peculiarly difficult to describe the luxury of hot laundry pressed to my chest as I dash back to my apartment in the rain, or the deep-down relaxation of finishing yoga and relaxing with my feet near the fire… just… relaxing, head back, gazing into the lights of the Giftmas tree… or emoji smiles and kisses from a partner I know is busy with other things, but values me such that taking the time is worth it, throughout the day.

This is a quiet life, and rich in excitement, delight, pleasure, contentment, joy, wonder…and moments of pure humanity; the difficult bits provide perspective, and comparison – reminders not to take what is so good for granted, not even for a moment. So… I enjoy the quiet weekend wholly and without reservations or concern, or trying to make it something more… or something less. More and more I am finding poetry in the ordinary, and lifetimes of love in moments of joy. Yes, there are verbs involved, and practice. I’m okay with that; I’m okay right now.

Small details are meaningful when we take time to notice them; small pleasures can fulfill our needs when we take time to enjoy them.

Small details are meaningful when we take time to notice them; small pleasures can fulfill our needs when we take time to enjoy them.

I don’t think I’ll chase anything today. Living life is enough.