Archives for posts with tag: walk on

I’m waiting for the sun. The morning is chilly, hinting at autumn ahead. I’ll get a walk in, then head home to start the work day. So far this feels like a fairly ordinary Wednesday.

Perspective and a new day.

My Traveling Partner has a project going that he wants some help with. There are errands to run, including a trip to the grocery store. There are housekeeping tasks to get done sooner than later. And work. I’m not even bitching. I’m grateful to have the life I do. My quality of life is better than average and by far better than I’ve known in my own life at many prior points. There’s just a lot of real work involved in maintaining hearth and home and staying caught up on “everything” with very little help (right now). If nothing else, my Traveling Partner’s injury, surgery, and recovery, have served to emphasize his day-to-day efforts (and value), and his contributions to our life together. I definitely miss having his help around the house! He’s really good at some things I absolutely suck at.

Life is busy and the verbs are many. Some days I have been so tired. For now I seem to be managing to get the rest I need, mostly. Having some help from the Anxious Adventurer is an improvement (although there’s also a lot of guiding, coaching, and pointing out things which seem obvious to me, which adds to the emotional labor involved). Improving my self-care has been helpful, but also requires effort and attention from me, moment to moment. It all requires focus, balance, effort… practice. A lot of fucking practice. Sometimes, rather discouragingly, I feel as if I still very much suck at all of it, though I suspect this is bullshit created in my own head. I let that go whenever it turns up, as soon as I notice.

… I really want to be painting…

Yesterday I checked in with my Traveling Partner about his recovery from surgery, and whether he thinks he may be ready to handle things without my help every day by the end of September? I’m eager to take the pastels out to the coast again, and get another camping trip in before the nights are once again too cold for my comfort. I get his loving encouragement and find a campsite, and make reservations. New location. New perspective. New things to see. No way to know what the weather will actually be like this far in advance, but the historical details look promising and I feel enthusiastic and filled with anticipatory joy.

… I pause to hold on to the understanding that if my partner still needs me, I just won’t go…

Non-attachment isn’t about not caring about things. Non-attachment isn’t built on cynicism, bitterness, or disappointment. Practicing non-attachment, as I understand it myself, is more a matter of not clinging to events and ideas that are not happening as planned, or not happening at all, and it is a practice about letting go, generally. Non-attachment lets me more easily endure hard times by making me less likely to take shit personally. Big or small, life’s disappointments hit so much harder if I am gripping my expectations and assumptions tightly and trying to force reality to do my bidding, instead of mindfully observing my experience and the world around me, and just being okay with things as they develop. I’m not intending to “tell you how it is” or what to do with your life, I’m just saying my own experience is greatly improved when I can avoid getting trapped by my expectations and assumptions, and can simply be, as life unfolds ahead of me moment by moment.

…It still takes actual practice

Being skillfully human takes so much work and practice sometimes. It’s harder than it looks to become the person I most want to be, and then to simply exist as that individual, living the values that matter most to me. I keep practicing. It’s a worthy journey.

I sit with the sunrise ahead of me at the halfway point of my morning walk, writing these words and thinking my thoughts. It’s a good morning for meditation, for mindfulness, for being and becoming. It’s a good morning to walk my own path. The journey is the destination.

… It’s time to 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.

This moment is enough.

The past 48 hours are mostly a blur of smudgy unclear recollections and emotional impressions. Keeping up with my Traveling Partner’s care, particularly making sure medications are all taken on time, at proper intervals and dosages, is keeping me pretty busy. Juggling those details with work, and the self-care required to keep up with “all the things” has resulted in interrupted sleep, emotionality, and a generous helping of “stupid” moments. This too will pass; it’s a temporary situation. It’s generally enough to do my best.

… The tl;dr is that I’m tired, so tired, and haven’t slept well, deeply, or for more than a couple hours at a time these past couple of days…

Sunrise and a new beginning.

I woke ahead of my alarm this morning and watered the lawn, and helped my partner with his medication. I’d have rather gone directly back to bed and tried to get more sleep, but I also knew my partner had a difficult night of interrupted sleep himself. Better for his ability to rest for me to give him some quiet time. I slipped away to catch the sunrise on the trail, and the Anxious Adventurer left for work moments later.

… And here I am…

The sun rose a bold magenta betwixt thunder clouds. Once or twice lightning flashed across the sky. By the time I got here to the trailhead, thunder was breaking the quiet of the morning, frequently. No rain. Not right now, anyway, though it appears that some rain fell during the night. I find myself wishing for rain. (Thunder storms without rain this time of year are a deadly threat of wildfires.) I sit for a moment before lacing up my boots for a walk.

My head aches ferociously this morning, a combination of my “usual” headache, and lack of rest. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s less than ideal to let it become the focus of my day; I have too much shit to do.

My longtime friend, The Author, had planned to visit this weekend, but got COVID and if he makes it at all, the timing is yet to be determined. Disappointing. My Dear Friend’s celebration of life memorial is today, but I won’t make it; I’m not up to the long drive at the last minute, and regardless, my Traveling Partner needs my care and support. While I am considering these circumstances, a drenching tropical sort of rain begins to pound the car (I pull my feet back into the car and close the door). I think about the recent (Wednesday, 3 days ago) death of my Aunt…

…Then the tears begin to fall, with the rain…

Sometimes it just all feels like too much. I sigh, letting the tears fall without taking them personally. No reason to fight the moment. This is “my time”, and if this is what I need right now, okay. After some minutes, I blow my nose and just sit listening to the thunder and the rain, wondering about the lightning strike risk on the trail… It wouldn’t do to get hit by lightning today, I just don’t have time. lol

This morning I feel very mortal and very much aware how temporary it all really is. Life. So brief. So precious.

… I didn’t come prepared to walk through a drenching downpour, but I am sure enjoying just sitting here listening to the storm…

A different sort of quiet moment.

I sit listening to the rain, fighting the confusion and dimwittedness of fatigue. I could probably get a couple things done, since it doesn’t look like I’ll be walking… My mind feels numb. What is on my list, anyway? I scrounge around in my consciousness rather halfheartedly, instead of just looking at my damned list. The growl and loud crack of thunder along with a dazzling flash of very close lightning startles me. It seemed “just over there”, visibly, identifiably nearby. Scary. Distracting.

G’damn beginning again is easier when I get the rest I need… I don’t quite manage to laugh, and sigh again instead. I decide to quietly take my time sorting myself out, before tackling some task or another. There’s no reason to rush. I’ve got time to take care of myself. Self-care matters, too.

I sit for some unmeasured amount of time, reflecting on gratitude and joy. Thinking over the best of recent moments and savoring the recollections. I feel so grateful for my Traveling Partner, and the enduring love we share. It gets us through a lot. We’ve managed to snarl at each other far too often the last few days, as pain, fatigue, and frustration overcame our good nature in some difficult moment. We get past it. Exchange apologies. Make amends when we can. Our hearts know the way, even when we go astray – very human. All things considered, I guess we’re doing pretty well, generally. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s no lack of love. Humans being human; sometimes it’s complicated.

It’s probably time to begin again, but…

… I’m enjoying listening to the rain fall. That’s okay too.

Self-care matters. How can you cope with what life is going to throw at you without taking care of your physical body or nurturing your good heart? How do you keep practicing without adequate rest and good nutrition? How can you heal from trauma or bounce back from a trying moment without caring for yourself? The answer isn’t new information; you can’t. I mean, maybe for a short while you’d manage, but over the long haul?

Practice good self-care.

Even in the midst of chaos, make a point to take time to rest.

Things are pretty intense lately, and probably for a few more days (maybe weeks) to come. Juggling work, caregiving, and the requirements of maintaining a household is complicated, fraught with potential for miscommunication and missteps, and just fucking difficult. It is chaotic and emotionally challenging. Maintaining a sense of calm and optimism is hard. Sometimes it feels very “personal”, but reason tells me it’s not personal at all. Just really really hard.

I often feel as if I am not up to the challenges I am facing. I remain wholly committed to doing my best, moment to moment, though I recognize that it sometimes isn’t enough. I avoid lashing out when I am feeling hurt, frustrated, or angry – there’s nothing to be gained from that kind of reaction right now. My results vary, and I keep on practicing. I refrain from “venting” my anger or frustration; the science is in on that (it doesn’t help and tends to increase how quickly a person becomes angry, and how intensely, over time). It’s incredibly difficult to maintain this level of self-discipline in the face of the present challenges.

… I keep practicing…

Eventually this too will pass. I don’t know what the future holds, and I can’t see the path ahead clearly, but I keep walking, literally and metaphorically. I keep practicing the practices that have helped me become the person I am, and which continue to lead me down the path of becoming the person I most want to be. Incremental change over time is a process. 

Right now self-care is keeping me from completely losing my way and descending into chaos. It doesn’t always feel like enough, but it’s something. I am relying on it.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. For a few minutes I can simply walk, and breathe, and reflect. Where does this path lead? I watch the sun rise. I listen to the birds, squirrels and chipmunks start their day. I notice the pain I’m in. I only give it enough attention to take care of it; self-care matters. I take my medication on time trying to “stay ahead of the pain”. I keep walking.

A lot of our chaos, pain, and hardship is created by our own efforts or thinking. I do my best to avoid making up shit to be stressed or angry about. I just don’t need the additional emotional burden, ever really, and especially right now. I breathe and let shit go. I walk and practice forgiveness and gratitude. I remind myself “this too will pass”…

… and I just keep walking…

Another breath, another moment, another sunrise; another chance to begin again.

I’m sitting alone on the side of a favorite local trail. I’m tired. I’ve been crying. My head aches, and I am in a pretty grim place, emotionally. I’m also grateful to be here, now, rather than having this moment as the woman I was 11 years ago. Yes, it’s fucking hard. Yes, I’m pretty g’damned unhappy right now, but… I can also recognize that this is simply a moment. It will pass. The future is unwritten. The trail ahead isn’t always within view.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I rather stupidly try to will my tinnitus to quiet down. No surprise that doesn’t work.

My Traveling Partner’s surgery went very well and he’s home resting and continuing to recover.

The drive home was emotionally difficult, and ended on an unpleasant note. The actions leading there were mine, so the fault is mine as well. (Hard to hold someone who just had surgery and is deeply medicated “responsible” for much of anything at all, whatever the circumstances.) By the time we got home I didn’t really want to interact with other human beings. I’ve been in pain all day, no end in sight, and I am tired and still kind of angry, though, as I said, how is someone so heavily medicated responsible for their words or behavior at all? Why would I be angry? I don’t think they can be held to everyday standards for sure. Accommodations must be made. Understanding and compassion are required. Forgiveness is a good approach. But… That has to include…for me, from me.

… It’s been so very worrying for so long to see my partner suffering, I probably needed to prepare for this moment quite differently somehow…

I sigh out loud, my ears ringing so loudly it seems certain I am missing other information. I promise myself to get my hearing checked. My back aches in spite of medication. (The chairs at the hospital are not sufficiently comfortable for an all day stay.) I’m tired and the walking isn’t satisfying. I’m just going through the motions. Literally.

My Traveling Partner pings me. I respond promptly; I still have responsibilities. I think about the woman I most want to be. What would she do, right now? I sigh again and get to my feet. She’d begin again.