A new chapter

 I'm participating in an art show. I'm putting myself out there and getting uncomfortable on purpose! After I retired I vowed to pursue my passions. Photography, writing, and recently watercolor painting. 

Watercolor painting is opposite my logic. Light to dark, layering color with water knowing that the results are unpredictable.  It was therapeutic after the seizures that left me unsure about everything. One week after I retired I experienced my first seizure.  I fought my way back and learning about watercolor theory,  making art while pushing myself helped.

I'm entering 4 photos and I am entering a watercolor painting.  I will let you know how it goes.

A few Winter adventures in Arizona

 

Aunt Haggie, a childhood story

 This is a self-portrait, but using a memory of a childhood family story. Years ago, probably in 1974 or so, my Mom went to an auction and bought an old painting. The frame was beautiful but the portrait was honestly odd. The lady in the portrait must have been old and blind because the eyes were white. Her expression was serious. It was black and white, and very very old. My brothers hated the portrait, and my Mom put it in the basement. It sat there for years and years. They would throw darts at her image. 

Yesterday, in my boredom I decided to try to recreate the portrait and scare my brothers. Someone mentioned to one of my brothers that I still had the portrait. I don't know when it got lost, but I did have it for many years. My photo editing skills were tested but I convinced my brother Phillip that it is haunted and that his darts are the reason  he is having  bad luck. I convinced him that the three brothers who participated in the destruction of Aunt Haggie had been cursed. 

It was all in fun. No, it was not created using AI. Just Jane.

Silence after a very hard time.

 The last time I posted, my Son died of an accidental overdose. It is coming, the  second anniversary of his passing. May 9th. I am attempting to kick my ass and live every day! Mourning is a way of life. Living is a blessing!

 My Son died five months ago. I am really sad. The last time I mourned the loss of a loved one, I filled this blog with thoughtful things. I reflected on both the good and the bad. This time I feel betrayed by my source of therapy, writing. This place, like many others,

is now abandoned. Friends must social distance. Loved ones are afraid of Covid 19. Mourning mostly alone. Mourning, with a smile on my face, so that I keep my job as an essential worker. 

The greening desert.

PINK FLOYD - Comfortably Numb (HQ Sound, HD, Lyrics) Amber's

This is an interesting time, to be living. Will my survival skills be enough to have helped  make the decision to leave this life? Will I have no choice? Being a cancer survivor, who needs vital, expensive medication, to live, I am sincere. I realize that I am not vital. I am in fact, just another "Brick in the Wall."

Desert living, 2017

The trouble with being accountable.

Early Saturday morning, I got a phone call, from my Son, Zack. He has a broken pelvis, and perhaps a broken back. Of course my anxiety spun out of control. My instinct was to run towards my Son, and fix what was broken.

Alas, my conscience held me away. My Son was in my arms, last week. He was in the hospital, at this time, Sunday, a week ago. On Monday, he checked out, against medical orders. He is not well! He is dying, and he checked himself out. I drove him to a neighboring city, as he requested. I did not offer my home as a shelter. His choice? Hospital or the streets? He chose. and I shattered.

It's Sunday night, and my Son is in pain. I am in pain. It sucks! I have no control of my Adult son's destiny. It is in his hands, and Gods. I can not enable. I can not rescue. It is his life, and the moment he left my womb, I respected that. I wanted to be the best Mom I could be, and I did that. Not perfect, not nearly what I hoped. I was as scared, as you were, my Sons. I was imperfect.

Life is fragile. Nobody is innocent. Love is infinite. I am praying for your life, and your sobriety. It is sadly not my decision.

Moving on

                                         I have spread my dreams under your feet.
                                     Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

                                                             W.B. Yeats

There is so much more to me, than this little blog, but it is a start.

I am at a precipice in my working life. It is time to move on, and be more that I have been these last 8 years.I I enjoyed being in the service of others. Being the stable one, the safe one, the teacher, and the student, it was just what I wanted it to be. The helping profession, doing good for mankind.
Working with the severely mentally challenged, and some mental illness thrown in for good measure, you see past the problems, the behaviors, and love the clients. You LOVE them, with your whole heart. Their happiness is your happiness. You are their stability, and it is your duty to have it together, and leave the rest at the door.
My personal life has factions like that as well. Nate, in the group home, only needs to hear pleasant news. There is no need to stress him, further.

I joined my company, eagerly, knowing their reputation for good works. I went about my work confidently, for 8 years, driving 60 miles through the woods, winter and summer. Through dangerous blizzards, weather warnings, tornado sirens, floods, Drunk drivers, broken down cars, flat tires, brake problems, serious anxiety, just to get to where I was needed, and wanted, and appreciated.

The shadow has lifted, now. I see that my work is not valued, like I once thought. I am a pawn in their game.   A facade of a christian name and backers. A company motto to hold all to the standard of Christ's good works.

I am finally clear to see that my hope for an ideal has not been realized. It is time to move on. I will not look back, because I do love those clients I care for daily. Love will be in my life, again. I just hope that those clients are not made aware for their caregivers distress. They have had difficult lives, and just need to be safe.

Safe is an illusion, I know that. Safe is just being your best, doing your best, and living right. I hope...

Wisconsin river

Self portrait #2...and Last

This is my last, the thinker...Hahaha...Playing with the webcam is fun, fun, and trouble, too. Have a good weekend, all. It is my wedding anniversary weekend, and I am going to make the most of it...which means dinner out, a movie, and maybe some romance...wink!

Self portrait 07/20/2011

Decisions, resolve, despair and back again

Zack and Cait people in my life, who I pray for every single day. People I love. 

Baby Zack and baby Nate, my memories of the childhood I gave them, my wishes for their happy life, in their smiles.

Nate with two of his cousins, goofing around at a grad party.

Zack and Cait, more currently, yet still years ago.

Nate and Jerry, goofing around, last month

My son Nate, looking healthy.

A hopeful place, for children. A sad place for me.

The stems are weeping, like I am, in this time of sorrow and confusion.

My Dad's ashes, being released, according to his wishes.

His final request, carried out by those who loved him.

His urn on the course, with a tee.

I am lost, here. I know that grief is natural. I grieve for my Dad, I think, in the normal way. I grieve for my children, harder, longer, stronger. I will never have a normal family, and now I don't even have the energy to pretend that it will all work out.
Saturday is my Wedding anniversary, and I intend to spoil Jerry, who deserves the very best of me, all the time. No sadness is allowed to seep into our day.
Nate has a chance to be safe, and perhaps sometime in the future he will be stable enough to live a productive life. I hope so, I pray for it.
Zack, he is on the streets, he has no hope for a brighter future. He likes his life, this sad life. I am just tired of fighting back fear on his behalf. He lives on the edge, and I have nothing in my reserves to help him get out. Nothing left, no more Scarlett O'hara "tomorrow is another day" moments left in me. I feel hopeless, and sadness, and grief, for the life they were intended for. I failed them, it is my secret shame.
There you have it...I didn't do something right, obviously, even though I did everything I could think of, at the time. I used all my resources, Dr.s Councilors, Treatment centers, rules, rules, rules. I even let go of my marriage for 2 years, trying to make Zack happy. Healthy didn't happen that way. I stepped back, to save myself, and I did, for the most part.
I am sorry for all the ramblings, here. I am truly sorry, but writing makes me feel better. It gives me ideas, sometimes, and dries my tears.
It has been quite the month. It is time to focus on our future, and leave regret in the past, where it belongs.