Archives for posts with tag: self-care
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Vaxxed and Boosted

November 18, 2024 //
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Good weekend. I woke feeling rested and alert, grateful for a wake time so reliable that setting my alarm for p.m. instead of a.m. by mistake didn’t matter at all; I woke within 10 minutes of my planned time. No stress. Very little pain. It’s a good start to the day.

At my Traveling Partner’s request, and to attempt to meet more of life’s demands more easily with less stress, I changed my weekend routine a bit. Changes in routine are ridiculously difficult for me (and this may be true for a lot of people who live with the consequences of head trauma). It’ll take some practice to get the details down such that it actually feels “routine” again. It’s fine. As I said, it was a good weekend.

Yesterday I made time to finish up my annual vaccinations. Got my RSV vaccine – I’m old enough now for that one to be recommended, so I made a point to get it. Got the second shot for the shingles vaccine, too. I don’t want shingles, and if a vaccination is going to reduce my risk, I’m definitely getting it.

I know there are a lot of people with reservations about getting vaccinated. I don’t actually understand that, except in the case of people with certain very specific health concerns that make some vaccines higher risk than the risk of exposure to the condition they protect against. I’m old enough to remember polio being a serious concern, and to have older family members who actually had polio.  Smallpox is another huge vaccine success story. Measles, too. The science is clear and convincing; vaccination is effective risk reduction against a bunch of very nasty diseases. The Army, in my era of service, was pretty non-negotiable and no nonsense about vaccines; we stood in a long queue together in basic training and got vaccinated, one by one, against everything they had a fucking shot for. lol They got no argument from me.

…I think people have forgotten how commonplace and devastating some of these diseases were…

Do I want to be first in line to take a brand new vaccine with limited medical history? Maybe not. I suppose it depends on my risk and the lethality or negative outcomes of the disease. (I was pretty eager to get the COVID vaccine.) I don’t like taking any kind of new pharmaceutical. I feel more comfortable when I know there’s a history of efficacy and that the research shows it’s safe to take. But, with that in mind, I’m definitely “pro-vaccine”, given demonstrated efficacy and safety. I’ve had the flu shot most years since I was an adult free to make my own decision about it. The years I missed it were generally about not being able to afford medical care.

Vaccination-wise you do you, of course. I’m not seeking to persuade you. I get vaccinated because I don’t like being sick. I’m just mentioning it in passing. It was part of my pleasant weekend.

It’s a rainy Monday morning. There’s a fat round full moon in the sky peeking through the rain clouds. I’m hoping for a break in the rain and a walk before work. I feel more alert and clear-headed when I get a walk in the morning. It is a practice with proven worthiness. Later, I’ll take the car to the dealership on my way to the ok office. Nothing major, just a bit of routine maintenance; a headlight went out, and I don’t feel like replacing it myself in a steady downpour (and I’m hoping to have the headlights upgraded, if possible). If this were my partner’s truck it would be a nearly effortless bulb swap that takes only a moment. My car isn’t quite that easy, and it’s a bit of a pain in the ass. I could do it, but I don’t want to. I’ve got enough other stuff on my to-do list already. It’s a safety thing though, and needs to be done promptly. So… getting it done.

Every bit of all of these things are self-care related. Self-care is important. Definitely recommend taking care of yourself!

I sigh, and smile to myself. It’s a good beginning to an ordinary Monday. It’s a short week with a long weekend ahead; another opportunity to care for myself, this time by taking a couple days on the coast to paint and reflect and walk on the beach. Another good opportunity to begin again.

The rain stops, the clouds begin to drift away. Daybreak is faint on the eastern horizon, and it’s definitely a new day. I lace up my boots to get started down my path. I’m grateful for another day to walk it.

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Categories autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, Uncategorized

It’s Noisy In Here

November 17, 2024 //
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Daybreak arrives as I get back to the trailhead. I’ll head to the grocery store next, then home to tackle housekeeping chores for another week. I’m tired just thinking about it, and my “background” pain is a not uncommon, distracting, 6/10. My tinnitus is crazy loud, drowning out the sound of traffic on the nearby highway. It’s Sunday though, not much traffic.

A view of a day and a beginning.

A huge flock of Canada geese overhead pulls me out of my irritation over the physical limitations of being a human primate. Loud enough to distract me from my tinnitus for a moment. I watch and listen as the flock fills the sky overhead. The rain that had paused long enough to enjoy my walk along the marsh resumes. Drizzly chilly autumn weather is probably the primary cause of my pain today. I took medication for that. It hasn’t helped. I distract myself by continuing to watch and listen to the geese. I mean, I try. My results vary. I sift through the seemingly endless crap in my apparently bottomless handbag looking for my Capsaicin – it doesn’t “fix” anything, but it might give me a bit of relief. Shit. Looks like I left it home. In my minds eye, I can see it on my bedside table, clearly. In this moment, here, I’m still going through the motions of dumping my purse and double checking every pocket. A very human moment.

I sigh, annoyed with myself and with my pain. The rain falls harder and a dense fog creeps in. Forecast says pain all day, time to accept it and move on. Too much to do to let it take over.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. Meditation helps with pain management, particularly if I resist the temptation to focus on the pain. Sometimes it’s hard. I keep pulling my attention back to my breath. It’s a practice. My results vary. I breathe exhale and relax. I let my mind wander to the painting I’m working on. It needs something, and is unfinished. I think about that, instead of the pain I’m in. I shift uncomfortably, but whether it’s physical discomfort or “artistic energy” isn’t clear, and maybe doesn’t matter. Another breath. I watch a doe tentatively walk by, watching me. She steps slowly, with care, her soft gaze assessing my presence; friend or foe? She appears to decide my still, quiet, form is no threat, and stop to nibble on tasty bits of what remains of the meadow grasses. Still watching me, she walks on. I smile to myself. “Yeah, I get it, girl. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to begin again.”

I sigh and stretch and fuss a bit with this all too human aching mortal body. Fuck pain, I’ve got shit to do.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being

Love and Caregiving

November 15, 2024 //
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Yesterday was… difficult. My Traveling Partner was in pain after PT the previous day and feeling really uncomfortable and cross with the world. Understandable, and honestly, I generally wouldn’t mention it in any specific way, but the results affected me quite directly. The peace of my morning was quickly wrecked, and before midday I was seriously wondering if I’m even cut out for being in a relationship or enduring cohabitation at all. It was that kind of day.

… Caregiving is hard…

I love (adore) my Traveling Partner with an abiding passion that can be described pretty accurately as “ridiculous”. It makes no damned sense that I love him so. Hard days are hard. Bad moods feel…bad. Hurt feelings hurt. Love isn’t some magical effortless fairytale condition that leaps from eye contact to happily ever after. There are verbs involved. Effort. Real work. Personal growth over time. Compromises and changes. Fucking hell, it’s an unreasonable bit of work involved in deepening and maintaining intimacy, especially under trying circumstances. G’damn it’s worth it though, and most of the time that’s obvious.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The day ended pretty well, though my beloved was still cross and miserable. We talked over the things that mattered. We sorted some stuff out. We called it a night in a good place with each other, in spite of his continued pain and discomfort. It’s a new day, today. A new chance to begin again. Love is worth the effort we make.

I stare into the foggy autumn darkness. It’s awhile yet until daybreak, but the work day begins pretty soon. I lace up my boots and add gloves and a scarf. It’s chilly this morning. I’ve got my cane and my headlamp. I finish my coffee. It’s time to begin again. Again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5

A Life Hack and A Practice

November 14, 2024 //
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I left the house before dawn, and it was raining pretty steadily. It had been raining through the night. I rarely sleep in, but it’s a day I’ve planned to work from home, so waking up early wasn’t really necessary. I “slept in” 15 minutes, still waking quite early. It’s a habit more than a practice.

It’s raining…skip the walk? No; I value the routine, and it’s time well-spent thinking, meditating, or writing, anyway. “Me time”.  I dress and slip away quietly (I hope).

The life hack? Having a comfortable routine that meets my needs. By the time I reached the trailhead the rain had stopped (at least for now). Hardly seems like much of a “life hack”, but in our high distraction, “everybody wants a piece of me” world, having a healthy routine that meets our own needs is uncommon, and requires a bit of work to refine, establish, and maintain. Worth it, though. I sigh contentedly as I lace up my boots. The pale gray clouds against the night sky separate as they drift onward, revealing the stars. Beautiful. Peaceful.

The practice? Non-attachment! I could have arrived to this place in a drenching downpour, unsuited to an easy morning walk. I’d have had to make choices, what to do with the circumstances and my moment could require a thoughtful change. That’s only frustrating and annoying if I cling to expectations of a specific outcome. Choosing to practice non-attachment and commit only to healthy self-care more generally is so much less stressful than having to cope with disappointment first thing in the morning, almost before I’m completely awake.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Lovely morning for a walk, although the sun hasn’t yet risen, and daybreak is not yet here. I’m okay with that. I pull my headlamp and rain poncho out of my backpack, grateful to be prepared. I’m ready.

Time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets

Where Does This Path Lead?

November 11, 2024 //
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It’s a blustery unexpectedly mild morning after a night of steady rain, autumn in the Pacific Northwest. It’s Veteran’s Day, too, and although it is a Monday, I’m off work. The silhouetted trees sway against the gray sky in the pre-dawn darkness. It’ll be a little while longer until daybreak comes, and I’m in no hurry.

It’s been a good weekend thus far, and it’s a good moment now. Later, I’ll get some housework done, and maybe watch some anime with my Traveling Partner, if he’s not out in the shop with the new lathe. I smile in the darkness; good choice of birthday gift, and it’s good to see my partner on his feet and in the shop doing things. He’s still got quite a way to go recovery-wise, after his injury, and his surgery, but he’s getting there. I can’t walk that path for him, I can only walk my own alongside him.

The cars woosh by on the wet highway, beyond the trailhead parking. I sit quietly with my thoughts, enjoying the moment. It’s not fancy or particularly special, but it’s mine. I’m grateful for the mild morning, although I’m in tremendous pain in spite of the somewhat warmer temperature. I’ve spent autumn and winter in pain since about 1986 I guess? Something like that. This past couple of years it’s been all year, off and on, and this year so far more painful days than not. While that does generally suck, there’s not that much more I can do about it, without profoundly increasing my risk of addiction or substance abuse, or related bad outcomes, so I endure and do what I can.

One of the most important practices for enduring the pain I live with, without losing myself to it completely, is being present. Sounds simple, but takes a lot of practice. It’s easy to end up focusing on the pain itself instead of acknowledging it, doing what I can, and moving on to other elements of my experience in the moment. My results vary, but it’s definitely better than being mired in the pain of my arthritis and my headaches. So I sit in the stillness and quiet of a morning, listening to the traffic, and observing the lights of businesses and houses beyond the fields on the other side of the highway. I breathe, exhale, and relax, watching the sky slowly lighten as daybreak approaches on the eastern horizon. I write, meditate, and reflect. I enjoy the moment as it is, without giving much thought to the pain; it’s just one detail of many. Is it a perfect solution? Nope. Is it a cure? Not even a little bit. It’s just better than letting the pain become my world.

Daybreak at last. I hear the geese waking up on the marsh. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. One step at a time, I walk my path, and it’s time to begin (again).

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Categories Allegories, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, solo hiking, The Art of Being
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