Archives for posts with tag: self-care

Just as I reached the trailhead the rain began. It’s not falling hard, but steadily. I waited a few minutes before yielding to the practical details of walking in the rain, and just did the thing. Boots, cane, rain poncho: I’m ready for it, so why not? My aching back yesterday is no surprise now; my arthritis reliably responds to specific changes in the weather. I ache today, too, and I am cross and moody, even out on the trail.

I started walking, and kept walking until I returned to the car, not soaked but finding myself struggling with pain and irritability. Less than ideally pleasant as morning walks go, and more a matter of will and practice than delight. It’s okay. There’s nothing really wrong and this crappy mood will pass.

Tedious discussion of health stuff follows, skip this next paragraph if it’s “tmi”!

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It is “shot day”. Sunday is the day I’ve set for my weekly Ozempic shot and my weigh-in. Actual weight loss progress is very slow now after an initial 8 months or so of fairly steady losses. Here’s the thing though; I’m using it to control other health conditions and it’s doing that exceedingly well (I’ve been able to discontinue medications aside from my thyroid and pain medication). I’m continuing strength training, and building muscle (heavier than fat) along with having gotten very near the weight my current caloric intake supports means it’s harder to change the number on the scale – but that’s an inadequate measure of health improvements overall, and I try not to fret over it. Instead I seek to walk further, faster, and to continue to advance my weight training (ideally without injury). I consider additional calorie reduction, at this point it’s probably necessary. I’m not unhappy with my progress, generally, just saying that the Ozempic is not a magic trick, a cheat code, or a guarantee of getting to a size 6 again. It’s just a tool and a means of dealing with my problematic blood sugar that happens to also improve my health in a number of ways.

I check the grocery list. Practical stuff, and healthy foods and ingredients, nothing to trim from the list, it’s all good stuff. It’s easier to commit to healthy eating when everyone in the house is in on it. I’m fortunate in that regard. It still requires practice, and attention to details – and a measure of will and impulse control.

I sigh to myself and think about my birthday in June. What sort of “birthday cake” might I enjoy? Cheesecake? A fruit tart? Something creamy? Something light? Definitely not chocolate – too rich, and too dense, it’s just not my favorite. Something fruity might be nice… Something not too dreadfully sweet. Sugar isn’t so appealing these days. Maybe something subtle and a little “fancy”? Lemon-y and spongey and creamy with a hint of lavender or blueberries? Something like that might be nice… but I’d probably be the only one enjoying that. lol My thoughts wander on… and I’m feeling less irritated just indulging the thought of birthday desserts. Human beings are strange creatures.

Looks like it may be a cloudy, rainy day all day. I guess I’m okay with that; there’s considerable housekeeping to do today. I smile to myself thinking about the two small hardy fig plants I planted in large pots yesterday. Eventually I may put them in the ground, if they are truly suited to our climate, but I don’t yet know where. It’ll be a couple years before it really matters, and I’m delighted to have the figs in my garden; I’ve wanted fig trees or bushes since my first garden. It’s to do with a lovely memory of my Granny and my first experience of fresh from the tree sun-warmed figs. I smile. Pleasant memories are a beautiful mood-lifter.

I frown a little impatiently at the foreboding gray sky. I guess it’s time to begin again.

I woke rested and feeling comfortable and awash in a feeling of contentment. I got through my morning routine without making some sort of loud noise. I made it to the trailhead before sunrise, but just after daybreak.

I caught a glimpse of Mt Hood and the beginning of a colorful sunrise.

It’s a beautiful morning. I sigh contentedly and lace up my boots. The trail is dim but not dark. There are little birds everywhere, and the air smells of flowers. I’ve got my cane, my camera, and this moment. It’s enough. There’s a work day ahead, but that’s later. I need to remember to water the garden, but that time is not now. I’ve got an appointment to keep in the afternoon, but that requires no attention from me, yet. It’s just me, this trail ahead of me, this moment, and a glimpse of the sunrise.

I grin happily to myself and grab my cane to get started. The clock is ticking and it’s time to begin. Again.

A colorful sunrise greeted me at the trailhead. The weather is mild, almost warm. The air is calm, and the pollen count is fairly high. My head is a little stuffy. The robins (and there are many) are quite loud as they call to each other.

Dawn of a new day.

It is a new day, filled with promise and opportunity, chances for success and for failure, and rich with choices. It’s also an utterly ordinary such day. The day begins well; I escaped my headache of yesterday. Definitely a good beginning.

I swap soft shoes for sturdy boots and grab my cane. I rarely walk any distance without it these days. I’m not bothered by that, it’s just a detail.

Colorful sunrise

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and set off down the trail. Lovely day for it, in spite of my stuffy sinuses, and irritated throat. Lots of flowers blooming now. I’ve taken allergy medication first thing, and it helps. I continue to enjoy the moment – and the flowers. The sunrise continues to evolve, the clouds shifting pink to salmon to peach and bold shades of orange. Quite a display. I pause frequently to enjoy the sight of it, and to snap pictures.

…It is worth all manner of bother and inconvenience and delays to pause for a beautiful sunrise; there’s no knowing how many we may see…

I walked and watched the sun rise, until I reached this not-quite-halfway spot. It has a better view than my usual stopping point. A row of trees is silhouetted against the sky. A wonderful baby blue morning sky begins to show between the colorful clouds.

I breathe exhale and relax, sitting awhile with my thoughts as the sun rises. I think ahead to later. I have it in mind to make breakfast for my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer and myself, a little later. A chubby raccoon slowly walks past, far enough from me to be unconcerned about my presence, near enough to be clearly visible. Somewhere nearby, a woodpecker makes his presence known.

Dawn becomes day, and it’s time to begin again. I get to my feet to finish my walking and turn towards the sun.

What delights does this day hold?

This headache is vexing me. I feel as if I’ve done all I can to ease my discomfort. Have I? A bad headache can limit my ability to think clearly and make wise self-care choices. I let my Traveling Partner know that I’ve got this pretty terrible headache. Doing so isn’t only to feel less alone with it, nor is it solely about making sure he knows if something goes seriously wrong. As much as anything else, it is to get any helpful suggestions of things to do about it that I may have over looked; thinking through the pain is difficult. I know I’m not at my best.

My beloved does indeed think of something I could do that might help some. A hot shower. That does sound soothing. Maybe a soak in the hot tub, too?  I stretch – maybe movement will help. I correct my posture. I adjust the lights. I make myself relax (again). I drink more water. I have some magnesium. I eat a banana (potassium). I take an OTC headache remedy. I limit the noise in my work space. Item by item, I go down the list.

… This too will pass…

Headaches tend to be temporary. Soon enough the work day will end and I can focus on me. I’ll have that shower, a soak, maybe lay down for a few minutes. A great many of my headaches are to do with my neck. Degenerative disk disease is painful and inconvenient, and like the name says it gets progressively worse over time. I try not to think about that. The thought brings tears to my eyes and I feel suddenly helpless and childlike.

…It will pass (for most values of that idea, if only temporarily)…

Not what is generally expected of office decor, but it’s my office and I’ll decorate as I like. lol

I think about this cozy friendly welcoming space I’m in… It’s quite soft and nice and filled with colors and curves and soft places. It’s a very nice spot to lay down with a book (or a headache). It was my studio, it is my home office – my quiet space. Everywhere I look there are reminders that I am loved and valued: helpful or beautiful things my beloved has made for me, precious things collected over time, souvenirs of a life well-lived, and my own art work. It’s a nice spot to enjoy a quiet moment.

I sip my icy cold glass of water. Ice water might not be ideal for some headaches – this one doesn’t care about that. It doesn’t react to the temperature of the water at all. Noises are a bigger deal. The position I’m in matters more. I’m fairly confident this headache is coming from my neck; my left ear itches ferociously deep inside without any obvious cause. Nerve damage. It’s all quite unpleasant, but saying so is better than hiding it, and caring for this fragile vessel helps more than ignoring the pain ever could.

I sigh to myself and get back to work. The work day is nearly over – then I can begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee over a break between catching up on everything I missed while I was out of the office for a long weekend, and getting started on all the things yet to be done with this new day. I’m thinking about what a joy the weekend was, and what a trainwreck it sometimes feel the world is (or has become). The immense value and promise of the Internet and global connectivity doesn’t change how easy it is for entities with an agenda to harvest our data – or our attention – regardless of the actual value to us as individuals, and it can be hard to detach myself from the outrage machinery and engagement-seeking drama all around. It can be done; there are verbs involved. Choices. Commitment. Will. Practice.

Choose your path and walk it.

I’m not “a perfect person” – not even close. I am seeking the best within myself, and making a point to practice the practices that serve to shore up (and improve) my mental health and emotional wellness, and build better relationships. I work hard to be become the woman I most want to be. It’s an ongoing bit of work to address character flaws, battle my inner demons, and just do my damned best to be a better person today than I was yesterday. My results vary. (Yours will too; it’s a very human experience.) Still – what better journey than this journey of self-discovery, and healing, and growth could I make over the course of a lifetime? Step by step, day by day, one practice at a time, one moment at a time… I’m finding the best within myself that I can, working to create better qualities where I find myself lacking, and living that life.

…It was a lovely weekend, celebrating love and spending time in the garden. I feel rested, nourished, and restored by the days spent on life and love in the company of my beloved Traveling Partner. I definitely needed it…

The new day began after a night of strange dreams. The sun rise was beautiful as I made the commute to the office. Traffic was light, the drive was pleasant, and my morning coffee is quite good. A nice beginning to the week. The only “fly in my ointment” this morning is this wistful pang of loss and vague persistent feeling of longing in the background; I miss my Traveling Partner intensely after 4 pleasant days spent together, present, connected, and loving. I could have worked from home, but… I doubt I’d have been able to focus on working. lol My heart is at home, in spite of the work in front of me. My thoughts are in my garden, and with my beloved. Taking a break to write, reflect, and indulge my emotions a bit is intended to let me “get back to work” more focused (the way out is through, and our emotions are not an enemy or a defect).

“Baby Love”, the first rose to bloom this year.

I sigh to myself and smile at nothing much. I sip my coffee and stretch. Life is full of next steps and new beginnings. Incremental change over time may not feel like the fastest route to lasting change, but it is a reliable one. I gaze out the window at the brilliant blue sky streaked with a single vapor trail from a passing aircraft, watching the shifting hues of green in the trees as the sun rises higher. Nice moment to pause and reflect and feel the contentment I’ve worked to build over years. I’m standing in a good spot, metaphorically speaking…nonetheless, it is time to begin again. The clock is ticking.