Archives for posts with tag: ptsd

Sometimes when I write I begin with the idea – a sort of trajectory of thought exists before I get started. Other days, like this morning, I dash off a title first, and realize it has meaning for me; in this case it stalls me for a moment, because it’s a title I ‘don’t want to waste’. Title-first writing works just fine for me, and having a meaningful title to begin with is fine; I build the trajectory of thought on the title. 🙂

There are a lot of articles here and there these days about ‘being present’, ‘being engaged’, ‘good communication’, really all manner of relationship building articles exist on a worthy spectrum of relationship types, styles, and purposes. Most of them include at least an honorable mention for ‘being engaged’ and ‘communication’. There’s no coincidence there, and it’s pretty obvious day-to-day that human beings are social primates with fairly clear hierarchies, most of the time. This stuff must be challenging, though, for so much to be written about it… or… is it?

Taking a few moments to consider an idea.

Taking a few moments to consider an idea.

Sometimes the most valued practices are not difficult to do, only challenging to practice reliably. I find the idea of ‘being engaged’ with another person, during a shared interaction to be that sort of thing; engaging another person on a topic of shared interest isn’t hard to do; practicing the skills that result in doing it well is another matter. It gets more complicated for me in small groups. Engaging one person lets simple things like eye contact create that intimate shared space with one other person… but what if there are two, three, four or more people (but not quite a crowd, or audience)? What then? Suddenly, eye contact focused on just that one person seems to exclude the others in the group. Powerfully positive interactions with others, of the sort that reliably support, nurture, and encourage require practice (what doesn’t?). Balancing attention and a sense of being engaged, and approachable, across a small group is its own thing.

I’ve noticed some things about being ‘engaged’:

  • People enjoy and appreciate being heard; this requires attentive, active listening – which means stop talking, and stop considering what to say next, and just listen.
  • People enjoy connection, intimacy, kindness, and encouragement, bringing things back to ‘being heard’, then requiring a response that is relevant, and shows consideration.
  • Eye contact reliably creates a connection – staring intently into someone’s eyes in a fixed unyielding way is not that. lol
  • When I am focused on what I want to say, I am not listening to someone else’s words, and they are not being heard.
  • Intimacy in conversation is personal, connected, and engaged – and not exclusive to words being exchanged continuously; being there is sometimes sufficient.
  • People are emotional beings far more than they are rational beings, but generally see themselves (and each other) as rational over emotional; this has the potential to create conflict, simply due to mismatched expectations of outcome.
  • We are each having our own experience; invalidating someone’s experience because it differs from our own is a short cut to terminating intimacy and engagement, and generally ending the interaction with hurt feelings, anger, frustration, or distance.
  • Interrupting people when they are talking is another short cut to terminating intimacy and engagement, and results in that person potentially feeling they lack value in the relationship.
    • And what a complicated and painful sideshow this one becomes with a disinhibiting brain injury – trust me on this. 😦
  • Mindfulness practices and actively being engaged – practicing putting myself ‘on pause’ to really hear someone else – take continuous practice, application of will and intention, and readiness to learn and improve and listen and practice… and repeat; and are totally worth the payout in better relationships.
  • The world does not revolve around me, and pursuing ‘being right’ over ‘being there’ results in being right more often… alone. LOL
  • Almost anything can be practiced, with the result of changed behavior, thinking, and implicit memory over time; it is important to choose wisely what we practice each day.

So, there it is. A few things I’ve observed about ‘the rules of engagement’ among human primates. I’m not expert… but it looks pretty simple from this vantage point. Today I will improve my experience by listening attentively without interrupting (practicing, practicing…), and by making eye contact with each person I am sharing conversation with. Today I will be mindful that we are each having our own experience, and that ‘the opposite of what I know is also true’, and avoid invalidating someone’s experience with dismissive or disagreeable remarks – or inattention. (Mockery is straight out; I don’t do that, it’s simply rude and unkind.) Today, as with so many days, practicing the practices is the investment I count on paying off over time.

What love looks like this morning.

What love looks like this morning.

If practice makes perfect…what are you perfecting today?

No, seriously, it’s not. I made a point of not reading the news, and the information gleaned from sensational headlines is sufficient to be certain of two very basic things: 1. the news remains firmly focused on all manner of very negative things – and making money – and 2. it’s neither novel, nor presented in a reliably neutral and factual way. There’s just no point filling my head with poison when I am putting so much attention into taking my experience a very different direction.

Simple and lovely.

Simple and lovely.

Beyond that, I’m just not well, tonight. I am feeling ill, probably with the latest ick going around the office, and I am in pain – the arthritis just isn’t letting up yet, and probably won’t until summer. Being sick, I also feel run down, cross, emotional, and fatigued…fussy and ‘out of sorts’ rather remarkably like a sick child. (That’s got to be annoying to be around… I tend to assume so… I don’t actually ask, and simply do my best to handle my care, myself.)

Tonight self-care involves chicken soup, and firmly insisting with myself on an appropriately nutritious meal, plenty of water to drink, and an early night. Yoga, meditation – all those good practices still have their moment, but I add simple extras tonight like being patient with myself; I am slower than usual. I take a moment to think simple tasks through more carefully to minimize mistakes; I can feel that my thinking is also slowed down. You know what isn’t slowed down at all? My emotions. One more good practice I am practicing tonight is to give myself a little space, and enjoying a relaxed evening taking care of me. I’m relaxed and content writing, meditating, and watching South Park, but emotional disinhibition can quickly derail an otherwise pleasant shared evening, and when I am not feeling well I am even more than usually vulnerable to that particular challenge; quiet solo time makes more sense.

Next, yoga, a shower…sleep. I would love to sleep through whatever has me feeling ill. If I wake feeling sick tomorrow, it will be a good day to practice the very best self-care.

Weird day. I don’t know that it could easily be called ‘good’ or ‘bad’; it was the sort of day that defies such simple judgments. Perhaps that’s best. This moment here is very pleasant and quiet.

Evening on the edge of spring.

Evening on the edge of spring.

I recently went to a yoga class at a nearby studio. I enjoyed it greatly, and it gave me some cool things to work on – one of them is balance. I’ve tended to skirt postures that test my balance ‘too much’ out of fear of falling. In the class I attended, balance was central theme of this particular teacher’s sequence that night. Simply balance. Simple balance; most of the time we were focused on simplicity and elegance, and none of the poses were notoriously difficult or fancy ones. I didn’t exactly excel, but it opened my eyes to the need to improve my balance.

I love a good metaphor.

Tonight I am treating myself gently, and enjoying the evening quietly. From this quiet chill vantage point, it’s even tempting to smile when I think of the day; there is a lot to appreciate. Balance doesn’t have to be fancy.

One lovely day...

One lovely day…

Yesterday was exceptional.

Change is. Impermanence is. Human beings are human. We are each having our own experience. Fantastic days sometimes end with unpleasant emotional moments. I still slept. I woke to the alarm having slept through the night, once I fell asleep. My morning shower featured plentiful hot water. My coffee tastes good. I’ve got some uninterrupted quiet time for myself; morning yoga and meditation mellow me out before my brain attacks me with reminders of the unpleasantness the night before. I roll with it; more meditation.

The title isn’t literal; I don’t know people who would treat me that way in a literal fashion. I think the experience of being welcomed, then rejected later is probably relatively common. It feels crap-tacular, because rejection feels bad, and nothing more.  Rejection just doesn’t feel good.  Rejection feels even worse at the hands of loved ones, or people from whom we have any expectation of being supported emotionally. Delivering rejection to another person, though, is a useful tool for maintaining personal boundaries… Rejection from the receiving end, however necessary it may seem to the person delivering the blow, packs a huge emotional punch; we reliably take a step back from being rejected. Whether the moment of rejection seems unimportant to one person or another  isn’t relevant to someone else’s experience of the same moment.  Handled well, rejection is something small and we move on secure in the long-standing affection of the person asking for some space, or declining an invitation, or withdrawing from an affectionate moment, because that rejection wasn’t threatening in any larger sense; it probably still stung a little, and we let it go.

Delivering rejection with gentle courtesy and receiving it with gracious perspective are not the same skills. (For what it’s worth, I’ll observe that I lack skills in both areas, and this is not a blog post written from a place of hurt; it is a morning to consider where further growth may take me.)

It’s the ‘handled badly’ moments of rejection that devastate me, more often than not: the terse or angry words, the unexpected rejection, or the abrupt withdrawal of affection. I don’t doubt at all that I am perceived as stronger than I truly am; I know how I feel on the inside when I feel rejected, and I seriously doubt anyone who loves me would want me to have that feeling.  I am also much stronger than I understand, myself, because as dreadful as rejection feels – it is totally survivable. It hurts most to be rejected when I am attached to being accepted as a measure of affection or support; but we are each having our own experience. It is unquestionably going to be true that not every moment will be shared with me, and that not every moment shared with me will be lovely, loving, pleasant, joyful, or satisfying. Some moments are not for me. Some moments are not pleasant for me. Some moments will be more pleasant to contemplate than to live out. Some moments will hurt far more than seems reasonable, and linger too long in my consciousness. They are still only moments. Like so many things about thinking and feeling, although the feelings associated with rejection suck completely, they are still merely emotions; there is chemistry involved…our thoughts are chosen, crafted, built and nurtured from within – and they have only whatever reality or truth that we give them, ourselves.

Being rejected does suck…what sucks most about it, for me, is that I followed the moment of rejection almost immediately by also rejecting myself.  I followed implicit blame from someone else with explicit self-directed blame. I built on that self-directed blame by tearing myself down, and followed that by refusing comfort from the person who rejected me… it was a terrible way to treat myself, and I don’t recommend it at all.

There’s more to consider; the underlying concern still troubles me, but I am not strong enough this morning to pursue it with clear thinking. It is what it is; sometimes ‘taking care of me’ means allowing myself time to get past something that hurts before considering it further. It is a choice that prevents me from becoming mired in a negative emotional experience; a serious risk for me, and one of my challenges with my TBI. (The PTSD and TBI do not play nicely together.)

Strangely relevant; I had a very powerful, positive, growth-directing, encouraging therapy session this week…I am already having to rest on those skills, and feel sad that timing has been such that there was no opportunity to celebrate them. Even the slightest attention on those hurt feelings rouses the lingering feeling of rejection lurking in the background waiting to attack me again (I admit that I feel unimportant that this thing that matters so much to me, personally, was of no interest or consequence whatsoever to anyone else in the household that day; there were other things going on, and we were each having our own experience).  So, yeah, today dealing with feelings of rejection seems important… It’s time to take another step on the path of emotional self-sufficiency, and to learn more about counting on being accepted and encouraged by me, myself, with such strength and reliability that no external rejection can really touch me. (Hey, that’s a goal – maybe a little over-reaching, but it’s a start.)

Perspective promises so much... there are still verbs involved.

Perspective promises so much… there are still verbs involved.

Today is a good day to understand that rejection does hurt; but it’s only a moment, and an emotion. We choose to react or respond, we choose how important we allow the moment to be, and we choose whether to inflict additional suffering on ourselves as a result of rejection. Today is a good day to allow rejection to direct our attention to someone else’s needs or boundaries, and understand rejection as ‘poorly handled boundary setting’ with compassion, and acceptance. Today is a good day not to take rejection personally. Today is a good day to change the perspective on rejection. Today is a good day to change my inner world.

The last of twilight is gone. The house is quiet. The aquarium lights are off. There is stillness within, and stillness surrounding me. For many minutes I sat, also still, soaking in the awareness of the quiet, the serenity, the gentleness of the moment itself – neither extraordinary, nor memorable – before turning to words. Those sorts of still moments are so easily missed; it seems wise to savor them when I can, so I sat wrapped in the stillness, breathing, calm, content…really, just enjoying it. Awake. Aware. Compassionate and not judging; observing attentively, present and engaged. Words. Frustratingly, the words don’t do the feeling justice, at all. I am tempted to hit ‘save draft’ and crash for the night… I am not ready for sleep.

Evening light

Evening light

There are more things to consider than things that truly need to be said…or… said by me. Perhaps, tonight, fewer words, and a few more minutes to consider the words already said? More stillness. Some handful of moments smiling in the darkness, this gentle pleasant now a small gift from me, to me – the tiniest down payment on a substantial debt I owe to myself.

Spring flowers and ice.

Spring flowers and ice, a mixed message.

Not even 300 words…but I’ve been writing for more than an hour, pretty continuously. I get so far, then…delete back to the last thing that said…something. Words are failing me this evening. I’m okay with that…and that’s mostly what I am saying; I’m okay. For now. Generally speaking. I feel a feeling of safety built on my own strength, lately. I practice a lot of practices to be here for myself. (I’m not bitching – I’m just saying it’s not a magical transformation born of some ‘aha!’ moment; I’ve been working at this.) It’s been worth it. Start somewhere. Start small. Don’t quit. Enjoy the small changes; eventually the changes don’t seem so small, after all.

It's hard to photograph birdsong...

It’s hard to photograph birdsong…

Oh, hey…Seriously? There’s no magic to any of this. I still have bad days. I still make mistakes. I still struggle with challenges that may not improve much more and require good-natured self-acceptance, a sense of humor, and the will to just keep at it (because change is). I still cry when I’m frustrated. I still feel angry when I am mistreated. It’s all very human; that part just doesn’t change. I think, right now, in this quiet still and very peaceful moment, it’s easy to look past all the hard stuff. It does take practice. There are verbs involved. (Your results may vary.)