Archives for posts with tag: relationships

Sipping my coffee, scrolling through my feeds, reading the posts of friends dropped into this app or that one, during the night. There is content that troubles me, and I see a lot of it; people posting vague remarks that are self-critical, negative, and on a hopeless sort of downer that shrieks of depression, self-loathing, and… a regrettable lack of understanding that there are, still, and yes, even if they are deeply depressed, some choices involved. Harsh. Why the ever-loving-fuck would someone repeatedly post this sort of quagmire of terribly self-contempt-filled morsels on which to feed themselves? Horrifying.

I don’t have to look too far in the past to “get it”. I only “don’t get it”, now. It’s one major drawback, for me, of healing and forward momentum; it can be hard to understand, or identify with, those past challenges. I guess I’m grateful for that, generally, but when I want to offer comfort, or suggest there is another way, I wish I were more easily able to do so. How do I tell someone in such circumstances “that’s just your opinion of yourself, and only for right now, and holy crap – did you know you can change that??”… when it is their own heartfelt convictions, and deepest terror, about themselves, that I’d be seeking to challenge? I mean, I can say words. Words I’ve got – lots of them – but, generally, these friends are not listening to those words. They hear the words they say, themselves, about the self they so loathe. Anything I could (and often do) say is drowned out in the din.

…It can be heartbreaking to scroll past egregious thinking errors that recognizably mire dear ones in misery. We each can only do so much. If a feeding frenzy of corrections, positivity, love, and encouragement, in response to such posts does nothing to bandage a wounded heart… what can? Well… being present helps. Listening deeply helps. Constancy and steady patient friendship helps. Eventually, though, it’s down to that person and those feelings. …And the verbs…? Yep. No surprise; they’ve got to do the verbs, themselves. No one else can actually undertake to do the work to feel better, aside from the person having the shitty experience – particularly if that shitty experience is one they’ve willfully crafted for themselves and reinforced over time.

Well… shit. That sucks. I’d love to be able to reach out a hand to a friend and take their pain away. Generally, it does not work like that. If I cling to them, wrapping myself up in their pain, eventually some may even sap my strength for living my own life, and caring for my own heart – and not out of malice, just done in a way not so dissimilar to someone overboard grabbing for a life vest or flotation device and just holding on desperately. So, I focus on self-care, and listening deeply, and sharing the journey, and “being there” – but I also work to set skillful boundaries, to be there for my own self, reliably, and to avoid getting sucked into drama. I do what I can to encourage friends who are suffering to choose less suffering, if they are able to. I still feel sad when I watch them choose suffering again and again, in a way that appears crafted and willful. My heart aches for them; I’m pretty sure that if they were able to really understand how much suffering they specifically choose, foster, nurture, and feed, they would also understand they could choose differently.

…I couldn’t treat myself differently until I both understood that such a thing were possible, and – but? – also not until I was ready to see myself differently, and as worthy of better treatment from myself. Harsh – but the truth of it is that I can’t walk that mile for anyone else. I can only suggest that there is such a path available to be walked.

It was a lovely quiet weekend, spent in the gentle good company of my traveling partner. Some snow fell. Some rain fell. Movies were watched. Content was shared – as was contentment. It was warm and connected and close. It feels good to share the company of such good companions: my Traveling Partner… and the woman in the mirror. It feels good to be in a place in life where my own good company is precious to me. I finish my coffee, wondering what words it takes to suggest to the worn down, forlorn, depressed, or anxious, that they, too, have this amazing relationship near at hand…? That perhaps the answer to the question “when will I find someone?” could be found in their mirror, right now?

The coffee is finished. It’s time to begin again. 🙂

I’m still getting used to living with my Traveling Partner again. I apparently forget to write… a lot. LOL Well… there’s some good writing archived here, in older posts, and a lovely reading list… I figure we’re good here, and the occasional miss isn’t likely to cause me (or, realistically, you) any real harm. 😉 I’m still adapting old routines into new routines. Still adjusting to small changes and differences in my day-to-day experience that are part of the new normal. Change is still a thing, and amusingly, remains a constant I can count on. 😀

Most mornings on which I leave for work without writing, I do so promising myself I’ll maybe write on my lunch break, or perhaps after work… then I work through my “lunch break”, head home, and spend a lovely intimate connected evening of partnership, love, and joy, and forget all about it. I wake, notice I didn’t write, and overlook it again. lol I smirk at myself and sip my coffee; it takes me some time.

The city. The snow falling.

I left work early, yesterday, and finished the day from home. It was snowing pretty steadily.

The view from home, still snowing.

It snowed yesterday, all day and into the evening. It didn’t start sticking until later in the afternoon, and although it snowed rather a lot, and the flakes stuck, some, there’s very little cause for concern this morning, and the road in front of my house is only wet, not icy or covered in snow. I could work from home… but it doesn’t seem necessary at all. I sip my coffee and consider which makes more sense today… It’s very nice to have that choice. I take a moment to appreciate that, and seek to begin the day with gratitude.

Ups, downs, complicated plot twists, choices, actions, consequences, circumstances; all of it seems to require the same things of me. All of it requires that I adapt, that I adjust, and that I change – or make changes. Living life is very much about the verbs; there is effort involved, even in refraining from making an effort. There are choices involved, even in refusing to choose. We change, whether we choose change, or whether change chooses us.

I pause my writing, finish my coffee, and meditate. I return to the writing.

I woke ahead of the alarm, and got up expecting it to be a work from home day, but… it doesn’t really look like that’s necessary at all. 🙂 I like the downtown location of my new job, and enjoying a couple hours surrounded by the urban buzz of downtown activity is still enjoyable, for now. The views from the 9th floor windows are still enticing. The convenience of the location still exciting. Besides… the views! Yesterday I began taking advantage of close-to-work parking on the other side of the river (less costly, still provides the convenience of having a shorter commute, puts a lovely walk into my commute) by walking from the parking location, over the bridge, and through the downtown business blocks to the office. It’s not a long walk, less than a mile, actually, and quite pleasant. The distance isn’t a goal, or a limitation, it’s only an observation. 🙂 I find myself noticing I am eager to repeat that experience, and hopeful that the walkway across the bridge is not icy. Eagerness? Huh…

…Eagerness, specifically, is one of the first things I lose in life, when I am depressed, or unhappy, or stricken with anhedonia or ennui, and even when I am stressed out, or overwhelmed, or feeling weighed down with obligations, deadlines, and responsibilities. Eagerness may be a signpost of emotional wellness, for me… I had not previously considered that… had I? I sit with that for a few moments, and decide to make the commute into the office, for the pleasure of enjoying the walk. 🙂 The morning feels mild, when I step outside to reality check my notion against the real-life feel of the morning.

I’m eager to begin again. 🙂

I woke a bit ahead of the alarm. S’ok. I’m feeling better than I did when I left work Friday. I’m even up to going to work. I’m definitely feeling better, and even “over it”.

My Traveling Partner took care of me, cooking and keeping things on track around the house, while I was sick for what had remained of Friday, all of Saturday, and a bit of Sunday. By evening I was feeling okay. I even look back on it as a “lovely weekend”. 🙂 Definitely a quiet one, filled with rest and nurturing. Lovely.

Here it is already Monday. Already so much to do, to plan, to consider, to get done… I could borrow all that for this moment, and fret endlessly about things I don’t even have to deal with yet. I don’t, though. I sip my coffee, read the news with considerable care and being particular about where it comes from, and go through my email. I meditate. I relax. This time is my own. It is quiet, and I am here, now. 🙂

In a few moments, I’ll finish my coffee, without remorse or resentment for the day and week to come; it’s a time for work, and new beginnings, and change. “Nothing to see here” – this is life, being lived. At present, that feels splendid, and I take time to fully appreciate and savor this good moment, without any attachment to it, or any expectation that it is any more durable than any other moment; moments pass. That’s okay, too. I sit with the moment, present, aware, and fully immersed in it, built of it, observing blending with experiencing. Standing in my own footsteps without any yearning or discontent.

I smile and sip my coffee.

I breathe.

Relax.

I begin again.

This morning feels a bit like emotionally squinting into the full measure of mid-day sunshine, as I sip my coffee quietly, letting myself wake up to face the new day. The coffee is good. I’ve got butterflies in my tummy, like an excited kid. This morning, I choose to interpret these physical feelings as excitement. In other moments, perhaps I’d see it as anxiety; they feel too similar to me, and sometimes I just confuse them.

How many such firsts will I experience in life? First days. First dates. New jobs. New destinations. This very specific experience of excitement and quiet tension is one of firsts. Change. Not just that roller coaster of experiences of change that is, itself, the living of life; this is the experience of choosing change, choosing to “really go for it”, and staring directly into that process, and participating with my entire will, unified in a single purpose. Exciting barely describes it. I feel a tad breathless and wild-eyed around the edges.

Meditation helped.

I’ve checked my laptop backpack too many times, already. It has in it what it needs for the day; the laptop, a book, my kindle, an ink pen, a notepad. It matches the purse I’d purchased for the start of my last job, and the weekend bag I had purchased when I began traveling regularly to see my Traveling Partner. I feel so grown up. lol Delight fills my moment. I add it to the excitement. I try to also maintain some small amount of focus on a couple of errands I need to run after work. I sip my coffee and wonder when that will be?

New day. New beginning. New verbs. Old sweater. lol That’s fine; it’s a favorite, and it’s enough. Mustn’t lose sight of the exquisite value of sufficiency and perspective as I start down a new path; what has mattered so much, matters still. 🙂

It’s just time to begin again. 😀

I’m sipping my coffee and marveling, a little awestruck, but not in any pleasant way, really, at the quantity of posts, reposts, and shares in my feed that are seriously… emo. Like… bleak. Self-denigrating. Depressed. Blue. Despairing. So many of these are also coming from friends and associates I understand to be lovely people, from the perspective of my experience of them as individuals, in some cases gifted, warm-hearted, and thoroughly promising samples of what humanity is capable of, which… is weird. People who simultaneously appear to be on a journey of growth and improvement, and also appear to be mired in negative assumptions and self-loathing. That’s a lot to take over a cup of coffee on a Saturday morning. (Personally, I’d rather not have to wade through all that suffering; I’d rather have brunch.)

I find myself wanting to answer each such post. To correct the thinking errors. To correct the mis-assumptions. To fact-check. To lift people up, by giving them tools to prevent themselves from drowning in their own bullshit. It’s not that easy, is it? A lot of people are ever so carefully crafting that experience. Building the narrative that supports it, with great care. Seeking emotional support and feedback from others who will nurture the suffering – instead of nurturing that human being who is their friend. Drama creeps in from the edges pretty quickly. I breathe. Let each one go. That is my own challenge; to refrain from reacting to each new outrageous self-deceit posted by a friend. Sometimes, attempting to correct these things only reinforces them by way of repetition and sharing. (See? We have learned something from social media!)

For fuck’s sake, people, try not to hate yourselves. Let go of hating each other, too. Try to assume positive intent. Oh, I know, you’ve been hurt – or soaked up the residual lessons resulting from the hurts your parents and community perceive, invent, or celebrate. (Quick aside for the white people in the room; no, this doesn’t get us off the hook for being aware of our privilege, or make it okay to shrug off generations of abuses delivered to others, or in any way defend the heinous institutions and practices that have held back our brothers and sisters of color. You’ll want to let that go, too – real wrongs definitely do need to be made right, and I am calling bullshit on racism, sexism, and xenophobia, just in general.) It’s time to let go of treating yourself like shit. That’s what I’m saying.

If nothing else, don’t be a dick. Not to yourself. Not to other people. Not – perhaps especially not – because you think it’s “just a joke”. When the humor comes at the expense of someone else’s injury, it’s not funny. If you’re laughing at other people’s pain, maybe spend some money on therapy instead? Sort that shit out. Why do I care? Because when we treat ourselves poorly, mock others for our amusement, and allow the world to strip away our humanity, we create a shitty experience for everyone involved. Why does it even have to be like that? Truth: it doesn’t. We can each choose differently.

My friends are all – each and every one – so special to me. I see your charm, your wit, your heart. I enjoy your merry laughter, your presence, and your forward momentum in life. I worry when you are in distress. I celebrate when you triumph over adversity. I celebrate your milestones. Your self-loathing? I’m betting neither of us really benefit from that. Maybe consider letting that go? You are so worthy. ❤

Really? You only need to begin again. Like, but a whole lot of times, probably, and yeah, it’s a slow transformation. It’s there for you, though. So am I.

It’s a journey with a lot of stairs to climb…