Archives for posts with tag: taking care of me

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’m thinking about a distant friend dealing with a difficult time. We all have them, at some point, don’t we? It’s very human. I sip my coffee and wonder what I could say to offer some measure of hope, or something constructive that might help, but more than likely he just wants to be heard – don’t we all?

When it feels like it’s all stairs, it’s nice to have someone sharing the journey.

Some of our most human challenges are a bit like quicksand. We stumble into them unexpectedly, whether we know to watch for them or not, and there we are – struggling in it. The more we struggle, the more the quicksand sucks us down into the pit, without anything firm to stand on. Scary. Struggling isn’t helpful; we may lose any chance of regaining our footing and be sucked in completely, beyond reach of help. Lost.

Quicksand is strange stuff. In practice, it’s unlikely that quicksand will actually pull a human being entirely down, fully encompassing them and smothering them to death (or drowning them). If someone trapped in quicksand stays calm, relaxed, and spreads their weight out (say, by laying back on it and “floating”), they are likely to be able to free themselves. (Definitely, with some help.) There’s the trick to it; it seems ever so much scarier than it has to be, and it is the fear, the panic, and the struggle itself that creates most of the hardship.

…True in our emotional lives, as well as in quicksand, eh?…

Perspective matters. “Emotion and Reason” acrylic on canvas w/ceramic and glow 2012

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and think about moments in life in which my own panic or dread has created trauma and challenges far beyond whatever the circumstances themselves may have done. It’s a very human thing. Emotion operates by different rules than reason, and it’s often helpful to endeavor to stay calm, and to “spread things out” a bit, to put less weight on the moment, and maybe even ask for some help. I personally find a consistent meditation practice, and some time to myself each day for self-reflection to be useful practices for maintaining my perspective and “emotional equilibrium” in order to “avoid the quicksand” in life (and love). That’s what works for me. We’re each having our own experience, but if struggling isn’t working out for you, maybe try a different practice?

“Emotion and Reason” lit differently – how we view emotions, and how we use reason, make a difference.

I sit with my coffee and my thoughts a little while longer, watching daybreak arrive. Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again. No doubt my results will vary, and it’s true this journey has no map, but I’m in good company (we’re all in this together), and I am my own cartographer on this journey. I’m okay with that; the journey is the destination.

…I wonder where this path leads?

I’m sipping my coffee in the quiet of the office before dawn on a Monday morning, listening to a favorite jazz singer crooning softly in my ears. I find myself reflecting on the last time I listened to this particular woman’s voice, before “rediscovering her” recently, searching for a particular song to share with a friend going through some things. I lived a very different life at that time. Most of the music I listened to then was jazz. That realization got me thinking about the many different “versions of me” I have lived over a lifetime, through the lens of the music I listened to.

Using music to differentiate from one version of myself to another, I can see myself change over time, through career changes, addresses, partnerships, personal philosophy and points of view, economic circumstances, the books I read, the language I used, the way I painted, and even preferences in how I dressed, and who I hung out with. Change is. I’ve grown over a lifetime of choices, opportunities, and circumstances. Some of my changes have been inflicted upon me, some were choices. In some sense, I have been many women.

“Lichen II” watercolor on paper, 8″ x 10″ 1984 (painted while listening to jazz)

That woman who listened mostly to jazz lived with domestic violence, which she carefully hid from the view of colleagues. She had few friends. She was physically beautiful – as beautiful as she would ever be, but her mind was a mess. Her values and philosophy in life reflected the strained jigsaw puzzle of thinking errors and mental gymnastics needed to rationalize her experience. She lived a strange sleepless life, traumatized and anxious, and always vigilant. Music – particularly jazz – was always “a safe topic” at home. An acceptable shared pleasure. Her home was compulsively meticulously neat, always. It had to be. She was young – in her 20s – and a soldier on active duty. Respected at work, mistreated and tormented at home, she kept people at a distance, except those occasions when she “let it all go” and hit the club looking for a moment of affection in a stranger’s embrace, when circumstances permitted. It was a life of confusion, and as her mental health eroded, her substantial collection of jazz CDs increased. I listen to that music now with mixed emotions, when I listen to it at all. I find beauty in the music, and distress in the memories. I am a lifetime away from that young woman, and a very different person. I make different choices. I think different thoughts. I believe different things and understand the world differently.

I chose change many times before I ever put myself on this path. Searching for something different, and finding differences, but not wellness, contentment, or joy. For a long time I blindly chased “happiness”, finding mostly misery.

“Communion” acrylic on canvas w/ceramic details, 24″ x 36″, 2011 (painted listening to a mix of EDM tracks)

I’d found myself mired in futility long before I met my Traveling Partner. His friendship pulled me back from the brink of despair more than once, before we were ever lovers. His love was literally “life changing” – because it changed my thinking, and my choices. I’ve come so far! I smile to myself, and change the music. I’ve “changed the music” many times in this one mortal lifetime (it’s a metaphor). I’m grateful to have had that opportunity. I smile and listen to wise words in a favorite song. We can choose change. Sometimes change is forced upon us. Change is. I’m grateful for this enduring love (and partnership) along the journey.

“Siletz Bay Pink Sunrise II” pastel on pastelbord, 7″ x 9″, 2024 (painted listening to love songs)

…The journey is the destination. There is no map. If you stray from your path, begin again.

I slept badly last night. I woke to the full brightness of my artificial sunrise (which usually wakes me much sooner, in soft dim light). My routine was thrown off by the addition of putting in my new hearing aids, which I’m not yet super skilled at, and doing it felt clumsy. My long hair and glasses complicate that a bit; it’s necessary to brush my hair before I put in my hearing aids – but brushing my hair is often “the last thing I do”, and I’d set things up such that the hearing aids were “too soon” in my routine (thinking I’d put them in right after I put on my glasses). lol Being fond of routines and habits has a downside; the plan needs to account for the realities of my lived experience. So. I found myself mentally rearranging my morning routine – during my morning routine – and the end result was that I forgot my computer glasses when I left for work. Fucking hell.

…The hearing aids work very well, though, so there’s that…

The drive to the office was ordinary enough, though I’m still getting used to the “convenience” of hearing things so differently. Even car sounds, like the seatbelt warning ding, are quite different, and not just “louder”. Interesting. It’s somewhat similar to the experience of getting new glasses after needing glasses for awhile. There’s a certain awe and wonder to the level of additional detail. (I also need new glasses…)

When my Traveling Partner wakes and sends me a text message, the notification reaches me through the hearing aids, which are paired with my phone. I rather stupidly had the volume almost all the way up, because without the hearing aids, that’s what it took to get my attention – and I still missed tons of messages, because I just wasn’t noticing the notifications. Well, that’s not a problem now! I chuckled and turned the volume way down, fairly delighted that I can stop compulsively checking for missed messages, now, being able to count on hearing the notification each time.

…Pretty mundane stuff, eh?…

I sip my coffee and take a moment for myself before I start getting caught up on work. My back aches in spite of taking pain medication for that. I shrug to myself grateful that I’m not yet experiencing eye strain from wearing the wrong glasses. It’s a very human experience. This fragile vessel isn’t in the shape it once was, and various components are needing attention, or assistance. My thoughts wander briefly to “how much longer?” but I don’t linger there – I know I won’t live forever, but I’ve no desire to drag the end closer to my “now” moment. I hear the phrase “death and taxes” in my thoughts and roll my eyes; it is time to do the taxes. Apparently I’d rather think about death. LOL Humans are weird. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This moment here, with my coffee and my inbox, is quite enough for now. I pull my attention back to “now”.

It’s still quite early, and I have the office to myself for the time being. It’s pleasantly quiet, although it sounds quite different in many little ways. I listen to the ventilation, the hum of distant machinery, and the subjective “silence” of this space. It’s not silent at all. It’s not even actually “quiet” – I just perceive this experience as “quiet” because it is not filled with the chaos of human voices. I sip my coffee, content and grateful. This is enough – even with the wrong glasses on. 😀 I look out the window into the pre-dawn darkness. Daybreak soon. I turn off the office light, too better see the day begin. The light of my monitors is enough to work by.

I feel incredibly grateful and fortunate. I’ve got a partnership I can count on, with a human being I quite adore. I’ve got a good job that keeps the bills paid, and the pantry stocked. I’ve got decent healthcare, and what it doesn’t cover is mostly handled by the VA when I need something more. I’ve got good friends and good colleagues. I’ve got this pleasant moment right here, and the hope that I’ll see many many more. It adds up to a pretty good experience. I sit with that awareness awhile. It’s been a worthy journey so far – and there’s further to go.

…It’s time to begin again…

It’s time to survive a grim sort of count down. 1460 days to the inauguration of the next president, on January 20, 2029. It seems a long time, I know. It could happen sooner, after a fashion, mortality being what it is, and circumstances being unpredictable; the future is not written. Make no mistake, we’re all in for a rough ride…unless, of course, you’re part of the billionaire class, and also a favorite of the current occupant of the office of President of the United States of America. I’m very much hoping – and clinging to that hope – that this administration does not bring the fall of our democractic republic. That would be…horrifying. Not that we’re aren’t already well on our way to face a few horrors. The wheels are in motion.

(It’ll be easier to get through the next four years if you refrain from doomscrolling news media or social media feeds.)

Have you read On Tyranny? It’s a good read, and you may find either comfort or useful tools therein. I definitely recommend it. Amazon has it, of course. So does Powell’s, and AbeBooks. Stand up for yourself and your family, your community, and people who are clearly at a disadvantage under this administration. Be the best version of the human being you most want to be that you are able to be. Speak truth to power, and don’t allow yourself to be talked out of what you know you’ve seen yourself. Hard times are ahead for that actual truth. Seek ethical fact-checking, and don’t believe the hype. These things do matter. It is unfortunate that so much of our world has become a race to generate revenue by a handful of already sickeningly wealthy hoarders of cash and corrupt seekers of power. It’s pretty grotesque. My personal vote for the two most toxic characteristics of human beings are greed and pettiness.

…1460 days…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The here and now does not have to be eternally infused with all of that toxic bullshit. I’m home sick, which sucks, after a lovely visit with a dear friend, which was quite wonderful. My Traveling Partner and I have a good thing together, which is something I value, enjoy, and cherish with my whole heart. I sit with my gratitude, and let that fortify me for troubled times ahead. The Anxious Adventurer is a good guy, doing his best, learning and growing and working on being the best version of himself he knows how to be – while also figuring out who exactly that actually is. That’s a lot to do. He’s doing pretty well.

(We’re all in this together – and we’re each having our own experience. Each of us sees the world and these trying times through a slightly different lens.)

As a woman, I don’t feel at all “valued” or “defended” by this administration’s immediate attack on people who are not so simply defined as either man or woman, in fact, I’m insulted by the narrow stupidity of it. If “defending women” were any sort of sincere goal, we would have equality (in opportunities, in pay, in healthcare), and consent would be the common language of the land – expected, understood, and honored – and our government would not be filled with rapists (which it most probably is, based on the choices for incoming cabinet members, and the behaviors of many who have held office). The concerns of my Traveling Partner and his son may be somewhat different, focused on the things that seem most important and relevant to their own experiences and perspective. That makes sense.

(I plan to listen with care when people tell me what frightens them most, what fills them with outrage, and what they need to thrive. I can at least make the attempt. I hope we all make that attempt.)

I sip my coffee and let my mind move on. I will hope for the best, and be open to “things being okay” for some values of okay. It doesn’t seem likely that this administration has good intentions (at all), or any will to create a better world for every citizen, resident, and human being (it’s already pretty clearly not the goal) – but I won’t try to undermine the potential for success. Maybe they’ll stumble upon it through failure to understand the consequences of their decision making? Maybe they’ll simply fail at their “evil plan”? (Yes, I do see it that way.) Incompetence and gridlock are as much likely outcomes as any measure of actual success for this administration.

I sigh to myself. Still thinking about this garbage. I let it go again, and think about other things. Mostly art. Also books I’d like to have and to read. I’d thought it might be nice to obtain Andrew Lang’s fairy books, maybe as first editions… now I’m thinking it makes much more sense to have non-fiction volumes that instruct and guide and preserve knowledge of various crafts one might need to survive harder times. The Foxfire books have been on my list a long while… I smile to myself. I like books. I’ve grown much less fond of the internet. Books and conversations with real people – more of those things might save the world. I think about that while I sip my coffee. I think about making a trip down south to visit old friends and have real conversations.

…I’ll get over this sickness, then I’ll begin again…