Archives for posts with tag: self-care

I’m in a wretched vile mood, twisted with pain, angry with… humanity. Feeling pretty over “everyone’s” bullshit, greed, and negativity. It’s not my best look. This morning I would happily give the whole world a giant middle finger, a “fuck you” as a greeting, and pull up a chair to sit back and watch the world burn.

…Did you even know I had it in me?…

I woke fairly comfortably, feeling level-headed and mellow, in a good mood and not in much pain. I was barely dressed to head out for a pleasant morning walk when that all went screeching off course, abruptly veering into a seriously shitty mood, neck and back spasms, my headache roaring to its full potential, and just not in a good place at all. Does it matter why? Not really. Humans being human.

…And here I am…

I get to the trail after a drive that could have been quite pleasant if my head were in a different place. The sunrise was gorgeous. I saw it. Traffic was light. It’s a Saturday. I hit the trail without any lingering. It’s rather crowded this morning, and having to endure the presence of other people, and hear the sound of voices, grates on my nerves. Aggravating. I am feeling so fucking over humanity this morning. I don’t want to share the trail or the moment. My steps come down hard as I walk a more aggressive pace than usual. I’ll probably pay for that later.

There’s more to the moment than my emotions.

I walk on, trying to reset my experience and begin again. It’s not always easy. I am still seething. I breathe, exhale, and walk on… one step at a time, and trying to let go of my irritation each time I see someone on the trail or hear voices approaching. I’d very much like to be quite alone, right now,  but that’s clearly not going to happen.

…Emotions are not facts…

…The plan is not the experience…

…The journey is the destination (and it has to begin where I actually am)…

…I can choose not to endure “second dart” suffering…

…There are verbs involved…

…My results vary…

…This will pass…

I breathe in the fresh Spring air. I exhale as a slow sigh. I’m “not there yet”, but I keep walking. Eventually I will get somewhere. One step at a time. Incremental change. Practicing the practices. Beginning again.

Our behavior in the world and in our relationships affects everyone we interact with. I reflect as I walk… How can I best process my experience without adversely affecting other people, including my Traveling Partner? How do I proceed by being the person I most want to be? If I were comfortably able to process my anger effectively without expressing it explosively or pushing a lot of negative energy into shared emotional space, what would that look like? How is that done? (It’d be nice to have a fucking “user’s guide” for managing emotional skillfully. )

I walk with my thoughts, making a point of being politely appreciative of pleasant greetings from passers-by and returning a wave or a smile. I don’t really want to deal with people, but shitty moods have an element of potential for “contagion” – we are social creatures – and I really don’t want to be a force for evil and negativity in the world, not even on a small scale. No one benefits from that; life is already difficult enough. So… I walk with my thoughts and work on getting past my bullshit, so I can enjoy the day.

I get to my halfway point and sit down to write a bit.

By the time I get to this paragraph, the sun is well up in the sky, warming my shoulders and back as I write. I feel some better. My emotions, at least, are tamed. I’m not seething with unexpressed anger, now. I’m not having to force myself to view the world through a positive lens by some act of will. I’m not immediately annoyed to see another human being on the trail. Aside from the physical pain, I’m mostly okay. “Fine”, for most values of fine.

I take my self-reflection further, and make room for gratitude; it’s a beautiful morning, and I will see a specialist this morning who reliably manages to alleviate a good portion of my pain, if only temporarily. It’s enough and I am grateful for the skilled care. I give a moment to soft feelings of love and care for my Traveling Partner, too. His day got off to a difficult start. We’ve each got our own challenges, each having our own experience, but there’s no shortage of deep and abiding love between us. He’s a worthy traveling companion on life’s journey.

I sigh, sitting in the sunshine, watching a chipmunk approaching me from the side, hesitantly. I watch, trying to avoid being obvious about it. She darts away when I move ever so slightly. “I get it”, I think to myself, “humans are the worst.”

…I breathe, exhale, and relax, and make the effort to let that feeling go…

I look at the time. If I timed this right, it’ll be time to head to my appointment, just as I get back to the car. It’s definitely time to head back down the trail, and begin again.

I got my walk in early. I started just at daybreak on this mild Spring morning. I walked a bit aggressively, lost in my own thoughts, eyes fixed on some point ahead,  but without really seeing. I felt cross about the way my morning started (with my Traveling Partner’s aggravation over being wakened and struggling to breathe, as I finished dressing to leave).

…Took me awhile to let it go…

I had wished him well and expressed my hope that he could get back to sleep. He didn’t seem to think he would and expressed that in a way that kept our exchange on my mind as I walked along, over-thinking it unsatisyingly.

…I seriously could have done a better job of letting it go, and letting small shit stay small…

I didn’t really begin to enjoy my walk or adjust my attitude until after he pinged me a cute sticker of a little cat tucked in for sleep, indicating he was going back to bed. Damn, I love that guy. At that point, I was easily able to settle down and sort myself out, with a sigh and a smile and a feeling of gratitude. Shit could be a lot g’damn worse in life (and love).

…We’re each having our own experience…

When I sat down to write, I took a quick look at the “page stats” for this blog (it’s not about numbers so much as insights into what people choose to read, and I often find new relevance in old writing). I found myself re-reading a post from almost 18 months ago, and reflecting further on perspective, change,  and the importance of self-care. It gave me real clarity on the morning, and restored my sense of perspective generally, and how good things truly are. Reading a relevant older post is another way to “be there for myself”, and practice good self-care, and another way to regain perspective. (I say a silent “thank you” to the reader who read that post yesterday; reading it this morning was helpful.)

…My Traveling Partner is on his own journey, having his own experience, and taking that at all personally isn’t a helpful approach to partnership…

Here. Now. Perspective. Sufficiency.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a pretty morning. The temperature here is a comfortable 50°F or so. The sunshine lights the blades of grass and the trunks of the oaks in the grove where I sit perched on a picnic table enjoying the sunrise. It’s still quite early and I am not rushing back to the house. I’ve got a cup of coffee and this quiet moment to myself and I am enjoying it.

…Sometimes the best thing I can do to take care of myself is to simply take a few quiet minutes to breathe and reflect…

Later today I will take my Traveling Partner to an appointment with a specialist. I hope there is promising news about what can be done and what the long term prognosis for his recovery from his December injury may be. It’s hard watching him suffer and struggle. I feel so helpless so often. I definitely want to do more to alleviate his pain and discomfort than I seem able to. It’s not about me, though; I just want this human being I love so dearly to be okay.

I sigh out loud and catch myself picking at my cuticles anxiously. Yeah… still human. Still prone to worry and stress. I breathe the fresh Spring air deeply and exhale slowly. I can smell the hedge roses that are on the other side of the parking lot adjacent to this park where I am sitting, and the scent of recently cut meadow grass. I enjoy the smell of Spring, grateful that my seasonal allergies are nothing like as severe as my Mother’s allergies, or my Traveling Partner’s. They’re mostly pretty mild, and seem very specific to certain local flowering trees. That time of year is already beginning to pass.

I am in rather a lot of pain this morning. It’s been an issue all week. I take the medication I have for it. I cope the best I can. I remain unwilling to let my pain call my shots and I try to “just live my life” in spite of it. My results vary. I make a point of not complaining much about it, to the point of generally mentioning it only in passing, if I mention it at all, in conversation. It’s not that I find this to be a helpful strategy, it’s just that there’s nothing to do about it, really, that I’m not already doing, and I am very much aware that my partner is in a great deal more pain than I am. I don’t want to make that about me. I just want to do my best to support and care for him while he’s injured and working on recovering. He knows I am in pain, it’s a chronic condition. No point making that “a thing” – right now it’s just a distraction.

I sit with my coffee and my thoughts awhile longer. Soon enough it will be time to begin again.

It’s time to end something in favor of beginning something else. New beginnings often follow some ending quite closely.

I’m sipping my coffee wondering for the first time in days “what’s going on in the world, I wonder?” I guess I will know later on. For now it’s me, this cup of coffee, and this quiet morning. Very few other people are awake yet, with the exception of some early risers heading to lake to fish. Camps are quiet. I ground my coffee yesterday, to avoid waking people to the sound of a portable burr grinder. This is a very good cup of coffee, and the morning chill doesn’t hurt the experience at all.

I fuss with a torn cuticle that developed yesterday, which is how I discovered there’s no nail kit in my backpack, my assorted other gear and gear boxes, nor is there one in my fucking handbag! Which,  while I am on about oddities, why the hell did I even bring my damned handbag? It doesn’t belong in the woods. lol I make a mental note about ensuring there’s an easily accessible nail kit in my backpack. Definitely want to do that. So far I’ve managed to leave the torn cuticle alone. Didn’t know I had it in me to do that.

Coffee first… then tear down my camp, and repack and stow the gear for the trip home. If I do things correctly, I can stop by the storage unit on my way home and unload everything that isn’t kept at the house. Seems smart…

The moon lit the path, no headlamp required.

I got adequate rest, but of poor quality. I managed to wake up having to pee 3 times before the night was over. I definitely feel renewed appreciation for indoor plumbing and hot running water! I’ll be glad to be home (for a lot of reasons, including missing my Traveling Partner). It took more than two hours to get set up here. It’ll likely take about the same to tear down and repack, but mostly because I want to take the time to do it right, and make sure everything is put into the correct bin or box, and stowed safely for travel. I brought way more gear than I needed. More food, too, and although I never needed any of the freeze dried hiker meals, it was a secure feeling to have them available.

…Good coffee…

…Make breakfast, or just start packing…?

…Probably just start packing… but coffee first. Then I will begin again.

I’m sipping my coffee wrapped in the warmth of my car, parked at my campsite. Cheating? Sure, if you think so. I consider it more… resourceful? A stopgap measure after a night of chilly rain.

I lost a warm layer to a midnight walk to the restroom during the rain; my heavy favorite baggy sweater got damp, and putting it back on before it dries would be foolish (and not at all helpful for being warm). That one less warm layer is the difference between being comfortable by the FireCan at 50°F (about 10° C, so only chilly not “cold”), and.. not being comfortable. lol

Coffee goes cold fast on a chilly morning outside.

…So, I got into the car, started it up, and now I’m drinking my coffee and warming up a bit. At least right now, everything is still quite soggy and chilly, after the night of rain, but I stayed dry in my tent (a waterproof tent really matters) and wisely put anything that needed to be kept dry into the car when it first began sprinkling. Smart. Well… maybe. I have help; my Traveling Partner has stayed in touch and reminded me that the solar panels are not waterproof, which put my attention generally on such things when the time came. lol Is that cheating? Nope. Resourceful. (imo)

…This is a damned good cup of coffee. I smile and think fondly of my Traveling Partner. He’s the one who nagged me to live better when I camp, and to cook real food, and brew freshly ground coffee. Without his influence, I’d be drinking instant coffee and eating hot meals out of a bag that moments before looked like kibble. lol He’s right, this is better, even when the “cooking” is a salad and a grilled cheese, or a hot dog cooked over a campfire.

A great many of life’s most worthy lessons come packaged in some hardship, big or small. Logistical resources and the help (or advice, or encouragement) of friends really matter – and really count among our assets in trying times. Don’t be too proud to “get in the car and warm up”, when the situation calls for it! Taking care of yourself is not a “cheat”. It’s self-care.

In the quiet of the car, my tinnitus seems really loud. Perspective. I look up at the cloudy sky through the sunroof of the car. I pause to appreciate that it isn’t raining. In this cool cloudy weather, my little camp likely won’t dry out without my help. I grin, feeling thankful for my Traveling Partner’s thoughtful gift; a towel (printed as the character Towelie). I laugh. Good advice, “don’t forget to bring a towel!”

…My sweater, spread out over the passenger side headrest while I warm up in the car, is almost dry. Smart use of resources. I’m glad I had a way to dry it quickly.  😀

…After I finish my coffee, I’ll dry things off in my camp, too, and begin again…

Spring flowers weighed down by the rain during the night.

This morning I am sipping my coffee by the warmth of the fire in my propane-fueled FireCan (linked, because I love this thing). It’s the titular can to which I referred. lol

Taking the chill off the morning.

The “can’t”, on the other hand is all the stuff either utterly outside my control (like the rain expected later today), or outside the limitations of my abilities, or prevented by some fundamental of reality itself. My thoughts are provoked simultaneously by the chilly morning and this warm fire, and the rangers who happened by talking about another recent hiker death caused by straying off a marked trail, and falling to their mortal end. (Not here, but elsewhere in Oregon.)

Stay on the path, people, stay on the path.

…There is something to be learned about living well in the mistakes people make that so easily send them to their doom over an out-of-reach desire… or a fucking selfie. Just saying, in life and on the trail, plan your journey with as much care as you can, tell your loved ones where you’re headed, prepare for the likely conditions, and stay on the fucking trail. It can still all go very wrong, but you’ll have done your best to prevent mishaps through bad decision making. Maybe.

My coffee this morning is very satisfying. I am drinking more than usual and until later in the day, while I’m camping. That’s not unusual for me. It doesn’t seem to affect my sleep out here. Noise definitely does. Last night was very quiet. I slept well and deeply waking once to pee, and later to the sound of creature wandering through camp, perhaps very close, perhaps some kind of cat. Depending on the specifics, I guess I am glad we didn’t meet on the trek to the restroom, earlier. lol

A beautiful moon rising after sunset.

The moon lit the night sky such that when I woke during the night and got up to walk to the restroom, I didn’t need my headlamp at all. The night was surreal and beautiful in my less than ideally awake state. I wondered at the beauty of it all. I gazed into the night sky, through the shapes of trees silhouetted against the starry sky. Night even smells quite different, some flowers are more fragrant at night. The quiet was so… quiet. I lingered long enough for the chill to catch up with me, before I returned to my cozy sleeping bag, still warm from my body heat.

A crow is cross with me this morning. I wonder what he thinks I should be doing differently? A massive RV pulls past, loud engines giving voice to the amount of power it takes to move an entire house up a narrow road. I chuckle to myself. There aren’t that many campers in my age group still tent camping, seems like; they mostly prefer a nice comfy house on wheels of some sort. I get it. I’m not criticizing at all. Tent camping is a bit of work. There’s manual labor in the set up and tear down (so much), especially for campers who enjoy being “well-equipped”. (I’m honestly more “glamping” than camping, but doing so is built on my own labor, and I enjoy the little luxuries.)

I make a bite of breakfast. Freshly scrambled eggs with some squash and mirepoix, and sourdough toast, toasted over the fire. Some time after breakfast dishes are done, I’ll hit the trail, striking out in some new direction, on a path I’ve yet to walk… but I’ll totally stay on the path.

…It’s time to begin again…