Archives for posts with tag: sufficiency

I’m groggy this morning. Yesterday I was, too, I think, but the days are blurring together, already. I’m tired. Two short evenings in a row, and less sleep than I really need… for days. This can’t last – I need to get some rest, and the week isn’t half over. So far, no noteworthy negative consequences, I’m just tired.

So tired.

Still, the search results from my realtor get my attention when they hit my inbox this morning. My coffee is good. My shower felt wonderful, even if I did almost fall asleep standing up before it quite woke me. I’ll get through this day to another evening, and an opportunity to get an earlier night.

The secret to this puzzle, the trick to this as-yet-not-unlocked level in the game of Adult; I do not know how to get 8 hours of restful sleep between the hours of 10 pm and 4 am, and I find it difficult to fall asleep earlier in any reliable way, or to sleep in much later (with or without an alarm clock, generally). Work weeks get me up by 4:30 am, to the sound of the alarm if I am fortunate to be sleeping deeply. I need that time to really wake up so that when I leave for work I’m actually quite awake and fully able to function. I know going to bed earlier is needed – it’s hard to fall asleep earlier, many nights. Even doing all of the “good sleep hygiene” things is not a guarantee. I have sleep challenges, it is a thing I am aware of about me, having lived it for so many years. So many nights that I manage the bedtime and waking time details with skill, my sleep is still shortened and degraded by restlessness and wakeful interruptions during the night. My sleep tracker says I slept 6 hours last night, and shows the many interruptions in my sleep, and how little of it was deep sleep. I find myself frustrated that this doesn’t seem at all unusual. No wonder I am tired. When a busy week and my poor sleep quality and assorted sleep disturbances collide, it doesn’t take long for fatigue to build, and quickly become exhaustion.

My head aches, and I realize that I’m overly invested in bitching and moaning about the sleep I’m not getting, while rather groggily sitting here ignoring my coffee while I write. I sigh aloud in the chilly quiet room and sip my now cold coffee. I listen to the rain fall, tapping the windows, and rumbling through the downspout on the corner of the building. I hear the distant horn of the train approaching the commuter platform nearby. I pull myself upright, correcting my posture; it’s too early to create more pain later. I think about a second coffee and wonder whether what I put on this morning will be what I actually wear to work… an autographed MC Lars concert t-shirt is suitable casual attire for the office, right? I smile contentedly; I’m fortunate to work in a casual dress environment. What I wear to work is of very little consequence. (Which is good – I’m barely awake enough to do more than pull on jeans and throw on a t-shirt, honestly.)

The morning moves on, and the forward momentum of my life doesn’t halt for groggy mornings. There is still adulting to do, and the woman in the mirror needs me most on mornings like these. There are dishes to do. Counters to wipe down. Trash to go out. Small things handled before work that I won’t have to deal with after I return home, more tired. I frown at my bed with irritation, in passing. I would appreciate coming home to seeing it made, but that would require making it now… I silently tell myself, and that bed, to fuck right off, I don’t have to if I don’t want to! I let the moment pass on my way to making a second cup of coffee…

…While I wait for my coffee… I make the bed. lol

One by one, I tackle the small things I like to see finished before I leave in the morning – because coming home to order and tidiness is very pleasant (to me). I’m tired, and being tired finds me enduring continuous rather disrespectful commentary from my “inner adolescent”, which is quite probably just as annoying as it would be to deal with if there were a real life sass-monster following me around the apartment. So human. Today the practicing pays off; I have many more good self-care habits than I once did, and when I’m this tired I lean hard on habit to get me through. I look at the time and see there is still time for meditation before work.

Today is a good day to take the very best care of the woman in the mirror. There are verbs involved, and practices. There are challenges to overcome, and small frustrations to manage. There is perspective to be maintained and relied upon. There’s me. There’s you. There’s all of this that we have to work through, and even though we’re all in this together – we’re each having our own experience. I’ll do the best I can today. It’ll have to be enough. 🙂

 

I’ve no good title today. No subject in mind. No moment that seems noteworthy with which to approach my writing, today. Still… There is this moment to write. I sit with it quietly for some extra moments, waiting for it to “speak to me”. I swallow the last bit of cold coffee from the cup I made for myself around 2 pm, forgetful that it was 2 pm, well after I generally stop drinking coffee for the day. I eat an orange, enjoying the scent of it, the sweetness, and that messy moment grinning like a little kid, when I realize I didn’t think to also grab a napkin or paper towel, or something. There is juice on my fingers and on my face, sticky and sweet. I am in pain. The cold weather, windy, icy rain, sleet, and just winter, wraps my apartment in whatever it takes to remind my body that I have arthritis. Still.  Nothing new there. I endure. I breathe, and relax. At least in this moment, my pain is not calling the shots for me.

The work day is behind me. It started early, because it needed to, and I am done for the day – and for the week. The weekend stretches ahead of me, mostly unconsidered. I have no plans beyond what I am planning not to do. I’m planning not to do Facebook. I’m not doing the news. I’m not doing outrage. I’m not doing angry. I’m planning to gently take care of me, nurture my heart, rest my mind, enjoy some quality time with the woman in the mirror – and maybe I will see my Traveling Partner at some point. It won’t be tonight. The icy weather is foreboding to travelers. That’s okay. It’s a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror, instead. I am already eyeing my yoga mat with some enthusiasm, and thinking wistfully of my meditation cushion. I am looking forward to the gentle evening ahead.

It was an icy morning. My visitors seemed pleased to hang out a while.

It was an icy morning. My visitors seemed pleased to hang out a while.

I sit quietly in this still place. I haven’t put any music on yet today. There is a lovely fire crackling away in the fireplace, and the wind, the wind chime, the birds, and the geese have filled the day with another sort of music. I think about dinner… but… I continue to just be, here, in this moment. Quietly. Still. Content. I think to myself how very much I must have been needing this saturating moment of stillness, to dive into it with such abandon. Perhaps I shall sit quietly all evening? Content to gaze through the patio door into the winter beyond, feeling the warm of the fire… It would be time well-spent. It would be enough.

An entire flock of Canada geese stopped by.

An entire flock of Canada geese stopped by.

I smile, and feel strangely perplexed and muddled for a moment – when did I become this person? When did I develop “a softer side”? When did I learn to really care, and to really love? When did things – material things – stop seeming so important, and when did I stop “keeping score” in the rat race? At some point, I know that I did all of those things. I made changes. Why is it that I don’t remember those changes as specific moments? Slow progress is funny that way – I don’t find it easy to see through the eyes of the woman I once was.

My patience pays off.

My patience pays off.

I breathe. Find myself enjoying this moment, here, just exactly as it is. It’s enough.

I work for a company that has a small interaction center. (We used to call them “call centers”, but the world has gone way beyond phone calls, these days.) My work supports that interaction center. Working in an interaction center, in an open office environment, working closely with more than a hundred other human beings, sharing a kitchen, sharing the restrooms, sharing surfaces, dishes, and utensils, comes with a higher than usual risk of contagious illness. Just as I arrived home from running errands yesterday, happily thinking about the concert I’d be going to later, I was ruthlessly struck down by some microbe to small to see, of unknown origin – but probably work. It is what it is. What it was, last night, was uncomfortably and rather grossly biological, miserable, and spent with unpleasant symptoms of sickness. I didn’t go out. (I hear the concert was fantastic.)

I don’t remember when the worst of it had passed. I don’t recall when I collapsed into a restless interrupted sleep. My fever broke sometime in the wee hours, around 4 am, I think. I woke very late in the  morning (for me), feeling some better, sort of, still plagued with this headache, guts emptied out completely in one fashion or another over the course of the preceding hours. I get up dizzily, committed to coffee, and wanting to check in with my Traveling Partner, so that he wouldn’t worry whether or not I survived my miserable night. I know, I know – I sound so dramatic about it, but truly I was miserable. I feel some better, enough both to piss and moan about how miserable I was, and also enough better to drag myself out of bed, dizzy, and attempt a cup of coffee. That’s a headache I’d like to avoid later, if I can… So far so good.

I had an entirely other blog post in mind, inspired by yesterday’s shopping trip… but no. Today I rest. I drink fluids. I care for the woman in the mirror and this fragile vessel. 🙂 Today that’s enough.

Today is not what I expected it to be. Yesterday either. They are, however, what they are, which is something I can count on. 🙂

I woke to the alarm, and enjoying the luxury of another hour of sleep. I had meant to reset the alarm before I went to bed, and forgot. I was pleased that I remained sufficiently relaxed to actually return to sleep for that last luxurious deliciously restful hour. I enjoy my second coffee, lingering over a conversation with my Traveling Partner. I watch the sunrise blushing shades of orange, peach, and tangerine. I laugh when I notice my observation of the sunrise sounds a lot like… breakfast. I realize I’m hungry and make some oatmeal. Morning.

I put on my favorite playlist to dance through morning chores and find myself moving things around a bit, putting tracks at the end that are less enticing these days, taking a few off, adding a few new ones, bumping some recent earworms to the top of the list. There’s value in mixing things up a bit. Change and the surprise of the unexpected seem to do a lot for my general cognitive health, and similarly – although I love order – I find that “too much routine” can result in inflexible thinking, and crossness in the face of everyday chaos that needn’t be the cause of distress. So. I’m mixing things up a bit. 😀

Later I will handle some errands that are the reason I took the day off work. The day ends up over-committed, but I’m not experiencing that as stress today; if I need more time, there’s always another day. Well. Approximately always. I am mortal. Eventually the days run out. Today, more than anything, the goal is to stay on track, and take care of my longer terms needs with each task and moment of decision-making.

Make the day yours.

Make the day yours.

Today is a good day for good self-care. The world is what it is – the woman in the mirror still needs my care and attention, too. 🙂

This human experience isn’t always an easy one. Privileged or poor, pain is a thing, too, and we are mortal, wrapped in a mortal experience. I remind myself to be kind to myself this morning. The drop in temperature after a couple mild days is uncomfortable, my arthritis pain flares up. I wake with a headache. I feel stiff, and old, and clumsy, and slow. Youth is a memory. I smile anyway. I sip my coffee. Things could be worse.

I’ll catch myself chasing comfort today, distracted by pain; anything I do this morning to help myself out later in the day is worth doing. I take time with my yoga this morning. I dance – awkwardly, and lacking in freedom of movement and fluidity in my motions, but – movement. It helps. It is a rare day that begins with Rx pain medication; I generally manage without, these days. This morning? Yeah, well – I’m human, very human, and I’m in pain; today I’m grateful to have an Rx pain reliever available to me. I finish my first coffee feeling almost merry. It’s enough.

I took time to just chill after work last night, to think things over gently, to allow myself a moment for me, undistracted by media, chores, work, or – anything. Meditation. My meditation practice props me up when I’m tired, when I hurt, when I’m losing my shit… I keep practicing, because the practicing, over time, has changed my experience in a positive way. Funny… I can remember being one of the “meditation doesn’t work for me” people. Now I understand that I “didn’t get it” sufficiently well to build a useful meditation practice. In my case, it was a matter of trying to hard, and thinking too much. I really didn’t get it. Stripped down to the simplest elements of awareness and breath, meditation changed things for me, pretty quickly, and in a lasting way. Pretty reliably, if I find myself feeling volatile, on edge, and struggling to maintain perspective and balance, I am also likely to find that I have been letting my commitment to meditation slip. Still human.

It's a good day for practicing effective practices.

It’s a good day for practicing effective practices.

Meditation is a practice because practice is what it takes to get the maximum benefit from meditation. Ongoing. Regular. Practiced. So… what do I do if I find I’ve let a day or two, or a few, slip by without meditating? Without practicing the very best self-care each day? I begin again. Simply that. Nothing more is truly required, and there is no benefit in treating myself poorly over such a small thing. Begin again. Return to what works, calmly and with self-compassion, recognizing how human I am. It’s enough to do what works.

My playlist moves on. So does the morning. I still have time to meditate. 🙂