Archives for posts with tag: self-reflection

It rained through the night, off and on. It was raining when I left the house this morning, heading for the trailhead up the road a way. The rain starts and stops. It’s fine. There’s plenty of space between the raindrops to walk, and I’ve got my cheap rain poncho. Good enough. It’s still raining, mostly, but not very hard, mostly. I’m okay with a little rain.

I’m fortunate to be near a bit of shelter when the sky breaks open and dumps an aggressive quantity of rain down, making a lot of puddles and a tremendous racket. For these few minutes, standing out of the rain, writing, I don’t hear my tinnitus at all. The rain is louder, pummeling the path, leaves, and marshy places, and hiding the full moon that had been lighting my way.

… Beautiful moon… beautiful rain storm… beautiful moment…

I sigh quietly and stand listening to the rain, and smelling the scents of autumn. Somewhere, someone has a fire going in their fireplace, reminding me that this hint of wild places between river and marsh is quite surrounded by suburban life. As the rain begins to slow down, I hear the familiar sound of traffic on the wet highway beyond this nature park. I can’t see it from this vantage point, only cloudy soggy sky overhead and silhouettes of trees along the path.

It’s a pleasant quiet moment. I’ve things to do later, mostly routine Sunday housework and a couple of errands, but also some gift wrapping to get done, and holiday cards to address and prepare for mailing. It feels a little last minute to be doing the cards in the middle of December, but they’ll likely reach their destinations in time, and it’s not worth any amount of stress, anyway. I choose to do them, it’s not a graded homework assignment. lol

The rain stops. Somewhere nearby the Canada geese are gronking. I wonder what may have disturbed their rest, then see a small light bobbing along. I’m apparently sharing the trail this morning. I finish up my writing. It’s time to walk on. The journey is the destination, and it’s a good time to begin again.

I don’t see the full moon until I reach the trailhead. It peeks out from between stormy clouds. The wind blows ferociously and the clock on my microwave alerted me this morning that at some point during the night the power had been out; the time was no longer set. The wind howls through bare trees, sounding a lot like winter, but the temperature is balmy, mild, and feels almost warm. Everything is soggy and a smattering of raindrops continues to fall. I sit contentedly on the hood of my car for a few minutes, boots on, cane beside me, ready to walk a couple miles along the edge of the marsh before the sun rises, trail faintly illuminated by the full moon.

… This? Right here, now? Excellent moment.

Stormy morning, full moon.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a Saturday morning, and I’m in no hurry. I’ve got the park and trail to myself, and that beautiful moon overhead. No reason to rush – and all the best reasons to savor this moment and be fully present in it. I take a few minutes to write some words; this is worth remembering, reinforcing, and reflecting upon, it’s that good.

The sprinkle of rain stops. It’s time to begin again.

Cold morning. Above freezing, though, and I’m dressed warmly. I walk the trail in the pre-dawn darkness, grateful for the circle of light cast by my headlamp bobbing along with my steps. It rained during the night and the trail is slick with wet leaves in some spots, and in others there are puddles to avoid. I step along with care, feeling the cold, grateful for gloves and a scarf, and my warm fleece over a favorite sweater.

Clouds illuminated by city lights before dawn.

… This morning writing would wait until I’m back at the car…

It was a good walk. It’s a Monday morning. I’m in the kind of pain that only seems to come around in cold damp weather, unpleasant for sure, but I’m more angry about it than suffering from it. I resent the imposition on my abilities and my will. I’ve got shit to do, and a life to live. “Fuck pain,” I snarl quietly to myself as I warm up in the car after my walk.

Monday isn’t my busiest workday, generally, but today any sense of ease has been overcome by errands that need to be run, which bookend my day; early errands to drop off items being returned, and packages being posted, and at the other end, running my Traveling Partner over to his PT appointment. In between? Work, yes, but since I’m working from home, also anything else I can wedge into the day… taking out recycling, laundry, dishes… sometimes the notion of “a day off” dissipates like fog as the sun rises. I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s no point being mad about it; I’m the one doing it to myself, and could certainly do a better job of managing my time and setting boundaries. It takes practice.

…I keep practicing…

… I’m tired as the holidays hurtle towards me on the calendar.

The VA sent me a “sound machine” after my audiology appointment. It arrived yesterday. It’s supposed to help with my tinnitus. I wonder if it will? Am I noticing any improvement after one night? I don’t know. I don’t think so? But, the shrieking of my tinnitus in my ears wasn’t the first thing that had my attention this morning, and when I got up to pee during the night, it didn’t keep me awake. So… maybe? How is success measured? I found the sound I selected very pleasant as background noise for sleeping… maybe that’s enough?

… I’m more eager to get my hearing aids…

I laugh at myself when I realize I’ve projected myself into a future moment only to feel discontent that it is not now. That’s just fucking dumb. A waste of precious mortal lifetime for sure. I pull myself back to now. This moment right here is quite a pleasant satisfying one, deserving to be enjoyed. I reflect for a moment on how easily I allow some new momentary difficulty to create chaos in my experience by letting it overwhelm a very pleasant moment I’ve been enjoying. That’s the entire point of practicing savoring each small joy and pleasant moment; to learn to refrain from twisting chaotically with every little thing, and to build emotional resilience.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Lovely moment, this one. I take time to enjoy it. To meditate. To enjoy the steady progress towards the soggy sunrise before I begin the work day. It’s useful to let each new beginning be preceded by a quiet moment of reflection. So… I do that. Then I’ll begin again.

I sit quietly with my coffee. A steady light rain is falling. My tinnitus is loud in my ears and my mind wanders, unsettled and restless. I’m fine, for all describable commonplace values of “fine”. There’s nothing amiss. I’m tired perhaps, having wakened to the final full brightness of my sunrise alarm this morning, pulled from a very involved surreal dream that involved a large elegant home, a handful of friends, and a colony of guinea pigs.

I reached the trailhead during a break in the rain. My walk did nothing to improve upon my strange distractedness, but it was pleasant and that’s enough.

Rainy morning, another beginning.

I returned to the car just as the rain began falling again. I sit listening to it contentedly, warm and dry, enjoying my coffee. I’m grateful for insulated travel mugs (definitely a technological win). I’ve got an errand to run before I head home, and my Traveling Partner slept poorly during the night. I’m in no hurry, and he’ll benefit from some quiet time for sleeping before I get home and start on the housework.

It’s another ordinary enough day, just beginning. I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s nothing much to comment on that hasn’t been said before. There are practices to practice. Results that will vary. Moments to enjoy. A path to walk. I watch daybreak slowly become dawn, then daylight. I take time to meditate and to reflect. Perspective is useful. The sound of the rain falling is peaceful. Yesterday was lovely, and busy, and I am tired in spite of a good night’s sleep. There’s much to do today in spite of fatigue. I’ve got a list. lol I think for a moment, looking over my list… and move “self-care” to the top.

It’s time to begin again.

It’s freezing this morning. Icy. 28° Fahrenheit. Quite cold. I’m grateful for the base layers, gloves, scarf, and warm clothes keeping me mostly comfortable as I walk the foggy trail.

Winter, or something very like it.

I spent part of yesterday painting, but my inspiration was a bit gloomy, I guess, and it crept into the work. Still, getting the submerged fears about the world out of my head is probably helpful anyway.

“Urban Warfare (world on fire)” 5″ x 7″ pastel

The rest of the day was spent finishing the dishes after Thanksgiving (I finally got to the pots and pans!) and decorating the house for the Giftmas holiday ahead. Later, in the evening, the new tree went up, and in spite of my plan to decorate it today, I found myself getting most of the ornaments hung as the evening faded to night. I woke to see the glow of the holiday lights down the hall this morning, and it delighted me to see the tree first thing this morning.

It’s Giftmas time again. Feeling merry.

Today? Routine. There’s housekeeping to do, and another work week to prepare for.  My Traveling Partner spent a good portion of yesterday in the shop actually working. Without help. I’m so proud of him and so impressed! I know it isn’t easy. It’s so good to see him doing things he loves. I expect he’ll be in the shop again today, things to do that keep him motivated. New tools. New projects.

We talked some yesterday about my PTSD challenges this holiday season. It helped to share and have his understanding. Doesn’t make it “easier”, exactly, just…yeah, okay, maybe easier. lol

It’s cold this morning. My fingers are stiff now and writing is difficult. I feel the cold more, sitting here watching the sun rise through the fog. I guess it’s time to walk on. There’s stuff to do and it’s time to begin (again).

Sunrise, foggy morning, Mt Hood in the distance.