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Waiting (But Not Standing Still)

September 2, 2022 //
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I am sipping my coffee slowly this morning. Enjoying the gentle pace of a morning on which I slept in, instead of getting up super early and slipping out with my camera in my hand to catch the sunrise. Felt good. I must have needed the sleep.

My coffee this morning is good. Prepared with care. Hot. The heat of the mug warms my hands, and the pleasure in the sensation reminds me that Autumn is not that far off. It’s September 2nd – one month ago I was laid off. I’m doing okay, though. There’s so much life to live that gets pushed off to the fringes of a work week, and for now I am able to simply live those moments just… whenever. Feel like writing? No problem. Want to put my feet up and read a book? Easily done. Any time I might want to put more time into preparing a meal? The time is my own. Hiking, giving my Traveling Partner a hand in the shop, spending time in the garden, getting some housekeeping done… none of it is strange, fancy, or honestly even at all noteworthy. What makes it significant is that I simply have the time. The time is mine. That is actually pretty luxurious.

I sip my coffee feeling secure and content. Job searching isn’t even the whole of my life right now. Not at all. In the time while I am not working, I also work on gaining and updating credentials on this-n-that. Lovely to have the time for study. I’m also working (still) on my cooking skills (just now I’m working on improving my Italian style cooking), and preparing for an upcoming visit from my partner’s son. If I am already back to work by the time he arrives, there’s plenty of money to go/do/see – and if I am not, there is plenty of time to enjoy whatever we’re doing. It feels like a win all around.

I feel fortunate. I sit with that awhile. It’s the kind of feeling that is easy to forget later, if I don’t take a moment to really savor it, fully aware.

I continue to sip my coffee, enjoying the quiet of the morning. My Traveling Partner was already up before I woke, and already on with his day. I think about the day ahead, and how best to enjoy it without having half an eye on my email all day. I am still hoping for an offer on a recent excellent interview, but it doesn’t do to get wound up about it; sometimes these things take time. I’m not “waiting” on it in the sense of halting all other job search activity – the day-to-day tasks of taking a look at what is available and applying for what fits my skills, my nature, and my needs continues unabated. 🙂 I am “waiting” on it in the sense that I’d really like to get this particular job, and am eager to have the outcome.

I plan to spend much of the day working on the website for my partner’s business. 🙂 Keeps me productively occupied on tasks that feel like work. I know me; it doesn’t do to let 100% of the timing of “work/life balance” fall away or to allow good habits of managing time and tasks to be extinguished over a couple weeks of not working. LOL I’ll need these later!

In most ways, the weekend has started. It’s a pleasant Friday (and possibly a hot one, though I recall my partner saying it might be cooler this weekend and good for working in the shop). Life and business go on. This coffee cup is empty and it’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being

One Terrible Cup of Coffee

September 1, 2022 //
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I arrived home smiling. My Traveling Partner was also smiling. As I started making my coffee, he started telling me new/other/additional details about the CNC he is building. Interesting stuff. There was a break in the conversation, and I started to tell him what my day plan had in store… “I wasn’t finished talking,” he advises. I apologize and make room for him to continue.

Somehow we continue to be “out of step” with each other. I don’t think I ever actually get to telling him what my day holds (as far as plans go). I indicate I’m going to take my coffee into the studio and write a bit before I head out for the errands I’d planned. He restarts (continues?) the conversation about the CNC as I walk down the hall, so I stop and turn back to avoid being rude and hear him out. I’m interested. I also have an idea in mind for my morning writing. (It’s gone, now, and was by the time I sat down at my desk.)

We continue to be out of step with each other. I feel a bit sad and tired over it. He sounds hurt and annoyed when he sticks his head into the studio. So far the morning is…uncomfortable, awkward, and emotionally unsatisfying. When I think about the smile on my face (and in my heart) as I arrived home, I’m irked. With myself. With circumstances. It’s aggravating. We both want to hang out, and it’s fairly clear (to me) that one (or both) of us is not actually in a place to make that easy, for some reason. I don’t actually understand it. I just see it. Am I helpless in the face of this shitty moment? No. I could take action – I’m just, at least for now, unclear on the best course of action to take.

…What a shitty cup of coffee this one is. I made it just as I make other cups of coffee, but this one right here? Dreadful. Feels like a metaphor… (nonetheless, it is a pretty terrible cup of coffee, and no fooling, I’m still sitting here drinking it.)

I look over my list of errands. One of them is to a retailer that will apparently be closed today. Fucking hell, I’ve had this on my list for days, and I just keep missing the window. I breathe and exhale, letting go of the moment of frustration; it’s excessive for the concern at hand, and reflects the emotional tone of the moment in the background, more than anything to do with the errand itself. I feel myself teetering on the edge of running out of fucks to give far too earlier in the day – it is an unreasonable reaction to feeling frustrated with my partner and the dynamic between us in this moment.

…G’damn this is one awful cup of coffee…

I clearly need to begin again. Like, for real, all over again. LOL

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Big 5

It’s Always “Practice”

August 31, 2022 //
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I’m not a perfect person. (Who is, though?) I need practice – at most things, honestly. I have an idea who the woman I most want to be might happen to be. I can “see her” in my mind’s eye. I hear her voice as an echo; something I could have said better than what I chose to say, or speaking truth to power in a moment when I failed to do so. I hear her speak up for herself, when I don’t. I hear her set expectations and boundaries more skillfully than I often do. I have a sense of “who she is” and the values she embraces. Me? I’m still practicing all of those things. She listens well and deeply, with real attention and consideration. Her answers are thoughtful – and insightful. She’s clearly well-informed on the issues that mean most to her – and she’s kind about education and informing others. She’s patient with people, even when she’s in pain. She’s no saint, she’s lived a real life and she owns her mistakes. She takes time to reflect on her thinking, instead of following the crowd on commonly accepted opinions. She’s fearless about disagreeing – and committed to collaboration and skillful communication. She likes to be on time, but she’s not a jerk about people being a few minutes behind on plans. She’s fucking amazing.

…She’s the woman in my mirror – mostly. She’s who I see in my best moments. She’s my destination, and when I stay on top of my self-care, and committed to healthy practices for emotional regulation and communication, she’s my journey – walking with me, guiding me, picking me up when I fall and lighting my path. Of course I am “a work in progress” – we all are, if we are wise about being and becoming. 🙂 That’s my thought on it, anyway. I keep practicing. Keep walking my own mile. I’ve got choices, and there are verbs involved. I know my results will vary.

This isn’t an awareness that makes anything any “easier”. I am prone to being deeply disappointed in myself (to the point of catastrophizing, sometimes) when I fail to meet the rather high standard I’ve set for myself. Being practical and kind to myself, and allowing for my own humanity is all part of that journey, too. More to learn. More to practice. Keeping it real? I fail all the fucking time. LOL I’m very human. I pause to reflect. Begin again. Continue to practice. Seems a worthwhile way to spend a life. 🙂

Yesterday in the evening, for some reason I don’t recall right at the moment, tempers flared between my Traveling Partner and myself. Raised voices for a moment, a few spilled tears, some impatience, some anger, some frustration… we got past it, it was just emotional weather. My partner pointed out some things that matter to him a great deal. I swallowed my pride and listened; it’s always hard to hear I’ve failed as a partner or lover in some way (however small). Yeah, I still need practice. Even the fundamentals of living well and treating others well can easily erode and slip away from me without practice. Doesn’t matter at all if the speed and ease with which my habits quickly extinguish with even brief lack of practice is related to my brain injury; the solution is to continue to practice (and that includes self-compassion), and to begin again when I fail myself. That’s enough. It’s all there is. 🙂

Being between jobs is an interesting space to grow within. That 40+ hours lost to employment every week, generally, becomes time for study, for practice, for growth, for exploring the unknown, for trying things out… in that respect, it’s a wonderful opportunity. Today, I spent much of the day with my camera, and learning related software. What about you? What did you learn today? 🙂 It may keep you young to keep learning. It may keep you alive (depending on what you learn, and what life throws your way).

I notice that the interface here in WordPress looks… different. I find myself wondering what I clicked on, although it could be that the user interface actually changed, again. Not ideally helpful for folks who are “other than neuro-typical” (probably pretty aggravating for just about anyone who has mastered some software or other previously, and logs in to find it changed). It’s weird and annoying, and I let myself be distracted by music videos, instead, and wander off for a few minutes of conversation with my partner. Life. No pressure, just living. 🙂

It’s time to begin again; there’s so much to practice. 😉

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Frustration, gratitude, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Potholes

August 22, 2022 //
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However smooth life’s path may seem, there are going to be some painful moments, challenges, unexpected detours… you know, “potholes in the road”. Just saying, even when life is purely delightful, don’t expect universally sunny days and smooth sailing (do expect mixed metaphors – at least here! lol).

The dinner planned for yesterday came together nicely. My Traveling Partner and I worked on it together; we had to.

I am learning how much I rely on my left hand. LOL

I was at the end stages of preparing dinner. Sauce cooking down, house filled with the delicious aroma. Cheese was grated and set aside, ready and waiting. Pasta weighed out for two servings, ready to cook once the sauce was nearer to being done. Garlic butter was all whipped up and ready to be spread on the bread that would become garlic toast. Good time to slice that batard and spread both halves with the garlic butter, I thought…may as well have it ready. I explicitly cautioned myself to use care; sharp knife.

With great care, I cut myself rather badly across my forefinger and middle finger. Shit. Totally my foolishness, too. I made an explicit point of taking note of the fucking risk then stupidly still cradled the batard of bread in my fucking hand to cut it. For real? Fucking hell, just take away my license to adult, right now. lol

Two cuts. One fairly minor, the other quite deep and too damned close to the finger joint to brush it off as “nothing really”. My Traveling Partner was concerned it may need stitching (or worse). Both were bleeding quite a lot. Urgent care is very nearby, so we agreed I would keep pressure on them, keep my hand elevated, and drive the short (less than a mile) distance to the clinic, while he kept an eye on dinner – that sauce wasn’t going to stir itself!

Left hand more or less useless made turn signals hilariously awkward, but the drive was uneventful. “We’re so sorry! We don’t have a provider on site today, we’re just doing tele-medicine appointments today!”, the startled woman at the reception desk said as she eyed the blood oozing between my fingers where the wad of paper towels in my grip didn’t absorb it. “You can go to the other urgent care… or the ER…” she suggested. I carefully loosened my grip on the paper towels to check the bleeding. The smaller cut on my index finger had stopped bleeding, the other not so much. I got directions and made my way to the other urgent care… which was closed. Fuck. I call my partner, share the details, and look at the injury again. It had finally stopped bleeding… so… I went home. Didn’t seem like much of an emergency at that point… More of an anecdote.

I got home safely. Dinner was ready, and it was delicious. Before serving it up, my partner bandaged up my fingers and splinted them so I would not reopen those cuts by absentmindedly trying to use that hand. Dinner was delicious. Hilariously, I know I’ll look back on this fondly as a wonderful evening with a moment of misadventure… I mean, the dinner was that good, and a cut? Just a minor mishap. My partner is still teasing me good-naturedly about it; he had just done the same thing last month!

It was only this morning that I was confronted with numerous wee inconveniences resulting from impaired use of my left hand. lol Typing being one of those. There are lessons here. I hope I learn them. In the meantime, I’ll be asking for help with a few two-handed tasks… and beginning again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, gratitude, health, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Parables, Perspective, Practices, Summer, The Art of Being

All Smiles; Enjoy It

August 20, 2022 //
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This morning I’m all smiles. I had a lovely day with my Traveling Partner, yesterday. It finished well. Life feels balanced, and I am contented. Sure, sure, still looking for a job, so there’s that, but I don’t see that it has any requirement to be a massive continuous buzzkill every minute of every day… or… any minutes. Ever. I know “this too will pass” – doesn’t matter whether it’s a good mood, a bad mood, a wonderful moment, a tragedy; moments are moments. Transient. Finite. Limited. Very little in a single human life is so dire that despair is truly warranted (that’s one of the things that makes despair so terrible and terrifying – it feels like “everything”, and it’s very “sticky”). I enjoy the smile on my face, take a sip of this glass of water, and listen to a video that makes me smile with such tremendous delight it’s hard to move on to the next one. No, I’m not linking it; delight is not “universal”, and what tickles me so profoundly may be disturbing or offensive or puzzling for someone else. No point. Hit up Google or YouTube, find your groove. 😉

Different day, different meadow.

I went to the nearby nature reserve this morning to get shots of birds. I got there just at daybreak; first car into the park. Choice. The summer-scented air was fragrant with meadow flowers and a hint of marsh. The morning was very quiet and quite overcast. I grabbed my gear and walked down the path to a spot I know is a good one for taking pictures of birds. No birds. It was rather as if the wildlife decided to sleep in on this quiet gray morning. I walked on. Snapped some pictures of flowers, the skyline, reflections on the water. Kept walking. Eventually my Traveling Partner pinged me.

My last trip was more “productive”, if I choose to define it that way – there were more birds.
I got a lot of chances to improve on my skills at taking pictures of birds that day.

There’s no expectation that I’ll cut my camera time short when my partner wakes, although I do try to “stay gone” long enough for him to sleep in, should he choose to and find himself able. Still… not much going on in the nature park, so I turned back and walked back to the parking lot. I passed a lot of other visitors with cameras. By the time I was within view of the parking lot, the path down to the meadow looked like a fucking camera convention. Individuals and groups, each taking some favored spot, waiting, watching, hoping for a great shot of… something. (Anything – other than each other.) lol I see a lot of really fancy gear as I pass other visitors. I could easily be overcome with dissatisfaction and “gear envy”…but it’s not my way. Like, I mean, explicitly not my choice to be thusly overcome; I get some great shots with my modest gear. I enjoy it as it is. It’s often so much more about location, timing, and willingness to walk on, or sit quietly awhile, and less to do with the gear, generally. 🙂 A lot of life is like that. Even mindfulness practices – anyone can (people often do) spend a ton of money on coaches, consultants, therapists, or “specialists” to learn to sit quietly, breathe, and relax. (It’s even possible to take an expensive destination retreat at an actual monastery, should you have the desire and the resources. It’s not necessary to do so, though, at all.) It’s not even a certainty that spending that kind of money on breathing exercises and mindfulness practices will “pave the trail” for you more skillfully than taking it upon yourself to read a book and begin practicing practices. It’s more about the verbs than the dollars.

…I’m one of those people, by the way. No kidding. I was at the edge and still spiraling down, and I felt wholly defeated. I spent a notable amount of my limited resources on therapy. Doing so saved my life. Looking back, I can see how easily I could have made that journey, perhaps, without spending that money…only… I didn’t, because I wasn’t able to. I did not know what I did not know. I needed that help. So I did the needful and took steps to get the help I needed. Did my therapist do more than point me in the direction of reading different books, or helping me practice other practices? Oh, for sure. Real therapy. I needed a lot of help making that healing journey (that is still in progress), and part of that process was gaining a better understanding of my actual legit issues. Still… it is possible to make a healing journey without a map. It isn’t about the money.

I prepared my reading list so that someone who maybe can’t at all afford the expense of therapy in their here-and-now could still benefit from the foundations of the journey I’m taking myself. I write this blog for that same reason – and also because I often find that I “fail to take my own good advice” because I’ve lost perspective over time. This blog is something of a repository of my notes about this journey, and my changing perspective over time – a reminder that it can be done, because I’ve done it, just in case I find myself doubting. (I’m very human.)

What a lovely morning this is, so far. It may last the day. It may not. So much of that is up to me. I’ve got choices to make. Practices to practice. Verbs to put into motion. It’s time to begin again.

Good steps to begin a journey:

  1. Do something differently. (Follow-up)
  2. What about self-care?
  3. Maybe just don’t be in your own way?
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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, Despair, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5
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