Archives for posts with tag: take healthy breaks

G’damn life feels too busy. Appointments. Meetings. Calls to make. Errands. Laundry. Household upkeep. Caregiving. Working for a living. Self-care. Sometimes doing the needful feels like an unreasonable amount of work, and this year I’ve rarely found myself able to make time for painting, gardening, reading, or writing (aside from this one sliver of my day early in the morning, when I can indulge myself in solitude and write these few words). I’m exhausted at the end of most days, barely able to stand by the time I take those last steps down the hall to bed.

… I feel like I’m working three or four full-time jobs…

Each morning I get up and do it again. Each day, I get my ass to work. Each day I tackle the errands on my list. Each day I give as much of myself as I can to caregiving tasks, and housekeeping chores. Each day I compromise on some detail of my self-care – because I just can’t do everything, and something has to be put aside for another day.  I’m grateful to enjoy the life I do. I’m grateful to have such a strong and loving partnership. I’m annoyed with myself for griping about how much work life is, when I’ve got it so good, generally speaking. For sure there are people who have it far worse and would happily trade places with me.

I’m tired, I guess. I’ve sustained this for too long. I do make attempts to treat myself a bit better than I often do, but it’s not uncommon to return from a camping trip, or a day spent in solitary meditation, to a whole new list of errands to run, or chores that need doing. I almost immediately use up any reserves I may have built. It seems neverending… because it mostly is. It’s life, and there’s a lot to do.

… It’s only Tuesday…

I sigh quietly to myself, sitting at the halfway point on my morning trek around a favorite local trail. It’s still dark. I don’t mind. Is it my preference to walk in the dark? No. It’s the time I have, though, so it is the time I walk. I feel fortunate to still have my legs under me, and that I can still walk these trails on my own. That’s something worth a moment of appreciation and gratitude; it wasn’t a given that things would turn out so well after I broke my back in the early 80’s. There was a real chance I’d never walk again, at all. I’m deeply grateful my surgeries turned out so well. I keep walking.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I can remember how difficult it was to understand how fortunate I really am. Understanding my relative privilege and general good fortune in life was hard – complicated by a deeply subjective perspective on life that focused on the trauma, the chaos and damage, the lifetime of hurt and anger. For a long time I was “trapped in the mire“. Resetting my own expectations was a complicated journey of its own. I keep working at it. It’s too easy to resent how much fucking work life requires for that to be “the right answer” (or even a right answer). I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful for this simple practice (meditation) that does so much to give me the calm and resilience to just keep at it, day after day after day. It’s not “everything”, and life still needs a lot of real work to “run smoothly”, but… it’s something, and mostly it’s enough.

The sky has lightened a bit. It is a deep charcoal gray, barely lighter than the darkness of night, but now I see the treeline silhouetted, where moments ago was only darkness. Meditation and self-reflection work that way for me; slowly illuminating my way, over time. Worthwhile, reliably restorative practices that bring a sense of balance and perspective are few – and worth the effort to cultivate them.

I sit watching the horizon. Daybreak soon. It’s almost time to begin again.

My sleep was restless and disturbed by strange vivid dreams. I woke several times during the night, but seemed to have gotten enough rest to get through another day. I woke to find an irritated message from my Traveling Partner, a reminder about a preference regarding housekeeping. Although I appreciate the reminder for what it is, I could do without the “tone”.

… I remind myself it’s difficult for an able, skilled, adult man to find himself so thoroughly dependent on his partner’s assistance and cut him some slack…

I’m working my ass off day-to-day to keep shit caught up, and meet all the complex needs of the household… and I’m feeling pretty cross this morning. The lack of basic consideration being shown to me by everyone counting on me for so much seems lacking – inappropriately so. I remind myself everyone is human and that my efforts are appreciated… but fucking hell I do wish they were reciprocated more often! Particularly where housekeeping and cooking are concerned. I know my Traveling Partner’s limitations legitimately hold him back, for the time being, but the Anxious Adventurer has no such limitations and seems unaware just how much extra work I do that I’d like some fucking help with. Being fair, he’s generally helpful when I ask, but g’damn there’s a fucking ton of everyday shit that is obvious and right in front of him. Dishes. Cooking dinner. Picking up the mail. Laundering towels.

… I shouldn’t bitch; he does quite a bit of project stuff I can’t get to at all because of everything else. I’m just tired. I need a break, and I’m getting one very soon. I relax when I think about it. Day after tomorrow. 😀

I guess it mostly just aggravates me that it often feels like I’m the only one actively putting effort – a lot of effort – into quality of life basics (like dishes, and counter tops). It’s probably not an accurate perception. Perhaps I’m feeling resentful of how little time is left to take care of myself or do anything fun that I want to do for myself, once everyone else’s needs are met? I should figure out how to speak up about that before the pressure builds to some ridiculous emotional explosion.

… It’s especially nice to come home to the dishes being done. It’s rare. I’d love to hear someone offer to take care of the evening meal so I don’t have to. Also exceedingly rare. I can ask for these kinds of things, but that leaves 100% of the mental work of having it in mind still on me. That sucks. I’d rather be thinking about art. lol Waaaah! Adulting is hard!

I breathe exhale and relax. I need a break and I’m taking one. Then I can begin again.

I’m eating oatmeal and drinking a fairly uninteresting cup of hotel coffee. I slept in – I mean, for me – rather a lot; I didn’t wake up until 06:30, just as day break hinted at a new-day-to-come on the eastern horizon beyond the hotel room balcony. I sigh contentedly. I don’t even like oatmeal. lol That’s not the point.

Afternoon view from the hotel balcony.

I arrived yesterday in the late afternoon and started getting settled in… set my phone down while I brought my bags and pastels in to the room, and missed some pings from my Traveling Partner (after he had rather abruptly told me to stop pinging him because he was trying to use the phone) and he called me, worried about the prolonged lack of reply. I was fine. Everything was fine. “Nothing to see here.”

An exchange of pleasant messages a short time later managed to become a stressful conversation about an irritating eBay purchase for which we’re waiting on a refund. The circumstances themselves are annoying, and I very much want to see those resolved satisfactorily, but I definitely wasn’t seeking out opportunities to be stressed the fuck out about anything, just then. At all. Regardless of relative importance or the amount of money involved… I’m not here for that, right now. I have been teetering on the edge of “see a professional” levels of exhaustion and just frankly overwhelmed by having to do every fucking thing, basically all the time. (I recognize that a great deal of that stress and overwhelming effort is “emotional labor” vs actual physical workload, and that I do get some help with some tasks around the house from the Anxious Adventurer.) I say something about it to my partner, and he reminds me that I don’t have to look at – or respond to – his pings in real-time every moment.

…I think back to the earlier phone call and wonder how true that really is…

…I honestly don’t like leaving him hanging, and don’t want to miss responding to something truly urgent…

…Adulting is hard…

…Then I set expectations (again) that I’m going to lay down (because I’m in pain) and I set my phone aside and do that.

I wake to the sunset.

I wake to the ringing phone. I hadn’t meant to sleep… “Definitely tired,” I think as I answer the phone. My Traveling Partner greets me with a loving tone and an apology (for being cranky earlier and stressing me out) – he called because he realized I was likely to crash hard and possibly sleep past the point I’d wisely pause for healthy calories. He was right. He generally is right, about most things he bothers with at all. I’m grateful. I go across the road to the food carts and get some tasty Indian food, a nice treat. We chat briefly when I return. He misses me. I get it – I miss him too. (and I also miss me.) I’m grateful to have a partner who supports me taking care of myself in this way…and we sometimes benefit from a chance to miss each other. Perspective.

I wasn’t up much longer last night than it took to “let dinner settle” (I don’t enjoy waking up to acid reflux, so I avoid going to bed on a full stomach). I ended up calling it a night at a more or less typical time (for me), after a pleasant shower.

I woke this morning, after “sleeping in”, to a lovely new day. The sound of sea birds on the bay. The sound of ocean waves beyond the channel. A view of day break and dawn yet to arrive. Lovely. I made oatmeal and hotel coffee; I have no need to rush around doing anything more than this. I’m here, now, making the most of an opportunity to rest. This is an endeavor that has a surprising number of verbs, itself, frankly – they’re just different verbs. lol

Time to begin again. It’s a new day.

My phone pings me an alert from the security camera; the Anxious Adventurer on his way to somewhere. I send him a quick good morning message, and ask if he remembered to make coffee for my Traveling Partner (I’m clearly not there to do that!). New habits, especially short-term, can be easily overlooked, and I truly need the backup on this – not checking in on it this first morning seemed unwise. This? Right here? This is one of the major drivers of my fatigue; I struggle with feeling responsible for “all the things”, almost all the time. It’s probably a trauma-based character flaw of some kind. I breathe, exhale, and relax – and let myself return to this place, and this moment.

I open the balcony door to let in the fresh ocean breeze. I sip my coffee and write. A little later, once there’s plentiful daylight and the delights of the sunrise have been savored from here, I’ll go walk on the beach, reflecting on life and love, and feeling life’s minutes tick by gently. Later still, I’ll return to the room with fresh coffee, properly made by some professional coffee-making establishment, and set up the pastels for a day of painting and creative musings, listening to love songs and sea breezes. G’damn I needed this restful time. I’ve been pushing myself so hard, and so little of that effort has anything at all to do with me. I don’t resent service to family, hearth, and home – it’s not that. I’m just tired. It’s been a lot, and I am one mere mortal woman with my own limitations. I can only do so much for everyone else, before I have to stop, just stop, and do something for me. Rest. Paint. Wander. Exist quietly for a time without external observations, however helpful – a moment to simply be. Now and then I need a couple days alone with the woman in the mirror.

…Then I can begin again.

It’s a quiet start to the day. The morning air feels subtly autumnal. I find myself regretting that I didn’t wear my fleece hoodie. The walking warms me up though.

One perspective on the morning.

There’s a low mist clinging to the ground along the river when I begin my walk. It drifts over the meadow adjacent to the trail, becoming a thin fog. It’s very quiet this morning. I don’t hear any birds, or traffic, only my footsteps and my breathing.

It is a routine work day, possibly a busy one. There is a project to be done, later, and later still an evening meal to prepare. I sigh quietly as I walk. The to-do list is long. Having the Anxious Adventurer in the household lifts a measure of the everyday housekeeping burden, but greatly increases the “mental workload” and emotional labor landing on me day after day, on top of the increases associated with caregiving for my Traveling Partner. I’m less physically exhausted than I had been…but… I often find myself very much “over” dealing with people at all, far sooner than I typically might. It’s a struggle to get enough time alone, unbothered by what everyone else needs moment to moment, and undistracted by pings, questions, or requests for my thoughts on the various topics. I often end up feeling like a bitch just trying to get a moment alone with my thoughts.

… I’m grateful for this solitary time in the mornings (and I am pretty certain it’s keeping me sane).

I turn the last bend on the trail and sit down for a moment to think and to write. “This too will pass,” I remind myself. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to begin again… I head down the trail towards the car, and the beginning of the work day.

I’m sipping my morning coffee contentedly. It’s instant. I don’t care much about that – it’s fine. It’s even fairly good. There’s a sea breeze blowing through the open patio door. The breeze carries the scent of the sea from beyond the bay, and the sounds of sea birds beginning their day. It’s quite early, but past daybreak. A sunrise that I won’t see is imminent, and the skies are cloudy and hinting at more rain. From the desk in my hotel room, I can see gulls walking over the sand of the beach. The tide is out, and Siletz Bay has emptied and become a vast muddy flat, speckled with various seabirds: gulls, herons, and other birds I can’t name.

Morning on Siletz Bay at low tide.

I woke gently after a long-seeming night of decently good quality rest. I woke several times for no obvious reason, but it is a hotel, and it is rather noisy here even during the wee hours. Still, I got ample rest and woke feeling merry and definitely ready for coffee. Without hesitation, I dressed and made my way out and down to the beach for a walk in the cool morning breeze along the edge of the beach before returning to the room and making this very satisfying cup of coffee.

I opened the balcony door wide, to let in the sea breeze and the sound of the ocean. I can’t see it from this “ocean view” room on the first floor, but I can hear it. I’m not complaining, and I’m not dissatisfied, just saying – there’s no actual view of the ocean from this room. The bay is plenty entertaining and visually beautiful (the changing tides see to that). I gaze out through the open balcony door across the bay. Am I hearing thunder? I start feeling a bit chilled, in spite of this cup of hot coffee, so I put on my favorite baggy sweater for warmth, rather than close the door. I sip my coffee.

It’s been a good trip for creative work. I’m very satisfied so far with my progress, as I’ve switched to pastels and now need to learn this new medium. I’m enjoying the studious work of learning something new. I’m focused on landscapes for the most part, and it’s these that drew me to pastels – specifically sunrises and sunsets. There’s no further “why” to any of that, it’s simply the source of my current inspiration. I see a lot of sunrises.

New medium, new work.

It’s been a wholly satisfying break, and I definitely needed the downtime. Today, too, is mine. Mine for reflection, mine for walking, mine for reading, napping, wondering, and wandering. Mine for artistic study and for painting, or even for simply “playing with the colors”. Today begins with more rest, less stress, and hopefully ends with still more rest, and more resilience. The goal is to return home tomorrow ready to see my Traveling Partner through his recovery from his upcoming surgery without feeling exhausted, burdened, or so stressed that I just … can’t. It’s an endurance race, not a sprint – and this much needed pause along the way is intended to keep me in the race, all the way to the finish line, probably some time close to the winter holidays. (Realistically, although his initial recovery from the surgery itself may be pretty quick, I expect it may take some weeks or months for my Traveling Partner to get back to 100%, and I’d like to be quite useful and helpful and available for anything he may need to get there, over that time.)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The sea breeze fills my lungs, and freshens the room. As the unseen sunrise progresses, I see the palette of the morning beach scene beyond the window change. There are now more shades of sandy beiges, and hints of bright green where strands of seaweed have been left behind by the receding tide. The darker browns of large pieces of driftwood, and the dark grays of the rocks that dot the beach along the bay stand out against the sand. The water is a chilly pale gray, with a hint of blue, and the sky above is quite the same, with a fluffier quality. To the west, a heavy foggy mist clings to the mountainside, obscuring the view. What sort of day will it be, I wonder?

…Where does this path lead?..

It’s too early yet to paint. The natural light coming in through the patio door isn’t yet enough. The interior lights of the room “aren’t the right color”. I laugh at my preferences regarding such things. I know me; if I were truly moved to paint something, with a specific idea in mind, the lighting as it is would not be sufficient to stop me. It’s just not my moment, artistically. I’m happy to sit, write, and drink coffee awhile longer. I think about making breakfast. I think about… beginning again. It’s a lovely day for it.

I breathe. Exhale. Relax. This moment, just as it is, is quite enough. I smile to myself and sip my coffee.