Archives for posts with tag: setting boundaries
« Older Entries

Spooky Quiet

September 27, 2026 //
0

I set off down the trail in the darkness. There’s a full moon shining through the trees, and the trail is muddy, which I did not expect.

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

A full moon, a quiet morning.

My Traveling Partner is up early. He pings me several times. Conversation. I set expectations that the trail is muddy and lacks good stopping points where it follows the river. I still struggle not to respond to every message (from him, specifically) immediately. He returns with his own expectation setting; this is my problem to solve. He says he was hoping I’d stop responding to everything immediately and let him drink his coffee. 😆 Fucking hell, we’re an interesting pair. I turn off my ringer and continue walking.

… It’s definitely an improvement to give my full attention to the moment I’m in, and the trail I am on…

The moon sinks below the trees, and the darkness is …darker. It is spooky quiet on the trail this morning. There was one other vehicle at the trailhead this morning. Somewhere along the trail here is another person. I am alert and a little wary. I slip on a slick bit of mud and fallen leaves and stop for a moment to let my heartbeat slow back down to something more normal. That was scary.

I reach my halfway point still in darkness. No river picture this morning, not yet. It isn’t even daybreak yet. I sit thinking about my difficulty with disregarding that unique notification sound that means my Traveling Partner and no one else. There are times when it is hazardous or problematic in some way, to be texting. Sometimes it is important to hold focus on the task I am engaged with. Sometimes I may be having a conversation with a human being standing in front of me, or just juggling packages awkwardly. My beloved is such a high priority in my life, I forget everything else and grab my phone immediately when I hear that notification.  This does need to be corrected (he’s right about that); it affects my safety, and he is no longer needing continuous care (barely ever needs help).

… Turning notifications off temporarily does work (very well), but sometimes I forget to turn them back on (very human)…

It’s not as if I don’t check my phone often enough when I can. This is fine. It isn’t worth stress. It doesn’t need a more complicated solution than turning off my ringer when I’m hiking, driving, or in a meeting. 😂

I sit with my thoughts in the dark. Now is a good time to check messages; I’m sitting still. 😆 A new message from my Traveling Partner assuring me he’s not mad and wanting to clarify that. A flurry of loving cute stickers follow. I like the stickers, they reinforce the message in a loving way. I find myself nodding and smiling. Sometimes communication is hard. This morning it’s easier.

Daybreak finally comes to this forested hollow on the riverbank. The trees around me take on a strange lacey appearance, silhouetted against the paler blue-gray of the dawn sky. It still feels quite dark. The call of an owl somewhere nearby seems to agree. I hear footsteps (and a dog?) coming down the slope of the trail, just beyond the next bend, and draw back into the shadows reflexively.

I hear a male voice. He becomes visible as he comes around the bend, just a guy and his dog, leashed. I relax a bit, and I’ve forgotten I am camouflaged by the shadows. He’s almost even with me when the wind changes and his dog alerts on my presence and gives a woof and halts. I’ve clearly startled the crap out of this guy, because he exclaims “Oh fuck! You startled the crap out of me there!” “I’m sorry I startled you,” I reply, “and good morning! How are trail conditions further on?”, I ask, hoping to make things feel more normal once more. He relaxes. “Don’t mind Cody here, he’s friendly,” he says, “trail’s okay, a little muddy.” I thank him and he continues on his way with a wave.

I sit awhile longer, watching the sky turn blue, and the trees green and gold, and hues of autumn, as daylight comes. I’ll give the sunrise a little time to light the trail, before I begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Breathe in the Moment

December 12, 2025 //
0

I sip my morning pod coffee in this hotel room. It’s been a strange break from some things that have been vexing me and wearing me down. I say “strange” because it hasn’t been at all (physically) restful. Not in the slightest. The pace has been fast and could have felt stressful. It didn’t feel stressful because I got a real break from being worn down, exhausting my resilience, day after day. There’s something to learn there.

Still a luxury.

I reflect on that awhile, sipping my coffee. How do I more carefully protect my peace? Preserve my energy? Care for this fragile vessel? How do I more skillfully set boundaries without creating conflict? These are important questions worth answering with some measure of experience-informed wisdom… I hope I find some.

I haven’t taken many pictures. I haven’t done any sightseeing. I haven’t even taken any walks through beautiful places, although I’ve been on my feet and walking from here to there, often. I don’t feel any heartbreak over that. It’s just a detail. I’m grateful for the rest I’ve gotten, in spite of the pace. Here, in this “strange place”, I have slept well and deeply, and even slept in, once. I feel rested.

I’ve gotten to meet and get acquainted with some amazing people on this trip. It’s been worth it.

I’m eager to return home to my Traveling Partner. I check for messages after I turn my notifications on for the day. I am not so eager to return home to drama, emotional bullshit, or the interpersonal friction of cohabitation. Humans being human. It’s often (mostly) nothing to do with me. I sigh to myself and reflect. I have enjoyed the solitude. I’ll soon be home to love… and also laundry, housekeeping, cooking, running errands, helping with whatever, and trying my best to find any time for myself to enjoy some quiet time when I can sit with my own thoughts, or read, or paint. I miss my Traveling Partner so very much. I don’t miss caregiving or housekeeping, drama, or emotional labor.

I remind myself that having the Anxious Adventurer move in was always temporary, and as with all things temporary, it will end. We’ve all agreed that he’ll move after the holiday season, nearer to Spring, when the weather is predictably safe to drive through distant mountains and isolated highways, to wherever his chosen destination turns out to be. I’d love for him to be able to stay in the area, he seems to like it, and it’s clear my Traveling Partner enjoys having him nearby and seeing him often. The cohabitation doesn’t work comfortably. I don’t think I’m even surprised,  when I consider things more deeply. It hasn’t significantly improved over the 16 months he’s been here, even with coaching and encouragement (and sometimes raised voices and frustration). I sigh to myself. Communication can be difficult. Accommodating each other’s needs, limitations, and boundaries can be hard. I already know I don’t prefer cohabitation – it’s a lot of fucking work. I can’t force either man to change his approach to the other, to listen more deeply, to make changes in behavior, to be more considerate, kinder, quieter, or be anyone other than they are. (It’s not my place to do so; they’re both grown-ass men, who ideally already know who they are and where they need to improve themselves.) I can set boundaries, myself, and do my own best to be the woman I most want to be, and to be accountable for my decisions and my actions, that’s it. We’re each having our own experience. I’m not inclined to allow these father-son difficulties so far outside my own experience dominate my thoughts, time, or to-do list.

… I’m also not inclined to sit around seething over it, if I can simply stay out of the way and let them figure it out. That’s not always possible; sometimes I’m invited to help, or reframe or rephrase in some heated moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. That time is not now. I’m alone in a quiet hotel room, and it’s almost breakfast time. I miss my beloved Traveling Partner – and I know what matters most (to me). So… I let it go, at least for now. I’ve got this moment here to live.

I look around the room… everything is packed. Breakfast next, then the office for a couple hours and a noontime departure to the airport. On the other end of hours of airports and flights, I’ve still got the drive home…more solitude. I’ll fill up on it while I can. Soon enough it’s back to the familiar routine, and time to begin again.

I settle into a comfortable position. I have time for meditation before breakfast…

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, autumn, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words

Dawn and a Hot Cup of Coffee

December 4, 2025 //
0

I’m at the trailhead with a hot cup of coffee, waiting for the rain to stop. I’m a little cross and don’t feel well-rested. Sometimes that’s the way it goes for me. I’m not cross because I woke up early in spite of hoping to sleep in a bit. I’m cross because the noise that woke me was triggering, and I didn’t manage that sufficiently well to avoid also exchanging harsh words with my Traveling Partner before I left the house for my walk. I’m disappointed, and this makes me cross. It’s my beloved’s birthday and I want only good experiences for him.

… I can do better…

I’m not in any hurry, at least. I took off work today, and after my walk I will pick up the birthday cake and head home to enjoy the day. I’ve got time to sort myself out before the day really begins.

The soft sprinkle of rain that is falling isn’t really enough to stop me from walking. I’m enjoying the freedom to choose my timing and my experience, and waiting for a little daylight. I’m hoping to give my beloved time to get back to sleep for awhile, too. I meditate. I breathe, and let my thoughts pass by like clouds. “Nothing to see here”, it’s a quiet moment on a quiet autumn morning. It’s enough.

Yesterday was a strange one, and I reflect on it awhile. It was the sort of day when it seemed each attempt to focus on a single task was interrupted multiple times, with the end result that the one task I kept returning to never actually got started. I’d have to begin all over again each time I dealt with some distraction, and each time my focus was broken with a ping, a request for my attention on something, or some other thing someone else wanted done… I ended the day mentally exhausted, and feeling like my time and consciousness are not my own. It was super annoying. On the other hand, my Traveling Partner and I cooked dinner together, and that was fun, in spite of me being so tired I couldn’t easily tackle dinner without his help, and had to rely on the Anxious Adventurer to do cleanup after dinner. I went to bed early, too, and still woke feeling like I didn’t get any real rest.

A steady stream of headlights sweeps past, on the highway adjacent to the trailhead parking. G’damn, I’m so glad it isn’t me, this morning. I chuckle to myself thinking about my last visit with my Granny on the Eastern Shore. That would have been… 1995? Something like that. I was in my early thirties. She was some age between 65-75, and seemed ageless to me. I remember being surprised any time her response to a suggested outing or adventure of some sort was being “too tired for all that”. I definitely get it now. Fucking hell, life is exhausting sometimes. I “run out of spoons” much sooner these days, and things seem to require more of me than they once did. I often fail to account for self-care needs, beyond this quiet time in the morning, and my well-being and quality of life are slowly being more and more degraded by that. It’s poor planning, poor boundary and expectation setting, and also fairly fucking stupid – because I am aware of the negative consequences and also actually know better through direct experience. I could do better, and I’m going to end up paying a high price if I don’t treat myself better.

… I still, often, find it difficult to put my own needs high on my list, in spite of so much growth and progress. I should work on that…

I sip my coffee, struggling to rephrase my thoughts to avoid “should…” in favor of more emotionally healthy language. I don’t benefit from joining the queue of demanding voices pinging on my consciousness. I can do better.

The first hint of daybreak lightens the sky. I think of my beloved Traveling Partner hopefully sleeping at home. I sip my coffee contentedly, listening to the patter of raindrops and watching daybreak become the dawn of a new day, full of opportunity.

One mortal woman, limited capacity to do the verbs, limited opportunity to create change, limited ability to do more, better… I’ve only got so many spoons, and this brief mortal life to live. I sigh, still pressing myself to “do more, better”, aware that more often than not I am already doing my best. It has to be enough when we give all we have, but an unfortunate truth seems to be that sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, and there’s no more to offer. Still… I guess “everything” is more than nothing, and as unsatisfying as that sometimes feels, it’ll have to do.

The rain keeps falling.

I sigh to myself and stretch as I get out of the car and pull my rain poncho, scarf, and gloves out of my gear bin. I can make out the trail now, in the predawn gloom. I’m so tired… and it’s already time to begin again. That’s okay; I’ll do my best.

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

Taking Steps

July 10, 2024 //
0

I am taking steps, this morning, both literally and figuratively. In the literal sense, I am up early, before dawn, and on the trail. Steps. In the figurative sense I am putting a plan in motion to ease my persistent fatigue and get some better rest. I made reservations for a couple days away, at the end of July, to get some solitary restful time with my thoughts and my pastels. The former feels quite routine, the latter quite necessary, but I guess they both have all those qualities – they’re just different practices that I use to care for this fragile vessel.

Daybreak

… I’m so tired…

I walk on, enjoying the brief solitary interlude I’ve learned to count on each day. A few precious minutes with my thoughts, walking my own path, just… being. Most days, I can’t really expect even one additional solitary moment that isn’t spent in a bathroom, or driving (which rarely feels solitary). There’s nearly always someone around (at home, my Traveling Partner, and at work my colleagues), and in spite of human primates being “social creatures”, I struggle to get adequate solitude, as an individual. I sigh as I walk, thinking my solitary thoughts. Most days, these minutes and miles on the trail are enough to refuel me and keep me going. It’s enough.

…A couple days of creative time on the coast will be lovely, and I am already looking forward to it…

The sunrise softens to a pale sky of pastel hues, pink and pale yellow and a streak of baby blue. Pretty. It’ll be another very hot day today, though maybe just a bit cooler than yesterday’s 106°F.

The world finds me even here in the early morning alone on this trail. My Traveling Partner pings me. Tells me about his difficult night, the pain he is in, and how he’s doing so far this morning. I stop walking to reply and decide to write these few words. (I happened to be at a convenient spot to sit for a minute, so the timing fits.)

Sometimes it feels like there is no rest, really, no real solitude, no actual “downtime”… There’s a sensation, some days, that “someone always wants a piece of me”. I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s no reason to push myself so hard. Boundaries can be set and reinforced. I can reclaim my time and attention for myself, for my own purposes. There are verbs involved, and my results vary. Success requires practice.

Later today, we move forward with some of the planned changes around the house, making room for one more human being. Yeah, even knowing myself as I do, I agreed to this shit. 😂 It’s fine. I’m for sure not sorry to see books on shelves in the living room instead of tucked away in a small bedroom being used as a library. I enjoy books and could happily cover every wall with bookshelves.

The sunrise continues to develop as the morning warms up. The colors have shifted to a more homogeneous shade of peach (or is it a pale salmon or coral?), with a smudge of lavender smeared along the horizon. My mind wanders as I sit with my thoughts. This is also…fine. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This mile won’t walk itself! I laugh quietly and watch little birds in the recently mown grass. It’s time to get going, finish this walk, and get on with the day.

… It’s time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being

Dream a Little Dream

November 18, 2023 //
0

It’s a new day. A Saturday. I woke from peculiarly surreal and also vaguely sexual dreams with a sense of being “interrupted” and also having slept in quite a bit (which is a pleasant luxury, for me). I dressed and quietly let myself out of the house to watch the sun rise from a local trail. It was a lovely morning for it.

Daybreak on a favorite trail.

…I walk on…

Later, as the morning develops along the way.

I followed that with routine errands, arriving home sufficiently early to enjoy my morning coffee with my Traveling Partner while he enjoyed his. We spoke of 3D printers and projects, and things of that sort, until we’d both finished our coffee and it was time to move on with the day.

…My dream(s) still linger in my thoughts, which is a bit unusual these days. I dreamt of kissing a dark-eyed youth in a collegiate stage of early adulthood, who captivated me with his quiet confidence and led me by the hand to some less-than-ideally private place to take things further, only, that turned out to be a local business (?!) that opened quite unexpectedly, filling with customers – young women dressed only in towels, giggling as they passed us. We left, and attempted to find a happy haven “at my place” – only it wasn’t my place at all, it was… the first floor of some bizarre high-rise condo, where the current owners politely explained that they had purchased my abode, and upon breaking through the ceiling discovered 3 further floors above, lavish, luxuriously appointed, and clearly out of my price-range. They were courteously apologetic about how obviously I did not belong there. We sat at their vast kitchen counter in an expansive kitchen that was never mine, sipping deliciously well-crafted espresso (even in my dreams, there is coffee). My dream ended in contemplation of “where to go next”, when I realized I was alone where I stood. No dark-eyed youth. No giggling young women. No urbane well-spoken householders. Just me, standing on a rainy street in the twilight of my dreams. I woke, ready for a new day, simultaneously amused and puzzled by my strange dream(s). I’ve been dreaming a lot lately. Thankfully, few nightmares, just strange surreal dreams.

I’m in enough pain today to feel quite distracted and disinclined to do much, but there is much to do, and I feel creatively inspired… I may spend some portion of the day in the studio, painting, if I solve some of the puzzles involved in the two pieces I am presently working on. Individual paintings take longer these days. They are… more “involved”, and have greater depth of meaning. I think this has been an outcome of going through menopause, strangely enough. My thoughts and my emotions seem to take longer to process fully, but I get more out of them when I “get there”. Emotions have more breadth and depth – and more recognizable significance, with less chaos. Thoughts travel along more tangents and down more rabbit holes, but once every thread is pulled, and every depth explored, I find I have a greater understanding of where I was headed in the first place, and what to do with my thoughts when I get there.

…I sip my coffee and think about how useful all that would have been when I was much younger, stronger, and faster. LOL Life is weird.

My Traveling Partner interrupts my writing to ask me what I’m doing (which I guess I should expect, since I chose to be writing in the living room; a space we routinely share). I answer. Then I manage to interrupt him when he shares a thought, and he sternly tells me he’ll “try not to be annoyed” by that. I manage to refrain from pointing out the interruption to my writing that started the conversation in the first place, which for me is no doubt similarly annoying. I chuckle to myself; we both find a flow state difficult to find or maintain if the other is in the same shared space. It is evident we enjoy each other’s company greatly. I do struggle to set boundaries when I am reading or writing, though, and he rarely seems to recognize that both those activities (for me) require my full attention and focus to enjoy properly, or understand that I sometimes want the full measure of my own attention for myself. I don’t bother to say anything about it (again). Then I wonder if that’s a mistake…

I sip my coffee and move on. Letting small things stay small has real value in life and love, and I’m not inclined to “start shit” on such a lovely Saturday.

I continue to fuss about a particular “how to” challenge with a painting I keep coming back to – it is a self-portrait, so perhaps I am “too close to the subject” in some way. I find myself stalled because it really wants a different technical approach than I typically prefer, and the requirement to slow down, take my time, and work on the practical details with consideration and discipline vexes me. There are no suitable shortcuts! Shit. This one is going to be “do it right, or don’t do it at all”, and this confounds me. There’s something to learn here, and I sip my coffee grateful for the lesson. I don’t suppose learning will slow the inevitable result of being mortal, but I hear it may keep me young(er)… sounds worthwhile.

I sigh outloud and sip my coffee. Age, aging, human life, human mortality… so much more obvious as concerns these days than they were in my 20s. I look at my pillbox… double-checking that I’ve taken everything up to this point in the day that I’m expected (required to). “Fuck aging” I mutter to myself, nonetheless grateful for medical care, and the prescriptions that help me maintain my health acceptably well.

I resign myself to being distracted from my writing; if I want to write utterly without distractions, I definitely need to be alone, and in an unshared space. That’s just real. I chose this location – and I did so because I want to enjoy my partner’s company, and also write. Not sure how I thought that would work. LOL

Well, shit. There are paintings to paint, and dishes to do… I suppose it’s time to begin again.

Tags , , , , , , , , , , ,
Categories Allegories, art and the artist, autumn, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, turning 60, women
« Older Entries