Archives for posts with tag: self compassion
« Older Entries

A Masterclass in Being Human

April 29, 2026 //
0

Wow. Yesterday, though. It got off to a great early beginning, and crashed into chaos when the morning skittered sideways unexpectedly colliding with mental illness (mine) that is generally well-managed to the point of being mostly forgotten. With my Traveling Partner’s recovery making such good progress, I’ve been making adjustments to my HRT trying to find the sweet spot between effectiveness and timing/dosage. This went very wrong yesterday. I may as well have been an adolescent girl screaming at her mother with no justification, only hormones. Fucking hell.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I 100% lost my shit over nothing at all – a bit of very ordinary feedback and a request to check my breathing while I was on my device (curled over it uncomfortably and possibly holding my breath). On another day I’d have said thanks and corrected my posture. Instead I had a massive tantrum over it, which exploded into a PTSD meltdown and a complete loss of emotional control. It was ugly. My partner tried to deescalate the situation, but I had lost my fucking mind, like, for real.

Detail from “Emotion and Reason” 2012

We eventually got back on track, which was frankly mostly to do with him. I trudged through a miasma of fucked chemistry and feelings of shame for much of the rest of the day. (Being mentally ill can be seriously embarrassing.) In spite of eventually recognizing the role my hormones (both my own and the artificial kind) played in the mess I made, I struggled to regain my feeling of balance. It took most of an uncomfortable and frequently paused workday to get things right. Adulting is hard.

… Dwelling on regrets is neither healthy nor helpful…

This morning? It is an entirely new day with new challenges, and I begin again, feeling hopeful and pretty much okay. I send a note to my GP about changes I could potentially make to my HRT and seeking advice. I have an appointment with my therapist later today. I sigh to myself, and check those off my list. Too much chaos, and for some reason I am regretting ever giving up an analog to-do list on a legal pad written in ballpoint pen, illuminated in the margins with commentary and little doodles. Why now, I wonder? The idea is enticing, though, more visual, more tactile, and just maybe more effective (for me; your results may vary).

This morning begins with phone calls (business) that I never could have handled yesterday. I complete them, feeling a bit unsatisfied with the outcomes. It is a sunny morning, though, and a lovely day so far. I don’t rush through my morning walk, although I got a later start than usual. Yesterday really fatigued me, and I woke only 1 minute ahead of my alarm. I dressed and slipped away quietly, hoping not to wake my beloved. I sit at my halfway point at last and wonder if I should work from the library today, at least for the morning? Seems wise, and would avoid disturbing my Traveling Partner’s rest. After yesterday, I know he really needs it. I find it quite hard to do battle with my demons, myself, I can’t imagine how much harder it is for him.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit thinking about yesterday’s blog post, the re-reading of which in the afternoon was part of how I began to get my shit sorted out. I never imagined, when I wrote those positive encouraging words how much I would need them myself, nor how soon. Humans being human. Mental illness is a really hard challenge – and maybe at its most complex and vexing when we heal enough to feel well generally. It’s easy to forget – I know I want to forget it, and even more so when things are beautiful and healthy and fun. Especially then. This is a massive pitfall, and a set-up for failure.

I watch the glow of early morning sunshine light up the treetops. We each have to walk our own mile, eh? What we practice matters; we become what we practice. Choose wisely.

I sigh and glance at the clock. Already time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Hormone Hell, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, War and News of War, women, Words

Summer Rain and Practice

June 27, 2024 //
0

The air was still fresh from the drenching rain during the night when I stepped out of the car at the trailhead. Drops falling from the trees occasionally spattered my face and hoodie, which I sensibly wore thinking it might be a cool morning. I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the rain-fresh air. I walked briskly, alone with my thoughts, my arthritis pain, and my headache. Only one of these things mattered much to me, the rest I did my best to ignore as inconsequential.

Yesterday’s appointments, first with my therapist, and later with my physician, were an interesting study in perspective. I showed up to both prepared to discuss stress and anxiety and how best to manage these lingering mental health concerns, only to be firmly told by both that my levels of stress and anxiety, at least under the current circumstances, seem quite reasonable and even appropriate. Well… Shit. I’m not nearly as well-practiced at managing reasonable-not-a-sign-of-mental-illness stress and anxiety. lol In each conversation it’s agreed that similar techniques and continued practice are helpful. No change to medications or recommendations. Just… Keep managing. Keep up self-care efforts properly. Keep breathing and keep cutting myself some fucking slack, eh? It’s still a lot to handle, but apparently that’s pretty fucking reasonable under the circumstances. It was peculiarly helpful to hear that.

…It doesn’t make things any easier…but it does take a bit of pressure off…

I’ve been hard on myself a lot lately. Sometimes my self-talk is pretty negative, even though I know how cruel and unhelpful that is. I’ve carried some shame and disappointment that I am not a more skilled caregiver for my Traveling Partner, when he needs so much from me while he’s been injured. I’ve labored under the additional burden of my disappointment with myself over not having more energy, more capacity to labor on, more ability to get everything done, every day. I’ve been angry with myself just for not being younger, more able, and for needing rest and care, myself.

…My Traveling Partner, on the other hand, has been kind and appreciative, and generally far more impressed and grateful for my help every day, so this shit is definitely me…

I breathe and keep walking. My Traveling Partner pings me, letting me know he’s awake. I stop on the trail and exchange a few messages before continuing. Time to head back to the car and start the work day. There’s a lot to do, and it sounds like my partner’s son will arrive later, sometime this evening.

Fuck, I’m so tired… A good night’s sleep doesn’t restore my energy these days and every day seems to start with a longer list of shit that needs attention… And I keep putting myself last on my list! Not helpful. lol No wonder I’ve been stressed and anxious. I breathe, exhale, relax… And get ready to begin again.

This is all pretty real stuff. Life. Sometimes it’s a bit much, but it’s better than the current alternatives. I breathe, exhale, relax, and walk on. I’ll get where I am going, eventually. It’s a journey. Incremental progress is still progress. One step forward is still forward momentum. Making a point of being kind to myself doesn’t take any time or cost any money. Worth doing and I’m sure it’ll be helpful stress-management-wise.

… This too will pass…

… It’s time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Restless

February 22, 2024 //
0

I’m having a restless sort of morning. I’ve stepped through the details of my morning routine, my commute, the start of my work day, and I feel… restless. Like there’s “something more” “out there”, or as if I am unsatisfied with life, generally. It’s an illusion, as much as it has any basis in reality. Emotional weather. I breathe, inhaling deeply, and exhaling slowly, feeling my subtle anxiety lurking in the background fall away ever so slowly with each breath. It’s a practice that works to reduce my anxiety, before it can get out of hand, but it does nothing much to change this strange feeling of restlessness.

…I could plan a camping trip… It’s a bit early in the year for (me to be) sleeping on the ground, but I enjoy the exercise of planning, and I don’t mind planning well in advance – in fact, some places I might wish to camp require quite a bit of long range planning (they’re just that popular, I suppose). On the other hand, I’m not feeling any sort of urgent need to be away from home (quite the contrary). This feeling of restlessness is inconveniently timed. I sip my coffee and think about it for some minutes – what am I “running from”? Something? Anything? Am I tussling with unaddressed urges? No doubt I’ve got my share of those…

The morning sky has clouds, and broad streaks of blue between those. The sunrise surprised me with it’s earliness, and was gone before I gave it much thought. It’s definitely morning, bathed in daylight diffused by the cloudy sky. Pretty. I gaze out the windows awhile, watching the streetcar make the trip around the block, from one stop to the next, heading the other direction. As early as it is, there are already people in the park below me, walking, sipping coffee, sitting on a bench. The water features are bland brown blocks of earth tones, not yet reflecting the sky above in any visible way from this distance (and angle of view). I wonder to myself when the Koi fish will be there, again, and where they go when they are not in the pond. I don’t care enough to look into it further, I’m just momentarily curious.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking stock of my pain and considering how best to manage it. I sip my coffee, and pull myself more upright, correcting my posture (again). I think about my Traveling Partner, his recovery, and how much I adore him. It’s hard being injured and being patient with the tediously long time recovery can sometimes take. Some injuries don’t heal quickly. I feel for him and kind of regret coming into the office, when I could be working from home where I could easily do things to care for him and make life easier. I sigh and shake my head when I realize I’d also very much like to just go back to bed and maybe nap awhile… Fucking hell? Really? The day has hardly begun…

…I hear a flurry of negative self-talk comments begin to develop in my thoughts, and put myself on pause; there’s literally nothing whatsoever wrong with wistful thoughts of sleeping in and napping, especially for a woman who struggles to get adequate healthy sleep! I laugh out loud in this quiet room and remind myself silently to “be nice” and treat myself with care and kindness – to do otherwise puts me at risk of losing sight of how I treat others. If I’m a dick to myself, how can I expect to treat others gently and with compassion? It’s something I’ve been working on a lot, lately.

Another sip of my almost-cold-now coffee, and my thoughts slide towards far away friends, and a dear friend struggling with mortality. Maybe that’s really the thing driving my restlessness, I realize; I miss far away friends, and I know I will regret not making time to see them (more often than I do). I find myself wondering if I should simply plan a trip to see my ill friend, and make a point of doing so while I can. It clearly matters enough to fuck with my head. I think that over quietly, and the restlessness begins to ease. Okay, so I got there, eventually. Now to do something about it, I suppose…

…I finish my coffee and get ready to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, Summer, The Art of Being, winter, women

Back To It

October 24, 2019 //
2

Time to get back to the office. I’m okay with that. My Traveling Partner is pre-occupied with work right now, and when I am at home working, focused on work, the day-to-day communication challenges associated with my brain injury can be a little more obvious, and, I guess, a little more frustrating. Neither of us need that headache right now.

…Having a TBI that affects how I communicate is more than annoying, sometimes, for everyone dealing with it (not just me). It’s doubly hard when so much about “me” makes it super easy to forget, most of the time, that I have some of these issues…then… fuck. There they are. “Issues”. Damn it. I’m not sure which thing is more frustrating… is it that I often ask for clarification because context is not enough to narrow down the meanings of words to just the one thing intended? (So many words have multiple, or nuanced, meanings, and I “hear them all” when people are talking.) Maybe it is that I sometimes “answer the wrong question” (Okay, I do this a lot, and it is super comical until it becomes super aggravating.) – meaning, that, if you ask me a “when” question, I may give you the “why” – and yes, if you humorously reply by asking me the “why” question, indeed, without skipping a beat, you’re likely to get the “when” of it, without me immediately noticing what I’ve done. :-\ I wish it always just stayed funny, though. It’s not like I’m “doing it on purpose”.

…Then there is the seeming “evasion” when asked a question, and I literally just… go blank. Overloaded trying to both understand and answer, usually in circumstances where there is a clear expectation that I will “get it right” because it is “easy” and “should be right there”. I catch up, sure, but by then I’ve somehow communicated a lack of trustworthiness that can seep into even those interactions with people familiar with me for a long time, and aware of my injury. Aggravating for all concerned. Super painful for me to deal with. Way too many opportunities for hurt feelings, all around.

…And how about those opposites? Omg, yeah. I work with numbers – and this particular challenge is painful, and common; I sometimes say the literal opposite of what I am actually thinking (positive vs. negative, yes vs no, even “opposite colors”, and concepts). Like a cruel prank on myself. Fuck that shit. At least this is one I commonly catch, in the moment, myself. It’s just so hard, sometimes. I want to be heard, valued, and accepted, and I want my words to do credit to my thinking. Realistically, I’m not going to get that any more often, or any more easily, than anyone else. Sometimes, it’s just not there for me. Real talk. Sometimes I sound like a complete dumb ass.

My head aches with trying to manage my headaches, on top of staying on top of all the cognitive disarray, get complicated, and although I do okay sitting here at a keyboard… if you’ve been paying close attention, you’ve probably seen it, too. :-\ It’s not getting better as I age, I assure you. In fact, in spite of continued rehabilitative work, specific to improving these sorts of things, I recognize that there are some indications some of this is getting worse, very slowly, over time. Certainly, that last transient ischemic attack (July? 2013? 2014?) was notable, and obvious, in my writing, and I still see it in “wrong endings” of words – a type of “spelling mistake” that isn’t about spelling at all, and cropped up immediately after that TIA, and persists, to a lesser degree, even now. Brain damage? Yeah. Brain damage. It is what it is.

…How long before the frustration of friends and loved ones isolates me completely, relegated to fond memories, and deliberately patient, tolerant, excuses for putting up with me… or… just… not. Just quiet sorrow, and regrets…

I sigh heavily in the quite room, listening to David Bowie, “I’m Afraid of Americans” (but only because it was next on this playlist, although… yeah). Glum thoughts over good coffee. Feeling a bit anxious about life, generally, and about aging, specifically, and what it may mean for my relationships. My brain attacks me immediately, and with real force, “he’s not going to love you forever, not like this, not if you can’t communicate; you’ve already lost your looks, what’s even left now…?” My brain whispers my worst fears and insecurities to me.

“Fuck. For real? Right now? I’ve got work you know.” I silently chastise my personal demons, and have another sip of coffee as the tears slide down my face. “I’m not having it, you vile bitch, just go ahead and head on back to The Nightmare City, I just don’t have time this morning.” I frown into my coffee, annoyed with myself, my insecurities, my vulnerabilities… my humanity.

I switch up my playlist to something lighter, and hope for the best as my tears dry. It’s a place to start…and it’s time to begin again. This morning, that’s got real meaning; it’s an opportunity to acknowledge my fears and insecurities, accept that these are experiences and feelings I need to address in an authentic, honest, and gentle way with myself. I take a couple of deep cleansing breaths, exhaling slowly and evenly after each, until it feels comfortable. I feel myself relax a bit. I make a point to fill my thoughts with recent positive interactions with my Traveling Partner, and the delight of a recent long email from a dear friend, and the recent triumphs and achievements at work… there’s a lot to be grateful for, to be satisfied with, and to enjoy.

I finish my coffee. I start my day.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Down Time

March 11, 2019 //
0

Sipping my coffee, scrolling through my feeds, reading the posts of friends dropped into this app or that one, during the night. There is content that troubles me, and I see a lot of it; people posting vague remarks that are self-critical, negative, and on a hopeless sort of downer that shrieks of depression, self-loathing, and… a regrettable lack of understanding that there are, still, and yes, even if they are deeply depressed, some choices involved. Harsh. Why the ever-loving-fuck would someone repeatedly post this sort of quagmire of terribly self-contempt-filled morsels on which to feed themselves? Horrifying.

I don’t have to look too far in the past to “get it”. I only “don’t get it”, now. It’s one major drawback, for me, of healing and forward momentum; it can be hard to understand, or identify with, those past challenges. I guess I’m grateful for that, generally, but when I want to offer comfort, or suggest there is another way, I wish I were more easily able to do so. How do I tell someone in such circumstances “that’s just your opinion of yourself, and only for right now, and holy crap – did you know you can change that??”… when it is their own heartfelt convictions, and deepest terror, about themselves, that I’d be seeking to challenge? I mean, I can say words. Words I’ve got – lots of them – but, generally, these friends are not listening to those words. They hear the words they say, themselves, about the self they so loathe. Anything I could (and often do) say is drowned out in the din.

…It can be heartbreaking to scroll past egregious thinking errors that recognizably mire dear ones in misery. We each can only do so much. If a feeding frenzy of corrections, positivity, love, and encouragement, in response to such posts does nothing to bandage a wounded heart… what can? Well… being present helps. Listening deeply helps. Constancy and steady patient friendship helps. Eventually, though, it’s down to that person and those feelings. …And the verbs…? Yep. No surprise; they’ve got to do the verbs, themselves. No one else can actually undertake to do the work to feel better, aside from the person having the shitty experience – particularly if that shitty experience is one they’ve willfully crafted for themselves and reinforced over time.

Well… shit. That sucks. I’d love to be able to reach out a hand to a friend and take their pain away. Generally, it does not work like that. If I cling to them, wrapping myself up in their pain, eventually some may even sap my strength for living my own life, and caring for my own heart – and not out of malice, just done in a way not so dissimilar to someone overboard grabbing for a life vest or flotation device and just holding on desperately. So, I focus on self-care, and listening deeply, and sharing the journey, and “being there” – but I also work to set skillful boundaries, to be there for my own self, reliably, and to avoid getting sucked into drama. I do what I can to encourage friends who are suffering to choose less suffering, if they are able to. I still feel sad when I watch them choose suffering again and again, in a way that appears crafted and willful. My heart aches for them; I’m pretty sure that if they were able to really understand how much suffering they specifically choose, foster, nurture, and feed, they would also understand they could choose differently.

…I couldn’t treat myself differently until I both understood that such a thing were possible, and – but? – also not until I was ready to see myself differently, and as worthy of better treatment from myself. Harsh – but the truth of it is that I can’t walk that mile for anyone else. I can only suggest that there is such a path available to be walked.

It was a lovely quiet weekend, spent in the gentle good company of my traveling partner. Some snow fell. Some rain fell. Movies were watched. Content was shared – as was contentment. It was warm and connected and close. It feels good to share the company of such good companions: my Traveling Partner… and the woman in the mirror. It feels good to be in a place in life where my own good company is precious to me. I finish my coffee, wondering what words it takes to suggest to the worn down, forlorn, depressed, or anxious, that they, too, have this amazing relationship near at hand…? That perhaps the answer to the question “when will I find someone?” could be found in their mirror, right now?

The coffee is finished. It’s time to begin again. 🙂

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anhedonia, Anxiety, Brain Injury, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Logic & Reason, loneliness, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words
« Older Entries