I slept like crap last night. My sleep was restless and disturbed by strange unsettling dreams. Not exactly nightmares, I guess, but my dreams were peculiar and distressing enough to wake me. I woke a bit more than a half hour early for the day to begin, too, feeling restless and fussy. My Traveling Partner was already up, rather oddly, and as soon as I entered the living room he said “now I can go back to bed”, or something of the sort (I was still pretty groggy). It was weird.
Later, after I was long gone and out on this trail in the fog and darkness, he pinged me, awake again (still), and told me about his restless night. Rough. I send him my love and some affectionate stickers and emoji. Probably not very helpful, but hopefully he at least knows I care. Before I can share the love song that has been stuck in my head since I woke this morning, he’s headed back to bed. I hope he finally sleeps.
I pause on the trail in the cold to write a few words and gaze at the sliver of moon in the east through the fog, before I finish my walk and head to the office. Today feels “too busy” and I’m short on rest. I’ll do my best. What else is there to do?
It’s Thanksgiving week, of course it feels busy. I laugh to myself. Human challenges. Human limitations. I breathe exhale and relax. I meditate for a few moments, unconcerned with the cold. It’s not quite freezing. I’m glad I wore warm layers, and my scarf and gloves! I think about sitting by the fireplace, cozy and warm. Winter soon.
“Fireside” pastel 2024
I look at the time, in the pre-dawn gloom. Daydreaming can wait. It’s time to begin again. The day is waiting.
Daybreak arrives as I get back to the trailhead. I’ll head to the grocery store next, then home to tackle housekeeping chores for another week. I’m tired just thinking about it, and my “background” pain is a not uncommon, distracting, 6/10. My tinnitus is crazy loud, drowning out the sound of traffic on the nearby highway. It’s Sunday though, not much traffic.
A view of a day and a beginning.
A huge flock of Canada geese overhead pulls me out of my irritation over the physical limitations of being a human primate. Loud enough to distract me from my tinnitus for a moment. I watch and listen as the flock fills the sky overhead. The rain that had paused long enough to enjoy my walk along the marsh resumes. Drizzly chilly autumn weather is probably the primary cause of my pain today. I took medication for that. It hasn’t helped. I distract myself by continuing to watch and listen to the geese. I mean, I try. My results vary. I sift through the seemingly endless crap in my apparently bottomless handbag looking for my Capsaicin – it doesn’t “fix” anything, but it might give me a bit of relief. Shit. Looks like I left it home. In my minds eye, I can see it on my bedside table, clearly. In this moment, here, I’m still going through the motions of dumping my purse and double checking every pocket. A very human moment.
I sigh, annoyed with myself and with my pain. The rain falls harder and a dense fog creeps in. Forecast says pain all day, time to accept it and move on. Too much to do to let it take over.
I sit with my thoughts awhile. Meditation helps with pain management, particularly if I resist the temptation to focus on the pain. Sometimes it’s hard. I keep pulling my attention back to my breath. It’s a practice. My results vary. I breathe exhale and relax. I let my mind wander to the painting I’m working on. It needs something, and is unfinished. I think about that, instead of the pain I’m in. I shift uncomfortably, but whether it’s physical discomfort or “artistic energy” isn’t clear, and maybe doesn’t matter. Another breath. I watch a doe tentatively walk by, watching me. She steps slowly, with care, her soft gaze assessing my presence; friend or foe? She appears to decide my still, quiet, form is no threat, and stop to nibble on tasty bits of what remains of the meadow grasses. Still watching me, she walks on. I smile to myself. “Yeah, I get it, girl. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to begin again.”
I sigh and stretch and fuss a bit with this all too human aching mortal body. Fuck pain, I’ve got shit to do.
No point taking any pictures this morning, not yet anyway. It’s a foggy, chilly autumn morning, before daybreak. Everything seems supernaturally quiet and still. The air seems motionless. There’s no traffic on the nearby highway. On my way out, this morning, my Traveling Partner wishes me well, commenting that “it looks shitty out there,” and reminding me to “be careful”. He loves me and wants me to return home. It’s nice to feel his love follow me on the journey.
I hit the trail with my headlamp on, creating a spooky effect in the darkness. I’m glad I have my cane and regret, at least a little bit, not waiting for the sun. I just really wanted to walk. The moon peeks at me high overhead, through the fog. The trail crunches under my footsteps, gravel and leaves. I hear something in the brush, alongside the trail as it passes by the river. Probably racoons or a possum, but I can’t really see anything but the fog. This is a suitably spooky walk for an October morning, I think to myself and involuntarily quicken my pace. I have the trail to myself. Me, and everything else that lives in the meadow, or on the marsh between the creek and the river. lol
I get to a favorite halfway spot and stop. It’s chilly. There’s a bench here and a view out over the marshy meadow. With the moonlight I would be able to see across to the highway on a different day, but this morning there’s only fog. I write a few words, then jam my cold hands into my warm pockets for a few minutes, laughing at myself for leaving behind the gloves, scarf, and much warmer fleece that are in my gear in the back of the car. It’s there for a reason, obviously, and left behind thoughtlessly in my eagerness to hit the trail this morning. I roll my eyes and remind myself irritably, “that’s how people die in the wilderness, idiot”. Autumn has come. I won’t forget next time, I promise myself.
I sit quietly with my thoughts in the fog. The sky is beginning to lighten on the eastern horizon. I finish my writing. Daybreak soon. Then I’ll finish this walk and begin again.
Well, damn. That’s more than a little embarrassing…
Yesterday was quite a lovely day. I mean, it was definitely tending to be so, and I was relaxed and enjoying the day. Work was busy, complicated, and still quite fun. The day ended well, and I just had one errand to run to finish the week and call it the weekend. Easy. Routine.
… Right?.. Right?!..
It’s pretty easy to forget, when things are going well, that I do legitimately have some… “issues”. I start feeling as if I’m “past all that”. Feeling like my chaos is neatly tidied up, the damage repaired. “Nothing to see here.” It’s a pleasantly comfortable feeling, complacency, isn’t it? Which makes it all suck so much worse when shit goes sideways in some horrifically catastrophic feeling way that scatters shards of lingering trauma, broken bits of emotional baggage, and the wreckage of good intentions everywhere. It’s pretty horrible. The emotional damage done to loved ones dealing with it is embarrassing, inexcusable, and inflicts further trauma. It’s hard to make an adequate apology, making amends is even more difficult, and the fucking embarrassment, g’damn. The shame is a heavy burden to bear, and it can be complicated to prevent that from flaring up later as still more emotional bullshit. Fuuuuuuck.
So human.
Yesterday? Yesterday went sideways over a fucking product return. Yep. That was enough to push me entirely over the edge in actual seconds, and I may never truly understand why, let alone ever be able to explain it. It was bad. I lost my temper, my grip on reality, my ability to manage my emotions or even communicate clearly at all. My Traveling Partner was trying to help, but was immediately triggered, himself by my batshit-crazy bullshit, and wholly disadvantaged by also being medicated in a way that limited his ability to manage his own emotions or to support mine. It was (emotionally) messy. Ugly. Unpleasant. And it was over a fucking package. Over a moment of confusion and doubt regarding whether I understood which specific package it was and what return code belonged to it. Fucking stupid shit. Un-fucking-believable and a completely inexcusable overreaction to the circumstances.
No, apologies aren’t always adequate, which sucks. I still apologize. I’m still sincerely contrite and regretful. The damage is done and it may take time to rebuild a sense of emotional safety and trust. The whole messy business amounts to a powerful reminder regarding complacency. A reminder that mental illness is a real thing and the practices I practice to keep my shit together and foster mental and emotional wellness are not “a cure”. I still very much have to remain alert and self-aware.
…Well, shit…
I feel bad for the Anxious Adventurer. I wanted to set clearer expectations about my mental health and what challenges living in my home could present. My Traveling Partner shut that down, at the time. (I never asked why and don’t know.) What a shitty experience all around.
Here’s the thing though…
Waiting for the sun.
… Today is a new day. I can (and will) begin again. Yes, flare ups of mental illness suck. They’re scary and embarrassing. It’s horrible to understand how I have hurt those dear to me (and it doesn’t lessen the pain or the damage done that I’m talking about emotional violence not physical violence). I’ve still got to acknowledge the circumstances honestly. Reflect on things with calm self-awareness after the fact. Restore lost order. Make apologies and amends – and also move on and let it go.
Begin again.
It’s a new day. New challenges. New opportunities. A fresh set of moments, choices, and experiences. The day begins well, as I sit at the trailhead waiting for the sun. I started a new medication yesterday, intended to ease my occipital neuralgia and possibly reduce the pain of my cervicogenic headache. Will it be effective? Don’t know yet, but so far I am tolerating well, and it seems to have a pleasantly calming effect without knocking me out. In spite of numerous interruptions to my sleep last night, I slept well and deeply. The day begins well.
…I wonder where this path leads..?
Daybreak brings a new beginning.
Scattered plump raindrops greet me as I step onto the trail. I grab my rain poncho “just in case”. The trail stretches ahead, familiar, but also unknown; each new day is different.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to get to it. We’ve each got to walk our own mile. The trail isn’t always smooth, but the choices (and consequences) are my own. When I stumble, I know I can begin again.
I beat the sun to the trailhead this morning by a few minutes. The morning is dark and peaceful before daybreak. I wait for enough light to see the trail before I walk.
The distant glow of the human experience doesn’t cast enough light to see by.
Yesterday was good. We got a lot done (together, as a family). The whole weekend was busy and productive. I got most of what was on my list finished. I feel a certain sense of accomplishment from that. The work involved, in this case, was 100% to do with my Traveling Partner’s comfort and refinements and quality of life improvements to his personal space. Comfort, ease, and accessibility matter, and we all worked together to complete projects towards this end (some of which had been planned nearly four years ago). It was satisfying work.
I promised myself at the start of the weekend that I would make time for something creative and that I would do at least one thing for myself, that wasn’t any sort of common domestic chore. I managed to live up to that commitment to myself, late Sunday evening, finally, after my feet were too sore to keep standing on them. No new paintings, but I did open my pastel case and carefully placed new pastels into their places, enjoying the displayed colors and giving myself over to artistic contemplation for a little while before calling it a night. It’s not much, but it was time spent on my own needs, my own way. Enough.
… Daybreak comes, and soon enough light to walk the trail…
It gets light so much later now. I breathe in the cool morning air. Fall is coming. There may yet be some very hot days ahead, but the days are definitely getting shorter, the mornings cooler, and the season is changing. Noisy trucks crossing the parking lot headed towards the construction site on the other side remind me this is a work day. (Fucking hell, humans, do you really have to make so g’damned much noise all the fucking time?)
A new day, a new chance to begin again.
I get my boots on, grab my cane, and head out. A new day is dawning. In practical terms, I know where this trail I’m walking will lead me, but in metaphorical terms, the “trail” ahead of me is a mystery, unfolding ahead of me, each new moment truly new and only revealed to me as I live the moment. There’s a lot of comfort and delight in that notion (for me). No reason to anticipate disaster, chaos, or pain; the future is not known. No exceptions. I breathe, exhale, and relax and start down the trail, eyes wide with wonder.
There’s a low mist clinging to the ground over the meadow, near the river beyond the trees. The air is fresh and sweet, and for the moment the morning is quiet as the sunrise begins. It’s enough to live this gentle moment. It’s a good time to begin again.
Evening Light 