I’m sipping lukewarm too-strong less than ideally good office coffee and looking out the windows onto a rainy day, in Autumn, in “the city”. It could be any city. There are trees along the sidewalks, green summer foliage has begun turning to shades of gold, amber, and red. The soggy gray sky obscures the distant hills and creates silvery featureless reflections on office buildings beyond the windows. I’m thinking about life – and how fortunate I am – and how peculiar it is to be so contented, generally, when my actual life is so very different than what I once thought I wanted from it. Very strange.
A rainy autumn day suitable for thinking thoughts.
The day begins rather slowly for a Monday. It’ll be busier as the day progresses. I use the time to get my thoughts sorted out, and my week planned. There’s much to do, but a significant portion of the doing rests on good planning, and awareness of projects already in progress; rushing through the “thought work” has proven to be a poor choice on more than one occasion. I take my time with it. I think things through. I take notes, and review other notes. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I drink my coffee.
Past tense. Autumn colors. Memories like fallen leaves.
Funny how what we think we want doesn’t always turn out to be what we actually wanted, at all. Funny how things that are in the past become something more than mere memories, over time, taking on stature far beyond whatever humble object or event they represent. I find myself thinking about the past, and wondering how I got from there to here… “Here” isn’t where I expected to be, honestly.
…There are conversations I wish I could have with my Dad, my Mom, with Granny…
I sip my coffee contentedly. The day and week stretch ahead of me. My Traveling Partner is at home, working. I’m in the office, working. I’m thinking about life and love, and smiling at the raindrops spattering the grand windows that seem display the city for my view alone in this quiet space. It’s enough. I guess I’m just puzzled about how this can feel so good, so safe, so satisfying… and still find myself vulnerable to the chaos and damage that still linger, and sometimes take me by surprise. I’m fortunate to have come so far. It’s taken time and a lot of verbs and considerable effort and the will to just keep at it… again and again, failure after failure, frustration after frustration… but I am here. This is now. I’m okay with it. More than that… I may even be… happy. At least in this moment. That’s enough.
Eventually, I’ll have to begin again. For now, I’ll just enjoy this moment, right here. 🙂
My camping trip was thought-filled and peculiarly restful (of mind). Today, I’ll unpack the car and make sure camping clothes are laundered and gear is neatly packed for winter storage (I don’t do much cold-weather camping). These are the sorts of verb-laden basic tasks that are so easy to shrug off, but doing them – in spite of the effort required – makes so much difference when Spring returns!
Reflections as Summer shifts to Autumn, shades of green mingled with hints of rust and gold.
The more commonplace routine order of things resumes tomorrow. Monday. Funny… there’s no dread. No agita. No regret. No anxiety. Just… time to get to work. I mull that over, sipping my coffee. It feels good to find joy in work. I mean, work is work, and it’s doable without the joy, but… a lot less enjoyable. It’s proven to be worthwhile to work where I’m valued, to work where I enjoy the people working alongside me, to do work that uses my skills and that has at least some value in the world. It has become an element of good self-care (for me) to choose the work I do with some care. The first step on that path, it turned out, was learning to make it a choice.
…So… Autumn is here again at long last. How delightful! (Admittedly, I find things to love about all the seasons, but Autumn is probably my favorite.) Leaves are already changing. The weather is already cooling off. The rains are returning. I am reminded that I need to get into the garden… there’s work to be done there. Tomatoes to harvest. Cucumbers, too. Over-wintering greens to get into the ground. The question of whether to cover a portion of the garden with clear plastic or a cold-frame crosses my mind again. It remains, so far, unanswered. Some questions are like that.
I sip my coffee making a mental list… unpack the car, laundry, clean the camp fridge, maybe run some gear over to storage… oh, the gardening! I laugh at myself; mental lists (for me) go nowhere. I need to write things down. No shame in that; knowing my limitations and working around those comfortably is a useful skill. 😀
My Traveling Partner got a lot done while I was away. I came home to an upgraded OS on my tower and a tidy house. Not just that, he got to work with a neighbor and finished rocking in the narrow side yard on the side with the AC unit; it’s been a mess of weeds and hard to keep tidy, and too narrow a space to make much of. This will be more efficient and beautiful, with lower maintenance requirements. I can put more of my limited energy into the front garden. 😀
Where does this path lead?
It feels like a good day to celebrate small wins, and to feel wrapped in love. It’s a good day to be of service to hearth and home. It’s a good day to love and to make merry. It’s a good day to begin again.
In life it’s rare for an outcome to deliver “everything” we want or need (or thought we wanted or needed) in a single tidy package of delight. Very uncommon. Far more typical of outcomes, generally, however hard we work towards a goal, is to achieve… something. A partial victory. A fraction of a total. A “participation trophy” instead of first place. A thousand dollar win on a million (or billion) dollar chance. A job that pays the bills (but won’t necessarily let someone “get ahead”). Something.
…”Something” is not “everything”…
Knowing that life is made up of somethings, and rarely features even a single “everything” moment, ever, one might be forgiven for extrapolating that human beings are therefore deeply invested in contentment, appreciation, and a deep understanding of sufficiency – having “enough” being within easy reach, versus that elusive “having it all” that so many dream of. Ah, but that’s not how human primates work, and so often a pursuit of “everything”, and the “having it all” day dreams (that often undermine more realistic goals), seem to be more likely to be expressed in day-to-day bitching about what isn’t, and what hasn’t, and what won’t, and all manner of forms of complaining and dissatisfaction in life. Peculiar.
We become what we practice.
…When we practice feeling discontented, dissatisfied, and held back by circumstances or individuals, we become very skilled at being discontented, dissatisfied, (even to the point of holding ourselves back so we can also bitch about the circumstances) and adopting an air of being downtrodden and “let down by life”. Conversely, I’ve noticed first hand, when I practice contentment, feeling satisfied, and exploring alternative choices that could allow me to capitalize on unexpected circumstances (instead of feeling held back by them), I become contented, satisfied in life, and more skilled at managing (and even embracing) change. I bounce back more easily, because my life is characterized by contentment, generally. This is a big deal. Bigger than it may appear at first glance, which is why I’m going on about it a bit.
…Maybe stop bitching so much about every fucking thing, hmm?…
It’s easy to bitch about how bad things are. (Maybe things really are bad? That’s real. I get it.) Okay, so… is it actually helpful, or useful, or likely to make things better, if I were to wallow in misery and invest time and emotional energy in feelings of discontent, and expressions of dissatisfaction to the point of crowding out time and energy for action? I haven’t seen that investing time and energy and words in discontent or misery does anything at all to ease either. I don’t become less discontented by being discontented with my “lot in life” or my decision-making, or circumstances. Not even a little bit. I don’t find myself feeling propelled forward into an exciting future by standing around bitching about how circumstances are holding me back, or the deck is stacked against me – even when it really may seem that’s the case. It’s just not helpful in any practical way, and it very much tends to alienate people who could be supportive allies, because over time it’s likely to become an annoying buzzkill for anyone who might want to stick around to help out.
I’m not saying “pretend life is rosy”. That also isn’t very useful or effective. We only need to look to social media to know that doesn’t work at all. “Fake it till you make it” has a toxic subtext, and I’m not really a fan of that approach. I value authenticity – and positive progress, forward momentum, frankness, and a willingness to embrace change. Start your journey where you are, and move forward from there. Fakery is fakery, and that often fails because it’s fake – even where intentions are good.
Nothing I’m saying amounts to “easy”. It’s hard to have a shitty moment and to resist the tendency to allow it to become a shitty experience that develops into a shitty day that slowly becomes a shitty life, over time, as shitty experiences accumulate. We pick at our wounds and prevent them from healing. It’s very human.
So many of my everyday practices are about finding a comfortable, useful, real perspective on “now” that also gives me a firm foundation to move forward from, in an emotionally healthy positive way, without bullshitting myself (or anyone else). Still not easy. There are verbs involved. My results vary. I keep practicing. 😀 Worth it. I’ve come soooo far.
This morning is a lovely morning. For real. Yes, I’m between jobs… and I’m also enjoying the lovely summer days, and time in the garden, and time spent with my Traveling Partner and his visiting son. It’s a pleasant time to reconsider what I want to be doing with my time that suits my skills, brings in a paycheck, and is also satisfying and worthwhile work. This is a great time to consider all of that. I sip a glass of water (I’ve long since had my coffee, and it’s going to be quite a hot day), and reflect on all the things that are working out well, and I take a moment to consider the things that matter, the things that fill a good life, and what it takes to be the woman I most want to be. I pause to reflect, to write, and to practice.
I slept poorly last night. Restless dreams, wakefulness, and frequently having to get up to pee, along with being in pain, made for a difficult night. My Traveling Partner woke up in a shitty mood, in pain, and cross with me as his default approach. Not my favorite way to start a day. I dressed and headed out as soon as I woke. “Later” will be soon enough to return home, hopefully some time after my partner has had his coffee, done some yoga and stretching, and taken whatever he can to manage his pain and allergies.
I’m sitting on a fence rail next to a marshy expanse of still water favored by all manner of water birds. There is seasonality to the view. I enjoy this quiet place, although on weekends it is often crowded with bird-watchers and camera nerds. It’s a nice place for perspective.
God damn, it would suck if this otherwise beautiful relationship were to fail over our inability to sleep in the same place. I think about that briefly. Tears well up, and I brush them away. We’re not there yet and there are still things to try. My sleep study got moved up from mid-August to… tomorrow. I’m not exactly excited, just hoping something helpful comes of it.
A woman and child walk past me. I hear the child ask “Mommy, why does that lady look sad?”, and the woman’s kind careful reply “Sometimes being a grown up is hard honey. It makes Mommy sad sometimes, too.” For real, Lady, you’re so right. Sorry, Kiddo, it’s not always easy.
I sit quietly awhile. No plan. Just stillness. I check the hours for the pharmacy near home in order to time my return such that I can pick something up for my Traveling Partner. I try to do enough sweet things, kind things, helpful things to offset the unpleasantness of our shared challenges. It’s not “enough”, but it is at least something. I find myself making a silent promise to refrain from talking about my own pain, and fatigue, and stress, and anxiety… Hoping to be more easily able to make room for my partner to feel heard, even if I can’t do much about it. Again, it’s not everything, it’s just something.
… I have to trust that after 13 years together he does understand that I am chronically struggling with pain, myself, and that he has the affection for me and the emotional intelligence to hold space for that awareness day-to-day, in spite of his own pain and fatigue. That’s hard sometimes. It can be a very “fuck your pain, what about mine?!” kind of world sometimes. I think I can do better… But how best to do better without being a dick to myself and undermining my own emotional wellness? It’s a puzzle.
… Sometimes being a grown up is hard, and it makes me sad…
I think about a dear friend tearing up a bit as we discussed age, aging, and the inevitable loneliness of feeling “cast aside”. Fucking hell, that is some real shit. Sometimes being grown up is hard. I watch a small flock of birds take flight, appearing to chase a larger bird. They don’t pay me any attention at all. I’m not part of their experience.
We’re each walking our own path. No map. Sometimes we get lucky on the journey and have some companionship along the way for some distance. It’s not a given that we will, and ultimately we’re in this alone, regardless how or whether we surround ourselves with people or creatures. These are individual journeys. Nonetheless, we’re also all in it together. It’s a puzzle. I remind myself to try to be kind. Always.
It’s early evening. Or… late afternoon. I guess it depends on how you count the hours, and when you dine – or end the day. This once, let’s agree it is early evening, though the twilight before nightfall is quite a way off still. I am sipping a glass of ice water after a leisurely soak in the hot tub, and some yoga to ease tense muscles. I am thirsty, and almost peculiarly I am not completely worn out beyond usefulness, which is a nice change of pace for this time of day. It’s been a pleasantly productive day of work, and I’ve managed to be genial, relaxed, and content all day. I have not burdened myself with the additional stress of self-imposed ridiculous deadlines or “production goals”, nor worn myself thin with too many “yes” answers and not enough “no” answers. I have enough left in me to write, and likely even to prepare a meal later. What did I do differently…?
Let me count the ways I did things differently today, and the things I tried:
I gave myself a lovely few minutes before ever beginning work to reflect quietly on the day ahead, and give some thought to what I hoped to get done – and to realistically plan ahead the things I probably would not get to, without giving myself any shit over it, or making any excuses.
I focused on, and completed, the few specific tasks I had committed to, and having left myself some room to do so, I was able to pick up a handful of other helpful things and get those done without any pressure to do so, nor any sense of failure if I did not.
I took real breaks, and made a point to walk away from work – the way I often recommend to other people, and often fail to do for myself.
I had real conversations with real humans, and during those conversations I focused on that human I was speaking with, and really listened to what they were saying. (Doing this, and getting it right, was the most difficult thing I did today!!)
I took care of myself when I got home from work… yoga, a hot shower, a soak in the hot tub, and this quiet time spent writing, all fill that requirement.
I did some site maintenance on my blog that I’d been putting off and feeling crappy about.
I updated my to-do list without rushing to do any of it just yet.
Each time I experienced a moment of anxiety, I gave that feeling a minute of my attention, and some self-compassion. I paused long enough to practice self-soothing, and to consider what might really be driving that moment of anxiety, without judgment or shame. I even learned some things by doing so.
Not bad. In fact… (I feel) pretty good. I’m pleased by this feeling of being settled and centered, at the end of a work day. It’s a good feeling. Comfortable.
“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas w/ceramic 2011
…My anxiety surges as if on cue. I’m okay. I breathe. Exhale. Relax. I look it in the face – “why now?” Probably simply that success (on this issue) is a little scary, itself. I’ve struggled with anxiety for so long, it is a little… weird… to contemplate who I am without it. That seems very human, and acknowledging both the emotions/sensations and the humanity of it, I feel myself relax again. Less anxious. Good deal.
Perspective matters.
“Emotion and Reason” acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012
I see my therapist Wednesday. Our first in-person appointment since before the pandemic. Wow. Milestone.
My Traveling Partner sticks his head in for a moment. “How’s your writing?” he asks, pleasantly. No stress between us. This also feels very good. My anxiety fucks both of us up. lol I gesture vaguely at the screen, “I’m writing about anxiety, things I’m doing differently to handle it, stuff we were talking about…” He nods looking serious and hopeful, “That’s promising…” he says (or words very like that – I may already have forgotten precisely what he said).
…It’s time to begin again.
Staying on the path is a choice, and there are verbs involved.
Evening Light 