Archives for posts with tag: self-care

I’m feeling better. I wake up ahead of my alarm, but a glance at the time and I realize I’ve also slept in, having left my alarm reset for a later time from yesterday. Win? I enjoy waking up without an alarm. I also enjoy sleeping in. It’s a small thing, but a nice start to the day.

I don’t bother looking at the news. I can easily manage the day without alarmist bullshit (that hasn’t factually changed in days) generated by the media outrage machinery (now with AI slop). Not now. Not this morning. Not today. I think I’ll begin the weekend without that.

I set off down the trail in the predawn darkness, feeling merry.

Every journey begins somewhere. Sometimes we take our first step on a new path in the dark.

My steps crunch along the paved section of the trail as I trod the fallen leaves. The path is dry this morning. The darkness is chilly. A cold autumn morning, this morning; I’m grateful for my heavy sweater and my fleece over that. It’s about time to consider pulling my gloves, scarf, and knitted hat from my gear bin in the back of the car. I grin to myself feeling the satisfaction of being prepared. Life doesn’t always make being prepared particularly convenient or easy, but at least I can be ready for the weather.

I take a seat at my halfway point. The bench is cold beneath me. I begin to feel the chill straight away. Winter is coming.

I think about recent conversations with my Traveling Partner about what is within our control as individuals, and perspective for managing stress. He makes it clear how deeply he cares for me; it truly matters to my beloved that I have every possible tool to manage my anxiety and PTSD readily at hand. I feel grateful for this partnership and very fortunate to be so loved.

My first husband wanted to possess me, like a trinket or a Barbie doll. My next significant long-term relationship was different; he wanted to control me, as though I were a puppet or a sex doll. A third (and my shortest) long-term partner only wanted to use me and take what I had. My Traveling Partner loves me, and wants to enjoy me as a person, as a woman, a friend, and a partner. It feels very different. I sit with my love and gratitude for some little while. Feeling my breath, in… out…, in… out…, The moment feels splendidly indefinite. I prolong my joy simply by savoring the feeling itself. Nothing complicated. I hold my focus on this quiet joy and feeling of being loved, and sit with it awhile. It is a pleasant start to this Friday morning.

I think about friends, both near and far away. I’m fortunate to have a handful of really good friends of the sort I could count on if things were dire. I’ve got quite a few more that I wouldn’t want to impose upon, but can count on for a great time together most any occasion. I think about dear friends awhile longer. I don’t see them enough. I think about what it takes to change that.

My Traveling Partner pings me a good morning greeting, and my plan for the day shifts to account for things he also needs out of the day. I look at the time and get to my feet. It’s already time to begin again.

… This just in from The Department of The Map Is Not The World, and endorsed by The Society for Unnecessary Complications, I find myself waiting for the university library to open, working from my laptop, in the parking lot, instead of working from home. Not sure it’s tale-worthy at all, just saying, may as well go ahead and embrace impermanence and get started practicing non-attachment. Our plans don’t always work out. Our results may vary. Now it’s definitely time to begin again, again, and work on salvaging the day. It’s fine, I’ve just got to be adaptable and resilient. I practice all the time, and we do become what we practice.

The work day ended gently, and it’s been productive. which surprises me. The morning passed pretty quickly, but the minutes became prolonged and tedious as the afternoon began, and by 13:00 I was definitely aware that I’m ill. The headache that seemed to have diminished during the night is very much back. My sinuses feel weirdly dry and irritated, in spite of my drippy nose. I finally noticed that I had forgotten to remove my shoes after running a brief errand… then still managed to forget about them entirely until some minutes ago. I ache all over, although the chills and sweats seem to be over with. I’m “tired” – but not the healthy tiredness of the end of a long day at hard work, nor the anticipated tiredness of bedtime. Just feeling generally rundown. The malaise of illness seems so utterly mundane. But…

…I’m okay for nearly all values of “okay”, presently, in spite of being sick. It’s just a headcold. Pretty commonplace, and very ordinary. Hell, it’s that time of year, anyway, eh? I sigh, and let that go. It’s not really worth bitching about, and I’m snug at home and cared for…

My Traveling Partner asks me, every so often, if I’m feeling better. I mean… mostly? Sort of. Some? A little bit? As with the way I often answer questions, the answer isn’t helpful at all, and fails to communicate anything worth knowing. It’s a challenge I deal with often, and I know it frustrates people. What frustrates me is how often people who know I have brain damage either completely forget that there are some very specific things that result from that (which affect communication in some cases) that I can’t reliably do much about, or behave as though it is as simple as doing things differently. Practicing doing some particular thing in some very particular way can be helpful over time, but (most especially) when my executive function and communication impairments are most severe (like, when I’m sick, or deeply fatigued), there’s often damned little I can actually do about it in any practical way. I just have to deal with the experience of struggling to communicate, when it happens. Frustrating all around.

I take a break with my Traveling Partner. He’s working on a project in the shop. He’s having his own experience with frustration and shares details with me. He offers to show me something he’s working on, or something to do with the thing frustrating him. I’m aware that I’m too sick to be sharp enough to appreciate and value the experience, putting us both at risk of still more frustration – so I decline in favor of more self-care, and maybe laying down for awhile. This fucking headache is kicking my ass, and has now partnered with my “everyday headache” to bring real oomph to my headache experience. I sigh to myself, alone in this comfortable space. My headache is not eased by whatever the fuck that low frequency whine outside is. A leaf-blower? A distant train engine idling on a siding? One of those vacuum or carpet cleaning trucks over at the apartment complex on the other side of the creek? It could be any number of things. One thing it definitely is, is incredibly irritating and I’ve got a fucking headache. I snarl quietly to myself, then remind myself it isn’t personal, at all. It’s just noise.

…This headache, though…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m not at risk of death. I’m not headed to the ER. I’m not immobilized. I’ve got a headcold. Some random virus going around the community at the start of flu season caught up to me. I could have rolled d20 and predicted the outcome, most likely. Annoyingly mundane and not at all interesting. (Sorry.)

I sit quietly for a moment, appreciating the other details. The good stuff. I pull my focus back to this moment, this relationship, this little house situated between town and farm. There’s a lot to be grateful for. I’m grateful that the Anxious Adventurer is willing to make dinner, and that I had ingredients on hand to make that relatively easy on him. I’m grateful to have the means to quickly go to the pharmacy for cold remedies, and the freedom to do so at my convenience, even on a work day. I’m grateful that I can afford to do so, without worrying about trade-offs. I’m grateful for the good quality well-roasted sustainably sourced fair trade coffee beans from which I made my morning coffee. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to make that choice. I’m grateful to have become the kind of person who cares about the other human beings in the supply chain for the things I want or need in life, and the sort who makes choices that are informed by that caring nature. I’m grateful to recognize my relative privilege in life, in spite of the tough times I’ve endured along the way. I’m grateful for the computer that sits here on my desk; my Traveling Partner built it with my needs in mind, and it suits me so well! I’m grateful to be so well-loved by such a very interesting and delightful human being, one that I love so well. I’m grateful that my problems in life aren’t worse than they are – and that I am aware of my good fortune.

…Even when I’m sick, a few minutes of sincere gratitude is a powerful mood-lifter…

When I’m sick, my emotions are often very much “at the surface” of my awareness. This puts me at risk of losing my temper, or weeping over nonsense. In addition to those risks, though, it also puts me in touch with the softer subtler emotions, the little joys, the childlike delight over something that sparkles, the pure radiant happiness of a hug. It’s a weird time. I’m tired, but energized and restless. I’m volatile, but capable of beautiful moments of great joy, love, and delight. I’m kind of stupid, but barely matters because I’m also feeling accepted and safe and cared-for. Being human is peculiarly complicated. Nuanced. I try not to take it personally. If things go sideways, I know I’m loved anyway. I smile to myself and finish my tea. The work day is behind me. I can begin again tomorrow – for now, I’ll just take care of myself.

I had high hopes that my hearing aids might somehow improve my tinnitus. That hasn’t been the case, although it is sometimes less distracting, since I can more easily focus on real sounds in my environment, being able to hear them more clearly. It’s something, but it’s not a solution to the tinnitus, which is vexing me a bit this morning. In the predawn darkness on the trail, I hear my footsteps, my breathing, and my tinnitus.

I sigh to myself and keep on walking.

The news is grim and stupid to the point of seeming surreal. It’s as if The Onion is in charge of the news… only, this crap is entirely real. I mean, for most values of real. (Sometimes it is hard to be certain what “real” even is, with AI slop becoming heavily featured.) What did we think would happen as businesses (including media companies) lay off human beings in favor of (apparently) cheaper AI bots and “agents” taking the place of human beings with actual creativity, discernment, judgement, and comprehension? The demand for news and information is still there, and it looks like a notable portion of the news consuming public will settle for sponsored content and clickbait slideshows as an adequate substitute. So grotesque.

I keep walking.

Grocery prices are way up, while the president says explicitly that they are down. This entire administration seems to be one long tedious string of actual fact-checkable blatant shameless falsehoods. Lies. Like, “look straight into the camera, smile, and lie” levels of disregard for truth or factual accuracy. I’m not sure which bothers me most, the childishly obvious lying, or the personal attacks in lieu of reasoned discussion. Sarcasm, mockery, and name-calling used to seem beneath the dignity and character of our leaders… but someone let schoolyard bullies take seats of power. Stupid. Stressful. I keep finding myself wondering if we truly are living the decline and fall of America. That would be such a shame.

I keep walking.

The pavement is wet. It rained during the night. I wonder how many people in my own community spent the rainy night outdoors, who will wake up hungry this morning and instead of a fresh cup of coffee and a job to get to, spend a cold morning trying to find resources. Shelter. A hot meal. A means of being clean, warm, dry, and safe. Where will they go? What would I do if it were me?

I keep walking.

I notice, this morning, that my readership is way up. Like, almost ridiculously so. If you’re a new reader, welcome. I laugh to myself. The things I write are not the sort likely to drive a ton of new views, generally. I’m not naive enough to imagine I’ve suddenly become wildly popular with a broad audience. It’s more likely to be bots and non-human traffic. (I once saw readership spike when a particular post was used as an example of something in someone’s curriculum. Things like that happen now and then.) Still, if you are a human primate who happened upon my blog, you are very welcome. Enjoy.

I get to my halfway point and stop to write. The morning is dark and quiet, chilly and damp, but not actually raining. It’s a workday, and I expect a busy one. I sigh and let that go. I don’t need to be thinking about work right now, this moment is mine. I don’t have to think about “the world”, either, not right now, and I let that go, too. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and let concerns about money, civil rights, personal freedoms, genocide, aging, AI, and the future of humankind, fall away, and I pull my focus to this quiet moment right here. Here, now, generally speaking, things (for me) are mostly fine. I’m okay for most values of okay. The bills are paid. The pantry is stocked. There’s a payday coming. The gas tank is half full. I’m wearing warm, dry, clean clothing appropriate for the weather. Hell, I’m even in a pretty good mood, if a bit world-weary and disappointed in humanity.

I sit with my gratitude awhile, wishing very much I could share this moment with my Granny, my Dear Friend, or even my Dad – all people who spent some considerable time in their lives worrying over me. I’m okay. Took a long g’damned time to get here, but I’m here, now, and I’m okay. I fill my lungs with the chilly autumn morning air and exhale slowly, emptying my mind of stressful things as the vapor of my breath mingles with the autumn mist.

G’damn, my tinnitus is loud this morning.

Daybreak comes later each morning, this time of year. “No point waiting,” I think to myself. I sit a little while longer, watching the stars and looking for even a hint of the dawn to come. It’s not yet time. For a moment I wonder whimsically (if a bit grimly) whether the sun will rise at all. How would I behave if one morning it just… didn’t? That would certainly change the relative importance of some of the bullshit going on in the world, wouldn’t it?

I sit with my thoughts, and my breath, trying to make sense of things. It is a favorite endeavor of human primates to try and “figure things out”. I hear an old familiar voice in my memory, “you can’t figure out crazy”. Still true. I sigh and get to my feet. It’s time to walk on. It is time to begin again.

Metaphorically or in life, sometimes it is going to rain. Pretty much a certainty, actually, that at some point we’re going to get rained on as we journey life’s path. lol This morning the rain is quite literal. The weather forecast suggests it will lighten up enough to enjoy my walk sometime very soon, so I take a few minutes to write, and wait.

…I won’t be writing on the trail this morning, too wet…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I slept well, and took yesterday pretty easy. I’m glad I did, and I am grateful to have had my Traveling Partner’s encouragement. I feel more rested, and my body feels more recovered from the previous week. It’s quite nice to take the weekend off for real, instead of swapping one sort of work for another.

Don’t forget to take breaks! Make that time for yourself even when life feels “too busy”. This fragile vessel needs that care from us, even while we’re caring for others. These finite mortal lives deserve our attention. The payoff is worth it.

I sigh contentedly, listening to the rain and watching daybreak come. I even slept in this morning. Feels good. I feel good. Another day of luxurious rest, and I’ll definitely be ready to begin again. 😀 I hear the raindrops slow down, and stop… I’m ready.

I woke later than usual. It was almost 05:00 when I woke. I felt rested and positively merry. I dressed to head out for my morning trek down the marsh trail that circles the nature park.

As I checked the weather, and the time, I see I’ve got a message from my beloved Traveling Partner. The love and concern in his words is clear. He suggests I keep my walk short, maybe local, and proposes I maybe stay home entirely and get my miles on the elliptical, while watching a favorite show. He proposes that we could do something together, later, an idea that appeals to me. I feel loved. I sit with that feeling for a moment, letting it fill my consciousness.

The idea of a shorter walk and better self-care is a tempting idea, for sure, I admit. I really like being out on the trail, though, enjoying the short quiet interval of solitude… and my walks at the nature park put me nearby a favorite grocery store, and I generally stop there after my walk on a Saturday morning… The temperature is mild… I head out, remembering my commitment to one of the grocery checkers to share some items my Traveling Partner made, and deciding to keep my walk short, any way.

The drive to the nature park was quiet. No traffic. I enjoyed it, smiling to myself as I drove with my thoughts, grateful for my loving partner who cares about my well-being, and for the lovely morning. Before I reach the nature park, it begins to rain, first just a sprinkle, then as I reach the trailhead parking, a proper steady rain. I grimace, and laugh, betting my Traveling Partner had checked the weather report more closely than I had.

Now I sit, waiting for a break in the rain. I’m unbothered and relaxed. Hadn’t I already decided to make my walk a shorter one, anyway? No stress. No agitation. Just change. I breathe, exhale, and relax, listening to the rain on the roof of the car.

At its heart, resilience is simply that ability to bounce back in the face of change, uncertainty, emotional disregulation, or even trauma. Resilience needs development, as with things like muscular strength. Specific practices build resilience. Meditation, as a practice, helps build resilience. The practice of “taking in the good” is another that directly builds resilience. Forgiveness, as a practice, is another that contributes to resilience, by limiting how long our hurt feelings or injuries inflicted by another can dominate our thoughts. Practicing non-attachment and embracing related ideas such as impermanence, sufficiency, and building depth and breadth into our perspective on life, generally, are helpful for building resilience.

What’s it good for, though (resilience, I mean)? Why do I put so much value on it? Partly due to this; it improves pain management results.

Resilience let’s us bounce back and carry on, without becoming mired in our pain, sorrow, or anger. Resilience is that quality that gets us quickly past a difficult moment, and on to enjoying the next. Well-established resilience, over time, may become the difference between having some troubling mental health episode or meltdown, and simply acknowledging a difficult experience, dealing with it, and moving on with things calmly. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty good to me.

…So I practice…

Sometimes, I fall short of my commitment to one practice or another, but that’s also why I see such things as practices in the first place, instead of tasks to be checked off as completed, or skills to be mastered. Mastery is inconsequential. Practice is ongoing. It is a doing that doesn’t really finish. Each practice with real world value in my lived experience becomes a lifestyle change, over time. Each practice becomes part of my routine, and part of who I am. The result? I am more resilient. It becomes a character trait, and in that regard, it also becomes easier to maintain. Such results don’t mean no practice is required, just that the effort and will involved in the practice itself is greatly reduced. Sometimes, though, I still find myself not practicing some practice or other, through circumstances or forgetting. I’m human.

… I just begin again, and get back to practicing…

The rain stops, but it’s not yet daylight, and I’m not in a hurry. There’s no need to rush my walk, or hurry home to barge in on my beloved’s quiet time over his coffee first thing. I sit quietly a little longer. Daybreak soon, and I’ll walk the short loop, and watch the sunrise – then, I’ll begin again.

…It is a good day for self-care.