Archives for posts with tag: there are verbs involved

Yesterday went sideways fast, mostly a byproduct of pain (mine, and his), and associated emotional volatility. Mine. His. It sucked and generally speaking the entire day was pretty much wrecked by it. Oddly, from an outside perspective, apparently, the details of the day amounted to “a great day” characterized by numerous successes, but the emotional qualities of the experience were wildly out of touch with any of that. Being human is complicated sometimes.

As bad as the day seemed, generally, it began and ended well. Not my usual experience, and it seems (on reflection) somehow associated with the addition of the Anxious Adventurer to the household dynamic. Interesting. Looking back on the day it “doesn’t seem so bad”, but good grief I am glad it’s behind me and I am hoping for better today. I’m in less pain… A promising start.

Here comes another opportunity!

I hit the trail just at daybreak. The morning had a slight chill to it that felt refreshing. The sunrise began as a smudgy streak of a reddish hue, like a wound becoming infected. The air was still, and hazy in the distance. My tinnitus was far louder in my ears than the sound of distant traffic. I walked along, listening to my own steps, thinking my solitary thoughts.

…10 days until my coastal getaway…

The case I purchased to hold, protect, and transport my pastels arrived yesterday and I took a moment to put the delicate sticks of colorful pigments into their new home. No more small boxes – just one tidy case. I’m delighted with the result, and feel more prepared for my upcoming trip to the coast to paint. I sit at the halfway point of my walk, thinking about art, love, and inspiration, and watching the sun rise. The work day will begin soon enough, and I’ll turn my thoughts to work when it does. For now, my time is my own.

I’m looking forward to the weekend, though it seems likely to be quite a busy one. I’ve got a number of boxes set aside, filled with small objects and items quickly packed and moved out of the way to make room for the Anxious Adventurer. Now that things are settling down, it’s time to take a closer look, to dispose of what lacks value, to display noteworthy curiosities and decorative things, where space permits, and more carefully pack those things worth keeping but for which the time is not now. Then whatever boxes there are will go to storage for a while. It’s a process that can be a bit emotional, and although I am not dreading it, I’m also not looking forward to it.

I breathe exhale and relax. The sun is deep luminous orange as it rises above the horizon. I save my draft and turn back up the trail. The sunrise dazzles my eyes as I walk through the oaks.

Don’t stare into the sun!

The air is already warming up. I’m thinking about coffee and new beginnings, and change. I’m feeling pretty good this morning, aside from the headache that accompanies me most days.  Getting to the car, I sit on a nearby picnic table to finish my writing, change my boots for softer shoes, and sit for a moment, just being. I watch the sun through the trees and contemplate how I would compose the scene on paper and how that might work in pastel. Old thoughts, new medium.

…Fuck, my tinnitus is so loud. I make a point to listen to myself breathing, which helps “put the tinnitus in perspective” and anchor my awareness to externally audible sounds.

…My Traveling Partner pings me…

It’s hours later. My plans were upended pretty quickly. My morning walk had served to give my partner a bit more time to get the rest he needs, but the Anxious Adventurer has his own routine, and his own work hours, and his own plan, and my partner was awake earlier than he’d hoped, with no likelihood of getting more rest if I were to be working from home, as I’d intended. It was early enough in the morning to make a change, easily, with no particular stress and I offered to do so, and hastened home to grab my laptop and head to the office. It’s nice to have the option. My day ends up starting a bit later than I planned, which means it will end later than I’d like, but if my Traveling Partner gets the rest he needs, it’s a win for both of us.

…The necessity to begin again comes in a lot of forms. The willingness to make a change based on circumstances is a useful first step. Then, by beginning where I actually am, I can proceed to the next thing, the next need, the next plan… the next moment. So far, it’s still a lovely day – and all I had to do was begin again. 😀

I am taking steps, this morning, both literally and figuratively. In the literal sense, I am up early, before dawn, and on the trail. Steps. In the figurative sense I am putting a plan in motion to ease my persistent fatigue and get some better rest. I made reservations for a couple days away, at the end of July, to get some solitary restful time with my thoughts and my pastels. The former feels quite routine, the latter quite necessary, but I guess they both have all those qualities – they’re just different practices that I use to care for this fragile vessel.

Daybreak

… I’m so tired…

I walk on, enjoying the brief solitary interlude I’ve learned to count on each day. A few precious minutes with my thoughts, walking my own path, just… being. Most days, I can’t really expect even one additional solitary moment that isn’t spent in a bathroom, or driving (which rarely feels solitary). There’s nearly always someone around (at home, my Traveling Partner, and at work my colleagues), and in spite of human primates being “social creatures”, I struggle to get adequate solitude, as an individual. I sigh as I walk, thinking my solitary thoughts. Most days, these minutes and miles on the trail are enough to refuel me and keep me going. It’s enough.

…A couple days of creative time on the coast will be lovely, and I am already looking forward to it…

The sunrise softens to a pale sky of pastel hues, pink and pale yellow and a streak of baby blue. Pretty. It’ll be another very hot day today, though maybe just a bit cooler than yesterday’s 106°F.

The world finds me even here in the early morning alone on this trail. My Traveling Partner pings me. Tells me about his difficult night, the pain he is in, and how he’s doing so far this morning. I stop walking to reply and decide to write these few words. (I happened to be at a convenient spot to sit for a minute, so the timing fits.)

Sometimes it feels like there is no rest, really, no real solitude, no actual “downtime”… There’s a sensation, some days, that “someone always wants a piece of me”. I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s no reason to push myself so hard. Boundaries can be set and reinforced. I can reclaim my time and attention for myself, for my own purposes. There are verbs involved, and my results vary. Success requires practice.

Later today, we move forward with some of the planned changes around the house, making room for one more human being. Yeah, even knowing myself as I do, I agreed to this shit. 😂 It’s fine. I’m for sure not sorry to see books on shelves in the living room instead of tucked away in a small bedroom being used as a library. I enjoy books and could happily cover every wall with bookshelves.

The sunrise continues to develop as the morning warms up. The colors have shifted to a more homogeneous shade of peach (or is it a pale salmon or coral?), with a smudge of lavender smeared along the horizon. My mind wanders as I sit with my thoughts. This is also…fine. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This mile won’t walk itself! I laugh quietly and watch little birds in the recently mown grass. It’s time to get going, finish this walk, and get on with the day.

… It’s time to begin again.

Sometimes change is hard. Sometimes change arrives rather quickly, and instead of evolving gradually over time, it pulls up out front in a moving van and unpacks over a weekend. 😂

…We managed to get most of the necessary move-in basics handled and the truck returned on time…

Getting the Anxious Adventurer moved in was the priority for the weekend, other than caring for my Traveling Partner, who was effective and handy, supporting various tasks with thoughtful guidance. The whole chaotic endeavor was considerably improved by how we each embraced the circumstances (no doubt each for our own reasons). We’re all in it together and it was obvious.

I’m definitely feeling the strain of the aggressive pace of the weekend’s activity in sore muscles and lingering fatigue. “A new normal” begins with this quiet, pleasant Monday morning. I’ll work from home with much more freedom to focus on work with my Traveling Partner’s son now available to help out, too. Hell, I might have enough left in me at the end of the day to cook a proper meal! There’s more to do, but now it can be handled within the context of the day-to-day living of life, which feels pretty good. I even got to spend some time reading last night!

There’s more to do. The work of adjusting to the changes required is not yet completed. There are boxes to go into storage. Things to change or “fix” about how the household is set up, to be better suited to three people, where there had been only two, before. The living room, though, is no longer filled with the contents of a moving van, and no one is sleeping on the floor. Progress. Today will be my first day working from my completely rearranged office-studio-creative space, which still needs a bit more fine-tuning. I chuckle to myself, still amused and astonished that I managed to move a full-sized couch into such a small room (with the help of the Anxious Adventurer and the guidance of my Traveling Partner giving instructions from down the hall). Funnier still, it manages to be more “cozy” than crowded. It will force me to be quite mindful of the space and keep it very neat, though; there is no room to tolerate clutter. Not one spare square inch of space is left for being careless or messy.

I while away a few minutes thinking about change and wondering when my Traveling Partner’s surgery will be? Scheduling that should happen today. Once we’ve got the date settled, I’ll also schedule some away-time for myself, for a date maybe a couple weeks after the surgery. Damn, it’s good to have the help of the Anxious Adventurer! I feel incredibly grateful and very fortunate. I finally have the emotional “room” to breathe and reflect and consider and exist outside the constraints of holding myself constantly at the ready to handle any/every task, every moment, all of every day… That was a lot of pressure, but I didn’t know how else to handle things.

… I’m so tired…

It’s a new day. A new opportunity to begin again. There’s more to do (nearly always is), but life has “less weight to it” somehow and I feel pretty good, generally. I woke at my usual early time, and I’ve had the trail to myself this morning. I watched the sun rise as I walked, and these quiet minutes to write and reflect don’t feel snatched from the limited time available for everything else that needs doing. It’s nice.

I don’t yet know what the new normal looks like, but I’m on this path and I’ll know soon enough. I stretch and yawn and smile. It’s time to begin again.

Moving is hard. It’s a ton of work compounded by fatigue and distractions, and chaos reliably rides shotgun (sometimes even if the move is executed “military style”). We’re getting it done, but it’s a lot of work, and coordination of effort, and management of many small logistical details. My injured Traveling Partner helpfully coordinates things between the Anxious Adventurer and me, as we each handle various tasks, leaving us both free to focus on what we’re doing, checking in with him as we complete one task and move on to the next.

Today the rented truck gets returned and we’re “done” – for some values of done. There’s still quite a lot to do, but last night the Anxious Adventurer slept in his room, and even found the energy to bake cookies (they were delicious) in the evening.

… I’m so fucking tired…

I woke at my usual time, got myself together, and headed to the local trail I like most. Later it’ll be grocery shopping and laundry and trying to maintain the pace on the ordinary tasks that keep the household running, on top of continuing to handle various moving in tasks still needing attention.

… Did I mention I’m tired? I’m also in pain.

I remind myself that a new normal with less chaos and less work (well, possibly the same amount effort, but distributed across more human capacity) is near at hand. My tinnitus whines, chimes, and buzzes in my ears. My back hurts. My head aches. I look past all that as I walk the trail. This is my path. It’s not always easy. I’ve survived a lot worse. I just keep walking. Persistence pays off. Incremental change over time is reliable.

…We become what we practice…

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a pleasant morning, gray and overcast, mild and somewhat humid. I keep walking.

My Traveling Partner is already up, and I wonder if I woke him as I left the house? I let that thought go, too. I walk on. I prepare a mental grocery list, and remind myself to go over some basic expectations about groceries, shared (and limited) space, and avoiding waste or duplication. We three each have somewhat different tastes, and ideally that becomes exciting variety and chances to try new things. All of us cook (although for now my Traveling Partner can’t easily do anything much cooking-wise), but pantry and cupboard space is very limited.

… It’s an exciting time. I focus on the excitement instead of the chaos as I walk…

I stop for a picture and a quiet moment.

…So much yet to do, and the weekend feels so short…

Tomorrow morning is a new work day. Weird. Work, in the abstract, feels so removed from my experience right now. How strange. I pause at my halfway point, and sit, smelling the blooming blackberries and wildflowers. The air is very still and calm. It smells like it may rain again. I sigh quietly and watch a feral cat slink past giving me a sideways glance before disappearing in the underbrush. I find myself wondering when I will have the cognitive bandwidth (and the time) to explore the possibilities of the new pastels.  Realistically, it may be a while, and the possibility exists as a temptation dangling ahead of me awaiting some future moment…if I get enough done.

I sigh. Shit’s not getting done while I sit here. Fuck. I stand and stretch stiff joints, and dust off my pants, before heading back to the car to get started on the day. It’s already time to begin again.

I’ll keep doing my best…but…

…You don’t have to read this. In fact, I strongly suggest you skip it. I’m going to vent a bit, and share too much, and be too angry, and maybe you just don’t need that right now? Fucking drama, right? I know I don’t need this shit… I also don’t need to save it up to blow up over some even smaller bullshit later on. So, I just need to say words. You don’t have to read them, though…

Sure, it could be better, but it could also be a whole lot worse.

I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I woke with my headache “turned up to 11” this morning. My back aches with my arthritis. I’ve been dealing with a ton of “extras” – extra needs, extra tasks, extra negative emotions from people, extra calls on my calendar, extra email threads – and too little actual bandwidth to deal with it all comfortably, or easily, or with any particular measure of grace. Too much to do and I’m stretched to thin to be good at any of it. I’m just doing my best – and it’s clearly not enough to get the job done like a pro.

I catch tears welling up over and over again. Twice they dripped down my cheeks as I sat at my desk trying to focus on the task at hand. So… on top of all the other bullshit, I’m clearly also dealing with my own – while I sit in an open shared “public” professional (cowork) space. It’s awkward. Uncomfortable. Inconvenient. Inefficient. Distracting. (I’m still doing my best.)

…I even saw today coming, because it was pretty fucking predictable, and in no way actually “personal”…

On top of all that? The lights here are too bright. The office is too cold. My tinnitus is crazy loud. I’m noise-sensitive af. I broke a nail below the quick, and the broken bit snagged on the fabric of this office chair and tore right the fuck off – which hurts like hell, but nothing like this g’damned persistent now-going-on-11-years headache that follows me every-fucking-where, and for which no one (thus far) seems to have any useful insight on it, diagnosis of it, or treatment for it. It’s just there. Reliably. For 11 fucking years now.

My smile feels brittle when I have to interact with someone. It’s not real and doesn’t reach my eyes. I’m aware of it, and I feel self-conscious on top of being in pain. I want to do more, and do it better, and “be there” for everyone who needs me to be – especially my Traveling Partner, who’s dealing with his own misery today (and it’s probably worse than mine,) and who definitely needs my help, my love, and my care.

Why bother to drop this on you? Mostly because you’re here. Writing is a way I cope with complex emotion and shit that is overwhelming me. (Are you still reading this?? I did try to warn you…)

I breathe, exhale… I keep trying. I keep going. I just keep stepping through the various motions of various practices and waiting for something to click… for success to catch up with me… My results vary. Today, my results are not everything I need – they’re just all I’m going to get, apparently.

Hard is hard. The chaos and damage of trauma linger way past when we expect it to, and sometimes that really complicates things. It’s easy – too easy – to take all of it personally (it so clearly is not). My poor quality sleep impairs my thinking and limits my resilience. The work day limits my focus – but there, too, I’m struggling. It’s hard to focus. Hard to stay focused when I get there. I’m distracted by what’s going on with me and what’s going on with my partner and his health. Messy.

…Sometimes doing our best doesn’t get results that feel like enough, but it’s not actually possible to do “more than our best”. Frustrating. Enough has to be enough, but often it doesn’t feel like it is. Sometimes, our “best” is within reach, if we just reach farther, dig deeper, but g’damn… when does that ever end?

…I’m tired and I’m frustrated and I’m in pain. Still not personal. Still just sucks. So human. What is there to do about it besides take a minute to breathe, maybe time to meditate, stay on the path, and begin again? Nothing, I guess… but that doesn’t make it any more comforting when it doesn’t feel like enough, or any easier to practice when it doesn’t immediately feel effective.

…What a shitty fucking day this is so far…

…I’ve still got to begin again… again.

This too will pass.