Burning Desire..Really burning….

I am fighting right now, and you already know what is after me…negativity. Depression. Self Pity. Pain. Sadness…boo, boo, bad, hiss, grrr, mumble, mumble…SIGH…

I have been feeling worse than usual in my physical self, heavy, cumbersome(love that word), out of breath, and oh! SO SLEEPY.

Mentally? Running With Scissors!!!! WHEEEEE!!! Paint, Paint, draw, sculpt, glue, spray…UH, WAIT.

Did you say SPRAY? As in SPRAY PAINT?!?

Yea, I did. What about it?

And you said GLUE? AS IN SUPER GLUE? AND CONSTRUCTION GLUE?

Uh, yea. What’s the big deal? I use my mask all the ti…oh. OH…OH, now I understand. I got up sicker today, and wheezing, and groggy, with a blazing headache… And I didn’t put my respirator on when I sprayed that wall hanging last night… it was just going to be a couple seconds…the mask was inside…just a couple steps away,, but I was LAZY. AND FOOLISH. AND NOW MY LUNGS ARE SCREAMING. only I can’t hear them cause I CANT BREATHE!!!!

I made it to my standing Doc Appointment 5 minutes after I got out of bed. I mean, my hair already sticks up, but I seriously looked like Einstein.

I told her I thought maybe I had Pneumonia, pressure in my head, chest, headache, weary etc… And being the Real Physician she is (i don’t know why I said “Real”, too much news) she listened to my lungs.

Wow. I did not need a stethescope…The Rice Krispie Trio was playing a tune in my lungs. Holy smoker, who quit 20 years ago! No, I thought, not me!

Which is a rediculous thought, I have known for a couple years now that my lungs are failing. How did I know this? Well, it seems that I used CONSTRUCTION ADHESIVES to build an assemblage a few years ago… The year I had a Pulmonary Embolism from laying around too much after the 3 surgeries I had, the year I fell 4 times due to vertigo..etc etc… Oh . here is te health litany.. STOP.

The point is that I ALREADY have the knowledge of what NOT TO DO if I want to stay healthy. I already have KNOWLEDGE that I damaged my lungs and body severely with my lifestyle in the past, and I KNOW what to do to help myself.

The REALLY SAD THING is that I lost my Burning Desire to be my best me, my healthy me, the BEST Version of myself that I can give to my Creator in Thanks.

I lost my FOCUS, and I let the bad ways back in for a minute, the way of shortcuts, laziness, seeking material weaBEAUTIFULlth, and I cheated myself of some breaths of life again. And I didn’t even light a match…

When the Doc said she would let me try to change some of my test numbers without meds, I really let myself down, because I opted for the meds. I told her I just DID NOT HAVE IT IN ME TO MAKE THAT MUCH OF AN EFFORT RIGHT NOW.

….. um…WHAAAAT!!!??????

I even felt sick as it was coming out of my head into my voice box…DONT HAVE IT IN ME…TOO MUCH EFFORT…why dont you just puke and fall over in it?

I felt shame, burning shame, not burning desire. That I did not feel I am worth the effort. That Jehovah created this wonderful human being of ME, and I “don’t have it in me to make that much effort right now? What an insult to my loving God, who sent His Beautiful, PERFECT and BELOVED SON, Jesus Christ to die for me. This same me that I couldn’t muster the will to TRY to save. Oh, for shame, susan.

I tried to backtrack as soon as it was uttered, claiming that I just feel so sick that everything is extra hard right now…I haven’t slept, you know…

NO! I WILL NOT LET MYSELF DOWN LIKE THIS.

Nor will I INSULT my GRAND CREATOR, SOVEREIGN of the UNIVERSE, JAH!!

I WILL BE ON FIRE WITH DESIRE starting THIS VERY MOMENT!!!

BREATHE, GIRL, BREATHE!!!

RUN WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT! WE MUST FINISH THIS RACE!!!! YEEHAW!

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“The Sentinel’s Prayer”, acrylic on canvas, Susan T. Martin2017

The Melee in My Mind

Bipolar Disorder. What an illness, huh? It seems to wait, like a kitty under the covers, to pounce on your feet when you least expect it, and least desire it! Such as that cozy twilight of consciousness right before you drift to sleep.

Only that is not a good example, because bipolar disorder is no playful kitty. It is a life encompassing, joy challenging, disruptive and potentially deadly mental illness. More like a raging, ravenous tiger bursting out of the underbrush to drag you screaming into the dark.

It has been quite a while since I wrote about my mental illness, and not because it went away. It is the nature of it, that I shut myself up and bottle all the turmoil away, until a hairline crack appears, and the fizz hits the fan. I have been so busy, flailing away at life, downsizing, moving here to the west coast, setting up house etc., etc. This is much like how I used to claim to be clean and sober, which only lasted as long as my frenzy of work, all to come crashing down in a dead drunk in a week…or a day. Now I dont have the drink, or the drug, or the cigarette, or the parents, or the abusive ex. Just the moving, cleaning, painting, eating and locking all my worries up in a box.

I have been happier though, as I have moved forward and away from the physical address of so much grief. It really was holding me back, seeing their living spaces each day, moving through the “big empty” of it all. My new home feels hopeful and kind, like each room is a new friend, just waiting to be discovered. As the old dark colors and furnishings fade, and a new layer of pride of ownership covers the surfaces, it feels as if the same is occurring on my inside. A good sweeping out, and sloughing off.

It has been difficult trying to rebuild with altered puzzle pieces. Since the accidents of 2013, and the head trauma (TBI), I struggle to accomplish the simplest tasks, paying the simplest bills, and being on time for appointments being two “biggies”.

On days when the pain overwhelms, I try to just do the dishes, or make myself rest without guilt, which ,for a person with my issues is nearly impossible. I still hear the voices in my head, “lazy…stupid…useless…”, and I still miss the touch of a hand, the contact of another human who loves me. The years of caregiving for my Dad has left me broken inside, dry as a popcorn fart with the lack of kindness all those years.

I talk to myself constantly, using the soothing voice of a mother to a hurt child, to get me through the loneliest parts. When I am feeling too fragile, I lie on the living room floor on the dogs blanket, with them around me where I can feel their warmth and hear them breathing. I dont even mind the company of a flea… as long as it is not a verbally abusive one….

I know that this situation is temporary, that I must endure, as we all must. The Word makes that crystal clear. “The one that endures…endures…ENDURES!”

And so I shall. If you need me, I’ll be on the dog blanket…

It Has Been a Long ,Long, Lonely, Lonely,Lonely…..Time!

I didn’t even know if my Blog, The Wind, was still here, clinging to life! I am so glad that it is, even though I have been concentrating on my visually creative outlets, rather than the written word. I need this blog. I really need this blog to help me set my troubled mind free again.

Sure, my physical Art, is taking me in Wild and Wonderful new directions, helping me gain confidence with every stoke of the brush of bit of glue. But the musings, the prose , the beauty of the written word, the NEED to express… this is also a nessessity for me.

On another, totally unrelated note: I just purchased 2 new pairs of glasses and they are giving be a blinding headache, the ear piecs are so tight! It feels like somone is turning the handle on a huge vise attached right behind my ears! AAaaargh!

So, coming back to my Windy Blog, I will be coming back to write again, to share again, to tell you tall tales of wit and ingenuity! And insanity! Joy and Life!! and really uncomfortable new glasses!

Check me out now and then, and visit my “sister” blog “Out of The Gutter Art” here on WordPress!

Sincerely, Me!

Trying to Grieve

Whew, this is a toughie. Daddy died March 7,2016, and I know how you all have followed our journey. He was such an amazing man, and a great father(despite minor glitches, like most dads). But for me, he was my world in these last years. The reason I got up in the morning, the reason I stayed up all night. He was my dearest friend, after we lost Mom, and he was my child in so many ways.

It all comes full circle, first I am a child, they wipe my dirty nose, dirty butt. They watch me grow and change into some sort of adult, full of foibles, full of flaws. But also full of amazing acts of genius, and supreme acts of love. Sure, there is anger, and dysfunction, but the parents learn to accept, to forgive, and to love unconditionally.

Then, almost imperceptibly the roles change. The forgetful Mom, the Dad with a hitch in his step. The Child picks up the slack, a little extra help here, a mental nudge there. Then just as if it is a life running backwards, the needs grow, and the caregiving roles become more and more diverse. Take the folks to doctors, look closely to see if the take their meds. help them navigate with a cane, walker, wheelchair-just like they taught us to crawl, hold onto tables and then finally stand and walk.

I led my Daddy back to his childhood, back through his memories. I tried desperately to keep his dignity safe from pokers and prodders, from nurses shouting in his face and grabbing at injured hands. From nakedness in freezing hospital rooms, holding his water, feeding him jello. Making them listen when “MY DAD NEEDS SOMETHING FOR PAIN!!!”Just like he did for me, a 2 year old in an emergency room 50 years before.

But I want to shut those memories away now, the one’s of his suffering, the one’s of his dying in my arms, just the 2 of us here. And the memories of the big silence that seemed to fall over the house the second his last breath escaped. My Daddy, my dear friend, dear father, it is so hard to say goodbye.

I know like a fire burning deep inside that this is not the end of our togetherness. No.

You are sleeping a dreamless sleep, the kind you always wanted, when your mind would not let you rest. You are experiencing no pain, no turmoil or fear, no loneliness. You are in the safest place in the Universe, the Memory of our God, Jehovah. You are sleeping there and so is Mommy.

So are all our loved ones who have died. Jehovah, the God of Eternity is keeping all your hopes and dreams, loves and desires safe, as well as every aspect of what makes you you. And I thank Him for this knowledge, that He so freely gives in the pages of the Bible.

Mostly though, especially during this day, when 2016 years ago He let his perfect, only begotten Son, Jesus Christ lay in a tomb, tasting death for every man. Jesus had been tortured and murdered as a common criminal, nailed to a stake and left to die, he had been spat upon, laughed at, beaten and suffered at the hands of his enemies. And his heavenly Father, Jehovah, let this happen.

Why?

So that all of us, all of mankind, whether good or bad, can be forgiven of all their sins. So that all of us, all mankind, can have a chance at everlasting life. That all of us, all mankind, can join together as a family under Jesus Christ rule as King of God’s Kingdom.

Tomorrow will be the day 2016 years ago, when Jesus was resurrected, and that act, my friends, that wonderful act God performed all those years ago, is proof positive that Jehovah can and will resurrected our loved ones who have died.

To me, this is what will help me grieve, moving past the sadness of my father’s death. Because by Jesus death, all will be made alive!!

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Why Do I Hurt Myself?

smoke on the water
smoke on the water

I answered his call tonight. What a foolish foolish girl. I knew that it was wrong, to talk to the abuser, but I did it anyway. After years of being strong, of cutting out the gangrenous heart of me. How could I sell my broken soul out so cheaply? I knew he would say something that would bring it all back, and when I heard the liquor in his voice I remembered the loathing I felt for myself when I realized I had given away all that ever was good inside me, given it to a psychopath who only loved me for the pain I would suffer at his hands.

Now that I let that voice into my ears, that devil’s voice as sticky as Karo, how do I unhear it? When it professes “love” to me from a dead man’s mouth? How do I wash the blood off of my mind’s eye, when I dream of his devil fists, his green devil eyes, his devilish ways with his devilish hands on my broken and battered memory of myself?

Why did you do it?

Did you really need another reason to be afraid today?

Did you need another reason to doubt your own sanity?

Did you really need to add all those forgotten nightmares to the list of must-see flashbacks you have on file?

Now the phone won’t stop ringing, so I turned them all off. But can I turn of that record that has played in my mind ever since I broke free?

That record that keeps going round and round playing a tune called,

” If I can’t have you, then nobody will…”

How long until he’s at my door?

Did I just invite him when I answered that call tonight?