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Reflections

August 3, 2026 //
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The morning feels chilly on the trail as daybreak comes. The forecast says the day will be hot. My short sleeves manage to feel like a poor choice for the moment, right now.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

The weekend was pretty amazing. Not easy, not comfortable, not entirely peaceful or joyful, but certainly heartfelt, deeply connected and meaningful. A necessary step on a long journey together, I suppose. Weirdly, I am missing my Traveling Partner intensely this morning, though he is no further away than home. Funny how subjective our emotions and perception of reality can be. We really are each having our own experience.

I’m thinking about one detail of the weekend that matters greatly to me. For context, many years ago, living in Germany, I bought an RC car kit. I was excited about it. It was a very detailed kit that required me to build it more or less entirely from a box of parts. When it was built it was amazing and ran beautifully! I was so excited. My then-husband helped me a bit with some of the electrical pieces I didn’t understand, but in general seemed not exactly uninterested, but watchful. Very little time passed before he stomped my car to pieces in a fit of rage. I only got to drive it once. Since then I haven’t considered RC cars as a hobby. I pushed the whole issue – car, enthusiasm, trauma, tears, and lingering baggage left behind – into a tiny box in a dark corner of my mind and memory, and marked it “do not open”.

… This weekend I opened the box…

More specifically, my Traveling Partner did, without planning to. It started some weeks ago with him buying me a drone and sharing time together learning and taking the TRUST test to safely and legally fly recreationally. It started with the first time I flew my drone – and realized quickly that I’m maybe not personally ideally suited for hobbies that include actual flight. (A combination of neck pain, poor eyesight, and cognitive limitations that make remembering all the many rules and restrictions difficult make flying difficult, nothing tragic.) I said something about having once had an RC car, and quickly realized my mistake; the box was open. I tried to close it up again, only to find myself standing in a big pile of stinking rotting baggage that had to be cleaned up at long last.

The way out is through. It was one more bit of trauma to work through. I like cars. I like driving. I like the fun and delight of miniatures. I like tinkering with small machines. My Traveling Partner gently forced the issue into the open. We talked. I gave up my drone with an emotionally difficult admission that my interest in flying a drone was more about loving him and sharing the time and fun with him. I admitted I prefer cars. He was encouraging and supportive and even pointing out that we could still enjoy that fun together; him flying, me driving.

I know there will still be reflections of past trauma to heal and old baggage to unpack… but I’ve taken a big step. I watched numerous videos with my beloved. We talked cars for hours and looked at videos. He likes cars, too, and has a love of, and affinity for, machines generally. So many choices. We looked at all kinds of RC cars in a variety of scales and styles. I found one car that really captivated me. Again and again, it turned up in moments of “ooh!”, “ah!”, and “wow!”. He talked about driving to the hobby store together and I was an eager yes. At some point he gently asked if I might find value in going alone, and independently making my choice and purchase, having settled on a budget (he has an astute sense of such things and reliably takes steps to support my autonomy and emotional wellness). I definitely knew which car I wanted. Calling the shop had confirmed they had one. I admitted I’d enjoy going by myself. He assured me he had work he needed to get done and kissed me sweetly, all love, before I left.

Zoom zoom.

… I have an RC car. I drove it that very evening after charging the batteries. She’s super cute and crazy fast (even on the lowest speed I was blown away by how fast she zips along). I stared a piece of profound emotional damage in the face and said, at long last, “you have no power over me”, and meant it. That’s a powerful step on this journey.

… and I even got the laundry done…

I smile as the sun rises, thinking about life, love, drones and RC cars. I think about beginnings. I think about the next time I get to drive – maybe after work today? I think about building a display diorama to park my car in when I’m not driving her. 😆 I breathe, exhale, and relax, grateful for this partnership and the beautiful weekend of deep connection and heartfelt conversations. I forget, momentarily, that it is Monday.

There was more to the weekend and to the work and changes that will come out of it, but this is representative of the character of the weekend generally. Loving partners working honestly through a variety of issues together in a meaningful loving way. Beautiful.

I sit smiling in the summer sunshine filled with gratitude, contentment, and love. It’s a nice beginning to a new week. August already? The clock is ticking. I get to my feet to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, grief, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Milestone

May 1, 2026 //
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Today is my anniversary with my Traveling Partner; 16 years together, a bit more, and 15 married. As long-term relationships go, it’s not exactly “a lifetime” – I’ve had to try a few times to “get it right”. This anniversary is a major milestone for a minor reason; it is my longest long-term relationship.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

My next longest long-term relationships (14 years together, never actually married, and another that was 14 years married, but only 10 of those together) were problematic extensions of traumatizing models of “family life” I’d dearly like to erase from memory, but for the fact that my path through the chaos and damage eventually brought me here. I wouldn’t change a moment if it might mean missing out on the love I’ve found with my Traveling Partner.

“Communion” 2010

So here I am, walking as the sun rises, smiling and hearing love songs in my head. We have dinner plans tonight, and I’m excited about that. I haven’t gotten him a gift. I don’t know how to give a gift worthy of a love like this one on the limited budget I would have. Dinner together at the best restaurant in the area seems fitting. (His idea, which tickles me so much.)

“Contemplation” 12″ x 16″ acrylic and iron oxide. August 2011

Is love “enough”? I walk and think about that question and find myself answering “enough for what?” before shrugging off the question as irrelevant to my lived experience of love and loving. Love is love. Questions of sufficiency seem to lead down a path of price tags and comparisons and cost/benefit analysis, and that seems foolish. Love doesn’t have to be “enough” to fulfill some other purpose, it is enough to experience love, ever. I get to my halfway point, still smiling and feeling lighthearted. It’s a beautiful morning, and I am fortunate to be in love.

“Cherry Blossoms” 2011

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Meditation is difficult this morning. I fidget like a child in church, restless, excited. My mind wanders (don’t forget to pick up your Rx, don’t forget your manicure appointment, don’t forget to double-check the grocery list and stop by the store…). S’ok. It’s a very human experience. Most people don’t notice my brain damage; little glitches in the background, unusual difficulties with communication, oddball “quirks” that are actually coping mechanisms for getting around “thinking holes” and shit that just doesn’t work the way it should. I’m used to it, mostly. I’ve improved a lot over the years (so much). My Traveling Partner sees more of it than most people – and manages to be kind, loving, and generally very supportive, without succumbing to the potential temptation to exploit me to his advantage. (Not true in previous relationships, one of which apparently had exploitation as it’s specific purpose.) I feel safe and loved, which is pretty wonderful for this busted up weird human primate doing her best to figure life out, I must say. 😆

A token of affection. Love on a chain. The only heart-shaped locket I have ever owned.

I sigh contentedly, even happily. It’s a beautiful morning and I feel loved. I watch the sun light the vineyards along this trail. Such a beautiful moment. I sit here awhile longer. I have some errands to run before I return home to my beloved. I feel fortunate and merry, and supremely pleased to have taken the day off (and grateful to have had that option). Love makes it a beautiful day to be alive.

I smile and breathe the sweetly fragrant Spring breeze. I let the clock tick on (how could I even stop it?), soon enough it will be time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Can We Not, Please?

February 12, 2026 //
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I get to the halfway point of this predawn trail walk a bit out of breath, feet, ankles and knees aching from my needlessly aggressive stride. I stop, grateful for the convenient bench. I remind myself to breathe, to exhale, to relax, and too refrain from allowing other people’s drama to camp out in my head rent free.

… Let it go, I remind myself…

I have no idea what woke the household. I thought my Traveling Partner woke me as he got up, more specifically one single cough woke me. I rolled over and went back to sleep. Some time later, I woke again. It sounded like my beloved was really having a rough time, and struggling to breathe. I got up and dressed, surprised to find the hall bathroom occupied as I left the bedroom. The Anxious Adventurer was up, too. Very strange – he’s rarely up so early. I use the other bathroom, and before I finish getting ready for the day, I hear my Traveling Partner’s raised voice, swearing, frustrated and angry over not being able to breathe, and then an assortment of slammed doors.

To avoid becoming triggered and then having to deal with that shit all day, I depart quickly, wishing my beloved a good day as I exit. I’m still deeply irritated at the lack of consideration and the disrespect in the door slamming, but haven’t yet addressed it directly with the household; I’m still seething and I would prefer to approach things clearheaded. Later.

“Now” is mine. It’s peaceful and quiet on the trail this morning. The setting moon was an amber sliver, curved and beautiful, gone from view now. The night sky is dark. My tinnitus is loud in my ears, but the world seems quiet. It is an illusion, of course. Human primates haven’t figured out peace as a species. We slam doors and yell, we drop bombs and commit genocides, we murder people over the language they speak, the god they worship, or the color of their skin. Human beings know little of peace. We tend to put more effort into being angry. It’s a shame. We could do better.

We could start small, perhaps… stop yelling, stop slamming doors, stop taking a tone of righteous anger, and instead take a fucking breath and a step back to gain perspective. Stop feeding our inner demons. Engage each other in a reasonable measured tone. Ask clarifying questions. Assume positive intent. Behave with decorum, because it is a choice and we have the will to be the person we most want to be. I say it… but my words are unlikely to change your behavior. You’re walking your own path, same as I am walking mine. So… I’ll work on that, myself, because it matters to me. I too need practice. I’m very human.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, sitting here in the darkness. I reclaim my peace. Feels good. The work day stretches ahead of me, soon enough but not now. I pull my attention back to this moment right here. It’s a chilly morning, but above freezing, and I’m warmly dressed. My fingers are cold, from writing. I’m not concerned; I’ll warm up when I resume walking.

I sit awhile with my thoughts. This bit of solitude each morning is a big piece of my self-care. It is too cold for camping (for me) just yet, and I’ve been feeling seriously “over” dealing with people, lately. Like, at all. I could use a few days alone with my pastels, disconnected from my devices. I sigh to myself. I’d love those few days to be at home, but it doesn’t seem likely, or even reasonable under current circumstances. G’damn, though, we’re going on six years in this little house and I’ve never been alone in my own home for more than a few hours. I breathe in deeply, and exhale slowly, thoroughly, letting go of my resentment with my breath. It’s not personal, just circumstances. I let it go. I have these solitary mornings, and they go a long way toward meeting this need for solitude.

I’ve got a three day weekend ahead… maybe I’ll do something with that? I chuckle to myself. Like the roses and herbs in my garden, I find myself behaving as though Spring is imminent. It probably isn’t. Still, I’m glad I spent time in the garden after work yesterday, pruning and weeding. I didn’t get a lot done, but it was soul-satisfying work. The days are getting longer, and the afternoons are warm enough to comfortably work outside, when it isn’t raining. It’s enough.

I sigh again, mildly vexed by this headache that seems to have become a constant companion over the past 13 years now. I swallow my morning medication, dry, and look down the trail. Nautical dawn arrives, and enough light to see the skyline and horizon, and make out the trail without a headlamp. I stretch and get ready to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, War and News of War, winter, women, Words

Sleep

February 9, 2026 //
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My sleep used to be much worse than it is these days. I’m certain the CPAP machine helps (although wearing the mask and the experience of continuous positive air pressure are somewhat unpleasant and took getting used to). Sometimes my sleep is still of poor quality for one reason or another. Sometimes it’s just not enough sleep to feel rested. Sometimes I’m plagued by nightmares. This morning I’m faced with insufficient sleep of poor quality, due to interruptions (noise mostly).

I reliably wake up ridiculously early. Generally at 04:30, probably a lasting byproduct of early mornings in the military, construction, and long commutes for morning shifts of various sort. It requires days of leisure time without an alarm being set to boost my chance at “sleeping in”, and I rarely do. When my Traveling Partner and I were developing our friendship, he had encouraged me to take control of one factor I definitely could control to improve how much sleep I got; my bedtime. He suggested I go to bed earlier, based on when I wake and how much sleep I need (back then I was often up until midnight or later, still up early). It was advice that made a lot of difference for me. I go to bed pretty early as a result, rarely later than 21:00. (He has said, now and then, that he’d enjoy my company and would like me to stay up later, but not only do I still wake up early, I also deal often with interrupted sleep. Going to bed early is my only reliable chance at enough rest.)

Why am I on about sleep and sleep quality this morning? I didn’t sleep well last night, and didn’t get enough rest for the day ahead. It’s occupying my thoughts.

This morning I’m tired. So tired. It was after 21:00 before I went to sleep last night. I woke around 01:50, got up to pee and went back to bed, eventually falling sleep again. Sometime shortly after three, my Traveling Partner woke me. He couldn’t sleep, and was having difficulty breathing. He goes to the living room, wakeful and irritable. I try to return to sleep. Not much success. Every time I start to drift off, another noise wakes me, again. A cough. My partner trying to clear his throat or his sinuses.  The scrape of a chair along the floor. His frustration and sometimes panic feel palpable.

I definitely need more than four and a half hours of sleep, and I keep trying. I’m startled from a sound-but-too-brief moment of sleep by a firm hand knocking at the Anxious Adventurer’s adjacent bedroom door, and my partner’s irritated inquiry. I groan quietly and turn over and try sleep once more.

I drifted in and out of a restless sleep from the time my Traveling Partner woke me until the clock read 05:00 a couple hours later. My head aches. My eyeballs feel gritty and dry. I want literally nothing to do with other people, at all. At least not right now. I dress and leave the house. I don’t feel like walking, either. I just want to be alone with my irritation for awhile. I swing through a local coffee chain for too many shots of espresso over ice, black. Fuck Monday. I’m so not ready for this.

My Traveling Partner had returned to bed as I was leaving for the morning. I hope he gets back to sleep and gets some healthy rest. I get no second chances on a work day. I sigh to myself. It’s not his fault he’s having difficulty sleeping (or breathing).

I’ve set clear healthy reasonable boundaries about my sleep and not waking me if I’m sleeping, unless I’ve asked to be wakened (which I almost never do; I know how to use an alarm clock). I respect the sleep of others. Somehow I have still found myself in partnerships in which my partner(s) have found some justification for waking me, under one circumstance or another (and in some past relationships often). There’s rarely any sort of actual emergency that requires my attention, more that someone “wants a word” or to ask a question, or share a complaint. This frustrates the shit out of me, because it’s already difficult enough to get the rest I need.

Where caregiving or real emergencies are concerned, of course I roll my ass out of bed and do the needful without complaint. Everything else, I try to look past my fatigue and irritation to understand what is going on that might push a person to undermine someone else’s very necessary rest, and I try to be a compassionate and understanding partner, family member, or friend. This morning I’m having to fight through more annoyance than usual; I stayed up later last night to hang out with my Traveling Partner awhile longer, and I’m paying for it with lack of sleep. It feels “unfair”, but it isn’t really about that, and it’s definitely not personal. I made a choice. Just damned annoying that this is the outcome.

… I’m so fucking tired…

It’s been many days since I slept deeply through the night and woke feeling rested. I remind myself that it could be worse. I once endured more than a decade of sleep so poor I counted it a good night if I got even two hours of unbroken sleep, and rarely slept more than four hours total in a night. This is not that.

A new day will dawn. We can begin again.

I sit quietly at a local trailhead, listening to rain tapping the roof of my Traveling Partner’s truck. It’s comfortable and warm, and I am alone with my thoughts and my coffee. I definitely don’t feel like dealing with people right now. I’m tired, headachey, and irritable. Unfit for company. It’s too early for work. I don’t feel like walking.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and focus on sorting myself out to face the day ahead. Soon enough I’ll have to begin again. I’ll do my best. It will have to be enough.

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Categories breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter, women

Relatively Speaking

February 4, 2026 //
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It’s nice to find a moment of beauty in trying times. I took a picture of a lovely sunrise moment the other day. Yesterday? The day before? It does nothing to capture the context, an empty fallow field, not suited to sports or play, uneven and treacherous to walk, with a well-used “fitness trail” wrapping around it like a muddy ribbon. In full daylight, it’s not an especially beautiful or enticing location. This picture though? A beautiful sunrise, captured to inspire me far longer than standing there in person in some other moment could.

Is it a beautiful sunrise, or an unkempt empty lot?

Reality is what it is, but what we each understand reality to be is very much a completely other thing, mostly made up in our heads. We’re each having our own experience. We understand the world filtered through the lens of our own experience and whatever useful perspective we may have adopted (or been trained upon) over a lifetime. Human primates appear to be creatures capable of reason, and great depth of understanding…but we’re also shortsighted, emotional, and prone to self-delusion. We use words carelessly (and sometimes aggressively) and we walk away from a great many interactions with a very different understanding of what was said than others involved.

I had a powerful reminder of how easily human communication goes quite wrong in spite of good intentions. I recently asked the Anxious Adventurer to share his “move out plan” with us, hoping to have a better idea of his hoped for timing, target dates for various commonplace milestones in any move, and knowledge of his general plan and how far along he is with all of it. This felt very routine to me; we’re looking at an April move, most likely, and that puts things in the upcoming 90 days.

… Communication is complicated…

The Anxious Adventurer misunderstood me to mean “get the fuck out as soon as possible and tell me how you are going to do that”, although I don’t think my words or tone suggested that. I can only imagine the stress that caused him! I didn’t notice how my request hit him. My Traveling Partner spotted something amiss, but it wasn’t clear what. The Anxious Adventurer, a “millennial” by generation, kept his feelings to himself, and struggled alone without asking any clarifying questions. Obviously less than ideal all around. Hopefully an educational experience for each of us.

Once the miscommunication was revealed, we sorted it out and talked over the basic plan. I guess the short lesson is use your words with care and clarity, ask questions, and make a point of defining terms and assessing the quality of a shared understanding. Like that picture of a lovely sunrise looking out across an unkempt empty field strewn with obstacles and litter, what we think we understand may not be all there is to know – or even accurate to circumstances. Fact checking, testing assumptions, and asking clarifying questions are basic communication. As I said, communication – good communication – can be complicated. Certainly it requires practice.

…It does tend to begin with speaking the fuck up when clarity and shared understanding are lost…

(Sometimes we just don’t know we didn’t understand, or failed to communicate clearly.)

I sigh to myself, sitting at my halfway point on a local trail shortly before daybreak. I enjoy writing in the stillness and quiet before the day begins. A new day feels filled with promise and hope. I savor this quiet moment before a new work day gets going. I sit with my thoughts awhile. The work day will come soon enough. This moment here, now, is mine.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the waning moon slowly setting. I’ll begin again a little later.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, Logic & Reason, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter, Words
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