However bad it feels in some one moment… it’ll pass. If you let it pass. Give yourself that chance. Take care of that fragile vessel. Have a cup of coffee (or tea), or a drink of water. Take a shower. Breathe. Go for a walk. Listen to the wind. Get some fresh air. Listen to some music…
Oh no, love, you’re not alone You’re watching yourself but you’re too unfair You got your head all tangled up But if I can only make you care Oh no, love, you’re not alone No matter what or who you’ve been No matter when or where you’ve seen All the knives seem to lacerate your brain I’ve had my share, now I’ll help you with the pain You’re not alone
“Rock-n-Roll Suicide”, David Bowie, Ziggy Stardust 1972
I must have worn that album out in half a dozen different formats over the years… lost it… come back to it. It lives on in my memory. I know the words by heart, but can’t sing the tune (human limitations being what they are, I’m no David Bowie! LOL).
Sure, sure, we’re each having our own experience. Fuck that can feel so lonely sometimes, right? But… we’re also “all in this together” – humans being human, stranded on this one mudball hurtling through space, together. So fragile. So… amazing.
I smile quietly to myself and reflect on that much younger woman in the mirror… so damaged and cynical and angry. There were still so many tears ahead, too… I’m not sure I could have endured that had I known what was to come, but the lived moments have passed pretty fucking quickly in all their complexity and beauty and sorrow and love. It’s been a complex and interesting journey so far… and I’m not alone. Here we all are, eh?
I sip my coffee and watch the clouds beyond the window as daybreak arrives and becomes dawn. There’s Winter weather in the forecast and perhaps I’ll be stuck at home for the weekend because of it, but… maybe not? Like anything else to do with the future, it’s an open question. There are a whole lot of possibilities that may – or may not – unfold. I’m feeling philosophical about that, and peculiarly, intensely, grateful that I stuck around to find out, and let the future unfold.
…You’re not alone. Give yourself a minute, and a bit of care. Let the tears fall. Begin again.
How utterly ordinary this seems. Me, a cup of coffee, a dark early morning awake ahead of the sun… I could have slept in… if I could have slept in. lol I’m not even disappointed; I woke rested and uncertain of the time. By the time I had gotten up to pee and also found a means of checking the time, I was quite wide awake and feeling that a new day had begun. I tried to go back to bed, but that lasted only minutes; I was clearly awake. So. Coffee time. 😀
Once I had made a cup of coffee, I shut off the lights and opened the curtains, the better to see the changing light as day breaks. For now, all is dark and quiet. At home, in the heart of agriculture and rural industries, this is not a particularly early hour. There would be some traffic on the road and the highway, and evidence of businesses preparing to open, most cafes and coffee stops would already be bustling with folks heading to work, or places unknown – even on a Saturday, there’d be some traffic and people coming and going. (It’s not that early, just early enough to still be dark on a December morning.) Here? In a seaside tourist town? It may as well be deserted. Rarely, cars roll down the highway. I see few headlights pass by “out there” beyond the window, beyond the bay, where the highway follows the curves of the hills beyond. No house windows are lit up, yet. No sounds come from other rooms. It’s quiet. Dark, quiet, early, this is still a day filled with promise and not much else quite yet. It’s more than an hour until sun rise.
…Good cup of coffee…
I slept well and deeply last night, and my dreams were untroubled, and unremembered now. Easy night. I hope my Traveling Partner got some rest. I wish him well from afar. As it turns out, this coastal getaway ends up being largely wasted with regard to the primary reason for going in the first place, which was to give my partner room to work. He’s been in pain and not easily able to work at all. Fucking hell. How unfortunate – and how unfair! Nonetheless, this is also time that greatly benefits me directly, and my emotional wellness is bolstered and supported with it. Already paid for, so I make a point to enjoy it, to savor it, and to take advantage of it fully without any guilt or awkwardness. I help him by coming home feeling well and merry, far more than if I rush back anxiously – and wastefully. 🙂
I sip my coffee and reflect on the day ahead. This is my one day on the coast (on this trip) that is not to do with work in any way. I’m free to enjoy the day as I’d like, whatever that means. I don’t yet know. Walk on the beach? Prowl antique shops as yet unexplored? A leisurely brunch somewhere? Laze the day away reading books? Some of all those things? I don’t know. I relish the feeling of luxury that comes of a momentary recognition that if I wanted to, I could just go back to bed and get more sleep. My time is my own, and that feels quite lovely.
I sip my coffee and explore that feeling of luxury. It dawns on me (maybe not for the first time) what a real treat that feeling of my time being my own actually is. Human beings are social creatures. We work and play collaboratively. We create and make and labor in partnerships, teams, groups, and communities. We are industrious as global enterprises. We live as families. My love of solitude is the oddity, not the norm, and in all likelihood it’s a byproduct of my chaos and damage, my trauma, and the resulting lack of enjoyment I take from society, generally… probably. I know my Traveling Partner misses me deeply when I’m away, sometimes to the point of depression. I miss him, too, but… day-to-day, I often find myself missing… this. The solitude. The quiet that allows me more room to “hear myself think”. The stillness that becomes a beautiful space to write, or paint. The freedom to simply be – without disturbing or inconveniencing anyone else with my quirks or my anxiety. So, this morning I merrily raise my coffee mug to the dark sky beyond the window, as if to say “here’s to the luxury of a couple days of solitude!” – if I haven’t “earned” it, nonetheless, I sure do enjoy it. I’m grateful for a partnership sufficiently secure to permit it as often as I do get to enjoy it. I make a point to sit with that gratitude awhile, listening to the ocean waves as the tide comes in.
…This cup of coffee is finished. I make another. I see the note that I left for myself by the coffee machine. It says “go easy on the coffee, you’ll want to sleep later!” A reminder from me to myself. I often do drink too much coffee when I’m indulging myself with some getaway or when I’m camping. It rarely seems to be a problem, the way it definitely is when I’m home living a routine ordinary life of habit and calendar. I have no idea why there’s such a difference. Maybe there isn’t? Maybe it’s an illusion? I consider whether to spend more time on that, and decide it’s unimportant. I make another coffee and move on with my thoughts.
The sky begins to lighten, ever so slightly shifting toward a dark subtly blue gray. The cars on the highway begin to pass in occasional clusters. High tide is still a bit more than two hours away, and will occur well after sun rise, which is only an hour away now. For now, just the earliest hint of dawn appears. The specificity of the language we have to describe these experiences delights me. It’s somehow very telling of the importance to human primates of the coming of a new day, that we can so clearly describe its coming using words, in such detail.
On the highway, across the bay, I see taillights just stopped there. I know that spot – there’s a pull out right there, with access to the mudflats at low tide. There are a trio of large rocks jutting out of the bay near there. The spot is called (on the map) “Freedom Rock”. It’s too dark to go down to the bay from the highway, still. It’s also almost high tide; there’s no where to go (it’s covered with water). I see that car continue to sit, lights on, then shut off the lights. I imagine some other version of me – or some similar sort of individual – sitting there in their car, waiting for enough daylight to go for some walk. It seems familiar and reasonable, and the thought pleases me. I sip my coffee and think my thoughts. I wonder if they will be disappointed when daylight reveals the lack of any point in waiting at that spot? lol
Just barely dawn; a pointless photograph.
The sky is just starting to evolve from the darkness of night to the dim light of dawn. Another few minutes, and it will be possible to take a picture without using night settings. Another cup of coffee will be consumed. My email account will sync and my app notifications will begin pinging me. Day will begin. I’m reminded to take my morning medications, and snarl quietly and not very seriously as I head over to the counter where I left them. “Aging sucks…”
I take time for yoga and meditation, then go downstairs to the breakfast bar adjacent to the lobby for a light bite of breakfast. I’m not overly eager to be out in the world, among people, so perhaps a sit down breakfast in a restaurant is not an ideal choice, this morning? No obligation to be fancy or lavish with my spending, and I’m pretty easily satisfied with a yogurt cup and a toasted English muffin. I turn my eyes toward the window just in time to see the horizon infused with shades of strawberry and peach… I jump to catch a shot of it, stubbing my toe painfully on the way…
The sort of sight worth 4 days in a hotel room.
A minute later and I’d have missed it altogether. The sky has returned to a rather featureless rainy day gray once again. Worth the stubbed toe. Worth 4 days in a hotel room. It was a gorgeous sight and the picture hardly captures it at all. I sip my coffee contemplating which pigments I would choose to capture that view on canvas. If I’d painted such a thing, in such vibrant colors, before seeing this view myself, I would hardly be surprised if someone else seeing that painting assumed I’d taken artistic liberties with the colors. lol
I sigh happily and finish my second cup of coffee, my yogurt, and my English muffin. My Traveling Partner pings me – he’s awake now too. It’s a new day. The sun has risen, though there’s no visible sign of it beside the daylight itself. I’ve still no particular idea what I’ll do with the day, and it has begun to rain softly. Antique stores and books are winning out over beach walks, presently, but the tide will begin to recede sometime after 09:00, plenty of time to consider walking on beaches later on.
Plan or no plan, I find myself ready to begin again. 😀
I drove down the coastal highway, thinking thoughts, and sometimes singing bits of songs I remember well enough to sing them as the sights go by. I stopped often, for various “view points” from which I had hoped to snap a few pictures. Most of those looked like this…
One of many “sights” along my route.
The entire northern section of my drive was enveloped in fog, or mist, or wrapped in low-hanging clouds. Not much to see. LOL
A couple cups of coffee later, the mists persisted late into the morning, well-past the point at which I had expected the clouds to have “burned off” with the rising sun. It was clear I wasn’t going to be pleasantly distracted from my thoughts by the tremendous views; those were utterly withheld from me. lol
For most of the drive, the world appeared to be mostly undeveloped, as if created instant-by-instant from my own thoughts…
It was still a lovely day for a drive.
It was early on a Thursday morning, though, and there was very little traffic. I made good time down the highway, as if toward a clear destination. Truth was, though, the journey really was my destination. I set out to spend the drive with my thoughts, and there wasn’t anything to distract me. It was hard to see it as a problem.
At several stops, and all weekend long, I made a point to take notes about the journey. Thoughts that seemed worth preserving beyond the moment. For convenience, I’d started a draft blog post, and just saved my notes there. When I look them over this morning, I’m amused that they seem almost poetic…
I sit quietly with my morning coffee, trying to assemble some group of words to share the experience of these recent days, mostly without success. I can’t do better than the fragmented notes I took along the way, and a handful of pictures. There’s something to learn from that, I’m sure. More to consider. Another opportunity for self-reflection beckoning me from a distant future moment.
I did eventually drive far enough down the highway to escape the cloud cover…
Looking back, between the clear blue sky overhead, and the deep blue ocean below, in the distance the clouds linger.
The camping wasn’t fancy, it was just a place to rest for a night. I stayed in managed state park camp grounds. It was fine. It was also quite crowded. The camps were clean, and well-maintained, but also rather noisy. In spite of the crowds, both were really pleasant places to camp, and I may go back, some other time, for some other purpose.
There was no real solitude to be found in these places, and each morning I packed up and drove on, content to make my departure with haste. I drove with purpose.
There were reliably flowers everywhere.
In the middle of all this driving, there was an important (and delightful) stop midway to visit an old friend. My longest female friendship of many decades. We haven’t sat down together in shared space in so many years – it was long overdue, and very grounding. It felt like a homecoming of a different sort.
…There are few things as precious as time spent in the company of good friends. I don’t do enough of it.
There is more to share, and a lot to continue to reflect on. There were lessons learned, and lessons observed – with much to learn still developing slowly from those observations. In general, the whole thing was time well-spent. A good time.
I’m sipping a cup of tea and thinking about life. In general, things are good. My anxiety has flared up, though, and it often feels as though “dial is turned up to 11“. My PTSD is reliably aggravated by my anxiety… and my anxiety is aggravated when my PTSD flares up… and around and around I go. My finger tips are torn and my cuticles are ragged from gnawing at them mindlessly. My Traveling Partner notes my overall stress level and suggests various things to help me “relax” – I reliably reply that I am relaxed – I’m not.
My self-care is going to shit quickly… there’s definitely a “mind-body” connection to be considered, too. As my anxiety worsens, I sleep more poorly. As my quality of sleep degrades, my pain becomes harder to manage. As my physical condition worsens over time, my emotional resilience is undermined, and I become more volatile, more easily provoked to anger, and struggle more and more to maintain a rational perspective on circumstances and events. It’s an emotionally painful and demoralizing process.
…I’ve “been here” before. I have tools now that I lacked years ago. I know to address the source(s) of my stress, and to meditate regularly, and practice non-attachment. I have learned over time that my reaction-in-the-moment, at the best of times, is likely to be less helpful that a well-considered, responsive approach, that is nuanced and thorough. I know that I am prone to “catastrophizing” and that this can become a real problem very quickly, robbing me of perspective, and a sense of sufficiency. I quickly “lose my joy”.
So, I am sipping this cup of tea and thinking about practices, and next steps, and how best to take care of myself under the current circumstances. It’s not “easy”, but that’s often the case with stressful situations. I’m fortunate to have a supportive partner, and good quality of life; at least I’m not having to also worry about those details!
I had talked things over with my therapist at my most recent appointment. He made some follow-up suggestions – almost a “homework” assignment, in practical terms. It was just 4 things he wanted me to consider doing. I’ve done two of those, so far. Feels pretty good.
I sigh. I am thinking about how often it seems that when a person expresses a deep interest in a topic, or shares some detail that gives them great joy, there’s often someone lurking in their social network who seems eager to pull the rug out from under them. Weird, eh? Don’t do that. Treat people as people. Treat them with kindness (you don’t know what they are going through). Appreciate that you can’t possibly know life and the world (or the decision-making of others) from the perspective of someone else – even if they choose to share that perspective with you. We’re each having our own experience. Do what you can not to fuck things up for someone else, eh? If we each did just that, the world would be far more pleasant for many more people.
This weekend my Traveling Partner when for a long drive together. We talked about life, and future other camping and cool drives we’d like to take together out in the wildernesses of America. It was lovely. Time well-spent. It’s not enough, however pleasant, to remove all my challenges from my experience of self. I’ve got the issues I’ve got. I’m learning to manage them more skillfully – and sometimes that means “change”.
It’s time to breathe. Exhale. Relax. And begin again.
I got my car detailed yesterday. It’s a small SUV that suits me well. Over the past couple of years, though, as much as I love this car, I’d grown pretty used to using it as more of a tiny pick-up truck than as a “car”. We moved. Started a business. For big needs and small needs, my SUV served us well. We only needed to rent a truck specifically to haul something twice: once for a king size mattress, and again for a band-saw. Not bad. Here’s the thing though; I wasn’t investing time in proper care of my SUV all this time, and aside from occasionally taking out all the bits and pieces of trash and nonsense flung about or running it through a car wash now and then, I just wasn’t caring for my car as though it were a car I love… I was just “using it up”.
…I catch myself doing that with my own reserves of energy far too often…
So, after my Traveling Partner got a pick-up, it was clearly time to put things right with my car. I got it detailed, to give me a head start on keeping it nice, again.
Getting into my car after it was ready to be picked up was… an experience. It was cleaner than it was when I bought it! Wow. Every nook and cranny… clean. Carpets? Clean and deep dark black once again. Upholstery? Clean. Not a single crumb or mote of dust to be found. Super clean. That under-dash panel that popped off a couple years ago (that I was obviously too lazy to put back)? Back where it belongs. That wee clip or cover for something or other? It’s back on, too. The car smells clean. Wow. Just… yeah. Wow.
It was once again a thoroughly enjoyable experience to drive my SUV. Like… a total blast. I do love this particular car. Have since I first drove it. I’ll probably get a new one in a couple years – that good. In the meantime, though, the experience of enjoying this one? Fully restored. No trash or empty coffee cups on the floor. No dust or crumbs anywhere at all. It’s such a cute ride.
This is a real experience – but it’s also a metaphor. If we drive ourselves so hard that we begin using ourselves up, never taking time for self-care, or a moment to appreciate our accomplishments, or to just enjoy our life for a little while, we lose the joy that our experience can provide. We begin to lose a sense of what makes us special as an individual. We begin to take our qualities for granted, and become – even with ourself – exploitative and potentially even abusive (of our own self, and this fragile vessel in which we reside for this mortal lifetime). Life can become a grind. A series of errands.
It’s down to the details, isn’t it? How I care for myself matters; doing so, or not doing so, changes my experience of myself and my life. Worth considering.
I sip my coffee thinking happily about my very clean cute SUV. I think about the conversation my Traveling Partner and I were having last night about making some changes to our shared camping gear to account for the truck – it has vastly more room for things than my SUV! Trying to camp in style with just gear that fits in my SUV is a bit limiting, and fine for a solo experience, less so for the two of us. I grin thinking about my Traveling Partner shopping for a proper camp kitchen set-up. I generally get by with my Jet-Boil and freeze-dried camp meals. lol I’m looking forward to better camp food. 😀 (He’s a super good cook, too.)
A new day dawns. I think about odds and ends and things I need to get done. A quick trip to the grocery store. Put essentials back in the car now that it’s detailed (like, hey, the freakin’ paperwork back into the glovebox!!). Launder my all-weather gear that stays in my car for whenever I need it. Emergency kit. My spare cane. I shift in my seat restlessly.
Evening Light 