the basic pH of concrete

i seem to be living in a concrete flat place without weather or life. i wish for the space and clouds and changeable sand, and lizards and spiders and flowering cacti of the desert instead, the dry heat and cold extremes killing me quickly. i can't hope for moss and ferns and streams and owls and wolves, that hurts too much to think about.

occasionally someone will try to rescue me. but the thing is, it's the whole structure, of me, of the world, of my life till now. so, i don't think i'm rescue-able, in that way. although i appreciate the gestures. especially when they spend time trying to remind me what it's like to be human. i know some lovely people, with lovely people that need them, that they don't find too much to stay with.  

i am too independent, with anxiety that makes me try to control by pushing away variables and depression that makes me boring.
but i also am so needy- no one wants to be around that for long.
my suffering is insufferable. 

so lately the edges of this concrete plain have called me. i look over into the black. 

people would be upset if i died. and angry if i didn't do anything to hold myself back. if i cut the ropes i've woven and tied around myself. if i just let go.
so it seems i'm supposed to just. abide. alone. not dying. it feels like such a waste of a life. 

i cannot figure out how to find reasons to live by myself. travel used to connect me to others, to a wider view. to joy sometimes.
i always knew i could end up like my mother, but without the lies that tethered her to a hurtful family and a homicidal religion, which also gave her a surface purpose she clung to. so i pushed that possibility aside, hoped for the best.
now things seem pointless. why do things to my living space that may burn down in the next fire. why make plans that i may never get to do. why work on projects, no one will see them, no one will care if my photos or journals burn. why seek out hikes that may not have a bathroom nearby or may have people who don't respect distance/mask wearing. why write people who don't write back (or who do, sometimes), especially when i have no joyful things to say to maybe make them smile. i'm just. a parking garage, really, a place to leave your things while you do something, then come back to get your things and leave again. 

and although i know i don't know what will come next, and i am wrong often, and change is the nature of life, still, i don't know how much more i can take of this. i know others have it so much worse. i try to help, i try to be heard, but it seems i'm not even saving a starfish or two with these desperate attempts. i don't know how much longer i can keep trying. the waste i am participating in is deafening and blinding and crushing. 

green vision of home

There's this email thread to myself I kept for years, calling it my green vision of home. It was an edited, curated, carefully detailed summary of my desire for what a safe and loving home would look like. But in my mind and intention, it was home defined by another person, and how I would feel based on the relationship. Which, fine, I guess, to a point. But it's time to stop defining the idea of 'being safe at home' based on a fictional human. A dream of home, a once upon a time fantasy.
There are a couple other email threads to myself about myself, what I wanted to be, I am statements. Aspirations. And as my close friend reminded me last night, the only person I can do anything about is myself, and I need to focus on what kind of partner I want to be and work on that.
So my recent massive failure has been very constructive.
I love easily, and forgive easily, and too much at times, largely because of my desire for connection and family and acceptance can become desperate when I fear someone walking away. "I love you but I can't be with you" I have heard second-hand since I was 2 years old. This year felt like that, and I didn't see it at first, and when I did, and tried to call it out, my panic seems to have made it worse. Sigh.
When stressed (by physical pain or life circumstance), I back myself into a familiar place, and put up walls, become more unskilled at listening/seeing, and too often turn fear to anger and demands to try to control someone's behavior when I'm hurt or failing to receive support or not feeling cared for. That didn't work at all, as you'd imagine.
I have thought that 'helping solve' was needed, that my small compassion (a rudimentary version based on my experience, because I was assuming I understood more than I actually did, and too quickly closed off my curiosity to seeking more information thinking I had the answer already) -  when understanding (and clear failure to understand) should have led to more questions, more listening, more quiet, so the other person could feel safe to be honest.
I failed badly. Failed to help certainly. Failed to connect. Failed to listen.
There's a note to myself from 2011: "people DO change, but don't attach to that. be love. change yourself." I have been trying to do change myself, over the years... but this year was so hard, I didn't have enough energy to pause and look deeply at what was happening, nor to see enough to change myself during a time it seemed I had to use all my available energy to not fall apart (and pass my test, and be in physical pain, and not have a functioning partner but a mostly absent troubled roommate instead).
I have made progress though. I thought I was being listened to, which was new. I thought I was being told truth from a partner (maybe just not the important or whole truth). I was able to say what I seemed to need (even if I was unable to listen? still progress) and what I felt. I just should have sat with my thoughts and feelings first before sharing or reacting- I did at the beginning (I had more time, forced, which at this point was another flag I missed), and when I thought it was settled and safe, depending on circumstance, I got lazy, complacent, frustrated... disconnected. So that blame or anger or neediness was easier when I was exhausted by anxiety and pain.
So when I thought I'd run out of energy, when things came to a crisis, like they will do, I didn't fall apart this time. I saw my supports, I talked to them, I felt them, I listened, and they helped. I had not ever experienced inner strength clearly before. So that was a gift of this time, this crisis, this unhappiness, this suffering.
I am still scared, and hurt, and unsure what boundaries I need in my current state (because I am not a buddha yet, I would love to not need boundaries, but, alas, I am still human, and very unskilled), so I am frustrated and still have discomfort leading me to desire a less uncomfortable situation.
I guess that's what I sit with until I have more information, or more information arises in myself.
Life is good. I would like to share it more deeply. I will practice.

pet dragons

I tend to enjoy thinking of my wilder emotional tendencies as dragons. They are like unruly pets that so far have been trained badly by my own interactions with them. They are the wildest kind of animal, but they use rationalized thought as a weapon, and if not understood might be allowed to destroy more than would allow for my most efficient growth. They are part of me, so hate or any kind of resistance isn't the best option for long-term friendliness to myself... So, because the idea makes sense to me, Dragons they are. Fear, Anger, Despair. Old friends.

Yesterday, in the desert, my fear dragon sat in the car seat next to me, closer than it usually gets. It was nervously breathing smoke and clouding my view. At one point its claws were digging into my shoulders and my heart beat loudly in my ears for a while.

These are the things it told me, and with each fearful assessment, what actually happened in each situation:

1. That cloud is dark and huge, I bet it might rain. Why did you decide to turn into this wash? If it floods you will be drowned, you should turn around now. This is a terrible idea, why didn't you buy a bigger car before we left? No! Don't drive up farther into the park! It looks like rain! No! Imagine the flood and the mud and what it would do to your car! You're feeling sick now aren't you, there's nowhere to go now, see, I was right all along, and it's all your fault.

**actual event: There was a cloud over a national park. There was blue sky over the other half. All gates were open, even to the washes. No rain storms were predicted for the day. A few other cars were around including some small passenger vehicles like mine. I drove the 10 mile stretch out and back and as I got back to the campground it was fully sunny with few clouds left in the sky.

2. Oh gosh that looks like it might be a storm cloud again, still to the south, I bet it's a front. I bet it will be lots of rain. I bet this happens all the time here, I wonder if these un-elevated highways are safe? I wonder if the whole thing gets slippery or washed out? Wait, why are you turning off the highway? No! Ok, fine, let's keep track of how long this drive to the park takes so we know how fast we have to go to leave fast if it starts to rain because the bigger road is probably a little safer with more people. Or should we just stay in the park if it rains? Oh gosh what if it floods too? And we don't have any food!! Oh gosh it's so windy that must be the storm coming!! Why are we HERE??

**actual event: There was a high cloud far to the south. Since it's high desert, even when it does rain it's usually dry almost as it hits the ground. There are plants all along the highways that have clearly not washed away any time recently, and most are slow growing. The flat land makes it really hard to tell how close something is and even if it's moving away or not. It was a beautiful day.

3. There's been no cell service. For hours. No other drivers to speak of. No one really knows where we are... Was that a sign that said no services for 75 miles? WHY didn't you get gas?? There is only a quarter tank left! You know the last quarter always surprises you and goes down fast! How will you even call for help? Let's stare at the odometer and see how many miles elapse before another bar drops. Keep watching it. What if something else happens? Ohmygosh why are we doing this?

**actual event: There were drivers occasionally, the sunset was beautiful, and I arrived at my hotel just fine and had enough gas to drive around for a half hour checking out the town, and got gas in the morning when the engine was cool.

I compare these with today, when, driving a steep downhill grade out of a tunnel, with barely any shoulder, my rear left tire blew. A number of things could have happened, and there are infinite ways it could have been worse. But as it was, I received immediate help, I was very lucky, and felt as if I had been protected from every worst case scenario there could have been in that situation. And although my fear dragon was there, the only time I felt it was when I thought I had to make a decision about how to react, but in reality, the people who rescued me made the best decisions and I let them, and I was safe.

There is such a chasm of difference between fear and real danger. Fear is about what might occur, whereas danger actually occurs in the present moment. Fear requires time to think and belief that somehow one can take charge of the moment by predicting its possible immediate outcomes. So, now, instead of trying to train the fear dragon, I train myself to respond differently. It seems to be able to learn- to ease its grip, to quiet its screaming- by me changing how I relate to it. By listening to it earlier, I learn to respond in positive ways to its warnings so I can be better prepared for situations, and perhaps save myself trouble. And then, if I haven't planned well, or prepared as adequately as my fear would like me to believe I need to, I listen to it, discern whether there is real danger, and if not, I practice letting go and gently say no to its tantrums.

Because I can never know what will happen, but rather, if I trust that I am protected and that whatever occurs is for my best growth, this is easier in the end than fighting a dragon that is much more skillful at combat than I. Practicing peaceful understanding of my own fear seems to be getting me farther than resisting it, shaming it, or denying its existence ever did.

Long live the dragon of my fear, one of my best and oldest teachers.
I thank you. I invite you to stay as long as I need you to train me.