Archives for posts with tag: there are verbs involved

Comfortable

December 19, 2016 //

I’m sitting here mostly dressed for work, reconsidering whether to wear a base layer; temperatures are forecast to get higher than 40 degrees today, and although it is cold now, it won’t be so cold by the end of the day. My base layer is probably too much. I don’t get up to change immediately; I’m comfortable right now.

My fingers keep finding their way across a snag, a small tear, on the cuticle of my left pinkie finger. I would do well to get up, use the tool created for the job of tidying that up, rather than picking at it mindlessly in the background until my finger is bleeding. I’m comfortable right here, right now, so I don’t bother to take care of it in the best way available.

There is a pan on the stove I overlooked when I did the dishes last night. I can’t see it from this vantage point, so it isn’t annoying me at present, and I do nothing about it for now; I’m comfortable.

There are so many times when my life fills up with small moments of discontent, little pains and inconveniences, details that could have gone much differently had I made some small change, or taken some needed action – things I’m aware of, things I notice, things I know to handle quite differently, and do nothing much about, because I’m “comfortable” – which is not at all the same thing as being “content” or being “satisfied”. Feeling comfortable can be a slow invitation to a degradation in quality of life; over time what feels comfortable continues to make room for things I don’t at all find satisfaction in, don’t at all prefer or find ideal, don’t even actually like, but have simply grown to accept as a given, as tolerable, as “what it is”. I start overlooking those details more and more, and the disorder can spread quickly.

It’s a Monday morning. I like Monday mornings for beginning again. All manner of new beginnings feel so orderly and proper on the first day of something… a new week, a new month, a new year. It’s a lot to expect of a moment, to be a deliberate starting point for something important, something… uncomfortable. Change, willful change, is not generally comfortable, in my own experience. There are verbs involved. Choices. Practice. Awareness. Repetition. Frustration. Beginning again. Comfortable does not define the experience of making changes… There sometimes seems a lot to be mindful of, a lot to keep an eye on, a lot to manage – there probably actually is. Some things get missed in any one moment. Being human is a thing and it is rarely an experience characterized by any quality of “perfection”. We are beautifully flawed, and incomplete, each on a journey that lasts the entirety of our experience.

I set aside my half-finished coffee and allow myself a moment of discomfort. An efficient manicure, a rethinking of the day’s choice of clothing, emptying the dishwasher and reloading it: there is effort in living well, in good self-care, and even in life’s simplest pleasures. “Comfort” is sometimes deceiving. I am by far more comfortable having completed these tasks than I was considering them, but it can seem so much easier in the moment to choose the path of least effort. There’s something to learn there, and I make a note to think about it more, later.

Mondays are good for beginnings. Cold winter Mondays, started well before the dawn, are good for plotting a new course on life’s journey, for rethinking previous first steps on journeys well-underway, and for reconsidering some scenario or another that has previously been less-than-ideally satisfying, and perhaps too comfortable. I am hoping not to be misunderstood as seeking discomfort or unease, it’s really not what I’m after, myself. It’s more than I find the sensation of being “comfortable” to more than occasionally put me at risk of complacency, or “settling” for something less than what I’m really going for, under circumstances when there are verbs involved, and I’ve perhaps stopped actually taking action.

I sip my coffee reviewing my physician’s recommendations for changes to my dietary habits intended to improve my health and, over time, fitness. I am deeply uncomfortable. lol It’s a lot of change… at the same time, none of it is really “new information”; I’m facing a long list of known best practices. There are verbs involved, though, and I’m going to need to overcome my comfort with what has not been working well for me. Well… at least it’s a Monday. Monday’s are great for beginning again. I’m going to need to do that a lot. 🙂

I’m standing at the starting point (another one) of a journey (again). I’m ready to walk on. Today is a good day for change.

Tags be the change, begin again, choose wisely, every day a new beginning, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, longevity is worth working for, lose 100 lbs in 10 minutes!, mindful living, mindfulness matters, one change at a time, p.s. I love you, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, there are verbs involved, there's no magic pill, walk on, weight loss secrets the diet industry doesn't want you to know, what matters most?

Categories Brain Injury, Free Will, health, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being, weight loss secrets, winter, Words

The Morning Macabre

December 18, 2016 //

I woke from a restless interrupted sleep earlier than I’d have liked to, and feeling very little sense of being “rested”. My dreams disturbed me. My wakefulness, whether caused by noisy neighbors lacking any sense how loud their car stereo sounds at 1:22 am, or the persistent whine of a freight train paused on the siding on the other side of the park, or the contents of my own dreams, rendered the night more or less pointless from the perspective of resting. I woke in pain, too, as stiff as a tiny wooden artist’s figure, new from the box. My head aches.

Beyond the patio, the meadow and marsh are hidden by a dense mist that suggests something mysterious, even sinister, beyond. It’s unlikely there’s anything legitimately amiss anywhere out there in the park besides litter left carelessly behind, and walkways covered in ice where there would usually be a puddle. The mist itself doesn’t seem at all sinister or hazardous, it’s just a mist, a foggy morning, a new day… but the obscured view puts my imagination into overdrive making something of nothing. I startle myself with my own reflection twice, from across the room, thinking someone is looking in at me from fairly nearby. The power of my imagination increases when I am not well-rested, and I am less well-defended against misinformation, influence, or deception. (Is that what happened, America? Where we all just that damned sleep-deprived?)

As the sky continues to lighten, I see that it snowed a bit more during the night; the meadow and the patio furniture are dusted with it. With daylight, the meadow mist is more distinct, and a firmer boundary between what is obvious, and what is accepted but unseen, a gray backdrop not yet painted with scenery. I watch the morning in the park develop like a Polaroid.

If we take time to see it, the view is continuously changing.

The view is continuously changing. We don’t always notice.

Today is a good day to take care of the woman in the mirror, and this fragile vessel, and to be mindful that lacking the rest I need, my awareness and thinking may be colored or distorted in unpredictable ways. Today is a good day to check assumptions, confirm expectations, and take my time, mindful of the weather – and aware that weather changes. Today is a good day to approach every interaction with consideration; I am not the only person who didn’t sleep well last night, who hurts, or feels headache-y. We are each having our own experience. Today is a good day to make the choices that make it a good one. 🙂

Tags arthritis pain, be the change, begin again, choose wisely, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, headache pain, I didn't sleep at all last night, i need a nap, imaginationland, mindfulness matters, nightmares and monsters, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, taking care of me, TBI, there are verbs involved, tossing and turning

Categories Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Sleepless Nights, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

One Thing and Then Another

December 16, 2016 //

I’m home. The busy work day is behind me. The week is finished. I sit quietly taking it in; I don’t work tomorrow. I am home. I am alone. Tonight… I’m even lonely. It happens. Just using the word, my eyes tear up a bit. I’m okay, just very human. Tired. In pain. Frustrated by the world every time I hear an adult conversation in passing, or read the news. “Stick a fork in me…” I sigh out loud, the sound of it in the room seems oddly out-of-place with the quiet.

A shower later, and a change into comfy clothes, I’m still in this strange place, poised between contentment and despair. There’s no particular reason for it, really… it’s winter. It’s been a busy week at work. Is that all this is? Am I just tired? I’m struggling to manage some of my self-care basics with the new job. I’m pushing “too hard”, taking too few breaks, getting too little rest… but I also love the job, feel passionate about the progress we’re making, and feel very valued and appreciated. What do I do with that? The long commutes make the days very long indeed, and the evenings very short.

I feel myself sort of… pull back. From everything. Closing the door on “extra people” – as if the friends and loved ones outside the workplace are not in fact far more important to me, day-to-day, moment-to-moment, than even my most esteemed colleague. I come home at the end of the day. Close the door. Sit down. Being fair to my self and my circumstances, it’s rare to feel other than contented on a quiet evening after work, these days. Tonight is different. I remind myself that the sensation of “always” that feels so dull and bleak and immovable is, itself, a part of this feeling – and every sad strained drop of it is pure emotion. Chemistry. Lacking in real meaning, or substance. It’s more a drug than an experience. Squashing it doesn’t help – never has. Venting… meh. I’ve had mixed success there, and my suspicion is that it is the camaraderie of sharing the tale, the connected moment, that results in any apparent success – and fuck, I already know that experiencing an intimate emotional (positive) connection with another human being is a fast track to losing the blues. This is not news.

…But I ache, and I’m tired, and… I’d also like very much to be alone. Now isn’t that a bitch? Feeling lonely, and still wanting to be alone. What the fuck do I do with that?? Well. In this particular instance, I light a fire in the fireplace. I put on some soup. (I made a tasty robust 15 bean soup yesterday in the slow cooker, while I worked from home. It’ll be even better today.) I put on my fuzziest, comfy-cosiest, softest spa socks. I did some yoga. Took some time to meditate. I started choosing to let the stress fall away. I looked the loneliness in the face, and let it be what it is, without piling self-criticism, disappointment, or additional demands on top of it. I lit the lights on the Giftmas tree – and grudgingly made room for the awareness that I was smiling, at least a little. One thing at a time. I started treating myself better, one thing at a time. Rather than continue down the unpleasant path of criticizing my crappy treatment of myself, I’m making a point to go ahead and treat myself better. Right now. Only that. We become what we practice.

Soup will be ready soon. It’s later than I generally have dinner, but I’m also not sleepy. Just tired… and the kind of tired that is mostly brain-tired. Giving my brain a rest isn’t always about sleep. My fingers find the edge of the book I am reading… soup first, though. Later, sleep.

Tomorrow I can begin again.

Tags ACT, be here now, begin again, choose wisely, emotion and reason, emotional self sufficiency, finding my way, good self-care, I am okay right now, loneliness, MBSR, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, practicing the practices, ptsd, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, The Big 5, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, we become what we practice, what matters most?

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Relationships, The Art of Being, The Big 5, winter

Where’d I Put That Soapbox?

December 6, 2016 //

I could write hundreds of words today about how banal and commonplace it has become to spout actual lies and defend them as opinions. There are uncountable examples of it, and it’s easy enough to demonstrate that undermining people’s sense of reality in such a fashion is beyond odious; it’s harmful. This morning, I don’t much feel like deep-diving that grotesque practice of distorting reality.

I could write hundreds of words about Aleppo. About war. About conflict. About lost lives and lost children. Would I even be heard? Would my handful of words “matter”? Verbs, actions, matter more…

This morning I have other things on my mind, closer to home, more personal… A friend, a dear friend, someone I greatly love, has checked himself into a mental health care facility. I feel… concerned. Depression is an ass kicker. Mental illness is still so completely misunderstood by such a great many people. The feelings of isolation, despair, of distance, of agonizing doubt can be actually quite crippling, however illusory. Clawing ones way from that pit of gray fatiguing encompassing bleakness isn’t even a given, however much it seems, from the outside, that it would just be a matter of choosing… something… differently. 😦 I want to fix this. I can’t fix this. It isn’t a matter of words. My actions are not the actions needed here. I struggle. I don’t have to; this one isn’t mine, and I can let it go. Only… fuck. I want to fix this.

I shift gears and chat with my Traveling Partner about modifying equipment. I refrain from making lewd jokes about his “equipment” – however amusing now and then, the chronic, continuous, often completely inappropriate for the circumstances, lewd jokes and innuendos are symptomatic of my injury as much as they are a hallmark of my characteristic behavior… each time I am aware in the moment enough to willfully choose not to make one, I experience a sensation of positive change and growth. There really are times when such things are not welcome; I am learning to recognize that, and to also be able to act on it. Incremental change over time. I think about the handful of friends who might protest that this amusing quirk of mine is something they cherish, and enjoy being entertained by – to which my response could be “so, hey, while you’re being entertained, I’m struggling to keep jobs, relationships, and have comfortable conversations with strangers… so… yeah, I’m working on this”. We each walk our own mile.

Today is a good day to begin again. Every day is. Choose one. Grab a verb. Get walking. You are your most powerful instrument of change. ❤

Tags ACT, be the change, begin again, being and becoming, breathe, checking in, checking out, emotional self sufficiency, good self-care, I am my own cartographer, just checking, MBSR, meditation, mindful living, mindfulness for beginners, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, TBI, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, what matters most?

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

Sleeping and Waking

December 5, 2016 //

I crashed more or less “on time” last night to get the good night of rest I need to start the work week. I slept deeply, and I feel rested now that I am awake. My anxiety woke me unexpectedly, about 90 minutes ahead of the alarm. This morning I didn’t just get up – I didn’t want to. I got up long enough to take my morning medication and pee, and then I went back to bed. To be clear, I had little expectation of additional sleep, and I wasn’t even thinking I needed that – but I did need to have a moment to wake more fully that wasn’t associated with the anxiety that woke me earlier, so I made one. I snuggled down and found comfort, then meditated until I felt ready to rise and greet the day. Nothing fancy was needed, meditation-wise, only the simplest of breath and awareness, allowing myself to become more comfortable in this fragile vessel, and less driven by unexplained emotion.

This morning the day starts with music, and I’m feeling it on the loud side of joy, so it’s headphones this morning; I am fairly certain most of the rest of the neighborhood does not want to begin their Monday the same way. Basic consideration demands I think twice before I crank the bass on the stereo at 5:00 am. 🙂 I listen to DMX tell me how Monday is going to be, and entertainingly imagine past teams of analysts I have worked with striding into some call center or another, in slow motion, looking totally bad ass. lol Why not? Data is the future of… everything. Practical working analysts are the tacticians of that future. Start-of-the-day bad-assery, indeed. lol 🙂 (Most every way of earning a living every contemplated or enacted has value, but finding my own sense of place, and value, in the working world has been a challenge for me. Finding work that does feel valued and valuable has been worthwhile.)

The weekend was restful, nurturing, and filled with moments of simple delight. I baked holiday cookies, did laundry, and invested time in self-care to be fit to face the work week this morning. I watched the rain fall beyond the window, and generally enjoyed my time quietly, solo. I notice, this morning, as I consider the weekend, that I have been disinclined to share my space with friends since the break-in. Even now, I rarely invite anyone in. Even my close neighbors – friends, more than neighbors – are finding themselves having to specifically check on me, because I’ve removed myself from society rather more than I’d noticed. I’m feeling safer, once again, although I no longer trust that feeling. It’s a healthy choice to open up to friends and welcome them into my space again. It’s difficult to get past the wariness. There are obviously verbs involved. 🙂

Today is a good day to enjoy life as it is, with a smile, and a moment of recognition; however good or bad this moment feels right now, it isn’t going to last. Moments are only moments. Impermanence is. Change is. “This too shall pass.” Today is a good day to embrace what works, to enjoy what feels good, to invest in a future that is in some incremental way better than the past, and to remain comfortably aware that life does not stand still. Today I may not change the world, but I can sure change how I feel about it. 🙂

Tags anxiety, are you going my way?, be the change, being and becoming, breathe, change is, emotional self sufficiency, I am my own cartographer, impermanence is, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness, mindfulness matters, music in the morning, my home my rules my way, perspective, practicing the practices, ptsd, sufficiency, taking care of me, TBI, The Art of Being, the map is not the world, there are verbs involved, this too shall pass, walking my own path

Categories Anxiety, Brain Injury, Free Will, Healthy Living, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, The Art of Being

Comfortable

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The Morning Macabre

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One Thing and Then Another

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Where’d I Put That Soapbox?

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Sleeping and Waking

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