Archives for posts with tag: walk on

I’d just barely hit “publish” on yesterday’s blog post when a severe OPD storm blew in. Other People’s Drama splashed all over my doorstep, and a tsunami of emotion blasted my morning, my afternoon, and my day generally.

In moments of gloom, there are often still flowers.

I am not the sort of person to turn someone fleeing domestic violence away from a moment of safety, though, and my OPD-free zone is certainly a safe space. I invited my friend in, and started working to help her calm herself; difficult decisions in life are most easily made from moments of calm, I find. I make a point of checking in with myself regularly, too, because this shit hits all of my buttons, and I am myself on the edge of panic being around domestic violence, at all.

When conditions are right, flowers bloom.

My friend and I took a walk through the park, “enjoying” the flowers. To be more precise, I was enjoying the flowers, my friend was moping along beside me, less than fully engaged in the moment. I didn’t really intend to give up on 100% of the beauty and fun of my weekend, just because someone else has drama to choose to invest in. 🙂 It was a lovely walk, and I’m sure the fresh air and sunshine did her some good too. She talked. I listened. Sometimes I talked. I hope she made a point of listening, but it’s not something I can confirm with any confidence. We walked in silence some, too. I did my best to respect her emotional experience and be present, welcoming, and comforting.

I’m not always sure what one flower or another actually is, and this does not stop me from enjoying them.

She figured out what to do with herself in the short-term, and where to go. Her things were already packed up and ready for all of that. I gave her a ride. I gave her hugs. I gave her my time. I came home. The evening from that point was very quiet. Her now-ex is a friend, too. I know he must be hurting, and I’m here, even for him, if he wants to talk. He hasn’t reached out. I don’t expect that he will. The situation saddens me. Not my circus. Not my monkeys. Not my drama.

Sometimes, a closer look.

I slept restlessly, waking often toward the end of the night. My restlessness got me out of bed more than once, to walk through and around the apartment before returning to bed, no particular purpose in mind. It was a weird night. I sip my coffee contemplating the weekend behind me, and the day ahead. Yesterday’s investment in drama was time-consuming; I didn’t get my laundry done, and I didn’t paint my nails. I didn’t read that book I started. I didn’t get much housework done. All of that will inconvenience or annoy me this week, at some point, more than likely…but… what I did do counts too, and comes up less often; I spent time with a friend who needed me.

It’s a journey.

Still, I’m looking around the place this morning and recognizing opportunities to take better care of the woman in the mirror. Today seems like a good day to begin again. 🙂

 

Well… it always is time to face one change or another, is it not? If not simply the passage of time making some change to the face of the clock, it’s sure to be something else. lol

Today I am more than usually sensitive to, and aware of, change, just generally; I am making a change in my scheduled work days, and today becomes one of those. So… sure enough, I woke hours ahead of the alarm, once or twice, checking to be sure that time exists, and that it remained “still nighttime” and that I hadn’t missed my alarm, my bus, my moment… I got this with most changes in routine. I don’t give myself grief about it anymore; it’s part of how – and who – I am. Since there isn’t “one way” to be human that succeeds above all other possible ways, I am content that this is part of my own. 🙂

…Of course, for no clear reason, everything seems to take just a little longer this morning, on a morning I have a firm – and different – “walk out the door time”. I’m okay with that, too; I keep an eye on the clock. (That’s possibly what has seemed to slow things down!)

Change is a thing. Fighting this one would do nothing to make it go more smoothly, or to feel effortless – and because it isn’t “effortless”, at all, it makes more than a little sense that it doesn’t feel effortless. lol I make the effort, and with a smile, because this is a change I am choosing – it has value for me. It frees up a weekday for appointments and whatnot that I will not have to take time off work for. Nice. Even my Traveling Partner sounded ready for it, eagerly pointing out we’d now have Fridays to have fun together. 🙂 I had thought of that too. It’s a good fit.

…Still human though. It still feels like “Sunday” – a day to sleep in, to do laundry, to tidy up, to relax… the dawn is just beginning. The dark trees on the horizon are silhouetted against the pale blue-gray pre-sunrise cloudy sky. It may rain more. I feel mildly annoyed for a moment to be awake so early, ready to pull on my hiking boots… but not going hiking. I laugh it off. It doesn’t matter the day of the week, they’re all just days. I’m eager to see what this one holds.

I’m ready to begin again.

It’s early. I woke around 3 am. I napped until shortly after 6 am. I’ve been cranking tunes since then, although it’s much too early for having the stereo on – sort of the whole point of headphones, so… no problem. Headphones it is.

Sunshine streams into the apartment through windows open to the morning breeze, blinds raised. The goosebumps on my arms don’t discourage me in the slightest; it’s the scent of flowers on the breeze that I’m after, and it delights me. Chilly? I would be if I hadn’t put on a sweater… it’s sort of the point of having sweaters, right? So, I put one on.

I caught a glimpse of myself reflected on the patio door, and another as I passed by the bathroom mirror. I’m not yet in the shape I’d like to be in, and my plump curves are a bit plumper than is ideal for my desired longevity and general day-to-day comfort and experience of wellness.  Yeah, middle-age comes with some of that for a lot of us, I suspect. Taking care of my health over time matters, so I make choices that meet that need, including changes in diet, changes in fitness plan, and (at least for now) getting the medical care I need to address longer term concerns about my health.

Professionally, too, there have been (no doubt are, and will be) choices to make that could better or worsen my experience of life, itself, and even my experience of… self.

I sip my coffee – it’s cold now. I’m distracted by the music, and the sunshine on morning dew drops. I’m thinking about how much fun I used to have with the “character building” part of role-playing games; the fun of being able to choose who I would become. This morning I am understanding that indeed, this is a “power” I actually have – we all do. I can choose who I will become! I can choose my hair color, the clothes I wear, what words and phrases and style I express, and what qualities I will embrace… I create my future “back story” with the things I choose to do today… I can practice different behavior, learn different thinking, and literally become someone very different than I am today. I am already someone different than I was when I was very young. I can do it willfully, through selection of behavior, values, actions… or through mindlessly repeating memes, slogans, and succumbing to advertising and literal “programming” offered by the media. I can choose who I will become – or a persona to live within, like a tiny box, can be provided for me.

We become what we practice.

We become what we practice.

We become what we practice.

We become what we practice.

What are you practicing?

Begin again.

This morning I’m sitting out politics. I’m sitting out routine. I’m casually dissing habits. I’m enjoying an odd summer morning that dropped into the mild spring week unexpectedly. Sure, in a few minutes I’ll put on my shoes, grab my keys, and make a point of locking the door behind me before I head to work. I’m still effectively adulting, which puts a smile on my face; I’m not trying to.

This morning practice pays off. I woke on time, and enjoyed a leisurely shower. I sat down to write, and spent the time, instead, looking at new baby pictures shared by friends who are new parents, and watching the sun rise. The windows are open to the morning breeze, and the heat of the coming day has not yet set in. I sip my coffee quietly, listening to the red-wing blackbirds calling each other across the marsh; later they will visit the feeder, but they too seem to be enjoying a lazy morning.

Did I say it is a “lazy” morning? That sounds a tad harsh. I’m just relaxing over my coffee, and things are mostly already quite tidy and orderly here. There is no urgency to force myself through routines that tend to be habitual most days. I smile and wonder if this is how my firm habits break; random summer mornings in the midst of spring?

The changes in diet and medication seem to be working out. There are verbs involved, always and of course. It’s one of the “hard things” in my experience. It requires practice. Mindfulness. Repetition. More practice. Some beginning again. Okay – a lot of beginning again. Plenty of study. Some incremental changes over time. Self-awareness. The will to choose change. More practice. Some crying. Plenty of self-acceptance. Persistence. Fearless self-advocacy. Over-coming learned helplessness. More mindfulness. Fewer calories. More walking. Still fewer calories. More yoga. Fewer calories. Fuck. I’m hungry! Am I actually hungry? More mindfulness. LOL Verbs. My results vary. But… I’m making progress, a little at a time, and wishing there were some other word (concept?) than “dieting” to hold this thought, because I don’t see myself as “dieting” so much as changing how I eat, how I live, how I understand the role food plays in my experience, and how I take advantage of the existing body of cognitive science to turn my brain injury into an ally on this part of the journey, instead of my nemesis. 🙂

Every bit of all of this – steps on a journey.

It’s a lovely morning to begin again.

This adulting nonsense is so hard, sometimes! Most particularly the part where I find myself having to balance long-term and short-term needs, or just generally sort out wants from needs, develop new perspective on old situations, or balance the whimsical with the practical. So hard. Still, not learning and doing these things, while certainly among the many options available, seems to hold the greatest promise of huge disappointments later on. So, I practice, I learn, I grow – I continue to adult, with varying levels of skill.

The house-hunt is a case in point. I just haven’t been getting far looking at tiny fixers. Some of them have been quite cute. Several of them would definitely meet most of my needs for long-term housing, and would satisfy the shorter-term (more urgent-seeming) desire to move from the place I am in right now. Fucking hell – there’s more to it than swiping my card, regardless of whether or not I have pre-approval in hand. Irksome. There are criteria to be met with a VA loan. There is the ever-present reality of a “seller’s market” in an industry quite willing to refrain from the sort of economic regulation and clear process requirements that might cut into anyone’s ability to drive commissions higher (through higher prices generated by aggressive bidding among home-seekers, encouraged by realtors). Frustrating. I just want somewhere to call home. Coming to terms with one element of my dissatisfaction (specifically that I don’t actually want to live in a crowded residential suburb with an ugly commute) turns my attention to the beauties of rural living… and… the scarcity of land. Damn it. LOL I look at page after page of listings of parcels of land in my state… I’m sort of limited, though, to the region commutably close (by car) to my job, right? Yeah. So is everyone else, and most of the jobs in the state… right here in this area. Plenty of big lovely parcels of remote unimproved land out there, though… if I thought I could do a 10 or 12 hour commute I’d be in good shape. “Remote” has various magnitudes of meaning, but none of those mean “convenient to the office”. lol Well shit, at least I am still laughing.

For a moment this morning I wanted to sit down and write “Dear Universe, please send land I can afford, I’ll manage the rest. I’ve been very good this year” and hope for the best. 🙂 Sometimes there is a lot of gentle relief in having a child-like heart in these matters. Adulting mostly generally just sucks. lol

I sip my coffee and smile to myself. It’s not that bad, honestly. I’m house-hunting. That’s something pretty huge. It’s a time-consuming process, and well… that does take time. So, okay. I keep looking. I keep gathering resources. At some eventual future point there is a predictable logistical collision between available opportunities, resources, time, and decision-making, and then, shortly afterward… an outcome. I don’t even know what that outcome will be.

What if, and it’s not off the table, the thing that truly makes sense is to continue to work and save for retirement – the real brass ring in this game – and then utterly and wholly relocate (even out of the country)? Well… at that point, having a house would be no advantage at all. So. Yeah. Life is weird. I’m living one, this one, mine. I’ve no idea where this path leads, really. I think I know what I want… but I’ve inched along on this journey of self-understanding just enough to suspect that any notion I have of knowing what I want is, itself, a bit of an illusion. What is enough? (Honestly, that one is a frustrating bit for me; my idea of “enough” and the VA’s idea of “enough to loan me money for” are rather different… because… I’d live in a fucking yurt in the high desert well away from everyone, or out in the trees in a tent, or… yeah. I’m not actually all that fancy, as fancy human primates go.)

So, what can I do on a Tuesday to get a little farther to goal? Study, I suppose. Do my homework as a consumer. Be well-informed about what I am getting myself into. Be ready “when the time comes” … for whatever the outcome may be. Am I “there yet”? Nah, there’s a lot more to know than I ever will. It’s quite possible, at any point in life, to be more prepared than I am. There are verbs involved.

I sip my coffee. I think about life’s menu. I think over all of the many options – and these are only the ones I even know about, myself. I think about simple. I think about fancy. I think about enough. With one last swallow of now-cold coffee, I think about journeys, and progress, and beginnings, and verbs.

I head to my meditation cushion to begin again. 🙂