Archives for posts with tag: TBI

I woke early for a Saturday. I woke early for a Saturday morning following a late Friday night.  I most particularly woke early for a Saturday morning following a late Friday night during which I danced, laughed, painted, studied, meditated, and did yoga – did I mention the dancing? I enjoyed an evening filled with movement, music and delight, and tumbled into bed quite exhausted and ready for sleep, just a bit past midnight. I woke at 4:00 am, awake, alert, and… awake. I took my morning medication, and managed to coax myself to sleep another hour or so, finally getting up on the internal promise that naps are a thing, if I need one later. 🙂

I broke out in a sweat, trembling, while I was making my coffee. A hot flash? Maybe… without warning I quickly went from sweating to nausea to being quite suddenly and very efficiently sick. The kitchen sink is not the ideally appropriate culturally typical receptacle for vomiting, and I was far more uncomfortable with having been in the kitchen at the time, than I was with being sick so suddenly. Any symptoms of illness were gone as soon as the vomiting ended, and that wasn’t an agonizing experience. As I said – efficient. I put making coffee aside, and cleaned the sink… then the kitchen… Yep. Uncomfortable with being sick in the kitchen puts it mildly. Well… the kitchen just sparkles this morning…now.   (I’m pretty sure it would take a forensic team to tell anyone ever got sick in that sink, or this kitchen, at this point. lol)

I had a ‘date night’ planned (with myself) for last night, and enjoyed myself most thoroughly, although it wasn’t entirely about pleasure or self-indulgence. I was a woman on a mission: get to know the woman in the mirror even better, understand her needs more thoroughly – and understand what holds her back from… whatever. Stuff. Or something like that. I have notes – it was all very organized. lol My honest intent was simply to reach a little deeper into the chaos and damage and tease loose a detail or two worth holding onto, and letting some of the baggage go. As evenings in general go, it was lovely, and I suppose successful. Sometimes the positive results of developing emotional self-sufficiency are pretty subtle, and don’t come in the form of grandiose visions of change, or profound epiphanies. Last night was rather like that, too. Deep, moving… but somehow also quite subtle. More affirming than radically changing anything, which is significant all on its own.

My weekend is entirely solo this week, and I need the space to work on me. I am spending the weekend writing, and painting, and meditating. I built a playlist for last night intended to stoke my creativity, and be thought-provoking…I ended up dancing more than thinking. I’m okay with that, too. Life is movement – there are verbs involved – sitting still is a very slow suicide (at least for this fragile meat vessel I reside within).

I started the weekend in the most delightful way, with three packages. I brought them into the house, but left them unopened until later in the evening, when I finally sat down to enjoy the night. One said ‘gift’ on it, and I opened it eagerly. A present from my traveling partner…

A token of affection. Love on a chain. The only heart-shaped locket I have ever owned.

A token of affection. Love on a chain. The only heart-shaped locket I have ever owned or worn.

I eagerly put a photo in the locket; the same photo that sits on the nightstand, where I see him smiling, relaxed, and enjoying my good company (I remember the day I took the picture very clearly). I touch the locket gently, where it rests on my collar-bone. I smile when I think of it, and of love. Because I generally don’t wear necklaces, I was very much aware of the sensation of it resting on my body through the evening, and the sensation was rather as if my traveling partner was with me. I feel loved.

Later I opened the other two packages – both from me, to me, both relevant to the experience of being me, of being a woman… both are books. Both are first editions (no idea why that matters at all, or why it delights me so – I’m still going to read them, and it’s all I would do with them, regardless; they’re books). One is an old book that I love dearly, written by a favorite author about a favorite strong female character: “Friday” by Robert Heinlein. I am eager to read it again.  The other is “Fear of Dying” newly released by Erica Jong, and I am eager to read it for the first time, and finding myself tempted to reread “Fear of Flying” now that I have some life experience of my own to understand it with (I first read it in 1973…I was 10, and didn’t identify with the characters or circumstances even a little bit). I find that reading adds to the intimacy of a quiet evening. I yearn to sit wrapped in comfort with my feet in my traveling partner’s lap, reading aloud for our enjoyment, and talking it over together.

I’ve been working on treating the woman in the mirror with more genuine affection, respect, and consideration – and one of the ways I ease her suffering and silent fury is to give more time to the voices of women, generally. Bringing Erica Jong to my library is one way of doing that. Certainly, she’s one of many strong female voices ‘of my generation’. Subtle signs of implicit gender bias in our culture exist literally everywhere, even in my own experience as a woman; I had no idea how many books Erica Jong has actually written over the years, or how many of those are non-fiction. It was an eye-opening moment reading the list of her work, and to understand how easy it is to dismiss female authors without realizing the error in the moment it occurs.

I didn’t paint much last night – I spent far more of the evening on meditation, writing, and dancing. I didn’t do any reading at all, although I had planned to. It was a night for love. If it had been a night out with another person, my feelings this morning would be as they are; I have a song in my heart, and a smile on my lips, and I feel valued and filled with joy. It’s nice to find that I can deliver that experience to myself now and then. It’s powerful to discover that these feelings are not specific to sexual love.  🙂

Taking care of me comes in many forms. I am pleased to learn how much I do have to offer myself, and what an array of choices there really are. The weekend continues… Today is a good day to enjoy the woman in the mirror.

There are no shortcuts available in life, not really; everything that feels like a successful shortcut is probably a lack of understanding of the options available in the first place. Just go with me on this one, and also accept that we’re each making the rules – and drawing the map, and writing the narrative – as we go along on this journey. I’m pretty sure of myself on this point, which does nothing to validate whether I am correct, it just speaks to whether I am likely to be acting on these assumptions (and I am).

No shortcuts – there are verbs involved, and I don’t use all of them equally easily. When I allow others to dictate to me which verbs are available in the first place, and set limits on how and when I can use them, it can definitely feel liberating – and like a shortcut – to use a verb not on the ‘official list’. 🙂

Another reminder – to me, myself, but here if you need it – we’re all making this up as we go along; mistakes, successes, highlights, bloopers, heartfelt emotions, embarrassing moments, every bit of every detail resting on the foundation we give it. If I choose to build my experience on negative self-talk, boosting the volume on negative bias, and allowing my fears and doubts to lead the way on this journey it will be a very different one than it tends to be when I choose differently. It can be so incredibly difficult to remember this in a difficult moment. Like last night.

Perspective over coffee.

Perspective over coffee.

A simple errand taking advantage of a special offered to military veterans turned into an exercise in frustration that began with the heat of the day, and the inconvenience of the destination. Problematic circumstances complicated things; I left the office later than I needed to, traffic was much worse than anticipated and the public transit system was facing serious delays. When I reached my destination, still feeling positive, although rather tired and in a lot of pain, I found myself faced with business practices that put me at a disadvantage, and I came face to face with my arch-nemesis Frustration. (I’ve mentioned it before, but if you’re new here… I’m seriously not wired for frustration, and it’s a problem. My disinhibiting TBI and the common human experience of frustration do not play nicely together.)

I managed my emotions pretty comfortably for the circumstances. Although I walked away feeling on the edge of tears, I managed to hold things together and do the adult thing courteously. Trembling and in a lot of pain, I headed back into the heat and made my way home feeling more frustrated than I needed to (the errand wasn’t essential – part of the frustration, actually, was the wasted time), and more pissed off than felt comfortable. I could see how the scenario would likely play out. I’d hold back tears, gritting my teeth all the way home, rationalizing the experience and dismissing my emotions until I felt like I wasn’t being heard, and I would begin feeling disconnected from my experience, and once sufficiently overwhelmed by my utter disregard for my own feelings, I would likely crumble – perhaps in the shower – and cry for a long time until I was exhausted from that, collapsing into an unsatisfying sleep plagued by nightmares of futility and helplessness… Only… I do have choices…

In my darkest moments, I find value in asking myself 'dark relative to what?'

In my darkest moments, I find value in asking myself ‘dark relative to what?’ It helps to let small stuff stay small.

I figured I’d try some of the new things I put so much practice into, instead of re-hashing the same old emotional shit storm, and blowing the entire evening. On the way home I emailed my traveling partner (who is out-of-town for the weekend) and shared the experience in simple terms. I was honest about my feelings without projecting the experience into his. I owned up to feeling angry in simple terms, and didn’t make it personal (it’s just an emotion). I kept it simple, and didn’t ask for help, or encroach on his time – there wasn’t anything to do about it, and already the experience was in the past. I made a decision not to continue to do business there, myself – I didn’t feel valued as a consumer, and the business is not conveniently located, so that’s an easy win for me, and I felt ‘heard’ (by me), cared for (by me), respected (by me) and supported (by me). I got home and made choices that looked like shortcuts (like nutritious calories fast, rather than a long cooking process for a hot meal), but were really only different choices, ones that maximized my ability to continue to treat myself well, in the shorter amount of time available. Later in the evening, my traveling partner followed up with a phone call, hearing me, caring for me, and showing his support, too. No tears. No tantrums. No drama. No exhausted restless night. No nightmares. Practice, and good self-care for the win. 🙂

Perspective is a really big deal - we see what we are looking at. Limiting our vision, limits our options.

Perspective is a really big deal – we see what we are looking at. Limiting our vision, limits our options.

Last night could have gone so differently. I’m taking time over my coffee this morning to consider how differently, and why it went so well. Choices matter. I have so much power to change my experience, right in the moment. Emotions are powerful, so much so that they don’t always lead well. Reason has her place in life. I didn’t understand how much less tug of war there is between emotion and reason in a life built on mindful practices, and good self-care. It’s not the sort of thing that’s easy to explain in words. The unfortunate commercialization of mindfulness tends to promote these ideas in a way that suggests a fad…there are so many voices being raised that shout into the wind about the value of being mindful, the din sort of fades into the background. That’s unfortunate because nothing has worked for me as well as practicing mindfulness, practicing meditation, practicing good basic self-care…all completely free, available for the taking literally anywhere, and effective on an order of magnitude that makes monetization irresistible for the business savvy primate looking to stand on a taller pile of bananas. It happens to me too…I get excited about how well this is going for me, and I share eagerly, and then wonder…can I profit from the sharing as well as from the practicing? The answer is, I think, actually ‘no’ [for me] – and not because it isn’t possible to make money selling mindfulness to people (who perhaps don’t realize they can get there for free) – it’s totally possible to do that (just Google mindfulness, you’ll see).

The mindfulness being sold commercially isn’t that thing that is working so well for me; it’s a product that looks very similar, packaged and marketed for appeal, that has some potential to put real people on a more mindful path, potentially, with practice. There are verbs involved, though, and paying the money doesn’t change the need to actually practice.  There’s the disconnect; when we buy a product we’re rarely expecting to also do the work. We bought it, shouldn’t we have it? Mindfulness very definitely doesn’t work that way; no amount of money spent reduces the amount of practice required. While I could profit from selling a mindfulness product of some kind… it wouldn’t truly be this thing that has done so much to improve my own experience; that’s not for sale, and I also can’t withhold it from you. Mindfulness is free for the taking – it just requires practice. 🙂

Finding the lasting value in perspective and good practices.

Finding the lasting value in perspective and good practices.

I will admit that once it was clear that practicing mindfulness was easing my day-to-day symptoms, and potentially even improving my wellness, I bought a few books (more than a few) and read a lot about this experience, this path, these practices; educating myself was  worthy, and I was admittedly still looking for ‘shortcuts’. Where some new ‘shortcut’ seemed to be working out well, it was a matter of honest practice, an effort of will and intent with a lot of verbs involved, and had I known where to look, the information was available for free all along. I’m just saying – it’s the practicing, and you can do this – your choices, your intent, your will, your vision… your life. This isn’t about ‘being right’ about mindfulness, for me. I’m not making any rules for you, or ‘showing you the way’ – I’m just practicing, taking care of me, and sharing my experience is one practice I use, for me, to maintain perspective, build resilience, and tidy up some of this chaos and damage.

Perspective is a big deal; the spiders in life are not actually as big as they sometimes look.

The spiders in life are not actually as big as they sometimes look.

I remember being ‘lost in the wilderness’ with my PTSD, desperate for any voice of hope, no idea where to turn, what questions to ask, or what books to read, and feeling so lost. I write hoping my words can be a lighthouse in the stormy darkness of some heart, now that I know it is possible to reach a safe harbor, within. (With the challenges I have with my TBI, that heart is often my own – I come back often to these words.) Still…I guess what I’m saying is that the practice is still your own, whatever you choose to practice. I’m not really interested in selling you on these ideas, I’m just living my life, and sharing some small piece of my experience along the way. It’s still my perspective. Your results may vary. 🙂

Today is a good day to begin again. Head where you are headed. Be who you most want to be. Walk your path eyes wide to wonder and delight, and if you fall, fail, miss, slip, or pause… just begin again. Lead with love; it’s a good place to start.

I wrote a lot of rather angry words this morning. I’ve deleted them. I’m reluctant to give OPD (Other People’s Drama) that much of my time – or to allow it to take that much of yours, either. I’ve done my best not to waste time ranting…but…I suspect it comes across a bit more that, than not. 🙂

Saving the world over my morning coffee...or something similar.

Thoughts and coffee

I sip my coffee and think over the whole point I thought I was getting to on the first draft (and the second, and third)… I think I was using way too many words just to communicate something simple – a caution? More a request. Please don’t be vile, nasty, bad-tempered, callous, cruel or mean to people you say you care about. It is mistreatment. In a perfect world, people don’t stick around for that shit, but we’re imperfect beings, and trudging through bullshit is sometimes part of the journey; we end up too willing to tolerate abuse. Love is not nurtured by mistreatment – and how much of your nastiness your loved ones can withstand is not an ideal measure of their affection.

Oh, hey, while I’m at it – please don’t be vile, nasty, bad-tempered, callous, cruel or mean with strangers, either. Realistically, you don’t know them well enough for them to warrant any sort of mistreatment, and it amounts to unkindness that just makes the world a shitty place. Stop it. Seriously? How do you excuse that shit?

Thinking it over, if it is unacceptable to mistreat our loved ones (which, frankly, it totally is), and also unacceptable to mistreat total strangers (and, I mean, why would you?)…how is it justifiable to mistreat all those people in between? You know the stuff I mean: being rude to a waitress, or nasty to a check-out clerk, or barista, or dismissive toward the landscapers, the mail carrier, or a telemarketer is all just as unacceptable and inappropriate – certainly, it is rude, and unnecessary. They are human. You are human, too. End of conflict… or, it easily could be. Your choices matter.

Being a better human being than you were yesterday is as simple as making just one choice to treat someone a little better than you might have – make it easy, start with people who really matter to you. (If someone ‘really matters’ to you, how do you justify treating them badly with purpose, deliberately, aware of the outcome, in the first place?) Here’s the thing – we like to think that we are not doing these things willfully –  it’s ‘happening’, ‘things just went wrong’ in a bad moment, we ‘didn’t mean it’ or some how meant it differently but lost our cool, or… but… that only holds up the first time. After that, it’s a choice, perhaps a habit, or worse a character quality, and it is definitely mistreatment and also entirely and completely unacceptable bad behavior.

How are you adding to global happiness?

How are you adding to global happiness?

Sorry about the lecture-y demanding irritated tone; we’re all human here, and feeling cared for and being heard matters to each of us. You are probably frustrated by these things, too. (I am finding it hard to watch from the sideline as someone I love is mistreated in another relationship, and I am not the sort to pretend I don’t see it, or to make excuses for bad behavior.) There’s no ‘chicken or egg’ paradox to mistreatment, either – that’s verbal slight of hand used by people to excuse abusive bullshit, and it doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. Tit for tat nastiness between lovers is just another variety of mistreatment, still unacceptable. Mistreatment is mistreatment. Make all the excuses you want to, the excuses do not change the behavior. We all have moments when we fall short of being that person we most want to be, but it does matter to make the attempt, and to address our poor behavior toward others, honestly, and openly, being fully accountable for our bad behavior, and poor decision-making. We all have opportunities to choose to listen deeply, to be open to understanding someone else’s experience, to demonstrate compassion, and to show growth – sadly, we don’t all take those opportunities when they come.

I tried a number of times to ‘find the right words’ this morning. My annoyance gets in the way of taking a lighter tone. I am frustrated at how easily human beings justify their shitty treatment of others. Seriously? How is abusing people we [say we] love even a thing? Personally, I find it most effective to snarl ‘go fuck yourself, that bullshit isn’t love at all’ and walk on – because when someone mistreats me, I do not feel loved. I no longer allow abuse to be part of my definition of love, loving, or being loved. “Love” is a verb, and it does not include abuse, mistreatment, or emotional weapons of mass distraction. Those are their own experiences, their own verbs, and choosing them is no demonstration of love – and it very much is a choice.

I could have just said “Wheaton’s Law, people, damn!” and saved a couple hundred words from being misused this morning… or maybe suggested a sing-a-long…  Be kind – there’s a surplus of jerks in the world these days. Be genuine – there’s also a surplus of shifty pretenders, and the real you is by far more worthy. Be considerate – we’re all human, each having our own experience, each suffering under the weight of the burdens we choose to bear, each worthy of being treated well.

Be love. That’s the thing most worth being.

I got home yesterday with a well-developed list of things I felt needed to get done, after a weekend of painting, mostly mundane things like vacuuming, and cleaning the bathroom – housekeeping basics that got pushed to the side because I was painting. I got home feeling decently energetic, and somewhat enthusiastic about getting these few things done…

I didn’t touch my list of chores last night. Oh, I know what I like, and waking this morning to small reminders of what didn’t get done last night is mildly annoying, but not worthy of self-deprecatory internal dialogue, or beating myself up emotionally. I enjoy living beautifully, and each moment being its own opportunity to be a beautiful moment… last night I enjoyed the moments quite differently than I had planned to. I blame the figs. 🙂

A metaphor, a connection to a larger history, a tasty treat.

A metaphor, a connection to a larger history, a tasty treat.

I got home in the usual way, on foot. Having taken a comfortable seat long enough to take off my hiking boots, socks, and relax a moment, I quickly lost interest in doing housework. Rather than be evasive about my change of heart regarding the evening, I took a chance on me and a dove head first into ‘now’, just as it was then. “Softening my tone” toward myself is sometimes a challenge, and I paused to consider needs over time versus needs in the moment, and made a light snack to stave off low blood sugar later, in case I found myself meditating for a long while.

I spent quite a time simply enjoying the small green figs, actually. I took my time with them, enjoying the scent, the flavors, the look and feel of each one, individually. Each sweet bite reminding me of late summer figs, fully ripe, carefully selected of those that had fallen, enjoyed with my Granny as a young girl. I remembered that summer that we got rather drunk off those naturally fermented fruits, warmed in the sun, and found ourselves giddy with laughter, on the ground (she, being the adult, rather appalled to have gotten her young grand-daughter quite drunk on summer figs). My mind wandered. I contemplated figs and humanity. Figs have been available for eating, substantially as they are, since before the dawn of human kind…that’s…wow. Historical. 🙂 I nibbled at the lush sweet flesh, thinking about a paper a dear friend once shared with me, about the humble fig, and it’s symbolism, and it’s appearance, and as I recall also its place in biblical lore. I thought, too, about nature shows, and the many sorts of primates and mammals that eat figs. I recalled a friend recently saying she wasn’t sure what a fig is, and hadn’t eaten one… and how peculiar that seemed to me, as though somehow I expected figs to be part of our genetic memory as primates (if that’s a thing). Sweet, tempting, delicious figs…their flavor and the scent of their sweet flesh lingered in my memory long after I had eaten the last one. Twilight had come.

A small plate of delicious figs easily distracted me from planned chores, and I chose to care for myself differently.  I spent the evening meditating. What was left of the evening after that was spent on small pleasures, and self care – catching up with friends, doing yoga, having a shower. It matters greatly to treat myself well, and as much as I enjoy a tidy home, there is indeed a great deal more to life than housework, and I am a higher priority for me than the vacuuming is. Finding the balance is an ongoing process of questions, answers, and verbs being applied. Last night was well spent; after a weekend painting I needed to spend some quiet time simply being in my own company, and didn’t recognize it until the moment was in front of me.

Still, there’s the matter of home and hearth, and self-care isn’t at all the same as self-indulgence – and that list of chores isn’t going to do itself. Definitely some verbs involved, and tonight the music at home will be the sort to carry me, dancing, through the tidying up. All that will be later. It is morning, now, and I am sipping my coffee, and considering the day ahead. I have dinner out with my traveling partner, tonight, and I am eager to enjoy his company, and charming conversation. It matters little where we go; the point is to enjoy the time together. He is away this weekend, and any time our paths diverge for a few days I make a point to enjoy his company before he goes, even if only for a few brief minutes snatched from a busy work week.

lighthouse

However stormy life may be, love is a lighthouse guiding us safely home to calmer shores.

I have my own weekend plans, painting and meditating, and I’m eager to see where the weekend takes me.

Today is a good day to get things done. Today is a good day for loving embraces, and warm greetings. Today is a good day to celebrate small successes, and to value what works well and easily. Today is a good day for appreciation, and a good day for joy. Today is a good day to be fully present for my own experience; I, too, am part of the world.

The long weekend is over. I sit with my coffee cup warming my hands for some minutes, considering the weekend behind me, the short work week ahead of me, and the weekend yet to be experienced on the other side. Each moment worthy of my attention, even those yet to come…and I am not  yet 100% awake, so my mind wanders easily between past and future without making clear distinctions between the two. It’s good creative space; I take notes.

I enjoyed a lovely visit with my traveling partner yesterday, in the morning, and the warmth and depth of our connection fueled my creativity further, as well as putting a smile on my face that lingered throughout the day. I woke still smiling this morning. Love is pretty amazing stuff. “So is coffee…” I think to myself irreverently, sipping my coffee warming my hands with the mug. It’s in some of these small moments of pleasure and comfort that I find myself wondering how things ever get to be difficult, complicated, and stressful… The simple pleasure in the warmth of a porcelain coffee mug in my hands on a chilly not-yet-autumn morning seems so solid, so real, so potentially lasting…so sustainable. How is it that it sometimes does not last, or isn’t so easily sustained?

Simple pleasures are as worthy of attention as grand moments of excitement or delight - and far more commonplace.

Simple pleasures are as worthy of attention as grand moments of excitement or delight – and far more commonplace.

I think about perspective, this morning, and I think about the choices I make – to hold the warmth of a coffee mug deliberately in my awareness, lingering over the simple pleasure, savoring the moment, or to let it slip out of my consciousness, swept away by some other experience, perhaps more intense, or less pleasant… I could choose to hold on to this moment, this mug, this warmth, and keep my focus there a little longer, letting stress wait its turn, couldn’t I? (It’s a rhetorical question. Yes, obviously I could…I’m suggesting that doing so has value.) I can hold this mug, feel this warmth, sit with this smile of contentment tugging at my lips… or… I could also let the awareness of my back pain take me over completely, feeling the nausea that sometimes goes along with my morning medication, more than I feel the warmth of the mug. It’s not that being aware of the warmth of the coffee cup in my hand acts as an effective pain-killer; it doesn’t, and there’s no point pretending. The thing is, though, and it seems worthy to observe it, the general quality of my experience moment to moment is much improved if I allow room for the experience of this warm mug, fully committed to the experience of the moment, present, here, right now. The pain I am often in is not the most important thing about my experience. It’s just one element of many.

Unfinished work?

Unfinished work? “Uplifted Hearts” I think a lot about love.

I smile, continue to sip my coffee, continue to linger pleasantly over memories of the weekend. I consider how best to take care of my needs this week, and over time, and whether to invest more of my time in living beautifully, or taking advantage of inspiration to continue painting during limited weekday leisure. It’s an interesting choice to have. I look around my home in the light of morning, and admit frankly that ‘the artist within’ doesn’t do her share of tidying up; tonight, at least, will be tending home and hearth and ensuring I am living the life I most enjoy, with the greatest ease I can provide for myself. It’s no difficult decision, and once made my thoughts move on.

Alternate lighting, another perspective on

Alternate lighting, another perspective on “Uplifted Hearts”, and on love.

I sit quietly this morning, considering how much of my joy I choose for myself, and how much of my misery is similarly chosen. I make so many choices that direct where I invest my will, and my emotions. Changing my choices has changed a lot about my day-to-day experience. I live quietly, and generally quite calmly, in this simple small place that meets my needs without a lot of fuss or fanfare. This morning, I find myself content, rational, and yes… happy. It’s a nice beginning to the work week, and the day.

Today is a good day for simple pleasures, and small successes. Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day to treat myself as well as I know how – and to similarly treat others well; good will, merriment, and an uplifted heart nourish something deep within me. Today is a good day to invest in joy – this, too, is a choice I make; it is a choice than can change the world.