Archives for posts with tag: ptsd
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The Swing of the Pendulum

November 13, 2013 //
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I woke crying, at 3:00 am. Not loud frightened sobbing, as from a nightmare, just fat wet tears rolling hot and plentifully down my cheeks. My thoughts were empty, my emotions breaking against the stony silence as I considered them. A year ago, a wake up call like that one would have doomed the day, without question. I’d have fought myself for hours, before turning my emotional weapons of mass destruction on any hapless lover who wandered past with a good morning on their lips.

This morning it felt very natural to reach for new tools as I might reach for a tissue, calmly, practically, and without second guessing their utility. A few good deep breaths, a couple of yoga postures I know calm me pretty easily. I ‘made room’ for my emotions; understanding they are part of my experience, I experienced them.  When anger and resentment began to surge from beneath the sad tears, I made room for them, too.  Without delivering the additional blow to my heart of harsh self-criticism, or icy refusal to be compassionate toward myself, my strong emotions didn’t linger. As they began to dissipate, a clearer sense of discontent developed.  I observed my wiley – and highly skilled – brain attempt to position the feelings as being somehow indicative of something more significant than the moment. It felt okay to say to myself “well, maybe, but it’s 4:00 am, and I’m barely awake – why would I act on a feeling like that now?”

In the night I had somehow managed to travel from calm optimism about today, to a sense of resentment, anger, disappointment, foreboding… and as I observed each emotion develop, break against the calm shore of my observation, and fade, I became aware that some of the emotions didn’t seem the slightest bit connected to any ‘real’ factual experience or circumstance at all, while others did. I was feeling feelings – and feeling feelings about the feelings I was feeling, as well as feeling feelings about feeling feelings about the feelings I was feeling.  I almost laughed out loud in the shower. The moment of bewilderment and humor gave me a precious gift – perspective.

A brief good morning in passing with a dear one was a needed moment of connection with a consciousness not my own. “You’re up early.” “Yeah, since 3. Just woke up, couldn’t go back to sleep.” It was enough. “I’ve had a restless night, too.” He sympathized.  A human moment. A connection. A shared experience.  He went back to bed. I put on earrings. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror I recognized more than my own face – I recognized that for whatever reason, I had awakened feeling lonely. Even that simple shared moment in passing was enough to restore my feeling of connection.  I made a coffee, took time to meditate from a more wholesome place, and sitting down to write the morning finds me calm.  (No, at 3:00 am I did not know this would be the outcome.)

It’s relevant to what I observed last night about my experience. Changes. I am in less of a state of emotional disarray, generally speaking.  I guess that makes 2013 a huge ‘life success’. Funny to wake up in tears and in less than 3 hours be feeling not just calm, but actually pleased to be where I am with myself. lol.  What a nice place to be.

Looking forward to the dawn.

Looking forward to the dawn.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights

Share the Pain? Share the Joy.

November 12, 2013 //
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Tonight is quiet. I hurt. My arthritis isn’t playing around this year. I wonder grimly if it will ‘always be this way’. One deep breath later, I look across the room at sweet love made real and magnificent…well, actually he’s just chilling there, playing a game online, in his own head-space.  Yep, a quiet night. I feel pretty content – aside from the pain.

I realize it has been days since I wrote and I ask myself “is this why I felt so cognitively ‘crowded’ and overwhelmed this afternoon?” A couple more deep breaths. A pleasant voice from downstairs asks if I would like a cup of tea, and I realize that tea sounds nice. Yep. A very quiet night indeed.  Soon it’ll be a cup of tea, Dave Matthews Band playing in the background reminding me that it’s funny the way it is, or that change starts with one step – and of course, I might die trying. lol. I feel relaxed and playful – aside from the pain.

I am calmly considering a handful of interactions the past few days that taken singly say nothing much about life, change, or forward progress, but when I consider them together, a trajectory appears, a pattern develops. I feel… something. Something new and good and I like it, but I don’t know how to share it. I can’t quite verbalize this something that feels… so…

It’s a quiet evening, at home with family, reading, writing, gaming. Listening to music. Living. In this moment it is as if there is no pain; the pain is not the important thing.

Tonight I’ll relax until the clock reminds me that 5:00 am comes early, sleep until the alarm goes off, perhaps, and begin another new day.  I wonder what it holds? More questions? More choices. I am looking forward to my experience.

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Metaphors, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Words

A Very Special Day

November 8, 2013 //
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As I sit here, feet up, hot cup of tea on the table next to me, basking in the commonplace comforts of home and hearth: indoor plumbing, clean drinking water, a home warm against autumn chill, a nutritious breakfast, electricity, efficiency improving appliances, clean dry clothes, internet access… I realize how very special every bit of that actually is. How luxurious. How extraordinary! I have the added luxury of good employment – I am neither exploited nor abused to earn my living, and I have leisure time I can count on.  I can comfortably spend this morning on yoga, meditation, study, and enjoy the quiet contentment of nourishing my heart and soul, of healing, of growing, of learning, in a safe and secure space, quiet and uninterrupted.  It seems very worthwhile to extend a few moments of real appreciation for all of it, to stop for a minute and make time for gratitude.

Gratitude is a pretty big deal. Thanksgiving is coming, and it is so easy to get caught up in the hustle of planning and shopping, so easy to get swept up in a moment of emotional turmoil over some small stressor, or challenge, or inconvenience, and forget about the thanks implied by the holiday we celebrate. So easy, actually, that experiencing everyday gratitude for everyday wonders often falls by the wayside in the flow of everyday life.  Delights and comforts are enjoyed but unnoticed, sampled but not shared, and entirely taken for granted, day after day.

This morning I am taking a different approach and enjoying my morning, even the everyday bits, with eyes wide, and immersed in the wonders of modern comforts and luxuries as though they are new. Taking notice, experiencing appreciation and gratitude, and slowing down the clock. I am contrasting my relatively luxurious experience now, with other times, other experiences; my life hasn’t always been one of everyday comfort, or everyday luxury.

I started the morning with a cup of tea, rather than a latte. I measured out the tea itself, loose, enjoying the fragrance of the dried leaves, and bits of lemongrass and dried citrus. Smiling at the recollection of the day I bought the tea, and the conversation with the gentleman minding the shop, I boiled water, first warming my cup, then preparing the tea. I watched the clock for four minutes, contemplating the clock itself, and the incredible step forward measuring time meant for humanity, and the simple convenience of having a timepiece in the kitchen.  The morning conversation as one partner headed for sleep after a night out, and another prepared for the work day, was cordial and practical.

Soon enough the house was quiet. A light breakfast presented a nice opportunity to consider the conveniences of store-bought bread, cured meat, and artisan cheese. The advances of humankind from its dawn to its present day are considerable, and many of my favorites are every day experiences: stores, bread, preserved foods like cured meats, jams, pickles, dried fruit. These aren’t even new things, but each individually represents some human being at some prior moment taking a step forward and making life better for every one of us in some fashion, if we have access to that product or service or experience.

I made another cup of tea, treasuring my experience of choice.  I have options – even with a simple cup of tea. Green or black? Sweetened? With cream? Iced or hot? Dainty porcelain cup with a history, or a robust mug chosen at a discount store because the words delighted me? My everyday life is even filled with choices of this sort. Options.

I spent time meditating, unmeasured time. The luxury of being able to capture, and measure time is pretty amazing, and we build a lot of our world on it, with the result sometimes being that it feels like time is in very short supply.  I am finding that when I also indulge the luxury of not measuring time, of not limiting it, time seems to slow down, to become more plentiful. The clock advised me after-the-fact that I had spent 37 minutes meditating. It felt like ‘just the right amount of time’, however it was measured.

I enjoyed my yoga practice on a different level. This too, I slowed down. Each pose its own moment, its own experience, and bringing as much mindful attention to the feel of it, to my breathing, to my balance, as I comfortably could. Stopping to review details on a new posture now and then, and enjoying the luxury of comfort and quiet. Calm. Content. Strong. Centered. These are not words I have had many opportunities to apply to my own experience, over the course of a turbulent life. I enjoy each moment awake and aware.

Now I chill and, feet up and my cup of tea near at hand, I write a few words. I observe. I feel. I consider. I find myself taking a moment of gratitude and appreciation for the friends and family that nurture me, and enrich my experience.

Gratitude feels lovely every precious day – and every day is precious.  Today I am practicing gratitude. Thanksgiving is coming; it’s always good to practice what we want to be good at. 😀

Practicing gratitude is like photographing mushrooms at dawn. I took scores of pictures of them, and although only one picture celebrates the experience, every picture I took was an experience worth having.

Practicing gratitude is like photographing mushrooms at dawn. I took scores of pictures of them, and although only one picture celebrates the experience, every picture I took was an experience worth having.

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Categories Art, autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Words

Just This Moment

November 7, 2013 //
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There’s only this moment, and I am quiet, still, and content. I’m listening to my heart resonate with someone else’s words this morning, words about love. ‘About’? Words that try to capture the nature and experience, the feel of love – are those ‘about’ love? What is love? There are hundreds, thousands, millions maybe, of love songs – do they describe love, document it, preserve it for others? It’s like sharing ‘spiritual growth’, or ‘happiness’, isn’t it? Always an attempt, rarely successful – or so it seems to me.

Since I was a ‘tween, I’ve longed to ‘be the woman men write love songs about’. Odd sort of thing to want, I guess. Wanting is part of my human experience, I suppose it as a obvious a thing to desire as any other. I didn’t know what I meant, until I realized that I have it. I realized it… yesterday? This morning? Sometime last week? It hasn’t been very long.  There was just this very still moment, connecting with a lover’s experience of me, when it hit me – I am loved. I am loved in that extraordinary and passionate way. Loved by poets, loved by artists, loved by craftspeople, artisans, engineers, soldiers, musicians, writers, philosophers… across the years I have been loved – and turned love away unrecognized because I did not love.

In this place in my life I know love. I love. I am loved in return. I am even in the embrace of one of those soul-shaking loves that leaves an impression, a glow, a look that lingers and that is visible to the world… which is a little odd and naked feeling sometimes. I’m not sure how I  missed it, and I smile for a moment thinking of other loves, other stories of romance, and the smile becomes a broad contented grin – all delight and no reservations.  Love is amazing stuff – and that this love does not write songs about it is no remark on the intensity of it.  It’s a good day to awaken to that awareness and hold love dear, in all its power.

Hormone Hell can be a dark corridor with a new nightmare or irritation behind every door, but it can also be a window into places in my heart that are usually far from view. This morning I know love. I am love.  How’s that for being ’emotional’? 😉

Thank you, Love. Thank you for walking with me, thank you for helping me change the world. 😀

Sometimes words aren't enough.

Sometimes words aren’t enough.

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Categories autumn, Brain Injury, Free Will, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Words

You Know It Ain’t Easy…

November 6, 2013 //
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…You know how hard it can be…”  Thanks, John.

This morning sucks more than a little bit. Well, for the moment. It’s nice to have a steady reliable understanding these days that moments are just that – momentary. Thank you, Mr-Therapist, Sir, and thank you Jon Kabat-Zinn, Andy Puddicombe, Russ Harris, Brene Brown and Timber Hawkeye. Thank you thousands of years of meditation, decades of hippies, and one loving partner with more willingness to try than seems human.

This morning still sucks. Welcome to Hormone Hell. Fuck I want to be done with this! I’m tired of feeling frustrated by,  and ashamed of, being female because men who matter to me have their own struggles and challenges with what it is to live with and love women. Thanks, Dad, I definitely owe you one there.

I’m doing my best to ride the wave, allow myself room for my emotions (frustration, hurt, anger, resentment, and just enough yearning for intimacy and closeness to set my teeth on edge because it isn’t easy).  A few good deep breaths sounds easier than it feels. My chest feels tight, and the tears waiting to fall are making me angry – it still feels like a weakness to cry ‘for no reason’. It’s hard to allow myself the self-compassion to understand that ‘reason’ isn’t what drives tears.

My coffee is growing cold. With an interesting measure of spitefulness directed inward, I punish myself by petulantly allowing it, observing that choice with a measure of wonder, and some tiny bit of humor lurking in the background, because it is an empty gesture affecting no one but me.

This is about as close as I get to a good solid rant these days. lol. The breathing thing, as simple as that seems, really helps and just a bit less than 300 words later, I find myself growing calm again. No tantrum today, just some lingering sadness. i feel vaguely as if I am ‘just not what he’s looking for’. What an incredibly ugly feeling to have about someone who loves me so much. This is a morning when I would very much like to tell being female to fuck right off.

I woke in a pretty good mood. I’m regularly frustrated and challenged by how volatile my mood can be. That volatility, at other points in my life, has resulted in some incredibly poor decision-making, and real desperation to find balance and peace, decades of wasted time in therapy that wasn’t effective, years spent on medications of one sort of another intended to ameliorate some particular symptom, even hardcore psych meds – all because hormones on top of PTSD added to a TBI is a difficult experience to manage.  Hell, I’ve had PMS so severe that I was actually a threat to people living with me, other times so severe I actually felt suicidal.  That’s not okay. I sit here trying to make sense of that and I feel my feminist rage rise up inside myself – what about me, Medical Science? I want to make someone listen! Why don’t we matter more?  You’d think as popular for relationships as women are, that someone would give a shit about helping us be well and whole and comfortable in and with our experience as beings. It’s disappointing to me that I’m 50 and there’s still no real progress to speak of in understanding or improving women’s experience of themselves as sexual hormonal beings, or improving our place in the world.

Oh, hey, there’s that rant. I guess I’ve still got it in me. Push the right lever, a pellet pops out. God damn it.

I’m still a student of life, of love, of the world… and it is making a difference in my experience, every day.  Over months it has grown difficult to be provoked to aggression or confrontation, and I rarely trap myself in always/never thinking, or spiraling internal arguments where my hurt feeds the fallacy, which drives the hurt.  It is a pleasant change, and a morning like this affords me a good opportunity to see the changes within.  So, okay, in the process I am human.  I am human.

So are my lovers, and they can only take what they can take.  That seems not only obvious, but reasonable. I’m still sad to be alone right now, and that will pass.  I often choose solitude over difficult interactions, myself, and I understand walking away from tension.  Love is strange stuff.  I take care of me with deep calming breaths, with a few thoughtful words, some mindful observations, and gentle reality checks.  Before more than a few minutes pass, my heart is serene, and my compassion is for my lover.  I still feel a current of sadness tugging at my heart, but now it is for the price he pays, as much as for my own challenges and regrets.  It isn’t easy. Love is so worth all of it – but it isn’t easy.  We choose love.  It isn’t a choice we only make once.  That is the nature of commitment, not simply that it isn’t a one-time choice, but that it is worth choosing again and again.

That latte is definitely cold now. That’s okay.  It’s a small price to find that still calm place in my heart.

Today is a whole new experience. I hope I choose wisely. Today I am kind. Today I love well, and with my whole heart. Today I am compassionate.  Today I will change the world… or…at least my morning. 😀

I have come so far from this place.

I have come so far from this place.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Love, Menopause, Mindfulness, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Turning 50, women, Words
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