Archives for posts with tag: taking care of me

This morning is a pleasant one, if a bit…odd. I woke at my usual weekday time, although had I chosen to or been so inclined sleeping in was totally an option. I dithered a bit over my morning ‘routine’ – nothing feels entirely routine right now. I am in the midst of change. I made my coffee, started the dishwasher, and sat down to write… an hour ago. Since then, I have been quietly sitting here sipping my coffee and not doing much of anything else. Just… sitting here contentedly sipping my coffee, and watching the dawn slowly develop on the other side of the window. No words.

I have an item or two on my list of things to do today. None of it seems discussion-worthy or out of the ordinary in any way.

My appointments yesterday were that combination of concerning and reassuring that doctor’s appointments so often are, and those too seem generally lacking in interest and not especially share-worthy.

On the horizon, a vast realm of choice, change, chance, and opportunity… and I’ve only begun to attempt to sort it all out. Discussion, at this point, would be a bit premature.

The first wild roses of the spring.

The first wild roses of the spring.

So. Here I am this morning. No words. (It took me a bit more than 200 of them to say so…) Today is a good day to be present for each moment, and to live them – before I discuss them. 🙂

I spent yesterday sick. I was mostly over the symptoms by early afternoon, but the fatigue of it wrecked me for the remainder of the day, and I took care of myself gently, ensuring I drank sufficient replacement fluids, and got plenty of rest. Getting things done was not on yesterday’s agenda.

I spent the day watching storms, cartoons, and birds.

I spent the day watching storms, cartoons, and birds.

This morning I woke to the alarm, feeling rested and over whatever I was so sick with yesterday. My coffee is tasty and goes down easily. My shower felt good. Today is fairly structured; I have doctor’s appointments at both ends of the day, and on opposite sides of town. No rush – and no worries, really. It’s a pleasant feeling, and I glide through the morning feeling aware, and competent. I can always tell when I’ve been under the weather; there are dishes in the sink. This morning I empty the dishwasher and reload it while I make my coffee and don’t miss a single detail.

Birds at the feeder

Birds at the feeder

I hear birdsong outside the window and think about how much entertainment I got yesterday from the birds that have found the feeders near my patio garden. The bold red-wing blackbirds quickly shared the information, and as the day went on, more and more of them began to show up, even two or three at a time and sometimes bickering over who gets what. I sat bundled up on the couch ostensibly watching cartoons, but more often with my monocular pointed toward the marsh, or the bird feeder. By the end of the day, I could get an occasional picture of a bird at the feeder without my motion, reaching for the camera, sending them flying away. 🙂 It’s already rather difficult to recall that I was sick yesterday; I recall the day as having been well-spent.

I find myself wondering if that is one secret to finding joy in life – simply focusing on the joy, the small pleasures, being awake, aware, and more invested in the pleasant bits than the unpleasant bits, with the result that the unpleasant bits slowly fade from memory…? Seems possible. Certainly, I do find more value in focusing on the pleasant bits, regardless. 🙂

I write a few more paragraphs, mundane details of this or that. I delete them when I realize they are not relevant to anything much – or even each other. I think for a moment about the skillful writing of two rather different (and very dear) friends, and feel very relieved that I do not compare my writing to theirs day-to-day; we are each such different writers, with such different voices, it would be beyond painful to hold myself to such a standard, and really – there’s no comparison, we each have such different things to say. Every voice in the symphony is utterly necessary for the music to be most beautiful and most complete.

Today is a good day to be uplifted by life, to see the sky, to feel the rain, to be mindful of my fellow travelers on this journey. Today is a good day to walk on. Today is a good day for being and becoming.

 

 

 

 

Fatigue overtook me rather early yesterday, and unexpectedly. I didn’t think anything of it, and enjoyed a relaxed evening, and an early night. I woke around 2 am, feeling stuffy and too hot, although the apartment was a comfortable temperature. I woke again around 3 am, and again at 4:30 am, 5:30 am, 6:15 am… so it went, until I more or less got up for the day, sort of, around 8 am. The very human experience of being ill with assorted symptoms of gastrointestinal distress finds me feeling weak, out of sorts, tired, and that peculiar combination of being simultaneously hungry and averse to eating anything that so often accompanies this sort of illness. Blech. Being sick sucks. It will also pass. (My wiring being what it is, I find some solace in the humorous play on words involved in this particular sickness passing…)

I am sipping on this excellent cup of coffee very much aware that my enjoyment may be quite temporary… I try not to dwell on it, hoping to find that I am able to keep it down, and maybe have some food at some later point. Coffee is not the ideal choice nutritionally, of course, but the headache later if I don’t have at least some coffee now is a complication I’d like to avoid if I can. (This too fragile vessel protests my choice in the only fashion it can… I return to my writing afterward.)

I had plans for today… brunch with my traveling partner… laundry… housekeeping… gardening… yoga… cooking up a batch of chili in the slow cooker… beginning to empty my storage unit (the new place has sufficient storage room that I no longer need it)… but instead, today will be spent taking care of me, and treating this fragile vessel with some tenderness. I am already feeling inclined to return to bed, although I’ve been up only long enough to attempt morning coffee (unsuccessfully) and write these few words. My routines and practices are destroyed temporarily by illness. How very human. I find myself feeling very appreciative that I am not sick very often these days, and further… I am grateful my traveling partner isn’t staying here full-time right now, and is not at risk of picking this up from me, so long as I make a point of keeping my distance until it passes. (I start giggling – the joke just isn’t getting old…and the timing… oh yeah… I break from writing briefly with some urgency seemingly caused by laughing, and return afterward, symptoms eased for the moment.)

Frequent visitors to the feeders, now.

Frequent visitors to the feeders, now.

Today it’s cartoons, taking it easy, and making a point to drink plenty of water. No point taking illness at all personally, or allowing frustration to overtake me; I’ll be over this soon enough to get on with life. In the meantime, the red wing blackbirds have discovered the feeder at the edge of the patio, and South Park never gets old [for me]. It’s a Sunday, and even laundry can wait if it must (I find it a poor practice to handle all my clothes, or dishes, or touch all the cooking surfaces when I am sick). Today is a good day to slow things down, and take care of me.

I woke in good spirits this morning, but also in more than the usual amount of pain. So far I’ve been mostly ignoring it with some measure of success. The mild deceptively stormy looking morning found me feeling a bit restless and at loose ends, unsure how to spend my time on what is a mostly fairly ordinary Saturday morning. I had considered a number of things I could do with the day, but didn’t make any firm plans in advance.

Sometimes the journey we plan isn't the journey we take at all.

Sometimes the journey we plan isn’t the journey we take at all.

Eventually, I went for a walk through the park…which became a walk to the farmers’ market some 2  miles away…which turned out to be nothing more or less than a 2-mile walk; the market is still on winter hours, and not open on this particular Saturday. I sat in the park there, where the market generally is, and rested my feet for a few minutes, listening to the breeze through the trees, and the sound of the fountain splashing. The walk home seemed longer than 2 miles, and I arrived at my door tired, still in pain, and feet aching… feeling peculiarly content. I awaken to a different understanding of my experience. I could have gone elsewhere, or done something more, but really it was an effort to make a choice to go/do in the first place; I only wanted to walk, and then to walk some more. Looking back on it, I wasn’t needing to get anywhere at the end of the journey – except home.

I pause for flowers along the way.

I pause for flowers along the way.

...Mostly yellow ones today.

…Mostly yellow ones today.

I feel a sense of ease and relief as I cross the threshold, and lock the door behind me. Home. As I relax into feeling welcome in this quiet safe space, I find myself comparing my pain and fatigue with the length of my ‘to do’ list and decide to do the housekeeping tomorrow, and rest and take care of myself today. Rushing through life robs me of the opportunity to savor it, and to linger over small pleasures.

Simple pleasures: birds at the feeder, a small container garden, a cloudy spring day.

Simple pleasures: birds at the feeder, a small container garden, a cloudy spring day, a good cup of coffee.

I sip my coffee thinking about how vast life’s choices and opportunities really are. What will I make of my life? What are my next steps? Where do I go from here? Who do I want most to be? What do I want to do when I grow up? I laugh, wondering at how much of life seems spent on that question…and why I ask it, even in humor… I mean… what’s with the ‘when‘? There is only… ‘now’.  A drenching steady rain begins to fall.

Today is a good day for small pleasures, and for enjoying moments of leisure. It needn’t be anything fancy, or exotic; taking the time to enjoy living life is enough.

I woke to the sound of rain falling, splattering the window, tapping on the roof, even ringing something distant and metallic, a soft chiming sound somewhere beyond my window. I woke ahead of the alarm, rising only long enough to open the window, and the patio door, to let the rain fresh breeze drift through. I returned to bed,  to lay quietly listening to the sound of the rain falling until the alarm went off.

I feel surprisingly organized for so little sleep. I had shared a few sips of my traveling partner’s Turkish coffee over dessert last night, the lateness of the hour may have resulted in the caffeine disturbing my sleep… or not. Today is my last day with my current job. Maybe that kept me awake? Sipping my morning coffee now, it no longer matters; I am comfortable and content.

I am excited about… almost everything, actually, at least for the moment. I am wrapped in awareness of just how many choices and options are spread out ahead of me. Like a gem in an elaborate setting, my traveling partner and I celebrate our anniversary next weekend, and I am excited about that, too. We’ve come a long way together, and have shared a great many things worth celebrating. Even dinner together is a lovely opportunity to pause, and really take notice of how good love feels. It’s nice. It’s some of the best of this human experience.

Where does this path lead?

Where does this path lead?

He’s got his plans for the weekend. I’ve got mine. We’ll reconnect on the other side and share tales of adventure, and gardening. This seems an ordinary enough arrangement… and this morning is an ordinary enough morning. Coffee, a few words, some meditation, a little rainfall…

Today is a good day for change, for progress, for forward momentum. Today is a good day to change some choices, some details, and to reach for the horizon. Today is a good day to change the world… tomorrow I’ll sleep in. 😉