I woke with the alarm this morning. It almost felt like sleeping in. I stepped out onto the trail just at daybreak. The morning air has a chilly quality and the sky was clear and starry. Nice morning for walking. I’m glad I wore a warm sweater. Feels like fall is just around the next bend.
The sunrise begins with hues of orange and a hint of lavender down low on the edge of the horizon. Pretty. I walk on, watching the sky lighten and the colors change as the sunrise continues.
There’s a lot of promise in a sunrise.
Most of any “free time” this weekend has been spent on quality of life improvements like building new bookshelves for my Traveling Partner, and running routine errands or doing chores. I wouldn’t call it restful at all, just different kinds of work than what I would be doing on a work day. With my partner still needing post-surgical recovery support, there’s not room for much else in a day besides work… and other work.
I sigh as I walk, feeling the depth of my frustration with the limitations of a 24-hour day. I’d really like to be painting. I feel inspired by my walks, and by my thoughts, and there just aren’t enough moments left over in a day by the time all the errands and housekeeping are done. Having the Anxious Adventurer on hand is no small thing and I am grateful; I’m no longer facing exhaustion moment by moment, I just don’t have time for anything but essentials, aside from a few spare minutes here and there when I can pick up the book I am reading, and read another page or three (rarely more than that before someone wants my attention). It’s not ideal, but it’s temporary and I am managing to mostly make it work.
…I stop at my halfway point to write and reflect…
I’m looking forward to a return to some kind of normalcy when I can read, paint, camp, and be – on my own terms, doing what I love, for myself. Another sigh and a big breath of fresh morning air. Being real about things, it’s probably weeks or months away, and then the busy holiday season will be here.
… Well, shit. My Traveling Partner pings me a greeting and a request to come home and make coffee. Maybe I’ll get a second walk in later today. Looks like, for now, I’ll need to begin again. I finish this sentence and head back to the car.
He said, almost as an afterthought, “I forget about your brain damage sometimes, because you generally handle things so well.” I don’t recall where that conversation went, now, but the remark itself lingers. A compliment? I think so…? It’s complicated, like finding the right balance between just living life and reminding people now and then that there is brain damage, and that it is very much a part of my day-to-day experience.
… I continue to think about my Traveling Partner’s loving words. Those. Others. 14 years together. We’ve been through some things. This bit of chaos, here, now? Part of the journey. Opportunities to grow, to do better, to become better partners, are plentiful right now. I hope to take advantage of many of them. I see my partner embracing those opportunities, too. We’re both very human, and this is a very human journey.
New beginnings, new perspective.
I started my walk just before sunrise, at first light. My pace is improving, my strength, too. Staying on top of my self-care requires diligence and focus. Sometimes I feel like I’d rather just… sleep. Yesterday evening, I chose (with my partner’s encouragement) to go to bed early and get a proper night’s sleep. I woke feeling rested and started the day feeling pretty good. Yesterday I also tried a capsaicin patch for a particular pain that seems caused by my neck, and is intensely distracting at its worst. I’m surprised, but it actually did really help. (Please don’t tell me if this is a placebo effect! I’d rather have the relief.)
At some point yesterday, it was difficult to dismiss my partner’s assertion that I was “holding my breath” in response to my pain. I clearly was. I caught myself several times. Annoying. It’s not at all helpful to stop fucking breathing! As I walked this morning I focused on “staying with my breath”. It seems irritating and silly to have to practice breathing for fucks sake, but here I am. Then I laugh out loud; skillful, practiced breath work is part of so many things! Why do I even fuss about it? I sleep with a CPAP machine, because I frequently stop breathing while I sleep. Why would I expect that this concern would somehow just not be a thing simply because I am awake?
A momentary traveling companion along the way.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. My anxiety isn’t bad this morning. My recent “11” is a more manageable “2”, today. Win. I finish my walk, and prepare to begin again.
The past 48 hours are mostly a blur of smudgy unclear recollections and emotional impressions. Keeping up with my Traveling Partner’s care, particularly making sure medications are all taken on time, at proper intervals and dosages, is keeping me pretty busy. Juggling those details with work, and the self-care required to keep up with “all the things” has resulted in interrupted sleep, emotionality, and a generous helping of “stupid” moments. This too will pass; it’s a temporary situation. It’s generally enough to do my best.
… The tl;dr is that I’m tired, so tired, and haven’t slept well, deeply, or for more than a couple hours at a time these past couple of days…
Sunrise and a new beginning.
I woke ahead of my alarm this morning and watered the lawn, and helped my partner with his medication. I’d have rather gone directly back to bed and tried to get more sleep, but I also knew my partner had a difficult night of interrupted sleep himself. Better for his ability to rest for me to give him some quiet time. I slipped away to catch the sunrise on the trail, and the Anxious Adventurer left for work moments later.
… And here I am…
The sun rose a bold magenta betwixt thunder clouds. Once or twice lightning flashed across the sky. By the time I got here to the trailhead, thunder was breaking the quiet of the morning, frequently. No rain. Not right now, anyway, though it appears that some rain fell during the night. I find myself wishing for rain. (Thunder storms without rain this time of year are a deadly threat of wildfires.) I sit for a moment before lacing up my boots for a walk.
My head aches ferociously this morning, a combination of my “usual” headache, and lack of rest. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s less than ideal to let it become the focus of my day; I have too much shit to do.
My longtime friend, The Author, had planned to visit this weekend, but got COVID and if he makes it at all, the timing is yet to be determined. Disappointing. My Dear Friend’s celebration of life memorial is today, but I won’t make it; I’m not up to the long drive at the last minute, and regardless, my Traveling Partner needs my care and support. While I am considering these circumstances, a drenching tropical sort of rain begins to pound the car (I pull my feet back into the car and close the door). I think about the recent (Wednesday, 3 days ago) death of my Aunt…
…Then the tears begin to fall, with the rain…
Sometimes it just all feels like too much. I sigh, letting the tears fall without taking them personally. No reason to fight the moment. This is “my time”, and if this is what I need right now, okay. After some minutes, I blow my nose and just sit listening to the thunder and the rain, wondering about the lightning strike risk on the trail… It wouldn’t do to get hit by lightning today, I just don’t have time. lol
This morning I feel very mortal and very much aware how temporary it all really is. Life. So brief. So precious.
… I didn’t come prepared to walk through a drenching downpour, but I am sure enjoying just sitting here listening to the storm…
A different sort of quiet moment.
I sit listening to the rain, fighting the confusion and dimwittedness of fatigue. I could probably get a couple things done, since it doesn’t look like I’ll be walking… My mind feels numb. What is on my list, anyway? I scrounge around in my consciousness rather halfheartedly, instead of just looking at my damned list. The growl and loud crack of thunder along with a dazzling flash of very close lightning startles me. It seemed “just over there”, visibly, identifiably nearby. Scary. Distracting.
G’damn beginning again is easier when I get the rest I need… I don’t quite manage to laugh, and sigh again instead. I decide to quietly take my time sorting myself out, before tackling some task or another. There’s no reason to rush. I’ve got time to take care of myself. Self-care matters, too.
I sit for some unmeasured amount of time, reflecting on gratitude and joy. Thinking over the best of recent moments and savoring the recollections. I feel so grateful for my Traveling Partner, and the enduring love we share. It gets us through a lot. We’ve managed to snarl at each other far too often the last few days, as pain, fatigue, and frustration overcame our good nature in some difficult moment. We get past it. Exchange apologies. Make amends when we can. Our hearts know the way, even when we go astray – very human. All things considered, I guess we’re doing pretty well, generally. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s no lack of love. Humans being human; sometimes it’s complicated.
It’s probably time to begin again, but…
… I’m enjoying listening to the rain fall. That’s okay too.
Self-care matters. How can you cope with what life is going to throw at you without taking care of your physical body or nurturing your good heart? How do you keep practicing without adequate rest and good nutrition? How can you heal from trauma or bounce back from a trying moment without caring for yourself? The answer isn’t new information; you can’t. I mean, maybe for a short while you’d manage, but over the long haul?
Practice good self-care.
Even in the midst of chaos, make a point to take time to rest.
Things are pretty intense lately, and probably for a few more days (maybe weeks) to come. Juggling work, caregiving, and the requirements of maintaining a household is complicated, fraught with potential for miscommunication and missteps, and just fucking difficult. It is chaotic and emotionally challenging. Maintaining a sense of calm and optimism is hard. Sometimes it feels very “personal”, but reason tells me it’s not personal at all. Just really really hard.
I often feel as if I am not up to the challenges I am facing. I remain wholly committed to doing my best, moment to moment, though I recognize that it sometimes isn’t enough. I avoid lashing out when I am feeling hurt, frustrated, or angry – there’s nothing to be gained from that kind of reaction right now. My results vary, and I keep on practicing. I refrain from “venting” my anger or frustration; the science is in on that (it doesn’t help and tends to increase how quickly a person becomes angry, and how intensely, over time). It’s incredibly difficult to maintain this level of self-discipline in the face of the present challenges.
… I keep practicing…
Eventually this too will pass. I don’t know what the future holds, and I can’t see the path ahead clearly, but I keep walking, literally and metaphorically. I keep practicing the practices that have helped me become the person I am, and which continue to lead me down the path of becoming the person I most want to be. Incremental change over time is a process.
Right now self-care is keeping me from completely losing my way and descending into chaos. It doesn’t always feel like enough, but it’s something. I am relying on it.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. For a few minutes I can simply walk, and breathe, and reflect. Where does this path lead? I watch the sun rise. I listen to the birds, squirrels and chipmunks start their day. I notice the pain I’m in. I only give it enough attention to take care of it; self-care matters. I take my medication on time trying to “stay ahead of the pain”. I keep walking.
A lot of our chaos, pain, and hardship is created by our own efforts or thinking. I do my best to avoid making up shit to be stressed or angry about. I just don’t need the additional emotional burden, ever really, and especially right now. I breathe and let shit go. I walk and practice forgiveness and gratitude. I remind myself “this too will pass”…
… and I just keep walking…
Another breath, another moment, another sunrise; another chance to begin again.
Sometimes, regardless of your attempted attention to detail, your willingness to do more, better, your drive to improve and grow, or the hours of work and study you’ve put into being your best self, it won’t be enough (for someone, or for some circumstance). That’s frustrating (maddening), and real. It’s a harsh truth in life that while we’re walking our own hard mile one step at a time, someone else is also walking theirs, and conflict, confusion, or miscommunication can make just about any endeavor contentious and unpleasant. Humans being human. Some people are truly doing their best. Some people maybe not so much. It’s not really obvious which are which. There’s likely always going to be someone around who just doesn’t think you’re doing enough. There will be someone who thinks you’re doing it “wrong” (often simply because you’re not doing things the way they would). There may even be travelers along the way who earnestly hope to see you fail, though it will be rare for them to say so explicitly.
…We’re each having our own experience…
Points of view differ. Individual perspectives on shared events are sometimes at odds with each other. Personal values may not be shared. People are quite individual, and often we don’t even share the same understanding of the basic meanings of the most common words we use. Recollections of even the most recent events may be quite different among individuals who shared the experience. None of this makes communication easier, quite the contrary.
It can be helpful sometimes, I find, to be very open to the possibility that I’m incorrect. Mistaken. Flat out wrong. It’s helpful to really listen to what someone else is saying about their experience or perspective. This isn’t always easy; I may disagree. I may find my own thinking at odds with theirs. I may recall events quite differently. We may have different values, or place importance on different details. Being open enough to really listen and humble enough to accept that I could be wrong can make a lot of difference and create an emotionally safe environment to sort things out more easily. It takes practice (a lot), and I can’t honestly say I’m “good at it” (yet). I keep practicing.
All of this sounds good “on paper”, but it’s not “easy”, and it really does take a lot of practice, commitment, willingness to fail (and to begin again), and a steadfast refusal to take someone else’s emotions personally, and to refuse to internalize their frustration, anger, or criticism. Listen, yes. Hear them out, yes. Understand their point of view, yes. Be open and compassionate, yes. And refuse to allow their frustration, anger, or criticism to dictate “who you are”, nonetheless. Be the person you most want to be. Make room for them to be who they are, also. Becoming the best version of yourself, the person you most want to be, may bring you into conflict with people who are walking a very different path – their own path. Whatever you choose to do about that, it matters that you still live your values, take care of yourself, and treat people with kindness, compassion, and consideration.
…You’re probably going to fail, a lot…
Keep practicing. Savor the wins, however small. Learn from your mistakes, and avoid allowing them to bring you to despair. This shit isn’t easy, but it’s worthwhile. Change takes time. Time, practice, effort, commitment – and beginning again. Often. Sometimes it’s especially hard, like a barefooted walk on blistered feet down a gravel path. Sometimes it’s easy, like a firm level trail through a sun-dappled forest on a mild summer day. You’ll choose – sometimes poorly. You’ll face anger, frustration, disappointment, and grief. It’s not personal, just part of the human experience. Learn, grow, and walk on.
I sit sipping my coffee, re-reading these words. This one’s for me, from… me. I need the encouragement today, tomorrow, maybe always. It helps to reflect on what works, and to remind myself that it is a complicated journey. It is useful to consider missteps, and to learn and grow, and try again.
Keep walking.
Yesterday my sister messaged me to let me know a favorite aunt had died after a lingering illness. (COVID is still taking lives, people, be safe, be considerate, be vaccinated.) It seems like I’m now in a place in life when the losses come more frequently. We are mortal creatures. I will always remember my Aunt fondly. She opened her home to me more than once when I needed a place to heal. She was peculiar, and special, and interesting, and the first adult who would sit and talk with me for hours about all manner of things, into the wee hours of the morning. Some of who I am developed sitting by her kitchen table in Baltimore on summer evenings, talking about life, love, music, reality… I’ll miss her.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I don’t know what’s around the next bend on this path. I don’t know how far this path goes, or where it may ultimately lead. I don’t know how long this mortal life will last, or how many moments of joy I can wring from it along the way, nor how many tears I may need to dry from my cheeks. It’s a very human journey.
Evening Light 