Archives for posts with tag: stress management
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Try Not to Be An Asshole

September 12, 2024 //
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I get it. Stress. Pain. Feeling mistreated. Angry with circumstances or people. Overwhelmed by too much to do and too few hours to get shit done. Life can be damned difficult and emotions can be complicated and hard to manage. Still though, do your best to be the person you most want to be, and just fucking try not to be an asshole. I’m saying it to you, sure, and I am also saying it to me.

Everyone has their challenges. Some people struggle with pain while they struggle with everything else going on. Some people struggle to make ends meet or to provide for their family. Some people struggle with existential angst or trauma. There’s a long list of human struggles. Do your day-to-day best to be kind, agreeable, pleasant, considerate, respectful, encouraging and open with people. Yes, you. Yes, in spite of whatever you are going through.

There are people who care about you and want to help. Treat them with gratitude and appreciation, and avoid being a complete shithead even though you are in pain or frustrated or angry. Do your best to avoid destroying the good relationships you have. I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m definitely not accusing you of “doing it on purpose” – hell, I don’t know you, and maybe you are doing your best. Apologize when you hurt someone. It won’t repair the damage you’ve done, but it will at least signal your good intentions.

Remember to assume positive intent. You may be dealing with a ton of complicated shit, a lot of pain, or chaos, and it may be completely understandable that you’re having a tough time. The people around you have their own challenges and pain, themselves. Try to be mindful that they are also doing their very human best. Given a chance, they might even understand what you’re going through. Their results will vary – so will yours. Avoid burning bridges you don’t have the time or ability to repair.

… Try to remember that someone else’s experience may not be anything at all about you (quite a lot of stuff just isn’t about you at all)…

Practice being the person you most want to be. Do your best to live your values with stoic discipline and dedication – because these define you – and when you fail (and you will), begin again. Don’t take other people’s bullshit personally, and do your best not to inflict your worst on the world. Your words and actions have real consequences, even when you “didn’t mean to…”.

… You already know all this. So do I. Do your best. Keep practicing. When you fail, begin again.

… And, oh, yeah…if you think none of this applies to you…? (Maybe you think your words, actions, and behavior are entirely reasonable and justified?) You’re probably exactly who needs to hear this the most. Don’t be an asshole – you can be someone better than that. You’re making choices. Choose wisely.

The journey is the destination.
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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Breathe

June 23, 2024 //
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Stress complicates things. Letting it go, when I can, makes sense for a lot of reasons. Ruminating about past events that can’t be changed isn’t very helpful. Worrying about future events that have not occurred is also not helpful. Learning from past mistakes and being prepared for future events or decisions are both excellent strategies, though… Finding balance between the extremes is a worthwhile endeavor.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I purposefully let go of my stress. I make a point of not exploring deeply what may be driving it. Honestly, it’s just too easy to make it much worse by giving my thoughts over to it, so instead I focus on here, now, this moment – a very useful practice.

… And anyway, the things that cause human primates stress are pretty commonplace, aren’t they?

I breathe the scents of summer as I sit at the halfway point of this morning’s walk. The air smells like rain and the sky overhead is obscured by dense clouds, dark and stormy gray to the north and east, and a smooth homogeneous wash of paler gray to the south. The sky was a clear mild blue across the western horizon at daybreak, but now it’s a soft neutral gray, too. I listen to birdsong and the sound of traffic on the nearby highway.

…My mind wanders to my to-do list, and my anxiety surges. I’m reminded that my Traveling Partner’s health challenges are worrisome, and I struggle to calm myself, briefly. Life has some difficult moments. I feel fortunate to share many of those with my Traveling Partner. I breathe, exhale, and relax, again. I allow myself to acknowledge the legitimate stress that results from my partner’s injury last fall, and the challenges of getting him a skilled diagnosis and the care he needs. (He’s right; our system is badly broken and it shouldn’t be this hard.) Another breath, another attempt to let the stress go. It’s not particularly helpful to get wound up and angry, or to become mired in frustration, feeling beat down or hopeless. Perspective can be hard to achieve. I keep at it. Practicing.

…Breathe, exhale, relax…

Sitting here, the tallest meadow grasses obscure me from the trail. I watch the grass sway in the gentle breeze. I enjoy the solitude. My tinnitus is loud in my ears. It vexes me, but I get some sense of relief by turning my attention elsewhere, listening to the sounds around me: distant traffic, chirps and birdsong of the early birds, the sound of rustling leaves. Quiet sounds, but audible when I turn my attention to those.

… Breathe, exhale, relax…

My background stress day-to-day has reached a point where my morning walks fuel just about enough resilience to carry me through the day, but rarely further. Nights are sometimes difficult, restless, wakeful, and full of troubling dreams. This time I take for myself is now pretty necessary, just due to circumstances, instead of being a pleasant luxury. My Traveling Partner sees it too, and frequently encourages me to take care of myself as a priority. The challenge is that the whole messy business has a certain “failure is not an option” feel to it that is a major cause of my stress. Yeah… That’s a thing. I sigh out loud, missing my Dear Friend acutely; I would benefit so much from talking all this over with her!

… Breathe, exhale, relax…

Just moments in a lifetime. This too will pass. Change is.

I brush the bits of leaves from where they’ve clung to my jeans, and stand and stretch. There’s a list of things to do and time is short. I turn to the trail, to head back to the car. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, grief, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being

It’s a Good Kind of Busy

April 8, 2021 //
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I haven’t been writing as often or as regularly. Are you missing me? I’m sorry. It’s Spring, you see, and this new job… life feels quite busy. Filled with tasks, meetings, conversations with my Traveling Partner about the perfect placement of “bass traps” and how best to fill the house with beautiful music. There are flowers blooming. There are others yet to be planted. Time ticks quickly by without me noticing, and days have gone by, again. 🙂

Primroses in the garden.

Maybe this is simply another step on this long journey? I sip my coffee and look around my studio, here, at home. It’s also my office, and the work day will begin shortly. I feel safe and content in this place – the space, yes, but also this time in my life. How odd. When did this contentment arrive? This odd little “oh, hey, yes, this is who I am” sort of feeling that also feels… okay? When did I find this loving good humor with which to face my relationships? This sense of loving kindness that says “it’s okay that we’re cross with each other right now – it hardly matters because there’s just so much love to be shared” feels new and enduring… has it always been within reach? Is it fragile or likely to fade in some moment of impatience? There’s part of me that wonders how one could ever be cross in the context of this much love… and I smile, remembering that “cross” isn’t really a “state of being” so much as a feeling. Emotional weather, not emotional climate – at least for me, personally, here, now.

…How much have I changed? How is it I still recognize myself at all? (And, how is it I can still make a cup of coffee this damned bad??? LOL)

I sip my coffee and sit with this contentment… contentedly. 🙂

Life is still pretty real. There is no “perfect” to attain. No A+ report card to receive. No ideal state of ease that never demands more of me. Shit breaks. Things need to be maintained. There’s always housekeeping to stay caught up on. Details. In fact, my Traveling Partner sticks his head in the door and gently pleads for assurance that I will “take care of the aquarium today, please?”; the pump is being a bit noisy, and one of the intakes is a bit blocked. I didn’t do my best work with upkeep tasks yesterday, sort of rushing through it between meetings during the work day. I assure him I’ll take care of it on my first break from work this morning; I know that sound grates on his nerves, and I also know that my fish rely on my attention to enjoy a good quality of life. So. No perfect here – and there’s always something that needs doing.

…It’s still important to take breaks, get rest, enjoy leisure, and really savor every lovely pleasant moment life and love offer. It’s a bit like an emotional savings account that is there for me “in case of emergencies” – funding, in a sense, the continued contentment and resilience when things do go sideways – and they will. I’m still very human. I don’t expect that to change.

It’s an utterly ordinary Thursday morning on a work day. This is a fairly ordinary suburban life in a small town in 21st century America. Nonetheless… there is much to do with the day ahead, and it wants a beginning. 🙂 Am I ready? Does that even matter? 😉 If I’m not – I can begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being

Handle With (Self)Care

December 16, 2018 //
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Yesterday got off to a lovely start, wobbled a bit with a moment of consequence stemming, most likely, from a miscommunication or misunderstanding. I got past it, but the day built on that with small details, snatches of over-heard conversations that had nothing to do with me, and a few interactions with strangers, that amounted to a busy, fairly purposeful, intended to be very fun day that turned out to be just filled with anxiety, and triggers. Well, shit.

By the time I crossed town to spend time with a dear friend I hadn’t hung out with in while, catch up, and see his “new place” (he’s been there a year), my hands were… sort of torn up. Yeah. I pick at my cuticles when stressed, and don’t realize I’m doing it, generally. “Nervous habit” doesn’t cover it, and managing it is impaired by my fucking TBI. So, by the end of the afternoon, my finger tips were bleeding in places, from torn cuticles, tugged at hang nails, and I was feeling both uncomfortable and self-conscious, on top of the anxiety.

I was also early. Shit.

I was sitting in a parking lot, just a shopping center away from my friend’s address, in a neighborhood I once called home. Familiar territory. I strolled through a couple specialty shops with Giftmas on my mind. I kept catching myself still tearing at my poor suffering innocent cuticles. I finally had a “fuck this dumb shit” moment, when I spotted the cheery neon “Open” sign of a nail salon right there. I looked at the time. We’d been firm, in our plans, on “not earlier than”, and even so, I had plenty of time yet ahead of me – I’d been planning to grab a bite. I was not at all hungry, though, and every ounce of my being was yearning for actual self-care. So… Nails? Nails. I mean… if they turned out to have a walk in opening, at all. It’s the weekend before the weekend of Giftmas! (What was I thinking??)

It had been awhile since I’d been to this nail salon. Could I do a ten minute wait, the receptionist asks me politely, glancing at my hands with a frown. The place was packed. She called one of the manicurists over, who asked to also see my hands. She looked at me sternly, and spoke to the receptionist in Vietnamese, and briskly returned to the sea of manicurists’ stations. The receptionist said, firmly, “please take a seat, 10 minutes” and hands me a quantity of color samples, “choose color”. She returns to the phone. Two or three women were waiting ahead of me, another came in with a scheduled appointment. All the stations were entirely full. No way this is going to be 10 minutes, I thought, rather stoically. Still, I felt that I was in the place I needed to be in the moment, taking care of an important bit of self-care; the worse my fingers were chewed on, ragged, and picked at, the worse they were going to become; it’s the snags that grab my attention in the background, when I’m “not looking”. It was becoming actually painful at that point.

I sat quietly, breathing the fumes commonplace in nail salons and amused myself with thoughts of the Oracle of Delphi. Time passes.

A customer leaves. Then another. And another. 10 minutes passes quickly, and it really was all I had to wait. The next 45 minutes passed so gently, and I felt so cared for. Hell… I relaxed and allowed experiences – new experiences – I would not have known how to actually ask for, because I simply put myself (and my hands) in the care of someone expert.

On my way to be seated, I managed to actually break a nail – into the quick – but did not allow myself to tear it off. She fixed that. (I did not know that was a thing.) She put tiny tips on my chronically bitten to the quick pinky nails, making them appear utterly ordinary alongside the others. She looked carefully at where the worst damage was and as she trimmed and removed damaged bits, reminded me to moisturize my hands to limit snags and keep my cuticles supple. “More moisture.” She repeated it several times, over the course of the work she was doing, pointing out exactly where it matters most. Tense? She used a lavender massage lotion for the hand massage. I felt my stress melting away. I walked away with nearly indestructible (gel) nails for the holiday ahead, and feeling far more relaxed and comfortable with my body.

I had a great time hanging out with my friend. The day was, although busy, well-spent. I feel ready for the holiday ahead, and eager to spend that time with my Traveling Partner. Today, I’ve got a gentle day of housekeeping, and gift-wrapping, and a trip to the market planned. A nice Sunday. Laundry and cartoons? I think so. A good beginning on a new week.

I’ll go get started on that. 🙂 I won’t be changing the world in any noteworthy way, but maintaining the kindness, order, contentment, and sanity in my own wee corner at least serves to help, in some very small way. 🙂

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

It Isn’t What I Think

September 28, 2015 //
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Early evening, in autumn, golden sunlight filtering through the vertical blinds over the patio door, me fussing a bit, somewhat uneasy, headache-y, annoyed. I am not sipping coffee; it is too late in the day for that, unless I’m planning to be awake all night. This is a fairly noisy time of day, here, even in the relative quiet of my comfortable space. I can nearly always hear the traffic on the commuter thoroughfare 100 yards away (ish).  Today the background noise isn’t in the background at all. Contractors are using power saws, hammers, drills, pry bars, and talking loudly all around the outside of my apartment. The noise is well-beyond what could be considered comfortable without hearing protection.

I came home from work to finish the workday in a quieter space; I’m feeling irritable, a tad stressed, and extremely sound-sensitive. There is no quiet to be had here, and the headache I arrived home with, hoping to feel dissipate quickly upon arrival in this chill safe space, now commands my attention from my lower back, on up across my shoulders, up my neck and over my skull, coming to rest as a sensation of tightness in my head, and teeth clenched, neck aching. I am numb to most of anything else going on just at the moment, wanting only to alleviate the pain in my spine, my neck, my head. My tender heart finds its own way to misery; I kick myself while I’m down, resenting the attention I am giving to my physical pain, when there are tears lurking so near to my eyes, waiting to spill out. I suspect my heart doesn’t quite understand that there’s nothing really wrong, I just hurt, and the noise is hard to bear. I promise myself that once the contractors are gone, I will soak in a long hot Epsom salt bath, then linger in a luxurious shower, indulging myself with the sensuous pleasure to be had in hair washing, and the simple sensations of warm water and lovely scents, listening to music I enjoy. It’s not ‘everything’ – how much ever is? It is, perhaps, enough – and enough will do nicely.

How 'real' is all this stress? What's it really made of?

How ‘real’ is all this stress? What’s it really made of?

So much for a change of perspective! In the moments when I hurt most, the practices that sooth me best can seem subtly out of reach. That’s very frustrating, and sometimes even ‘unreasonably difficult’. The noise is very nearly unbearable, and it is a physical feeling of its own. Hard to describe. Painful. Enraging. It’s quieter now, and later. I’ve taken time for a chat with my traveling partner. Had a bite of dinner. Did what I could to care for this fragile vessel in any way I can…any way that isn’t dependent on quiet, I mean. Quiet is just not available at the moment, even with ear plugs in.

I’ve gotten past the anger, frustration, disappointment, and yes even emotional hurt of getting home to find, instead of a quiet sanctuary, noise. A lot of noise. Irritating, ceaseless… wait… That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? This is the hard part. The part where practice shows off what has been built over time? This isn’t a drill, people!! It’s doesn’t matter what I expect. Preparation helps – but the map is not the world. The plan is not the experience. What I think is not to be confused with what is.  Learning the distinction between acceptance and futility has been a difficult bit of life’s curriculum for me. I hurt so much right now, there is real effort in refusing to yield to anguish, in drawing in line in the behavioral sand, so to speak, and finding the balance between taking care of me devotedly, and simply taking care, graciously, compassionately, understanding with some perspective that we all suffer with things like noise. I still hurt – but I haven’t lashed out at any of the carpenters, or my landlady, or the neighbor’s well-meaning child, or …well… you get my point. There’s no ‘easy’ to this piece of the journey, I do hurt, and the noise is making me just fucking crazy with irritation. I still have choices; focusing on the easy ones and excluding the difficult ones also limits my outcomes.

I take time to do some yoga. I breathe. I meditate with a warm cup of chamomile tea in my hands, warming my fingers and soothing me, enjoying the fragrant steam rising up from the mug.

Perspective matters. What I see is colored by my experience.

Perspective matters. What I see is colored by my experience.

There are moments beyond the noise. I can reach them; there are verbs involved. Not easy? No. Not easy. Still worth it. Still practicing.

There are all sorts of details I could have handled better today – but I handled things well enough, and I’ve taken care of me generally, and done so pretty well. I’ve taken care of the things most needing my attention, and I’ve put off some things that can comfortably wait for me to get to them another time. Success isn’t always obvious, or profitable, or heroic – sometimes it’s measured as ‘enough’. I’m okay with that – and I’m okay right now.

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Categories Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, Epsom salts, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words
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