Archives for posts with tag: self-care

The past 48 hours are mostly a blur of smudgy unclear recollections and emotional impressions. Keeping up with my Traveling Partner’s care, particularly making sure medications are all taken on time, at proper intervals and dosages, is keeping me pretty busy. Juggling those details with work, and the self-care required to keep up with “all the things” has resulted in interrupted sleep, emotionality, and a generous helping of “stupid” moments. This too will pass; it’s a temporary situation. It’s generally enough to do my best.

… The tl;dr is that I’m tired, so tired, and haven’t slept well, deeply, or for more than a couple hours at a time these past couple of days…

Sunrise and a new beginning.

I woke ahead of my alarm this morning and watered the lawn, and helped my partner with his medication. I’d have rather gone directly back to bed and tried to get more sleep, but I also knew my partner had a difficult night of interrupted sleep himself. Better for his ability to rest for me to give him some quiet time. I slipped away to catch the sunrise on the trail, and the Anxious Adventurer left for work moments later.

… And here I am…

The sun rose a bold magenta betwixt thunder clouds. Once or twice lightning flashed across the sky. By the time I got here to the trailhead, thunder was breaking the quiet of the morning, frequently. No rain. Not right now, anyway, though it appears that some rain fell during the night. I find myself wishing for rain. (Thunder storms without rain this time of year are a deadly threat of wildfires.) I sit for a moment before lacing up my boots for a walk.

My head aches ferociously this morning, a combination of my “usual” headache, and lack of rest. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s less than ideal to let it become the focus of my day; I have too much shit to do.

My longtime friend, The Author, had planned to visit this weekend, but got COVID and if he makes it at all, the timing is yet to be determined. Disappointing. My Dear Friend’s celebration of life memorial is today, but I won’t make it; I’m not up to the long drive at the last minute, and regardless, my Traveling Partner needs my care and support. While I am considering these circumstances, a drenching tropical sort of rain begins to pound the car (I pull my feet back into the car and close the door). I think about the recent (Wednesday, 3 days ago) death of my Aunt…

…Then the tears begin to fall, with the rain…

Sometimes it just all feels like too much. I sigh, letting the tears fall without taking them personally. No reason to fight the moment. This is “my time”, and if this is what I need right now, okay. After some minutes, I blow my nose and just sit listening to the thunder and the rain, wondering about the lightning strike risk on the trail… It wouldn’t do to get hit by lightning today, I just don’t have time. lol

This morning I feel very mortal and very much aware how temporary it all really is. Life. So brief. So precious.

… I didn’t come prepared to walk through a drenching downpour, but I am sure enjoying just sitting here listening to the storm…

A different sort of quiet moment.

I sit listening to the rain, fighting the confusion and dimwittedness of fatigue. I could probably get a couple things done, since it doesn’t look like I’ll be walking… My mind feels numb. What is on my list, anyway? I scrounge around in my consciousness rather halfheartedly, instead of just looking at my damned list. The growl and loud crack of thunder along with a dazzling flash of very close lightning startles me. It seemed “just over there”, visibly, identifiably nearby. Scary. Distracting.

G’damn beginning again is easier when I get the rest I need… I don’t quite manage to laugh, and sigh again instead. I decide to quietly take my time sorting myself out, before tackling some task or another. There’s no reason to rush. I’ve got time to take care of myself. Self-care matters, too.

I sit for some unmeasured amount of time, reflecting on gratitude and joy. Thinking over the best of recent moments and savoring the recollections. I feel so grateful for my Traveling Partner, and the enduring love we share. It gets us through a lot. We’ve managed to snarl at each other far too often the last few days, as pain, fatigue, and frustration overcame our good nature in some difficult moment. We get past it. Exchange apologies. Make amends when we can. Our hearts know the way, even when we go astray – very human. All things considered, I guess we’re doing pretty well, generally. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s no lack of love. Humans being human; sometimes it’s complicated.

It’s probably time to begin again, but…

… I’m enjoying listening to the rain fall. That’s okay too.

I’ve spent the day relaxing in this quiet room, and providing my Traveling Partner with caregiving. It’s detail-oriented personal service work, providing care to this human being I love so deeply. Still, it has been a day with ample time for reflecting on life and love and what I have learned along the way.

Here are 61 lessons from my mortal lifetime thus far:

  1. There’s always something more to learn.
  2. Change is a constant.
  3. Zest for life is closely tied to experiences of wonder and awe.
  4. Self-care matters.
  5. Meditation is an effective practice.
  6. We become what we practice.
  7. We each have the power to define success for ourself.
  8. Setting boundaries is a self-care practice.
  9. Our values are not what we say they are; they are what we live and practice.
  10. Taking the time to do something well is reliably more efficient than having to do it more than once.
  11. Anxiety is a liar.
  12. Chasing happiness does not result in greater happiness.
  13. Lust is mostly a matter of biology.
  14. Savoring life’s small joys and making time for gratitude builds emotional resilience.
  15. Human primates operate “emotion first”.
  16. Our quality of life is more dependent on the quality of our relationships than the size of our paychecks.
  17. Assumptions are not facts.
  18. Expectations are not facts.
  19. Opinions are not facts.
  20. Beliefs are not facts.
  21. The catchiness of a slogan has no bearing on its truth or usefulness.
  22. Very few of life’s stressful moments have lasting impact.
  23. I probably need to drink more water.
  24. “Wealth” is relative.
  25. The person who throws the punch doesn’t get to decide whether it hurt.
  26. We are each having our own experience.
  27. A lot of the crap that bothers us most is shit we totally made up in our own heads that has no actual basis in reality.
  28. Self-reflection can help develop perspective.
  29. Rumination can be really damaging, and tends to limit perspective.
  30. The difference between rumination and self-reflection can be subtle.
  31. Emotional intelligence has real-world value.
  32. Getting enough rest is as important as drinking water, eating healthy food, and exercise.
  33. Solitude can be rich, beautiful, satisfying, and nurturing.
  34. Few people recognize their own confrontational, hostile, angry, or escalated tone of voice.
  35. Forgiving someone is a thing we do for ourself, not for the person being forgiven.
  36. People notice when someone isn’t paying attention.
  37. Distracted driving is potentially lethal.
  38. What we think we understand about human behavior isn’t reliably accurate, and can’t be assumed to apply to all people in every circumstance. It doesn’t.
  39. People are people.
  40. We’re all in this together.
  41. The journey is the destination.
  42. Your lived experience is yours. My lived experience is not yours.
  43. How you behave when you think no one is watching will tell you what your values truly are.
  44. Rationalizing poor behavior doesn’t make the behavior any better.
  45. We feel our own pain the most.
  46. Our ability to understand the world is limited by our perspective.
  47. Being a dick to people is a poor practice with predictably poor outcomes.
  48. Thriving and surviving are two very different experiences.
  49. Reading is an incredibly useful skill, the benefits of which are multiplied by enjoying it.
  50. Art is a way of expressing the things we don’t have words for.
  51. Language functions by agreement.
  52. Carefully defining the terms in a discussion prevents a lot of arguments and misunderstandings.
  53. Apologizing without sincere contrition isn’t really an apology.
  54. Apologizing while making excuses for how the offense is justified, understandable, or must be overlooked isn’t really an apology.
  55. An effective apology is 100% focused on the person hurt and how they were affected, and 0% about how the offender feels about it.
  56. Listening deeply is a powerful relationship building tool which takes time, practice, and effort to develop.
  57. Hijacking a conversation to talk about yourself instead is rude.
  58. Waiting for a turn to talk while someone else is talking is rude.
  59. Interrupting someone while they are speaking is rude
  60. Manners and civility are key to quality of life and cultured society.
  61. Life is worth living.

It’s not science. These are things I’ve learned myself, over a lifetime. I’m not even saying these observations and learnings are “all there is” (what would you add?)… these are just a few things I’ve learned that continue to serve me well.

It’s your journey, up ahead. I’m over here walking my own path. May your path be smooth and the way ahead illuminated.

Every sunrise is a chance to begin again.

I’m sitting alone on the side of a favorite local trail. I’m tired. I’ve been crying. My head aches, and I am in a pretty grim place, emotionally. I’m also grateful to be here, now, rather than having this moment as the woman I was 11 years ago. Yes, it’s fucking hard. Yes, I’m pretty g’damned unhappy right now, but… I can also recognize that this is simply a moment. It will pass. The future is unwritten. The trail ahead isn’t always within view.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I rather stupidly try to will my tinnitus to quiet down. No surprise that doesn’t work.

My Traveling Partner’s surgery went very well and he’s home resting and continuing to recover.

The drive home was emotionally difficult, and ended on an unpleasant note. The actions leading there were mine, so the fault is mine as well. (Hard to hold someone who just had surgery and is deeply medicated “responsible” for much of anything at all, whatever the circumstances.) By the time we got home I didn’t really want to interact with other human beings. I’ve been in pain all day, no end in sight, and I am tired and still kind of angry, though, as I said, how is someone so heavily medicated responsible for their words or behavior at all? Why would I be angry? I don’t think they can be held to everyday standards for sure. Accommodations must be made. Understanding and compassion are required. Forgiveness is a good approach. But… That has to include…for me, from me.

… It’s been so very worrying for so long to see my partner suffering, I probably needed to prepare for this moment quite differently somehow…

I sigh out loud, my ears ringing so loudly it seems certain I am missing other information. I promise myself to get my hearing checked. My back aches in spite of medication. (The chairs at the hospital are not sufficiently comfortable for an all day stay.) I’m tired and the walking isn’t satisfying. I’m just going through the motions. Literally.

My Traveling Partner pings me. I respond promptly; I still have responsibilities. I think about the woman I most want to be. What would she do, right now? I sigh again and get to my feet. She’d begin again.

Trite but true, it is a near certainty that things could be worse. I sigh out loud, annoyed by my persistent headache when there’s so much going on and so much to do (or prepare for). Thinking, planning, and doing, while also fighting through pain has difficult moments. I struggle to maintain focus on things that matter and routinely find myself distracted by things that matter just as much. lol I try not to be overly hard on myself over it, but it does vex me, especially when the task at hand is something intended to support my Traveling Partner.

… I breathe, exhale, and relax…

A new day

When I left the house it was still quite dark. The season is changing, as seasons do. Daybreak comes much later than it did weeks ago, when spring turned to summer. I was amazed and delighted to see meteors streak across the predawn sky as I drove to the trailhead, this morning. Then I started thinking about what it might mean should some unusually large meteor actually plunge through our atmosphere intact and impact the planet directly…my anxiety surges as I consider that. Then I let that shit go.

… Letting an imagined worst case wreck a lovely lived moment is a poor practice…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Today is final preparations for my Traveling Partner’s surgery. Tomorrow. It’s a big deal, and one with a very good prognosis. I’m more eager than nervous on my partner’s behalf, which I guess is a good thing. I feel well prepared. I hope he does, too.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’d meant to bring my colored pencils and my sketchbook along this morning. I forgot them. There are really only one or two places, at home, where something can be placed, that reliably get my attention on the way out in the morning. I can’t count the number of times I have forgotten to grab something I meant to take with me, because it wasn’t in one of those places. lol Generally a harmless sort of oversight, and I don’t make it a big deal this morning – because it isn’t.

… I keep promising myself more time painting. I keep not painting…

I had the trail to myself, initially, and sitting here in the morning quiet at the halfway point it manages to feel strange to hear voices and approaching footsteps. A small group of photographers walks past. Cheerful greetings are exchanged as they walk by.

My mind wanders. I distractedly check my task list and my calendar. I check the grocery list. I try to identify needful things I may have overlooked. My mind feels very busy and chaotic. I’m not here for that. There’s time for lists and tasks later.

… I breathe, exhale, and relax. I make room for this “now” moment, present, observing, breathing. Only this. I let my thoughts come and go, like the clouds overhead. (I definitely need more of this calm time spent present, simply being.) My mind wanders, this time I bring it back to my breath. My tinnitus is loud and distracts me. I bring my awareness back to my breath. For an unmeasured time I reflect and meditate, bringing my attention back to my breath each time it wanders. Good practice.

It’s a good day for a quiet moment. After a while, I get to my feet to finish my walk and begin again.

The sun seems to rise slowly against the pastel shades of pink and peach. The sky is hazy with the disbursed smoke of far away wildfires. Summer. Fire season.

Outcome to be determined.

I walked with my headache, my tinnitus, and my thoughts. The sounds of traffic on the highway nearby, and construction somewhere, create a “fuzzy” nothing sort of background noise. My thoughts are not important, nor are they particularly coherent. I’m just walking and thinking. I let the thoughts come and go. I stop at a favorite view point to sit, meditate, write, and watch the sun rise. I’ve got the trail and the park alone this morning, so far. I breathe the meadow-sweet morning air contentedly. I enjoy this moment; whatever else the day may throw at me, I’ve got this lovely peaceful moment to enjoy.

Yesterday was a strange mix of pleasant and difficult moments. Very human. I don’t stay focused on the difficulties; those things were sorted out yesterday. Resolved. Corrected. I do reflect further on the pleasant moments, letting them fill my thoughts for some little while. Savoring those moments because they matter most. I let my heart fill with recollections of joy, love, and laughter. I smile. I have a good sense of what matters most (these days, to me).

The yellow and white meadow flowers bobbing back and forth in the slight breeze atop brown summer stems are a pleasantly fragrant distraction from my headache. I watch small birds picking at the ground next to the trail. The sun continues its slow journey upwards from the horizon. Mornings hold so much promise. I sit quietly thinking about the day ahead without forcing it to become more than this moment, here. The future is unwritten, undetermined, and full of potential. I let it remain so. I watch the sun rise.

Every journey, every new beginning, starts where I am.

I experience a moment of sorrow, and a stray tear wells up and spills over. I am missing people who are dear to me, now gone. It’s a lonely sort of moment; there is so much to share, so much that I would talk about… I quietly say “I miss you” out loud, to no one in particular, and cry a little. Poignant. Human.

…The journey is the destination. Loss is part of the human experience…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I let go of my sorrow. It’s a new day, and it’s time to begin again. I get to my feet and stretch, and turn back up the trail…