Archives for posts with tag: seeing another sunrise

I’m eating oatmeal and drinking a fairly uninteresting cup of hotel coffee. I slept in – I mean, for me – rather a lot; I didn’t wake up until 06:30, just as day break hinted at a new-day-to-come on the eastern horizon beyond the hotel room balcony. I sigh contentedly. I don’t even like oatmeal. lol That’s not the point.

Afternoon view from the hotel balcony.

I arrived yesterday in the late afternoon and started getting settled in… set my phone down while I brought my bags and pastels in to the room, and missed some pings from my Traveling Partner (after he had rather abruptly told me to stop pinging him because he was trying to use the phone) and he called me, worried about the prolonged lack of reply. I was fine. Everything was fine. “Nothing to see here.”

An exchange of pleasant messages a short time later managed to become a stressful conversation about an irritating eBay purchase for which we’re waiting on a refund. The circumstances themselves are annoying, and I very much want to see those resolved satisfactorily, but I definitely wasn’t seeking out opportunities to be stressed the fuck out about anything, just then. At all. Regardless of relative importance or the amount of money involved… I’m not here for that, right now. I have been teetering on the edge of “see a professional” levels of exhaustion and just frankly overwhelmed by having to do every fucking thing, basically all the time. (I recognize that a great deal of that stress and overwhelming effort is “emotional labor” vs actual physical workload, and that I do get some help with some tasks around the house from the Anxious Adventurer.) I say something about it to my partner, and he reminds me that I don’t have to look at – or respond to – his pings in real-time every moment.

…I think back to the earlier phone call and wonder how true that really is…

…I honestly don’t like leaving him hanging, and don’t want to miss responding to something truly urgent…

…Adulting is hard…

…Then I set expectations (again) that I’m going to lay down (because I’m in pain) and I set my phone aside and do that.

I wake to the sunset.

I wake to the ringing phone. I hadn’t meant to sleep… “Definitely tired,” I think as I answer the phone. My Traveling Partner greets me with a loving tone and an apology (for being cranky earlier and stressing me out) – he called because he realized I was likely to crash hard and possibly sleep past the point I’d wisely pause for healthy calories. He was right. He generally is right, about most things he bothers with at all. I’m grateful. I go across the road to the food carts and get some tasty Indian food, a nice treat. We chat briefly when I return. He misses me. I get it – I miss him too. (and I also miss me.) I’m grateful to have a partner who supports me taking care of myself in this way…and we sometimes benefit from a chance to miss each other. Perspective.

I wasn’t up much longer last night than it took to “let dinner settle” (I don’t enjoy waking up to acid reflux, so I avoid going to bed on a full stomach). I ended up calling it a night at a more or less typical time (for me), after a pleasant shower.

I woke this morning, after “sleeping in”, to a lovely new day. The sound of sea birds on the bay. The sound of ocean waves beyond the channel. A view of day break and dawn yet to arrive. Lovely. I made oatmeal and hotel coffee; I have no need to rush around doing anything more than this. I’m here, now, making the most of an opportunity to rest. This is an endeavor that has a surprising number of verbs, itself, frankly – they’re just different verbs. lol

Time to begin again. It’s a new day.

My phone pings me an alert from the security camera; the Anxious Adventurer on his way to somewhere. I send him a quick good morning message, and ask if he remembered to make coffee for my Traveling Partner (I’m clearly not there to do that!). New habits, especially short-term, can be easily overlooked, and I truly need the backup on this – not checking in on it this first morning seemed unwise. This? Right here? This is one of the major drivers of my fatigue; I struggle with feeling responsible for “all the things”, almost all the time. It’s probably a trauma-based character flaw of some kind. I breathe, exhale, and relax – and let myself return to this place, and this moment.

I open the balcony door to let in the fresh ocean breeze. I sip my coffee and write. A little later, once there’s plentiful daylight and the delights of the sunrise have been savored from here, I’ll go walk on the beach, reflecting on life and love, and feeling life’s minutes tick by gently. Later still, I’ll return to the room with fresh coffee, properly made by some professional coffee-making establishment, and set up the pastels for a day of painting and creative musings, listening to love songs and sea breezes. G’damn I needed this restful time. I’ve been pushing myself so hard, and so little of that effort has anything at all to do with me. I don’t resent service to family, hearth, and home – it’s not that. I’m just tired. It’s been a lot, and I am one mere mortal woman with my own limitations. I can only do so much for everyone else, before I have to stop, just stop, and do something for me. Rest. Paint. Wander. Exist quietly for a time without external observations, however helpful – a moment to simply be. Now and then I need a couple days alone with the woman in the mirror.

…Then I can begin again.

I may be losing my hearing. I’m also still very “sound sensitive”. This seems like an incredibly cruel prank, and it’s hard to find the humor in it…but…I’m betting it’s there, somewhere, because this shit is too stupid, annoying, and also all too fucking real to be tragic, and I’m sick of it already. Irrelevant to the present moment, aside from the high-pitched whine and “static” in my ears all the time. (It seems much louder than it once was.) My Traveling Partner reminded me recently that it could be a byproduct of one or more of the medications I take. That’s it’s own annoying thing.

This morning is fine, though. I sigh and let go of my annoyance over the tinnitus and breathe. I woke on time, thought about resetting my alarm and sleeping longer, but wakefulness overtook me as quickly as the thought formed. The mild fever (probably caused by one of the vaccines I got on Sunday) that sent me to bed so early yesterday seemed to have broken during the second half of the night, sometime. I woke damp with sweat but feeling generally okay. It’s a new day.

Waiting for the sun.

New morning. New day. New opportunity to begin again. I breathe, exhale, and relax. The hint of chill in the air suggests a warm fleece and I am grateful to have left mine in the car. I put it on and feel more comfortable. I sit with my thoughts, waiting on the sunrise. Short walk today, maybe. I consider my energy level and the likely demands of the workday ahead. It was a good choice to take yesterday off. I definitely needed the rest.

I sit for a moment, quietly, wondering what I need today?

I take my morning meds, and sip my coffee. Cosmic jokes aside, it’s an ordinary day, likely to be filled with ordinary moments. I think about dinner, later… Can I reserve enough energy to cook a proper meal? I’d very much like to. There are so many careful choices to make between now and then, if that’s to be a thing. (When did it become so complicated?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Daybreak comes and I can see the trail sufficiently well to walk it (at least along the edge of the meadow and the vineyard), by the time I get to the denser trees along the creek bank, it’ll be past sunrise. I chuckle to myself; none of this requires planning or additional thought, this is a familiar trail, and a familiar experience. I only need to do the verbs. I change from my soft shoes to my boots and prepare to begin again.

It’s a new day. The sunrise has started. The trail ahead is revealed. The morning air is sweet with the scent of meadow grasses and wildflowers. The weather is pleasant and the temperature mild. It is, to be brief, a beautiful summer morning.

A new beginning.

I could have started down the trail earlier, but chose instead to sit quietly for a little while, enjoying this lovely moment. Worth it. It’s not that anything particularly noteworthy or interesting happened, quite the contrary; it’s just a pleasant quiet moment. Still, it’s been a very nice way to enjoy it, simply to sit quietly and be.

A lovely moment.

I put on my boots feeling relaxed, refreshed, and uplifted. The sunrise inspires me. Perhaps I will paint today, between loads of laundry? No grand agenda in mind, and the day ahead has no firm plan. It’s a long weekend, too, suitable for hanging out with my Traveling Partner and enjoying our precious all-to-brief mortal lives together. Maybe some gardening? I smile, feeling at ease and comfortable in my skin.

Breathe, exhale, relax.

I hit the trail happily with a goal in mind. 5 miles. Seems a good morning for it. The trail is not crowded yet. The sky flares boldly with shades of orange, peach, and pink, with hints of soft mauve and lavender. My mind visits my pastel box on the sly, recalling colors I have that would be useful to capture this colorful sunrise. I sigh contentedly and walk on.

So many colors, but can I capture a sunrise?

At the halfway point of my walk, I sit with my thoughts, looking out across the summer meadow. In winter, much of this broad meadow becomes marsh, and the migrating birds have it to themselves. I enjoy the view in all the seasons. I have not always been able to get this far down this trail. It’s very satisfying when I do, and worth stopping to enjoy the view – and the achievement. Someone else might not think this relatively modest success truly amounts to an “achievement”, I get it, but… I am living my experience, not theirs. lol

… Our small joys matter too, savor them!

I remind myself to be kind to people. I can’t really know what they might be going through, or how hard life is for them. It costs me nothing to be kind, it only requires consideration and practice. The “payoff” in goodwill (and a feeling of decency and civility) is very much worth the modest effort required.

I meditate for some little while, until I hear voices coming down the trail. I stand and stretch and prepare to finish my walk. The journey is the destination. It’s time to begin again.

I beat the sun to the trailhead this morning by a few minutes. The morning is dark and peaceful before daybreak. I wait for enough light to see the trail before I walk.

The distant glow of the human experience doesn’t cast enough light to see by.

Yesterday was good. We got a lot done (together, as a family). The whole weekend was busy and productive. I got most of what was on my list finished. I feel a certain sense of accomplishment from that. The work involved, in this case, was 100% to do with my Traveling Partner’s comfort and refinements and quality of life improvements to his personal space. Comfort, ease, and accessibility matter, and we all worked together to complete projects towards this end (some of which had been planned nearly four years ago). It was satisfying work.

I promised myself at the start of the weekend that I would make time for something creative and that I would do at least one thing for myself, that wasn’t any sort of common domestic chore. I managed to live up to that commitment to myself, late Sunday evening, finally, after my feet were too sore to keep standing on them. No new paintings, but I did open my pastel case and carefully placed new pastels into their places, enjoying the displayed colors and giving myself over to artistic contemplation for a little while before calling it a night. It’s not much, but it was time spent on my own needs, my own way. Enough.

… Daybreak comes, and soon enough light to walk the trail…

It gets light so much later now. I breathe in the cool morning air. Fall is coming. There may yet be some very hot days ahead, but the days are definitely getting shorter, the mornings cooler, and the season is changing. Noisy trucks crossing the parking lot headed towards the construction site on the other side remind me this is a work day. (Fucking hell, humans, do you really have to make so g’damned much noise all the fucking time?)

A new day, a new chance to begin again.

I get my boots on, grab my cane, and head out. A new day is dawning. In practical terms, I know where this trail I’m walking will lead me, but in metaphorical terms, the “trail” ahead of me is a mystery, unfolding ahead of me, each new moment truly new and only revealed to me as I live the moment. There’s a lot of comfort and delight in that notion (for me). No reason to anticipate disaster, chaos, or pain; the future is not known. No exceptions. I breathe, exhale, and relax and start down the trail, eyes wide with wonder.

There’s a low mist clinging to the ground over the meadow, near the river beyond the trees. The air is fresh and sweet, and for the moment the morning is quiet as the sunrise begins. It’s enough to live this gentle moment. It’s a good time to begin again.

This moment is enough.

Chilly morning. It’s near freezing this morning. The local trail I chose for my walk is slick with frost in places, and the air is crisp and quiet. The sunrise is gold and orange, with hints of deeper shades of red.  I’ve taken today off and for now my time is my own.

The colors of a new day.

I walk and think, until my steps bring me back to the car. I’m in quite a lot of pain this morning, which is annoying, but I’m managing in spite of it, so far. The sudden cold snap causes my arthritis to flare up. Nothing much to do about that besides complain and take something for it. It could be worse, and I am grateful that it isn’t.

…Funny how the many pretty little flowers that adorn the meadows and the ground beneath the oaks along this trail would be weeds in my garden…

I sigh quietly to myself. This headache is vexing me. I’m hoping it will diminish once the pain medication I took for my arthritis kicks in. I’d mutter something to myself about how much aging sucks, but I’ve had the osteoarthritis since I was about 25, and this particular headache for going on a decade. I remind myself, again, that it could for sure be so much worse. I take a breath and let my vexatious notions go as I exhale and relax. New day, new moment, new chance to begin again, eh?

I sit with my thoughts awhile longer, reflecting on my good fortune to have a partner who cares about my wellness and is supportive and kind, and careful with my feelings. He’s been very open to supporting my decision-making and goal-setting as I start new medication and reflect on changes I need to make to my diet and fitness plan. He knows it isn’t easy and doesn’t cast me as a villain, blame me, or nag or criticize me. He listens and offers suggestions when I ask for help or for his insights. So different than what either of us saw modeled by our parents. It’s a relief and I am appreciative and grateful.

…Changes do need to be made, though. There are no shortcuts or magic pills. I have to do my part. “Eat less and exercise ” is trite and basic, and probably a bit oversimplified, but… it’s trite and basic because it’s pretty foundational and reliably true, generally. It’s just how the biochemistry of our metabolism works. So, I am back to logging meals for a while, while I recalibrate my awareness of my calorie consumption and improve on the nutritional quality of what I eat. I’m back to weekly weigh-ins, holding myself accountable and staying aware of progress and setbacks. I’m back to pushing myself a little harder every week on the trail and at home to do a little more, go a little further and sit still a little less. It’s a journey. Like so many of life’s journeys, I have to walk my own mile, and I am my own cartographer. No shortcuts.

…If you’re thinking that Ozempic and other medications that may aid weight-loss for some people are somehow “shortcuts”, at all,  I gently suggest reconsidering that as a thinking error. How is medication for a medical condition any sort of “shortcut”? (And if you’re only taking or considering one of these new drugs so you can drop a couple pounds to soothe your vanity, maybe think about how that may reduce the availability of these drugs for people who actually need them.?)

Meh. Do you. I’m not your mom nor your babysitter. Maybe just don’t be an asshole to people who have challenges you don’t personally share?

The sun is up. It’s shining in my eyes, golden and bright. It’s a new day, a new moment, and there’s so much further to go. I guess it’s time to begin again.