Archives for posts with tag: self-reflection

Too much stress, too many of the days, and it’s too common as problems go, for too many people. What to do about it? I’m just one person, and I’m not a credentialed expert of any kind (there is help out there, I promise you), but I’m here, and I’m working on my own shit, and I care, generally, and I’m not selling something or harvesting your data. Just a person willing to share.

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

When I’m too stressed, too often, I reach into a metaphorical “bag of tricks” learned over years of managing stress, and years of therapy. I consider the source of my stress (often purely subjective internally manufactured stress) and choose my path.

  • Taking a proper break in a stressful moment, and really stepping away from it to focus on something else is often enough to reduce momentary stress.
  • Reframing the stressful circumstances, and giving myself better understanding of the complexities, and greater perspective is often helpful.
  • Checking my assumptions is very useful; it’s easy to be very wrong about what I think I know. Sometimes stressful circumstances are fueled solely by my own erroneous thinking.
  • Practicing non-attachment, refusing to be wounded by one outcome or another can let me get beyond the source of my stress to an understanding of circumstances that doesn’t cause me so much stress.
  • Meditation – practiced reliably and consistently – helps me build and maintain resilience. Even practiced unreliably, or only as a response to extreme stress, it still functions as a means of creating healthy emotional distance between me and my stress.
  • Evaluating the elements of my circumstances that are driving my stress and identifying (and letting go of) those elements wholly outside my control allows me to put my attention where it can do some good.
  • Saying “no”, setting clear boundaries and acknowledging my limits without guilt, shame, or discomfort (it takes practice) is incredibly useful. It’s too easy to overcommit and create a quagmire of stress over conflicting priorities and missed deadlines. “Can’t say no…” is either a self-imposed illusion, or the product of an abusive relationship (whether personal or professional is not relevant). “No” is a complete sentence, although it may be worthwhile to be more courteous, now and then, depending on the circumstances.
  • When the stress I feel has its roots in wanting more, different, better, or sooner, I find practicing sufficiency a useful tool. Resetting my expectations regarding what I really need vs what I think I want can be a source of real relief. Patience and gratitude help with that.
  • Facing anger with gratitude is almost a super power, and similarly, facing stress with recognition that “this too shall pass”, gives me cognitive freedom to look beyond my stress, through the lens of impermanence

I’m not a perfect person. I guess that is sort of the point. I keep practicing. The journey is the destination. Sometimes I have to begin again, sometimes beginning again is simply a joyful next moment arriving precisely on time. My results vary. I’ve built up a pretty useful toolkit for managing stress over the years, and these tools really work (when I really use them). It’s enough.

Yesterday was hard. The morning got off to a difficult start, but my Traveling Partner and I moved past the moment, and enjoyed a lovely day together. In the afternoon my mood was a little low; emotional storms use up a lot of energy and resilience, and can be quite fatiguing. I know that, though, and didn’t make it a thing. Instead I made healthy salads, my beloved got the crispy romaine and iceberg lettuce he enjoys, I got the dark leafy greens with the nutritional density I need to bounce back from a bad moment. We enjoyed them together.

It’s a stressful world. I hope you find something here to make it a little easier. (If I’ve overlooked a great way to manage stress, please share in the comments!)

I sit at the side of the trail I’m walking, writing and reflecting on life. It’s a cold morning. 1°C. I’m glad I wore a heavy sweater and a warm fleece over that. I watch daybreak become dawn. It will soon be time to begin again.

[No AI was used in writing or editing this content.]

It is Wednesday. An ordinary day in all obvious respects. Today I did not drop any bombs on my neighbors. It was surprisingly easy. There is reciprocal communication on all sides; I wave and say “hi!” when I see them, they return my greeting. No bombs required. I’m quite certain that adding bombs to our interactions would not be at all helpful, and the destruction would be costly. Just saying, the whole “let’s drop some bombs” approach to diplomacy isn’t a particularly useful way of reaching accord with one’s neighbors. It seems, in fact, pretty fucking stupid, but here we are; fuckwits with too much power dropping bombs because no one is stopping them from doing so.

I get to the trailhead before daybreak, put on my headlamp and set off down the trail. I get to my halfway point in darkness and sit listening to the sound of the creek nearby, still full and fast from recent days of rain. No flooding, and most of the puddles on the trail are gone after a couple of warm Spring afternoons. I hear soft hesitant footsteps, something stirring in the brush. A deer steps out of the trees along the trail and slowly walks past me,  her eyes on me as she passes, then another, and then a third. They step down the trail a ways, before turning and disappearing from view.

I sit awhile with my thoughts. I have a lot to think about. I let the thoughts come and go like clouds, or the turn of an unread page in a book I’ve read many times before, skipping ahead to something better. I am choosing what to spend my time on, and where to put my attention.

I’m eager to get back to painting, if not this weekend, then after the Anxious Adventurer has moved out and I have my space back. The lack of creative work isn’t really about the space, though, it’s the environment. Initially, I was exhausted from caregiving and uninspired. This stopped me painting for about a year. The “emotional environment” became a more profound impediment, fairly quickly. It was an unfortunate harbinger that the living arrangement wasn’t going to work out long-term; I need to be able to paint in my own home. It wasn’t anything deliberate and there was no malicious intention, but there also was no willingness to be aware of the problem nor to address it. So. Here we are.

The wheel keeps turning. The clock keeps ticking.

One more work shift, then a long weekend for the Equinox. I hope to spend most of my time in the garden, preparing it for Spring. I may drive out to the coast for a day trip and some time walking the beach and listening to what the wind and waves have to say. I plan to continue my practice of specifically not dropping bombs or shooting people. So far it has been surprisingly easy to avoid. No idea why the head fuckwit in office is having so much difficulty with that, honestly. (One might be forced to assume that chaos, destruction and murder were explicitly the desired outcome. So incredibly vile and horrifying.)

I sigh to myself and watch the sky turn a deep blue gray as daybreak comes. I’m grateful for another day on which I can look into the sky without worrying about bombs or drone attacks; this place is not a target of bombs or drones (so far). I’m fortunate.

The clock is ticking. Where does this path lead?

The thought of my Traveling Partner sleeping at home brings a smile to my face. We’ve been enjoying each other’s company quite a lot, and as his recovery progresses, our intimacy is restored and the connection we share deepens. It’s lovely. It’s also another reason it will be good to “have our space back”. No ill will towards the Anxious Adventurer, and I’m grateful for the help he provided while he was here, but our lifestyles are not similar enough to make cohabitation easy, with regard to intimacy.

Change is.

I sit awhile longer. The clock ticks on. Eventually, it’s time to begin again.

I finally get to my halfway point. Daybreak has come. It’s a gray wintry looking (but quite mild) morning. The marsh is marshy. The recent heavy rain (for days) makes the trails soggy. Even on the well maintained all season trail, my steps squish as I walk. Low spots are flooded.

There’s some potentially tedious bitching ahead, I warn you now. If that’s not amusing or interesting or potentially useful, skip down to the picture. 😂

My trek this morning takes longer than usual. I stop frequently to exchange messages with my Traveling Partner who is aggravated by the Anxious Adventurer’s behavior and general approach to life, again. They share blood as father and son, but not values. It makes comfortable cohabitation difficult and creates a lot of unnecessary drama. I’ll be glad to see the Anxious Adventurer move out, although I’m legitimately sorry he didn’t find a suitable living arrangement somewhere locally. He seems to like the area, but he does not have the will to put in the effort to find something around here, and the “easy options” are too costly. He doesn’t communicate sufficiently well to make use of available resources to open the door to other options, either.

It is emotionally exhausting to help him with anything

In two years, this situation has not improved much and the living arrangement is coming to an end for that reason. It could have worked. It didn’t. There were choices involved, and consequences are what they are. I’m very much looking forward to having my own bathroom again, and enough space to paint comfortably, to read quietly, and enjoy a home life that does not include conversations with someone who is walking away mumbling or shouting from another room. I probably sound like I’m being a bit bitchy, but just keeping things real, it’s my fucking house. I’ve set clear expectations and provided a lot of gentle feedback and reinforcement, without success, and have zero interest in parenting a grown man.

Choices have consequences.

Change is. Choose wisely.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Other People’s Drama can so easily pull us in, especially when it’s people dear to us. Relationships are a huge part of the human experience, maybe the most important part. Building healthy relationships is easier with shared values. Open communication is helpful, and I personally think it is quite necessary.

I swing my feet from this fence rail, watching robins digging in the soggy rotting leaf litter for tasty bugs. I’m grateful for the exceptional relationship I have with my Traveling Partner. I’m grateful we’ve both been willing to put ourselves into making it work when circumstances could have pulled us apart. I’m grateful that we’ve each had the reservoir of resilience and abiding love to weather the storms of being so very human. We listen to each other and work together. We clarify misunderstandings and share who we are as we change and grow over time. Our love is deep and our conversations are meaningful. We’re friends first, and lovers, and partners. I sit with my gratitude. 16 years ago, this friendship began to change my life. I’m grateful we’ve shared the journey for so long and I hope we continue to do so for some lengthy indefinite measure of time…call it a lifetime. Whatever we’ve got left. It’s enough. 😄❤️

I sigh to myself. The chaos of moving things around again is a minor aggravation and that moment is not now. I let it go and pull my attention back to this moment. It is a gray Spring morning in the Pacific Northwest. The squirrels have decided I’m no threat and they play among the meadow grass and in the trees. I’m having brunch with the Chaotic Comic this morning. I’ll enjoy this moment awhile longer, and then I’ll begin again. It’s time for change. I’m okay with that, I could see it coming. 😁

Chilly morning. It’s not seriously cold, but at 4.4C (40F), I definitely feel the air as chilly this morning. The morning feels darker than it has been at this time of morning. (Time for America’s idiotic attempt to force daylight to follow a new schedule. Ridiculous.)  None of this matters much. I’m rested, more or less over my cold, and feeling merry.

It’s Monday.

I started down the trail in the darkness, the light from my headlamp bobbing along with the steady beat of my footsteps. The feeling of merriment percolates within me. A new day is ahead of me and I feel loved and encouraged, which is a great way to begin a day (and a week).

There’s a new (muddy) temporary detour on this trail due to construction (and agriculture). I step carefully, avoiding slipping or falling. I’m grateful I knew the detour would be where it is. Unexpected muddy detours in the darkness are a more serious hazard than those detours I know to expect. This is true in life as well.

As I walk I think ahead to coffee. I pull myself back to this moment here, and immediately find myself reflecting on the weekend. I pull my focus back to this moment, again, and walk on. Eventually I reach my halfway point and write a few words with stiff fingers. Chilly morning. I’m okay with it.

… and if I weren’t okay with it? What then? 😆

I reflect awhile on the challenge of finding balance between simply being and self-awareness. I watched an interesting (and deeply considered) video about self-awareness yesterday. It provided food for thought and a lot of nuance to something I hadn’t considered so deeply before, myself.  I’ll probably watch it again.

Daybreak finally touches the sky. I can make out the trail now, without my headlamp. A useful metaphor for life and experience, I suppose. I smile to myself and prepare to begin again.

My new boots arrived yesterday. I eagerly put them on this morning. I wisely didn’t immediately chuck out my old ones; I don’t know how much break-in time the new pair may need. So far they are decently comfortable.

First steps feel like a new beginning – because they are.

I have on my favorite pair of thick alpaca hiking socks, and these boots feel like they have room for cushioned orthopedic insoles, too. Feels like a win. My gait though is altered just enough to feel different. The boots have a relatively tall sole, adding an inch to my height and changing where I “think my foot is” in space. I chuckle when I recall getting into the car… the first two attempts were just me awkwardly figuring out why, instead of easily sliding into the driver’s seat, I was getting hung up when I tried to put my foot into the car. 😆

… I’m a human primate; I figure shit out…

The morning feels like a lesson in avoiding making assumptions, and perhaps new boots are a useful metaphor. I get to my halfway point. Short walk. Familiar trail. I’m out of breath though, thanks to this fucking head cold. I sit down and cough and sneeze my way through an entire pack of travel tissues, grateful to have brought along two.

I smile to myself contentedly. I am enjoying the morning, and the weather is mild. No work today and I will return home to a human being who loves me dearly. The greatest wealth I’ve ever known is in this love I share with the singular human being who is my Traveling Partner on life’s journey. I breathe, exhale, and… have a coughing fit. I try again. (Damn, fuck this head cold though! 😆 I could definitely do without it. I remind myself that it will pass. Impermanence is more permanent, by far, than a head cold.) I add cough medicine to my shopping list, and sit quietly with my thoughts for awhile longer.

DST changes the clocks tomorrow. G’damn I fucking hate this bullshit. It’s so hard on my body. It changes the timing on all my medications and also makes us all look just a little stupid, as though we think moving the hands on the clock actually changes when the sun rises, or how many hours are in a day. 😂 Fucking idiotic.

I see hints that Spring is coming.

I shrug to myself, and let all that go. Spring is coming. I see it in a faint green haze beginning to show in the tops of distant oaks. Flowers are beginning to bloom along the trail, too. Lush green grasses and weedy plants fill the spaces between the vineyard rows. I love Spring. Funny, I often say that autumn is my favorite season, but I’m not certain that’s true, as I sit here inhaling the scents of Spring. I definitely know what I like. I like the solitary morning moments, and the time on the trail. I like returning home, knowing love waits for me there.

I’m grateful for the paved and level path while I break in new boots. (It’s a metaphor.)

I like beginning again. It’s my path, and it’s Spring. I’m okay with not knowing where this path leads. 😄