Archives for posts with tag: walk on

Funny that the two conversations happened on the same evening, in near-real-time simultaneity, although I didn’t quite notice that until after the fact.

Each moment the only moment.

Each moment the only moment.

One friend reached out to let me know he’s doing better, that things I have shared previously have more value now that he is more able to understand, and that he is more or less generally mostly okay, but… Yeah. I remember smiling to myself as I read his message. I understood the poignant moment of changed hearts. Sometimes the very solo journey through our own chaos and damage, however successful for us, ourselves, however healing and however much growth we experience… it’s not well received by some who love us dearly (or have said that they do). I’ve lost quite a few “friends” along the way; people who were more invested in who I had been than they were willing to accept (or understand) who I am becoming.

These are my choices. This is my life. The decisions about me that matter most are my own. This is as true for you, as it is for me. 🙂

Most of what we think we know about each other we've made up in our own heads.

Most of what we think we know about each other we’ve made up in our own heads.

We’re walking our own mile. This journey, like it or not, is a solo-hike of self-discovery. It may sound a bit existentialist – but we are born alone, we live our experience in a uniquely solitary way (however much we surround ourselves with the busy-ness of other lives), and we will each die alone – even if we are surrounded by our loved ones. We are each having our own experience.

Another friend reached out to me to tell me sternly that I am “in a very dark place” and that my “soul is in danger” and also that he doesn’t know me anymore. That last is a true statement. The rest is internal narrative he’s made up for himself, that meets his own needs, and has nothing whatever to do with me, so no point internalizing any of that.  It probably goes without saying that he doesn’t read my blog. lol My soul is in danger now, but not while I was contemplating suicide after a lifetime of struggling with my PTSD? I’m in a very dark place because my politics lean left and I’m comfortable saying so, and think that the quality of life of people different than me is also worth fighting for? Funny way to conduct a discussion, and I frankly don’t tolerate emotional manipulation or bullying. His choice to end our friendship is surely his own, and although it was a poignant moment, the underlying truths of the conversation are that we don’t see the world similarly, and my views are received as a threat to his perspective.

I went to bed still feeling a little sad about losing a friendship that has existed since 1986. I also felt hopeful and encouraged that another friend was sticking with us in the mortal world, to walk another hard mile, and find his own way. It was a complicated experience, emotionally rich and fairly adult. I slept well and deeply.

I woke feeling content, settled, and emotionally comfortable. I also woke feeling rather acutely aware that of the friendships that have ended over divergent politics in the past 16 or so months, they’ve all been male friends, and all of those friendships have ended on some moment during which I spoke up firmly, and positively, about my values, and stood up for people who are at a disadvantage. In each case, my lack of willingness to argue set off a storm of fury for the friend in question, that could not be silenced or eased except by silencing my own voice, and yielding my own understanding, and negating my own opinion. Each of these friendships ended in some moment when only my full capitulation to their rightness would suffice. Each ended with me feeling bullied or silenced (or at least aware of the attempt to silence me).

I don’t prefer to argue. My mind is not changed through argument or bullying. My thinking is changed through reasoned discourse, with cited references and real data, and being heard. I still recognize facts as things with actual reality, and I’m pretty strict about what qualifies. (I’m dismayed by how much opinion and made up shit people tout as ‘fact’ without even blinking, solely because it sounds true or feels agreeable and fits their world view.) Shouting at me alienates me. Silencing me fuels my resentment, my anger, and creates distance. That’s no way to conduct a friendship. lol

I am, myself, quite entirely made of human, and I am also capable (and at risk) of being hung up on an opinion not well supported in fact, because it sounds true, feels agreeable, and fits my world view. I try to stay on top of that sort of foolishness with plenty of reading, fact-checking, consideration, empathy, new perspective, and wholesome reasoned dialogue with friends more expert in one area or another than I am, myself. I do my best to be the human being I most want to be. I am painfully aware of how little actual value “being right” has, particularly if “being right” is wrecking someone else’s experience, robbing them of opportunities, or generally just creating a shitty world. For a lot of people, “being right” isn’t actually about any sort of factual accuracy, or progress for humanity, it’s only about winning some invisible trophy to hold over others, a way of feeling important or valued, specifically by making others “wrong”. “I’m right and you must succumb to my will!” is toddler bullshit. lol We can do so much better as beings.

Yeah. Pretty far left… and not allowing myself to be shouted down anymore. That can be uncomfortable for friends who liked a different set of characteristics about me – and that’s the point this morning. I am my own person. This life, my life, is about me. No kidding. Even if I give it in selfless service to others, it’s still my own experience of life, and can’t be muted or shouted down or denigrated or dismissed or diminished, without my accepting that experience, and permitting it. I’m walking my own mile, because it’s the journey I’ve got – and it’s mine. I may share some portion of the journey with a friend or a lover, but even then, I’m walking my mile, while they walk theirs. We are each having our own experience. I can’t change that – and in the process of changing who I am, learning to become the woman I most want to be, myself…I’ve lost some friends, who wanted a very different me. Well…but… only sort of. I’ve lost associations with individuals who were fond friends of a woman who is not, now, me. Some friends outlast changes and personal growth, others do not. There are choices involved, and some of those choices are not mine. 🙂 I’m even okay with that.

(It doesn’t matter if I’m okay with that… Reality does not care what we believe, or what we are okay with, and we are each having our own experience. Some of the choices going on around us simple are not ours to make.)

Begin again.

Begin again.

Today is a good day for perspective, for balance, and for walking my own mile. I’ve no ill will for friends I’ve lost over time, and wish only the best for them on their journeys. I’ve grown, so have they, and people change. Being and becoming. This is how we change the world.

I woke groggy and in pain, and lacking the welcome feeling of being rested. My head aches, my sinuses are stuffy, and the room feels hotter than the temperature says it is. As a collection of smaller experiences, these could be symptomatic of a head cold coming on, but in this instance, I think perhaps I slept too long in a position that wasn’t ideal for my head and neck, and slept poorly on top of that. I shrug it off, deal with it, and move on with the morning without reading into the experience or catastrophizing it.

I ache today. Pain is pain, I suppose, and in this case much of it is to do with the physical awkwardness of the way I approached painting this past weekend, working mostly on the floor, which required a lot of getting up and down, and sitting cross-legged on my rolled up yoga mat as a cushion, with extra leaning, reaching, and bending. It doesn’t make me regret spending the weekend painting, or even that I chose to work on the floor. I’m simply aware that my discomfort today is a price I am paying for it. It’s barely worth bitching about; as expenses go, it seems quite a bargain, since I am more often than not in some amount of pain much of the time, regardless. 🙂

I could make all of it worse, if I choose. A lot of people seem inclined to do so, enhancing their negative moments with additional emotional luster and investment in nebulous made-up root causes or “back stories” that imbue the tale with more dimension. I could borrow from my assumptions (also fully 100% made up in my own head) and sprinkle on some unfulfilled expectations of the world, or circumstances, or some other human being, and mix that in with those assumptions, and the moments of hurting that life requires I endure, and that pimple of a difficult moment is now grand drama of the highest order. It could make for much more interesting writing, I suppose, than my patient (with myself) humble (because – fuuuuck!!) observations of my experience, day-to-day… only… I’m not really doing this “to be interesting”. I’m sharing what I can of what has often been a challenging enough experience (without enhancements), because it helps me when I am able to “find my voice”… and also because when I struggled most, myself, in life’s darkest moments, it would have helped me then to hear that voice… from anywhere. So. I’m here for me. Here for you, too, perhaps, as a byproduct of rather haplessly reaching across time to a woman that doesn’t actually exist in my own mirror so much these days, just in case she (or someone very like her) is staring back at you.

I smile and sip my coffee. I enjoy a moment of “wow, I’ve come a long way”. I take a moment to also appreciate how much more prepared I am for dark times that may eventually return. “Wellness” can be rather unfortunately relative, and it would be a fool’s game to sip my coffee on a pleasant morning smugly certain I am “well”; PTSD and a brain injury don’t really work quite that way. I can sure improve my quality of life, my resilience, my skill at self-care… I can practice mindfulness, heal my heart over time, and be generally well, most days, most of the time. Complacency about it isn’t on the table for me. I’ve taken that journey a time or two, also. Sometimes reality hits back. Sooner or later, I may find my nights filled with nightmares, without knowing why, or I may find that arthritis pain degrades my sleep quality until my resilience and wellness are reduced, and I am less easily able to bounce back from stress or think clearly, and reach that point of fatigue when the cognitive impact of my TBI becomes quite clear, and my thinking disordered. I don’t reach for those moments… but I also no longer fight them, or the reality of those moments being an occasional part of my experience. I’m ready. Mostly. Generally. It sounds easier when I read the words than it ever feels in real life… but… yeah. Mostly pretty ready to be the woman I am.

I practice not making a difficult moment worse than it is, every time I have one, these days. I do my best. My results vary. There are verbs involved. Choices, too.

This morning I woke aggravated over something small and stupid. I could have used that to build on my physical discomfort and had a really shitty morning with minimal effort. I chose differently. It’s a pretty nice morning, aside from pain, and honestly – I’ve been in worse pain. I’ve got work on my mind, but even that could be “worse”… I’ve worked worse jobs (for companies I have literally nothing good to say about after-the-fact). Life isn’t like that now. It’s so important to be awake and aware for the good stuff, too. 🙂

Today is a good day to enjoy the day as it is. Today is a good day to choose wisely, to begin again, and to walk on. Practicing mindfulness may or may not change the world; it is enough that it has changed my experience. Today is a good day to practice.

I had to remind myself last night, and again this morning. Last night, I hit that point in response to a “pics or it didn’t happen” reply to a comment I made, supporting inclusion and diversity, and being a welcoming human being. I laughed out loud when I read the troll’s demand – I mean, honestly, in all frankness, that isn’t actually how reality works. The lack of a photograph isn’t really a determining factor in whether something is or is not “real”, or whether it happened, or whether you experienced it, or whether that is your perspective. I took a step back. Happy to enjoy the moment of laughter, instead of taking the bait. I moved on with my evening.

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This morning, again, I got sucked into Facebook, reacting to expressions of hate and frustrated by the weird skewed perspective some people have taken on. I endure only so many “what the fuck??” moments before I remind myself that one of the fundamentals of our very human consciousness is that we are easily able – and prone – to just making shit up that fits our world view and calling that “true”, without any particular attention to whether it really is true, or factually accurate, or even loosely based on something someone actually may have once experienced, ever, at all. It must be equally frustrating to be a person whose world view is constantly challenged, fought, disputed, denied, contradicted, or laughed at… Oh. Wait. That’s like, literally, all of us. Human primates. Damn we’re fancy. It’s not always useful and in our favor, but holy cow we can make some shit up, and then insist it is important.

The hate is hard, though. I’m saddened by the quantity of fear and hate in the world. It would be lovely to halt the tide of hate. I guess… one thing I can do, myself, is to choose not to hate. I’ll work on that. I’ll start by asking clarifying questions, instead of reacting based on my own assumptions. I’ll work on staying mindful that each of us likely thinks of ourselves as the good guy in our own internal narrative. I’ll treat myself, and others – even those with very different thinking – with consideration, empathy, compassion, and start interactions from the assumption that we are all trying to improve things, from our own perspective. Maybe I will learn something useful along the way. Hate is hard work to sustain, and not very productive. 🙂

Still, and again. The very best practices work that way.

Still, and again. The very best practices work that way.

To be clear… I’m no less angry by what I see going on in the news. I’m no less concerned about fascism taking over America – that’s some scary shit, and it’s not okay – but blinding myself with reactivity and stress renders me one more agitated voice in a crowd, and could result in the sort of emotional fatigue that could quickly become learned helplessness. So. I breathe. I back up out of the comments. I think about what matters most, and how to be the woman I most want to be; this is my life. I take care of me, and do my best to take action in the world, in the ways I can – and I do it without disadvantaging anyone else. It’s a good place to start. It’s enough.

I slept in today. It’s still dark outside, though. I slept well and deeply, waking only once that I know of, and returning to sleep with relative ease. I woke with a stiff neck, eased by morning yoga and physical therapy exercises. It is a gentle morning, and I am not working today. The break from work, with the associated cognitive rest, is welcome. I yawn, and stretch, and sip my coffee contentedly, thinking about my partner, and the day ahead.

Capturing a similar sense of relaxed leisure during the busy work weeks, in those moments which are truly undeniably my own, is something that exists as a… goal? Intention? Ideal? Something like that. It’s a nice balance, when I succeed, to enjoy my limited leisure time in a fully relaxed, aware, mindful way, wringing all the joy and contentment out of them that they may offer. Sometimes I find myself enjoying it quite as I’d like, and happily so. Other times, not so much – my thoughts may be pulled back to work topics, or to actual work-related cognitive task-processing, thinking through the details before I even get to work, or lingering over them long after I have ended my busy day. It isn’t really helpful to over-extend myself, and good quality rest and downtime are a huge part of feeling content and well, generally. The hours I am now so often inclined to spend “sneaking back to work” in my thoughts used to be those hours I spent similarly mired in work, but doing so from the perspective of feeling resentful to be there at all. ever. Funny how difficult it can be to let it go and embrace my own time, for my own purposes. It takes practice.

This morning the pre-dawn darkness lingers past 7 am. Sunrise is not until almost 8 am this morning. The sky is only now beginning to hint at lightness, where the clouds part, silhouetting trees against the sky. Soon I will take my coffee to the cushion at the patio door to watch the sunrise. It’s not a fancy moment, really, just one that I enjoy sufficiently to make time for it. Isn’t that the thing that is so often missing? Time. In this busy life, so many things I enjoy don’t just happen; it is necessary to make time for them. Walks through the park. Conversation with a friend. Coffee and a sunrise. Watching the birds at the feeder. Writing a letter on paper. Reading a book.  It is necessary to make the time for the things I love. What matters most? The job? Oh, surely not! There is more to life – and not only somewhen beyond retirement, there is more to life right now than getting up and going to work, coming home and going to sleep, and repeating that cycle endlessly. We are not machines. Work is the least important thing about any one of us – even doctors, teachers, scientists. Our professional life is such a small piece of who we each are. I remind myself how critical it is to make the time to be a whole being, enjoying and savoring each moment.

Today is mine. It’s a nice luxury. Today is a good day to enjoy the woman in the mirror. Where will the day take me?

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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.