Thursday, April 30, 2009

Addendum

I found out what my vague queasiness has been for these last few days...and it had nothing to do with nostalgia, anniversaries or lost opportunities--it was my Dad. His cancer has returned.

I knew something was wrong, and I couldn't pinpoint it. I have a sixth sense when evil is on the wind, I always seem to know...it's not a clear premonition, just a grieved spirit of sorts comes over me. It's happens literally in front of every bad event/storm in my life--and I mean life changing events, like deaths, serious illnesses, accidents.

He's gone back to the hospital today, for further testing, and a game plan on how to handle this. First, the infection in his body needs to be brought under control, so they can figure out his chemo courses...I'm waiting to hear from him and my Mother later today.

In an effort to distract myself and expend some excess nervous energy, I was outside planting my pathetic, brink of death sapling plants, and I ripped my thumbnail almost off at the base, so I'm in alot of damn pain (right hand to boot) and I can't concentrate or attempt to paint tonight until this heals up a little bit (tomorrow hopefully). I'm so blindsided by all of this, and the waiting, it's like I'm underwater looking at the surface.

So, there it is. Now it's time to don the armor and begin battling again.

The Comfort of Gloom

To me, there is something so comforting about a gloomy day...the peaceful grayness of it, the melancholy quiet, the soft, misty, ethereal air...it just makes me feel as if I'm being wrapped in a coccoon of quiet and calm...like a giant pair of unearthly, angelic arms are holding me.

That's what it's like outside today, and it makes me very content. I have things to do, and I don't feel bad not doing them, because these days aren't so often...to have the perfect, gloomy day outside!

My Dad's been feeling poorly...we're hoping it's not pneumonia. His Onc put him on some heavy duty antibiotics for his upper respiratory infection, and it's knocked him down pretty well. I had a terrible dream about him last night...I dreamt I went to visit him. I walked into a bright and foreign kitchen, and he was unrecognizable. The drugs had swollen his face up to the point of disfigurement; even his eyes were changed and so sad. Strangely, his body was that of a very young, healthy man, muscular and vibrant. I was horrified and I said to him, "Dad, you have to see your Doctor immediately!" He refused (as always) and said, "Let me just give it another day, the medicine is working!" I was insistent that he see his Doctor, and he refused, and I left him, with a feeling of dread, that he might not make the night. Then I woke up.

I guess it was even worse then the dream I had the night before, that when I blew my nose, copious amounts of red insect pieces (looked like maggots or something) kept coming out...

I don't know...I only know that I feel ok today, must be all the St. John's Wort I've been taking for the last few weeks...

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Eat your Wheaties and other tidbits of supposed wisdom...

I'm starting off behind the "eight ball" today. My allergies are killing me, and the sleep aid I took last night have kicked my butt, to the point of me waking up at 6 am not even knowing I where I was for a few moments...nice the things a person must go through to combat insomnia...

I was at the gym doing intense cardio for over an hour yesterday, and through my sweaty haze, I had a dull feeling of dread I was trying to outrun, something vague growing like a seed in the core of my being...I was trying to figure out what it might be, and I guess this morning it dawned on me.

Today would've been my 20th wedding anniversary.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm certainly not pining over the waste of life that is my ex, but I'm pining over the loss of what I had dreamed of 20 years ago. I wanted someone to love forever, a best friend to trust and raise a family with, and now, that the kids are all almost grown, someone to have lived through that wonderful experience with me, and to move onto to happy and freewheeling times as "empty nesters;" in short, I wanted a lifelong mate, and I got cheated.

I raised my children alone with absolutely no help (not even child support) of any kind, including relatives, and suffered through many, many trials to handle by myself. I cried many tears of pain and anger for my kids, and for myself at being cheated of their rights to a father that cared about their well being, or even if they were alive or dead!

I never wanted to have to be single again, and try to find a "needle in a haystack," which was a man that would truly care for my kids, and also actually be someone who I may have a remote interest in...so many things, so much pain.

For a long time, I lost my faith in all things good, including God. Oh, I would mouth the words and hollowly cant a faith, but it was just empty air, and I was as empty as a person could get.

I have recently decided this isn't acceptable, and after my long struggle, I want to "go home." No, not to die, but to live. I want to go home to God, who loved me as a child, and loved me as an adult, I just didn't see it because I was blinded by my pain and struggles. I want my best friend back--and it was God all along, never a human being.

So, I try again, and today is the anniversary of the prodigal's return.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Lessons Learned

I've been doing a lot of reading today, Joyce Meyer's book, "Never Give Up." It's a very inspirational read, especially for me, who suffers from lifelong depression. It's become worse lately, like it's out of "remission" and I feel very alienated and somewhat paranoid. It's like a bad downward spiral, the worse you feel, the more you isolate yourself and mistrust other people, the more inert you become, and even the most menial tasks become gargantuan, and you feel even more depressed about that, and you go down the tubes like getting flushed in a toilet.

I am trying to work through this, and I know my family is impatient with me--kids are kids, and they only want what they want, right now. M left me completely and utterly drunk and possibly suicidal last night, with a loaded gun, and I haven't heard from him since. I guess he feels irritated at my illness, and the darkness that has emerged lately. I have been with him through all of his bullshit, but I guess when it comes time to show what it's really about, it's certainly not about me, if I have annoying baggage and not just money and some looks. I'm sorry for my present condition, but it not something somebody wants or can even help, anymore than being a cancer patient. I'm sorry if that offends people, but depression and mental illness is a disease, not a behavioral choice...

I am committing myself to a week of intensive soul searching, and trying to keep my mornings and early afternoons entirely devoted to reading, meditation, and trying to hear God's voice and obtain healing. I have been taking stepped up dosages of St. John's Wort, in an effort to avoid medication if at all possible, and trying to get an hour's worth of cardio daily, plus minimize stress as much as I can. I'm also trying to eat very carefully, healthfully, and in small amounts. Sleep is a huge issue for me, since I'm an insomniac, so this is a nightly struggle, but if it means sleeping later into the morning so I can be well-rested, I'm not going to feel guilty about that anymore. It's necessary for my health, so I'm accepting it as a healing strategy, and not because I'm a "bum."

I am also postponing my return to B's figure drawing sessions since even that weekly trip in is just too overwhelming to me at this point, with the kids and school and the fact that M is too unstable in terms of his "forgetfulness" and I don't feel comfortable leaving the kids alone with him--that sounds terrible to say, but it's the truth. I've tried to avoid talking to my family, since they are so completely negative about everything, to that when I get off the phone, I just feel like sticking my head in the oven--thank God it's electric ;-) The last thing I need right now is their hideously horrible outlook on life, and their terrible and catchy self-loathing. No, I just want to talk with the Universal Optimist...He's the only one I'm interested in hearing from right now.

So there it is...horrible to see in writing, but a necessary purging. I will write more as I go along...

Healing Hearts Portrait

"Aaron R." By Hilary J. England, oil on canvas, 12" x 16" 2017 Here is another portrait I just finished for Healing Hear...