Archives for posts with tag: ptsd

Looks like another lovely summer day. We still have family visiting, and I am happily awaiting my new laptop, so carefully shopped for. (Correct my grammar in your head if it soothes you. I actually talk the way I write, generally… Or perhaps more accurately, I write the way I talk. lol)

I have a day in town today, sightseeing with my step-son and his love. It’s a great day for it. It’s still days away from having real cognitive space, and the time, to write, think, or take a few deep breaths. Life feels very busy right now, and I am very aware of my limitations.

Still a lovely summer day, and life feels good. I’ll share some garden flowers with you and be on my way. 🙂

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Sometimes a sunny day is enough.

Sometimes a sunny day is enough.

Days go by…saying so makes me think of the song by that name, but it isn’t relevant.   Time spent with family, time spent on love, time…spent.  I’m nearly there, myself. I’m tired.  I very much want to take real time to write. Really write; to think, and muse, and contemplate, to reflect, analyze, wonder…to communicate and to understand.  The time is not now, but just in case you are missing me… I’m not gone, I’m just doing ‘now‘ right now, and there is too  much of that to write about it.

So, perhaps sooner than later, I will sit down at a new, faster laptop, in a quiet place, with a tranquil heart, and I will write about life, and love, and men of 20, and fathers and sons.   Until then… living, loving… and hey, yeah, painting – I finally painted the first canvases in our home together.  3 new pieces – one as yet unfinished.  I am even spending time on painting – by far one of the most worthwhile ways to spend my time. 😀

"Summer Flowers" 16" x 20" acrylic on canvas with glow. 2013

“Summer Flowers” 16″ x 20″ acrylic on canvas with glow. 2013

 

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It’s a lovely overcast Thursday, a chill morning of pleasantries and catching up – we have family visiting from afar. 😀  A quick trip to the local market for breakfast sorts of provisions of more variety than we usually keep on hand makes the morning feel special. I love fresh figs, English muffins, hot lattes, Greek yogurt…and the charming company of our visiting son and his girlfriend and the fun of seeing the world anew, through their eyes.  What a good day so far.

Even the garden seems particularly lovely, in passing, as I go to and from the store.

'Graham Thomas' on an overcast summer morning.

‘Graham Thomas’ on an overcast summer morning.

The ordinary joys of life and love, of family and business, of the world and of the home; today these are more than enough, they are substantial and precious.

Tomorrow is Friday; therapy, errands, and more visiting with family. It’s going to be an eventful weekend and I’m eager to live it. There may be very few opportunities to write with any attention…I expect I’ll likely find myself wondering where the days have gone by Monday morning, and whether I can manage a few minutes to write over my lunch, in the office, during the week. lol

Observing life with pleasure, and not feeling much chaos and damage…let’s see where the weekend takes me!

I’m having an unusually chill morning, without it being overly cheery.  I feel good, comfortable, reasonably balanced and satisfied with the day…only… there’s this undercurrent of…something else. Something sort of… a yearning for… more.

I put what little news I am still inclined to read aside before I got further than headlines, this morning, while I sipped my latte. Really there was no point continuing. I almost immediately felt that I was ‘being set up’ for an argument I didn’t care to have.  I ended it quite efficiently, and rather abruptly, when my consciousness replied with a firm ‘Who says?’ in response to headline after headline. I am clearly in no mood to be pressured by the news makers to think what they want me to think – and since I’ve no reason to be persuaded that the writers of ‘the news’ are any more expert than I am, myself, at reading some small number of purported facts and coming to an ill-informed conclusion, I think I’ll just go with my own. Some small amount of real research regularly reinforces my suspicion that most of ‘the news’ is not at all ‘news worthy’, and in fact is often well-crafted deceit masquerading as information. I’m skipping it today. Why? Because I said so. 😀

The other thing is the mildest taste of impending autumn in the morning air. We still have summer ahead of us, but this morning the temperature wasn’t quite summer, and the smell of watered lawns and dampened leaves hinted at cooler weather in months ahead.  It tends to find me a little nostalgic for things that have been… autumn is generally my ‘favorite season’. So many lovely autumn memories…

…crisp colorful leaves whispering shiff-shiff under my feet as I walk along a the lakeside path, and around through the trees on new route to work…

…a warm dry towel in the arms of a lover, as I arrived home from work on a rainy day…

…unexpected espresso and chocolates after a cold windy walk home on a day when I was feeling cross with the world…

…sleeping in and making love on a stormy November Sunday, listening to the wind howl around the eaves from the safety of my lover’s arms…

…picking out furniture in a new apartment, and the fun of making a home for the holidays happen out of boxes and packing materials…

…sharing tales of past misadventure with a dear friend, and seeing shared experience reflected back from his loving eyes, and laughing with him, or being astonished, as I listen to his tales, words shared between lovers in the security of total trust…

…watching the wind toss the trees from behind a glass patio door, from my lover’s warm embrace, listening to soft words of passion and love, and watching the rain fall, and feeling the irresistible pull of love…

There’s just something about autumn…I’m already yearning for it.  Thinking of love, thinking of romance, thinking of the sorts of day-dreamy wonders and delights that make my heart thump eagerly, wanting more.   I’m not so complicated; I enjoy love, loving, being loved in return.

If only I knew more, better, words to communicate my love… maybe in time for autumn?

...thinking of love, sipping on coffee.

…thinking of love, sipping on coffee.

 

The morning was lovely; calm, centered, friendly conversation between lovers, practical and affectionate, supportive and tender. My day starts very well, today. It feels wonderful, and comfortable.

As I walk to work I find myself thinking of what is comfortable, and what is not; recognizing as I walk that some of the most uncomfortable things are on our path to growth. This is not an original thought. It has been pointed out to me by teachers of great wisdom, as well as by very wise teachers, and the most humble of friends, too. Struggle is part of our human experience, as are change, and ideally, growth. I’m thinking about these things because yesterday sucked on a level of sucking that was both remarkable, and tediously, unforgivably, like an oft-watched re-run; in spite of knowing all the dialogue, and the eventual outcome, it plays out from the moment the opening theme is played, until the last name listed in the credits rolls by, and the commercial break begins, simply because I do not choose to change the channel. I could be angry with myself, this morning, because it was what it was. I am choosing differently, and hoping that the choice makes a change.

I observe as I walk that my jeans, are very comfortable – and worn. They drag the ground a bit, and the hems have frayed completely away at my heels. They are spattered here and there with paint, and worn in places from specific work, or play. They no longer fit, having become too large as I close in on my weight and fitness goals. My shirt, too, is soft and comfortable, worn and broken-in, as favorite things so often are. It is also too big now. I feel relaxed in my clothes – they barely embrace me, due to the loose fit and I feel somehow very free. I continue to contemplate what is comfortable, and as I muse about my comfortable clothes that do not fit, tears begin to fall while I walk, and I am thinking about other things that no longer fit, however comfortable they may be; out of date coping mechanisms, long-since toppled poor assumptions, defense strategies to protect me from attacks that don’t happen in this life (or this partnership), a personal narrative based on what is ‘acceptable’ rather than ‘what is’, misplaced commitment to values I didn’t actually choose, or no longer share…other things, too, but these are obvious and I’m still not finished with my coffee. My tears fall as I walk, and I consider how much there is that ‘doesn’t fit anymore’ and what to do about that…recognizing that what will fit nicely in the future may not be very comfortable initially. I think of a favorite pair of combat boots from some lifetime before this one. I trudged along uncomfortably for many days, and uncountable miles, before those boots felt comfortable…I wonder if growing up feels that way, too? Will I ever be ‘a proper grown up’? Will my broken brain allow that, or will there always be bits and pieces that don’t quite fit, and things that don’t quite work?

Comfort…discomfort…change…continuation… I admit to a bit of fear and confusion. I would like to have a map, a Sherpa  a firm plan that leads neatly from starting point to destination… instead I find myself quite alive, and life seems to be rather chaotic and messy, and all sorts of trial and error, and damned little certainty. So, instead, I am determined in my studies of life and love, and hoping to learn the formula for turning discomfort to comfort, and fear to wonder…finding life’s ‘comfortable jeans’ would be a nice thing…to feel ‘free’…

some metaphor about growth...

some metaphor about growth…

Yesterday is behind me, completed, filed, available for later review. Today is an entirely new experience.