Archives for posts with tag: stress

I’m sipping my coffee slowly, after realizing I sat down and started my work day without taking time for me, at all. This is strange behavior (for me), and likely a byproduct of lingering background stress, which seems mostly pretty pointless, and perhaps a bit ridiculous.

It’s a very human experience to be mired in stress that is “inherited” (as from another person’s stress) or “opted-into” (as with becoming stressed by choices to read or consume specific media known to cause stress, and possibly little else), or even illusory (or delusional, as with hand-crafted personalized internal nonsense that just isn’t “real” in any practical sense). Then, of course, there’s all the real stress that may be simmering in the background of an individual human experience…commuting…cost of living…lack of means or resources…some momentary hardship or disaster…the risk of any of these being imminent… Although there are definitely practices that can effectively reduce stress (a lot), feeling stress is part of the human experience. It’s pretty non-negotiable. Sooner or later, a human primate experiences stress. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sign out of my work tools, and “look away” for a few minutes of self-reflection, meditation, and self-care.

Lately, I’ve been pretty chronically feeling (and responding to) stress day-to-day, more than I had been, for awhile. Some of it is cultural; I’m responding to what so many of us are responding to, because it’s part of our shared experience of watching American democracy struggle. Pretty terrifying shit, and I guess being stressed about it, at least somewhat, is “rational stress”, but it isn’t helpful to become mired in it, or to let it consume my precious mortal lifetime. Then there’s the “work stress”, but that is also pretty routine ordinary shit; I’m new in the role, and still feel a sense that I need to “prove myself” – but this is self-inflicted stress, and I could safely less this go… by letting it go. lol There is an act of willful self-care and discipline involved in releasing that kind of stress. The way out is through, and taking time for self-reflection, and for practices like “taking in the good” are going to be useful for this. The stress sourcing from “home stuff” is a strange stress smoothie of unrelated things: increasing costs, reduced resources, a vague unsettled feeling of job insecurity (a byproduct of being laid off a couple of times after relatively short time in various roles), things I’m behind on but really want to get done, and something I hadn’t anticipated at all – some stress around the changes in my Traveling Partner’s abilities, as his healing progresses. As stressed as I was trying to provide full-time caregiving while also working full-time, I had expected it to dissipate when that caregiving was no longer a massive day-to-day nearly continuous requirement. It hasn’t. Quite the contrary, I’m potentially a bit more stressed working to stay up-to-date with his changing capabilities and needs. I can’t assume his abilities or needs are the same as yesterday. It pushes me out of “auto-pilot”. I can’t really build a routine based on expectations of his needs. Things change and shift with each day, and I’m doing my best, but feel (often) as though I’m just a step behind on everything, all the time. Being fully present is a good thing, and healthy relationships need that presence and connection to thrive. Being fully present is also more work. I sometimes find myself overwhelmed by how much I’m trying to keep track of.

I’m not bitching, I’m simply taking a moment to examine where “all this stress” is coming from – so I can more effectively address any portion of it, at all. It adds up. I sit with my thoughts and my coffee, reflecting on life, love, work, and being human.

I give myself over to a moment of gratitude. There is so much right in my life, giving too much of my attention to the things that may be less than ideal seems wasteful and foolhardy (and a serious bummer).

I look at my hands when I feel my fingertips gently pass over a snagged cuticle, feeling the rough edge of it. The sensation distracts me. I stop myself from pulling at it. This, too, requires presence and discipline. The condition of my fingertips tells the tale of my background stress and general emotional wellness. I set myself a challenge; just for today, don’t pick at my fingertips at all. Just one day. I can do that, right? I think it over, and wonder if I really can. Brain damage and nervous tics and things of that sort don’t work the way a “bad habit” does, but the same “rules” often apply; we become what we practice. If I can practice not fucking biting my nails and tearing up my cuticles, it’s quite likely the behavior may be extinguished… eventually. I may need to replace the physical experience (the actions of the behavior itself) with something else that satisfies the signals reaching (or not reaching) my brain. I think about that, too. I’ve been having some success with a “worry stone”, when watching videos. I’ll keep practicing.

I hear a short bit of a song in my head. Again. It’s been there for days, now. It occurs to me that it may be percolating up from within, a message from me to myself to put attention on reducing my stress before it becomes a problem with serious consequences. I’ve been trying to figure out what song it is for days, because the only thing I hear in my head is the refrain, “Soothe me, Baby, soothe me. Soothe me with your kindness…” Sam and Dave. Finally figured it out. Yeah, it’s a funny little stress response, and not the first time song lyrics “speak to me” in some direct meaningful way.

Tis the season, isn’t it? Are you managing your stress sufficiently well? Have you identified where it may be coming from, in order to more easily deal with it? Are you running from it instead, and hoping for the best? Are you choosing to numb yourself with intoxicants, instead of dealing with it at all? Are you hoping it will go away if you ignore it? Have you started a meditation practice to help you manage your stress – or abandoned one because you feel you have no time for it? I’m of the opinion that life should not (ideally) feel like a hamster wheel. I prefer life to feel like a walk on a well-maintained path, myself, but that isn’t always the experience I have. I chuckle to myself; reality does not care a bit about my opinions, and never has.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin. Again. I’ll start by managing my stress with gratitude, self-care, and a plan.

Whether or not whatever is causing our stress and anxiety is “real” – the stress itself, the actual anxiety is real. Strange how that works.

I sneeze suddenly and dart across the room to the corner where I’ve tucked my handbag, and scramble frantically through the contents looking for the travel pack of tissues I know is there somewhere. Damn it! Another sneeze, and now my nose is running like crazy and I dread finding myself covered in snot. I continue scrambling through the contents of my handbag a bit panicked, finally finding the tissues after I basically dump the contents onto the top of the printer in the corner. I return to my desk, feeling relieved, then my eye falls on an actual box of tissues right there on my damned desk, unnoticed, placed there by the cleaning crew over the weekend. I sigh, amused and frustrated, and astonished at the intensity of my absolutely pointless moment of stress. The stress was real. The cause of it wasn’t real at all; it was based on a misperception, a misunderstanding, an error in thinking.

“Anxiety” 10″ x 14″ – and she feels much bigger than that, generally.

…That’s often how stress and anxiety work; we respond to something in our thoughts or perceived experience without regard to the actual factual basis of the circumstances, and the stress builds so quickly we fail to “fact check” what’s going on around us…

I take a moment to let renewed calm sink in. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a new moment. I begin again.

My Traveling Partner had asked me (some time ago) to help with some paperwork. I have been dreading doing it, not because it’s actually all that big a deal, but because… stress. My own medical trauma and difficulties with some sorts of paperwork has been getting in the way of helping him out. He’s got his own challenges and anxiety to do with it, but it’s mostly been about the practical difficulties with keyboarding for long enough to get it done. He needs my help. I am happy to provide it – in the abstract – but the reality of the stress it has been causing me flared up yesterday afternoon, and I found myself in a moment of headache and pain and stressful tears over… mostly nothing. It’s just not that big a deal. It collided with my awareness of the upcoming busy Tuesday calendar (he has a couple of appointments to get to, and needs help getting to those) and my upcoming time off (which appears now to need to include Tuesday) and my headache, and I just… couldn’t get my head around all of it calmly. I found myself facing a huge feeling of pressure and imminent requirement to get it all done. Funny – not one detail of any of it is all that big a deal, so… why all the stress and agita? Why the anxiety? What the actual fuck, eh?

Humans being human. This morning it doesn’t look like all that big a deal. I look over the provided checklist for the paperwork, it’s not all that bothersome, actually. The appointments tomorrow? The Anxious Adventurer stepped up, agreeing to take his father to those appointments. I took it in stride this morning when it turned out I also have an appointment, scheduled in between my Traveling Partner’s appointments, and which would have prevented me from taking him to both of his, regardless. Busy day. The paperwork? It’s just paperwork. Needs to be done so it can join a queue of other paperwork submitted by other human beings to be considered by still other human beings at some considerably later date. Just not that big a deal, I guess. But the stress was real. That’s an important detail; managing that stress was its own thing, with its own needs and its own steps. A real concern, for a real human being – and I’m grateful that my Traveling Partner recognized the need ahead of my own acknowledgement of my stress (which was escalating and confounding my ability to reason), and helped me address it, enabling me to more easily self-soothe, and get myself back on track. No tantrum, no meltdown. The headache lingered through the evening, but even that wasn’t that big a deal once the stress had been managed. Stress complicates everything by clouding our comprehension and judgment, making everything look like a bigger deal than it may actually be.

This morning, I breathe, exhale, and relax. I slept well and deeply last night – I clearly needed the rest. I feel like my body (and mind) have finally made the adjustment to the change to the clocks (good grief I wish we’d stop doing that). I feel more settled and comfortable in my skin. Okay for most values of “okay”, and ready for a new day (and week). The Equinox is coming, and so is my time off. It’ll be nice to have a few relaxed days painting, drinking coffee, driving beautiful roads to lovely destinations, and doing some painting. It is time planned to be very low stress. I hope it actually turns out that way, although the future is not written, and I have no way to know what obstacles may be on the path ahead. lol It’s a very human experience.

I’d like to spend a little time in the garden, too. So much of my experience in life is based on what I’ve planted, what I tend to. I think awhile about my garden as a metaphor… there are weeds to pull, seedlings to nurture, and a harvest in the future. For now? It’s time to begin, again.

My garden is a special place for me – and a useful metaphor.

Not gonna lie, when the email hit my inbox it kind of took my breath away, and I had a moment of panic and stress and doubt. My anxiety flared up, shouting in my head for attention. I wanted to “run away”.

We are contacting you to communicate an adjustment in the monthly rental rate…

Funny how such things are so rarely about a decrease in the rent, eh?

We do not take adjusting your rental rate lightly and understand cost increases impact you…

Yeah, I’ll bet you do. I took a deep breath and pulled out my calculator, and my calendar.

Two increases in less than six months since new management took over the storage company we lease a unit from. I took another breath, and patiently adulted through the panic. I did the math, did some comparisons, and determined quickly that we could easily do better. Instead of freaking out, I sent my Traveling Partner an email, sharing the unexpected increase in the rent on our storage unit, and providing the alternatives I’d identified. We came to a solution, made a plan, and got to work on making a needed change. Yes, it’s a lot of work to be done, but sooner on this is better than later.

…I immediately felt less stressed out…

I’ve grown. It wasn’t so long ago that something like this would have me mentally “running for cover”, terrified to face circumstances or take action. The key detail, the first step on the path, being to face circumstances, with open eyes and an open mind. We can’t make informed choices or wise changes to circumstances we try to hide from. Elementary adulting; don’t lie to yourself.

Am I happy to have to move a bunch of stuff from one storage unit to another? Not really. On the other hand, what we actually have are two storage units, and we’ll move into one much larger one for the same price, and be able to re-organize efficiently as we do so. This turns the whole annoying thing into a really choice opportunity and an improvement in convenience, and I am happy about that. Altogether a positive change, with some verbs involved. Had I let this mess go for weeks or months trying to avoid thinking about it or dealing with it, or trying to wish it away, I could have found myself lacking good options, or faced with even greater expense and massive inconvenience. I smile and sip my coffee – there’s certainly no stress over it this morning.

There’s a lesson here. Look the stressful circumstances in the face. Get out your calculator, takes some notes, do some math, think things over with consideration. Seek clarity. Be realistic and frank with yourself. Make a plan, and make a plan B. Do the needful. Adulting is hard sometimes, but avoiding the required work doesn’t make it easier at all. You’ve got this – whatever it is.

Take a breath. Begin again.

I woke three times, all three times feeling well-rested, the first two also entirely able and willing to return to sleep – so I did. 😀 It is Saturday, and I have succeeded in doing the one thing I did plan to do today; I got the rest I needed. 🙂

Good self-care is critical to my wellness. (Yours, too, probably.) I used to suck at it completely, always over-compromising what it takes to be well and feel good by grabbing onto other experiences and choices, for…well… reasons. Reasons that seemed to make sense in the moment, but more often than not were excuses and rationalizations for “doing whatever I want” – or, actually, whatever someone else wanted. The cycle of exhaustion, meltdowns, and poor outcomes was so predictable that for many years I simply called the entire mess “hormones” and put that shit on my calendar without any particularly successful effort to mitigate or improve any of it (because… “hormones”… well… that shit can’t be fixed, though, right? Right??) (Actually, no. It turns out that conflating hormones, mental illness, a lack of emotional intelligence, poor self-care, and plain old-fashioned inconsiderate shitty behavior, assumption making, and personal bullshit leaves quite a lot of room for improvement… so… maybe rethinking your inconsiderate bullshit, at a minimum, is a good place to start? 😉 Just saying.)

I am watching, from a distance, as two relationships in my social network struggle with a partner’s mental illness. Both have been deeply committed loving relationships of decades of mutual affection, support, and shared family life. Both are struggling with the challenge of making love work, while also supporting a mentally ill person’s personal challenge with finding wellness, and juggling all the other elements of family life: work, kids, bills, grocery shopping, and even the assumptions of strangers and the well-meaning “help” and support of friends, sometimes less than ideally helpful, no doubt. (Been there.) It’s fucking hard to be mentally ill. It’s fucking hard to love someone who is mentally ill. The coping skills and rationalizations that allowed these relationships to succeed and perhaps even appear functional before mental illness finally prevented that from being a thing at all are reliably breaking down now that these mentally ill friends are seeking (and getting) treatment that may actually result in wellness. Their partners may not be much help at this point, and in fact, their hurts, anger, resentment, and emotional wellness concerns are reliably welling up and becoming problems that need to be managed. It’s when a mentally ill loved one begins the journey to wellness that everyone else’s rampant crazy bullshit comes to the forefront – along with the rationalizations, excuse-making, justifications, chronically incorrect and untested assumptions, and refusal to respect new boundaries and changes of behavior. It’s ugly and it’s hard. There are literally no “good guys”, and as soon as “the crazy one” begins to practice things that are more sane, the crazy on the other side of the relationship becomes apparent – often accompanied by utter refusal to acknowledge it, be accountable for it, accept it, or change it.

When people who are mentally ill seek treatment, find it, and begin their journey toward wellness, the first set back is often because within their once supportive network of friends and family (“I’m here for you!”) are people who are suddenly not so willing to “be there” if “there” turns out to include being aware of their own bullshit, and their continued commitment to a status quo that it turns out has favored them, and met certain needs that must now be met differently – in, oh, hey, some new healthy way. It’s hard. It’s hardest, frankly, on the mentally ill partner now responsible not only for staying focused on treatment, but now this mentally unwell person struggling with their situation is suddenly also forced to have to provide support to the adult in the room who turns out to be less than ideally adult (and sometimes fully unwilling to even be aware of that).

It’s a see-saw, people. When we love someone with a mental health challenge, over time, we make room for some weird and possibly damaging bullshit that changes who we are, ourselves, a little at a time. When someone we love who is mentally ill seeks help, and begins to make real changes, on purpose, with the intent of becoming well – our own crazy is going to well up and fight back, and our failure to be observant and aware, and also take the very best care of ourselves, for real, is likely to be the first step on the path to seeing that relationship simply end. It will end in screaming tantrums, outrage, defensiveness, accusations, and generally – a lot of needless yelling. The cause I most commonly see as obvious and avoidable is that instead of partnerships fighting mental illness together, partners become adversaries and basically forget all about the actual issue being someone who is sick, and not able to be at their best, who needs help, support, consideration, and compassion.

Reminder: getting a diagnosis does not suddenly make someone who is mentally ill magically able to not struggle with mental illness. They can’t just point to a page in their handy “So you’re depressed?” handbook or their “The basics of living with PTSD” guide and go down a list of steps to “make it all better” for some other person. Fuck you. That’s sort of one of the limitations of being unwell; there is a fairly commonly implied inability to do all the things.

I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m saying it’s fucking hard. I’m saying a great many relationships that end over mental illness don’t end because a partner is mentally ill – they end when that person seeks wellness and messes with the stable status quo that has allowed the “well” person certain… sanity privileges, that they must now give up in favor of dealing with their own unaddressed bullshit. No one in a relationship recovers from mental illness alone; everyone must deal with their bullshit. Everyone has bullshit.

When I hit that wall in my own relationship(s) I was fortunate. I chose to move into my own living space, and make a significant lifestyle change for a variety of reasons that overlapped in a useful way. I live alone. Sure, there’s bullshit, and I definitely trip over it frequently – and it’s all mine. My bullshit. My issues. My limitations. It’s also my home, my rules, my way; the failures are mine, and so are the successes. I was able to let go of my attachment to “being heard” by my partner(s), and able to comfortably take time to be heard by the woman in the mirror – because I could recognize, in the silence of solitary space, that this was in fact where the issue rested, for me. I was able to begin to sort out my bullshit from the bullshit in my relationships that wasn’t mine, and let go of trying to fix other people, or a relationship dynamic that was unavoidably damaged by my issues, and work on practicing healthier practices that support my own mental wellness… and having gained a measure of wellness, emotional resilience, and stability, then I could begin to tackle the complex challenges of “making things right” with emotionally hurt partner(s). Please note: I am not recommending my choices to anyone else. I am this person here, and my needs are what they are; I thrive living alone. You are likely someone else altogether, with different needs, and other choices may be preferable for you, personally. I’m just saying – achieving wellness may very well destroy existing relationships, and not through any failure of the mentally ill person, and in no way directly caused by their illness, but totally because they attempted to get well – and wellness did not meet the needs of that relationship. It’s totally a thing.

Prepare for change. Seeking mental health changes things. It’s a thing people know about.

Are you a “bad person” if you can’t stay in a relationship with someone who is mentally ill? I mean, you wouldn’t leave if they broke their leg, right? It’s a complicated question. Just as complicated as “Am I a bad person if I can’t stay in my relationship because my partner won’t respect new boundaries and changes in behavior as I improve my mental health?”

Helpful friends don’t feel any more comfortable than anyone else in the context of watching lovers struggle with mental health concerns. Everyone has their “good advice” to offer. People take sides without ever seeing the entirety of the dynamic. Also hard.

Every bit of all the hard stuff is 100% hardest on the person who is mentally ill, who is trying their damnedest to find emotional wellness – they are the one who is sick, people. I’m just saying. Seriously? Find some fucking perspective. Be there for a friend. Listen more than you talk, and refrain from making assumptions. Be encouraging. Be considerate. Be compassionate. If a relationship is struggling with mental illness, everyone is hurting, everyone is injured, everyone is struggling – and no one is the good guy; we’ve all got our own bullshit to deal with.

Two different relationships, two different sets of circumstances. I find myself fairly certain one relationship has already failed, and wondering if the other might manage to survive this; it’s in how they treat each other. In both cases, I see the mentally ill person doing what they must do to become well.

I notice that I have finished my second coffee, and my playlist just ended. It is a lush rainy Saturday, and I’ve got some important self-care to take care of; it’s been a long week, and I find that my own emotional wellness is very much tied to skilled self-care. 🙂 It’s time to get started on the practices that keep me well. Doing so, and staying committed to them, has changed my world, and also my relationships. I swallow one last bite of oatmeal, grateful my relationship with my Traveling Partner has endured my changes. Love matters most.

[Warning: potentially emotive writing about anxiety, and kind of a lot of bitching.]

Some lovely autumn flowers in the landscaping; each positive moment and experience matters so much.

Some lovely autumn flowers in the landscaping; each positive moment and experience matters so much.

I woke already feeling stressed this morning. Work-anxiety. That annoys me more than a lot of things, because I already have challenges feeling ‘invested’ in the job at hand. I like my job, actually. I’m good at it, and it is work that generally appeals to me in a low stress environment. It’s so not worth taking on stress, though. Why? Because it’s someone else’s agenda. Someone else’s profits. Employment supports my logistical needs in life, that’s really it from my perspective. I’ve been emotionally ‘ready to retire’ for a long while. I have my own life that I’d like to enjoy. I have enough things I enjoy and want to do to fill my 24 hour mortal days, already. Every hour I give up to employment is actively resented on some level, and recognized as robbing me of precious time to live my life; fortunately I don’t dwell in that experience. Very few people truly get paid well enough to be a fair exchange for their precious mortal lifetime, fewer still seem aware of that.

This morning I woke with a headache – not quite migraine, but heading that direction – and woke from troubled dreams of treadmills. I’d get off one, get onto another, and always with some implicit promise that eventually I could just stand still for a moment… and that moment just wasn’t on the horizon. There were more treadmills. It wasn’t a nightmare, but I woke feeling fatigued, and with this headache, and “filled with tears” that promptly spilled over as soon as I sat up, as if gravity had something to do with crying.

I must have created a disturbance in the force this morning; I woke my traveling partner without making a sound. I like hugs in the morning, and reassurance and support always feel good. I have mad respect for a human being who will cozy up to the mess I am this morning and get that close. That’s love right there. When I admitted it seems to be “just” work stress, he looked into my eyes with love and said firmly “You know that means you need to slow down, right?” I love that he checked to make sure I do understand that. I love being able to feel good about that moment and not feel slighted that he asked, and able to recognize his love and concern that I take care of myself well – even at work. I could walk away from any job, any time, and he’d be there supporting my decision to do so without reservations – or, without any that would become obvious to me. Sitting in the dark stillness of pre-dawn morning, it is a nice departure from the anxiety of the moment to take time to consider what a good partnership I’ve got with him, and how well he supports me, every step of this very complicated journey. It’s nice to count on that, it’s amazing that I can; it’s a rare being that will offer anything they can do to help – at 4:30 am, having been wakened from a sound sleep by the sense of someone else’s stress – no strings.

Love, as wonderful as it is, and as plentiful, just doesn’t fix some things. I’ve got to address the work stress – and preferably in a positive way that takes care of my needs over time. This morning was a poorly matched battle between my lack of desire to be ‘gainfully employed’ at all, and my  desire to do the job in front of me well. I’d rather sleep in. I could sit in front a keyboard for my own purposes for as many hours of the day as I currently hand over to someone else in return for money. Those same hours could be spent having sex, painting, walking in the forest, out with my camera, reading a great book – or writing one. I mean, seriously? What has my effort at work actually contributed to my experience of life, generally, besides stress and some cash? I wonder, just now, if the experience would be different for someone really into money… It’s “a good job”. I’m skilled at it. There is a climate controlled office to work in, with windows that have decent views. There’s a well-stocked break area. There are, truly, many positives – as employment goes. I’d really just like it understood that I’m not a fan of having to be employed in the first place. I’m willing to admit that. Like so many people, adulthood comes with some handful of financial and logistical obligations that are only eased by money. Dollars and cents. Cold hard cash. A signature on a check. A swipe of a card. Dollar by dollar, my life force, and my time, are exchanged for money. This morning the exchange rate doesn’t seem adequate; time is precious.

...An unexpected shift in perspective...

…An unexpected shift in perspective…

Wow. 800 words of bitching about having to work. Suddenly that seems callous, knowing how many people are without, and would happily exchange many hours of their lives for the cash to pay the bills, and feed their families. My perspective shifts and my brain takes advantage to level me with a new attack; how could I be so ungrateful? How could I be so insensitive? How is it that I don’t have more appreciation for my good fortune when so many others are struggling? Tears. Nausea. This fucking headache. Stress sucks.

I actually woke much earlier than 4:30 am. It was around 1:30 am, then again around 3:00 am. Each time I meditated, and let my breathing calm and soothe me, and found my way back to restless sleep. Stress is a killer, and persistent about continued and prolonged attacks on my contentment and balance. By 4:00 am I couldn’t argue with it any more and got up. The meditation helps; I’m not having a screaming tantrum, blaming the world or my lovers for the state I’m in, or torturing myself emotionally over feeling stressed, or struggling not to cry. The tears come and go. I continue to focus on my breathing and practicing what I have learned about Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction, mindfulness in general, emotional intimacy, treating myself well, and most recently the new practices around ‘taking in the good’ to hard-wire happiness by improving the positive tendencies in my implicit memory. Yep. There’s science, real science, in growth and change. As I consider each practice I’ve learned over the past (almost) two years, my blood pressure drops, and I start feeling calm and content. Still have the headache, but the tears have stopped, and my typing doesn’t sound so… agitated. Practice doesn’t make perfect, but it sure has the potential to change my experience.

What will today offer? What will I choose? Where will the journey take me?

What will today offer? What will I choose? Where will the journey take me?

There’s so much ‘human’ to this experience this morning… yours, too, maybe. We’re each having our own experience. Today, let’s make it a good one, and choose to take care of ourselves with great kindness and compassion. Today is a good day to change the world.