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Morning?

March 21, 2017 //
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The sleep I got last night was good, but not enough to be “rested”. This makes two days on less than 5 hours of sleep. I saw my physician in the morning, yesterday. I see another on Thursday. I worked. I saw a house, then home for dinner. The excitement of the day being what it was, I found myself lost in the vastness of it all, crying. Just crying. It wasn’t “personal”, and there was nothing to do about it but let the tears fall. I still couldn’t sleep, so went next door and hung out with friends for a few minutes. I had reached out unsuccessfully to my Traveling Partner; we’d been chatting through the late afternoon, already, and not reaching him didn’t trouble me. I figured he was in the studio. (I was just the tiniest bit jealous to find out later he was sleeping. lol)

I woke with effort this morning. I feel okay, I guess. Scratchy eyes. Headache. Sluggish. Thinking is still an effort even after some yoga, meditation, and a lovely shower. My headspace feels as if filled with some immovable goo or epoxy; it is a less than ideal state of consciousness, generally. I pause and pull myself more fully upright, correcting posture that would otherwise make me quite uncomfortable in a very short time. I notice my left hand sort of curled in on itself, resting on my lap in that moment; I am fatigued to the point that some of the indicators of my brain injury are more pronounced than usual. I stand up and stretch, feeling joints crack and pop and shift. I frown for a moment, thinking about work as a massive unscripted undertaking in which enormous quantities of random busy-ness (lol) must be processed under the watchful eye of a ticking clock. I remind myself this is a new week, a new experience, and that last week’s intensity is behind me. My perspective shifts and shifts again as I wake more fully.

I take a deep breath and another. I sip my coffee and wait for my brain to catch up with my insistence on starting the day. I should be good for one or two more of these short nights before spelling errors and temper tantrums catch up with me…

Today I begin again feeling pretty reliant on good practices, reliable habits, planned tasks, and routine. I’m okay right now, just tired. Today is a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror – and to extend similar consideration to all the other working zombies out there, wrung out and over-extended by the demands of adulting for another day. We are each having our own experience. We are all in this together. If we’re kind to each other, we can change the world… even on less than 5 hours of sleep. 😀

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Big 5

Between Nightfall and Daybreak

March 20, 2017 //
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I went to bed walking on clouds, wrapped in love, and feeling sure of “my place in the universe”. In my next moment of awareness I am mired in doubt. Restless. Insecure. Uncertain. Questioning even those things that seemed so certain the night before. Questioning love. Questioning the value of taking care of this fragile vessel. More questions than answers, and not the solid sort of question that just by being asked becomes a sign post on life’s journey. No, these were the questions that torment, more like the flea bite on my wrist – aggravating and not worth obsessing over, but I’m still scratching it. As with that metaphorical flea bite, digging at it long enough could do actual damage, rather pointlessly. Knowing that does not stop it itching.

I started to reassure myself, and stumble on thoughts intended to soothe and encourage. I notice, at some point, that I am actually quite awake. 3:37 am. I am awake in the wee hours asking myself existential questions about life, house hunting, relationships, the future… It’s a poor time of day for that sort of reflection. My brain attacks me in the darkness. I finally just get up, feeling some weird complex emotional stew of sadness, insecurity, fear and learned helplessness. Why the ever-loving hell am I putting myself through all of this? (Particularly after such a pleasant weekend.)

Is it going to be that kind of day? I find myself struggling to balance concerns about my health with eagerness about the house hunting. So human. Struggling to balance powerful feeling of being loved and valued by my partner that comes of having his confidence and trust as I house hunt for a more permanent place of my own with the sudden fear that this could mean he is indifferent to the outcome, and that I mean less to him than I thought I did. Struggling to balance my own confidence in myself with the lingering chaos and damage that begins whispering “how dare you?” in the background. Struggling, out of nowhere, with self-doubt about my painting, my writing – my existence itself. Instead of “who am I”, this morning my brain sucker punches me with “why am I?” and I question my worthiness as a human creature. Manufactured internal drama.

When the tears come, I am not surprised. I sip my coffee and snarl back at myself “fuck your tears and your moody bullshit!” In the quiet room my voice sounds stern, and harsher than I mean it to. I haven’t had enough sleep. I’m somewhat stressed about my health. It’s a very poor time to rethink every-damned-thing I’ve worked on while I was well-rested and clear-headed. Certainly, I have no cause to doubt my partner, or the worthiness of life itself. It’s scary to make a decision on something as huge as a house. 30  years of debt. Fuck. That sounds… yeah. Scary. I breathe through that moment and give myself a chance to accept that it does feel pretty nerve-wracking. Reasonably so. The fear is tempered somewhat by my partner’s confidence in my decision-making, but also boosted by that same experience; what if I choose badly? Doubt found its foothold right there. It percolated through my sleeping consciousness. I wake here; mired in doubt, wrestling with personal demons before the alarm clock goes off.

Damn it. I’m also wrestling with my keyboard. I spilled coffee on it yesterday, cleaned it up, let it dry, and hoping for the best, took no further immediate action. I need to clean it properly. It becomes a metaphor in this moment for taking better care, for listening deeply, for following through on tasks, and for patience with circumstances; the “insert” function is stuck in the on position. When I attempt to make a correction, hilarity ensues. I am okay right now. (I am most particularly okay once I notice that my “insert” key isn’t stuck at all; I’ve been tapping at the wrong key, quite ineffectively. Yeah. Getting enough rest does matter. I smile at the journey this small living metaphor has taken me on this morning. I’m definitely okay right now, for most values of okay. 🙂 )

The thing with insecurity and doubt are that they are no more “real” than any other emotion of the moment (and no less so). They have no decision-making power that I don’t choose to grant them. I find I’m still annoyed with waking myself up over moody bullshit, and the less-than-subtle moment of irritation is returned to me as a silent reminder to treat myself well, to show myself kindness, to consider myself…

…I’m taken back to the conversation about house-hunting I had with my Traveling Partner last night. “I really want you to meet your needs with this,” he’d said “don’t be focused on what I might want.” And “I’m excited about this for you.” Is that what set off my doubt and insecurity? Is it that fucking hard, even now, to be really okay with taking care of me? I find myself smiling in spite of how annoyed I am to have disrupted my own sleep, undermining needed rest, to waste time feeling uncertain about whether I know what I want and need for myself, or feeling fearful of committing to it. It’s very human, and a reminder that there is still work to do on this solo hike through life, becoming the person I most want to be. I pause to recall the lovely observations made by my Traveling Partner last night, about how he sees me, how that feels for him, and about this love we share, and the strength we find in our shared journey.

The little house I’ll see today isn’t the biggest one I’ve seen in my price range (it’s also not the smallest). It doesn’t have everything on my wish list (but it has a lot of things). There are no obvious ‘deal breakers’ in the described details or photographs, but experience has already taught me that people will take very careful pictures to avoid showing those off. I’ll just have to see it. Is it enough? For some values of “enough” it obviously is. I set the whole matter aside; there’s nothing more to be done, or felt, or decided, until I see it. The alarm goes off in the other room. It’s time to get up. lol

Today I’ll treat myself well, and with great consideration. The day will begin, and it will end, and tomorrow I’ll begin again. Somewhere in between, I’ll see a doctor, see a house, and see to getting the day’s work done. From the vantage point of “now”, it’s enough.

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Big 5, Words

This Works for Me

March 19, 2017 //
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My morning is strangely… off. I slept badly. I got enough rest, anyway. I haven’t yet figured out my day. I’m sort of lazing around watching an occasional video, sipping coffee, and mostly just staring out the window rather unproductively. I find myself amused that I think I got enough rest; I am a zombie on my feet, shuffling through the morning vacantly, without purpose or direction… yet. The day is still ahead.  I notice my empty coffee cup; this I know I how to deal with.

Staring into the darkness during the night. Sleep did not come easily.

My second cup of coffee wakes me up a bit more. I put on a lively playlist. Chat a while with my Traveling Partner before he begins his own day in earnest. We miss each other, and look forward to hanging out, later today. Maybe we do hang out, maybe we don’t; it matters most that we want to. 🙂 Co-dependency and unhealthy attachment build some very unhealthy relationships between human beings. Learning some emotional self-sufficiency, and letting go of attachment (to outcomes, to emotional states of being, to romantic hyperbole, to expectations, to assumptions…) did some amazing things for this beautiful love. It’s a journey still in progress. “The journey is the destination.” “The way out is through.” Love matters most.

I don’t know what else I am doing today, even now, but I do know one thing that will fill my day; love. It’s enough. 🙂

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Love, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Big 5

Know Your Kryptonite!

March 17, 2017 //
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Yesterday was hard. Small things frustrating me here, there, and oh right – over there, too. Work. Life. Health. Ping. Ping. Ping. I find myself struggling against tears more than once. Not sorrow. Not anger. My own personal kryptonite: frustration. It’s hard these days to anger me, and by far most of my anger has its roots in frustration. It’s hard to break me down – the most powerful lever remains my own reaction to my own frustration. I bounce back pretty easily these days – except for moments of frustration, those sometimes color an entire day, or experience.

Mornings sometimes promise me the world is made of opportunity.

Yesterday was filled with moments of frustration. The recollection raises my stress level in the here and now, not quite unexpectedly. I feel grateful to know myself better than I once did. My most powerful personal demon is, at least, at long last, named. I have given her a face and a voice and a name, and I am tired of her shit. Frustration can knock me down, but I’m still getting back up, again and again. Frustration may move me to tears more quickly than any moment of grief ever seems to, but I know I can cry a million tears and survive the moment. Frustration may end an event, and evening, a long day, but I can begin again.

By afternoon, I’m sometimes looking at things very differently.

Ideally, I would have gone to bed before 9 pm. I couldn’t rest or relax. Stress had severely pwnd me. I found myself sitting in a silent room, ruminating over frustrations. Worrying about this fragile mortal vessel. Sleep was not likely. My Traveling Partner being out of town also put him out of reach, although we’d spoken earlier, and I was still hanging on to his loving words for comfort. I was still to wound up for sleep. I reached out to a friend, a fellow veteran, living next door. “Hey, dude, you wanna hang out for a few minutes? I’m stuck. Hanging out with someone over a moment of conversation or… anyway. If you’re up for it, I’d feel better with some company, maybe.” “Oh, hey, I was thinking about you. I wasn’t sure… I didn’t want to break in on your quiet time… Yeah, I’ll be right there.” We set an alarm, to be sure he’d head back to his place in a timely way. He’d been in the kitchen, doing kitchen things. We hung out. Talked. My heart rate slowed, my stress eased. Sleep became a possibility. I wake up this morning grateful for good friends, grateful for love, grateful that generally however frustrating or crappy things feel… I can begin again.

Things look different from another perspective. Sometimes that helps.

So here’s me; beginning again. It’s all very human. Health? Well… yeah… the “nothing really” might be something, and that’s worrisome. Work? It’s just a lot, that’s all, and it’s a process, and there’s plenty of traction and forward momentum and meetings and buzzwords… and I’m valued, and appreciated, and it’s just adulting in an adult world. Sometimes frustrating. Life? You know… I’m going to embrace the good, give the side-eye to the shit that aggravates me, and be present, awake, and aware, for as much of this peculiar adventure as I possibly can. What if it ends tomorrow? Well… what if it does? I’m here now. Enjoying this moment, quietly sipping my coffee, and planning my house-hunting for tomorrow. Tomorrow’s uncertainties aren’t even real, yet… not really.

Be present. Begin again.

It has to be enough.

 

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Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Logic & Reason, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Sometimes There’s Bitter

March 11, 2017 //
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Sometimes life seems to have a bitter aftertaste, a hint of hurt, an edge to it – too much work, not enough rest, too much future, not enough in the way of resources; the challenges pile up faster than the solutions. Still… however fast the challenges pile up, life has its sweetness, too. It’s those sweet moments, those small pleasures, those brief interludes of delight that hold the power to wrap me in smiles even while I wade through knee-deep difficulties in one moment or another.

Sometimes even though the world appears to be on fire, it’s really just the sunrise.

We’re each having our own experience. We’re each walking our own mile, each focused on some short bit of the path ahead of us. We’re each telling our own tale, living inside our own narrative and barely able to fully consider what anyone else is going through. Our logarithmically curated personal internet bubbles suggest to each of us that the world is more of whatever we assume we think it is than it was the day before. Unless we try really really hard to find out what is going on elsewhere, we may never know another world, or any other “truth”. Awkward or angry conversations become more common as we are further separated from each other by the tools that purport to connect us. We end up divided and feeling powerless. It’s a very human experience.

A young neighbor, hearing me beyond the words when I described my irritation with anger about my bird feeder pole being wrecked, offered to try to fix it. He succeeded. It’s oriented quite differently now, and just behind my happy smile, I find myself wondering if the birds noticed that, too, and if that would matter to them…? A stranger on the train, on crutches, had difficulty getting a seat in the morning; I asked the person seated next to me to give up their seat for her. That same evening, I got on the crowded train heading home and she returned the favor, asking the young person sitting next to her to give up their seat for me; I felt relieved that I wouldn’t be awkwardly off-balance and standing precariously gripping my cane for the trip home.  I’m just saying; sometimes the world is scary, sometimes the world is human beings taking a moment to be kind to each other.

When the world feels unkind, I practice kindness, myself.

I’ve been making a point to savor life’s sweetness, too, not just lingering over the bitterness of the occasional unpleasant bite. I find it a bit odd, when I think about it, how much more practice it takes to remain aware of what works, what feels good, what supports me well… and how effortless it seems to become mired in sorrow, disappointment, resentment, or anger. Negativity bias is a deep lingering bit of woe that requires pretty continuous practice to mitigate. I meditate. I practice “taking in the good“. I practice being aware and present in the moment, I practice being kind, I practice feeling gratitude – it all matters, it all helps… and I’m still human. 🙂

It’s a journey. The destination is along the way, the way out is through, and the map is not the world. We each walk our own mile.

Today I head out into the world looking for “home”. Later, I’ll enjoy some time with my Traveling Partner, and hear a traveler’s tales. Today, I’ll wrap myself in smiles, and taste life’s sweetness. 🙂

Each sunrise is a moment to begin again, and a moment to pause for now.

 

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Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Love, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, Words
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