Archive for July, 2017

Memories, Hoarding and Inertia

July 31, 2017

My mind is stuffed full, like a closet
and everything inside is tied with thread.
Every time I cut one loose,
I feel like I’m falling apart.

studio3I think I figured out why I never go up in my studio/ workspace/ whatever you want to call it. I knew there was fear; I knew there was shame, but I didn’t exactly remember why (and I was afraid to remember) and I told myself I’d already worked it out previously and the fear was just a hang-over with no current basis in fact.

I was wrong. You wake up, you go to sleep…You wake up, you go to sleep…. My insight, clearness, awakeness is this fragile little thing that runs like hell as soon as the hand slaps the water (My friend says since I am Pisces, when the hand slaps the water I dive deep down). Down to the bottom, remembering the light on the surface of the water, making up stories and just trying to swim. (more…)


Creative Healing

July 24, 2017

sketches of my face showing different emotions. I was so disconnected emotionally that I could almost not bear to look at them.

This will be kind of long, because I have been away for so long, (again). I kept putting creative stuff on a back burner because… L.I.F.E. and day-to-day survival got kind of critical.

I had quit a horrible, soul-destroying job and was only working part-time until a full-time job became available.  I cut expenses to the bare minimum so I wouldn’t go into foreclosure. The small inheritance my husband had from when his dad passed had been supplementing our income and then, it too, dried up.  My car insurance was liability only, no collision coverage, and I got in a wreck (ironically, on my way to a non-profit to seek help paying my utility bills). No one was hurt, thankfully, but the passenger in the other car said that the look on my face would be etched in his memory forever. The car was totaled. I started taking the bus – an hour to and from work everyday. I eventually got a very demanding full-time position working at a Secure Residential Treatment Facility with adults with severe mental illnesses who had committed serious crimes (folks who in crueler, more ignorant days were referred to as “the criminally insane”).  Good work, but intense, exhausting ten-hour days.  (more…)