A Psalm of My Own

Written after Fighting With Myself All NightWIN_20200720_06_43_02_Pro_LI (3)

.           Jehovah knows my suffering, hears my pleas each day

.          He knows the pain this madness brings, knows I’m made of clay

.          I thought I’d be forsaken, and all my hope was lost

.          I struggled to awaken, eternal darkness was the cost

.          But my God cares for me, He hears my cries and screams

.          He pulls me out of raging seas, makes pleasant peaceful dreams

.          How can I show my thankfulness, show Him my endless love?

.          I’ll walk with Him in faithfulness, Praise God in Heights above!

.          I will love my God whole-souled, pray, meditate and preach

.          No matter how lame, tired, sick or old, new sheep I will love and teach!

Picture 021
Big Sky.(not my photo)

Full Heart

Will humans today heed the warning? In these times of pain and mourning ?

Strange Days, and Stranger still;

.   Not understanding, but they will

.   They took no note, then came the Flood

.  They should have listened to their God

.  There was warning (plenty of)

.  They were busy faking love,

.  Buying, selling, busy still

.  Too wrapped up to do God’s Will.

.   Will humans today heed the warning,

.   In these times of pain and mourning?

.  Will they care when they see the dead,

.  Or by Satan will they be bled?

.  Wishing, crying reaching out

.  To the God they chose to doubt.

.  His Son will hear righteous decree,

.  The wicked screaming, ‘Woe is me!”

.  Jesus on his reaping ride,

.  the pure White Horse he sits astride,

.  neighs and snorts as good sword falls-

.  More horse and riders hear the call:

.  Here comes Red Horse, red as blood

.  The war machine now chews it’s cud!

.  Rider holding scales on Black,

.  People plead for food they lack.

.  As starvation sweeps the land

.  Death, on Pale Horse, heeds command

.  “Kill with pestilence and plague

. ” Because behind you comes the Grave!”

.   Death is swift-none will be saved

.  Whose works are vile and depraved.

.  They will run, try to hide,

.  But naught stem the global tide,

.   Except for those who have God’s name

.  And to their neighbors His Will proclaim!

.   Who turn away from hate and rage,

.   Believe Christ Ransom-turn the page.

.  They delve deep into Jah’s word,

.  Learn what apostles saw and heard,

.  They shout a public declaration

.  And proclaim their dedication!

.  They trust all their God has said,

.  With loyal love-with bowed head,

.  “Sovereign God of all creation,

.  We will be your holy nation.

.  We will obey our King, your Son!”

.  Now “The Real Life” has begun!

.                                 a poem of sorts and a song of praise and warning.

 

.

 

 

 

We Are Going To Make It

Is anyone out there as old as I am? I grew up to the Mary Tyler Moore show, on every week as I recall. When I was 10 or so, she was beautiful to me, not just as a pretty woman (which she was and is, if she is still alive, is she?…)but as a woman in “the workplace”. I was too young to understand the dynamics of discrimination against women, I was buying into the whole “be a good girl, speak when you are spoken to” misogynist mantra.

That is where the slogan “We’re going to make it after all” first made me feel warm and fuzzy. My folks both worked long, hard hours to feed my brother and I. We saw them briefly each morning. Mom on her way to bed after all night at a local “old folks” hospital, and Dad on his way to the Speciality  Steel Mill. The only thing “special” about the steel mill that I could see was the fact that Dad was “‘specially”angry when he got home.

.  We didn’t want for anything that I ever knew, except that I never got designer jeans like my best friend, with the rich dad. No, my belly was full, and I was as happy as a chubby pre-teen with thick glasses and a mouth full of braces could be in the late 70’s. The only thing lacking was joy, any kind of joy, at home. Even “The Holidays”, when I still celebrated them, were joyless, because there was always disappointment lurking under the tree. Family gatherings were nice before I got old enough to feel the undercurrents of dislike and tension that flowed thru the affairs, like the lambrusco in the fancy glasses.

.  We are going to make it. After all.

.  I’m in the ” after all” phase of life now. And I have made it, thus far . All the family drama is distant history, now that my parents are dead they don’t fight as much.(chuckle). I have learned to live without them here, and I have gleefully learned to live without my abusive ex and now deceased husband. (No, I’m not gleeful at his being deceased.)

.  I have lived on my own for 4 years now, Dad died on 3/7/16, and Mom on 3/21/10. The grief did not stab me like a bayonet to the stomach this year, no, it was a dull, ongoing ache that I thought I didn’t feel, until this very moment. A heaviness inside my heart, a gray, damp blanket on my view. But I have made it, after all…

.  I want to share happy tidings, tho’, not the fear mongering that is flying all around the internet and all the airwaves. Yes, this Pandemic is a very, very bad thing. Many of our loved ones, friends and neighbors will get very sick, and many will die. More people will die than usually do in a “regular” time period. It will be very difficult to work, to shop, to meet with friends and family. However, we must endure these difficulties with a hopeful demeanor, and share our hope with  Everyone we can!!! We All need to support our fellow humans, and we CAN!!!!!

You may ask why, and I understand how hard it is not to have a pity party when one has no access to TP or Oreos. I am not immune to this situation, especially the Oreo thing. But as a person who has lived with chronic intractable pain all over my body for the last 20years, I do have experience with the power of positivity shared. This will be a HUGE HELP TO ALL OF US: BE UPBEAT AND POSITIVE WHEN SPEAKING TO OTHERS! DO NOT BOG OTHERS DOWN BY SHARING NEGATIVITY SUCH AS WHAT WE CAN’T DO, BUT FOCUS ON STEPS WE CAN TAKE. 

One thing we must do to help is STAY POSITIVE when we talk to others. Just as you would not talk to a Child about negative outcomes of a storm, we all, ALL need comfort from our fellow humans right now. Just as we would not want our Mom to be overly anxious about a situation, think of your friends and neighbors who are anxious also!

.   We want to help the people we love, and hopefully we want to help our fellow man who we don’t even know. I am going to work on this, and I already know it helps, because people who cared for me when I was incapacitated did it for me. And I made it thru to better days. Picture 346

. I hope you are doing well, that you can see the sky today, wherever you are. One thing that helps me so much is prayer because I know God is close to me when I pray to him in his Son, Jesus name. Reading the Bible books of Psalms and brings me peace, and talking on the phone to others about God’s promises soon to be fulfilled.  If I can just smile at someone, it lifts my mood and hopefully theirs as well. I send out my warm hugs and smiles to all of you.

.  We’re going to make it, after all!

Jehovah created a paradise...
frannie-pannie…

Okee Dokee Then…

It has been AGES since I have been here, it seems that when I am on fire with my visual art , my written art suffers. Time is a factor, when I have 5 projects going at once, the voices in my head are rather subdued, because all the poetry is oozing out of my fingertips onto canvas, paper, metal, wood and wall. As has been the way this past year, with some success…

I had hoped top be able to exist on my earnings from my visual art, and while I am not there yet, I am making a dent. I have had one of my paintings put in a permanent collection, I have been highlighted with my artwork in a video for the nearby Mental Health Facility! Woohoo! I find that very satisfying and amusing all at the same time! I should have demanded money, but they didn’t offer, so I used it as a photo op. I gifted them the painting you see here, although I still have it here at the house , because I wasn’t satisfied with it… (never am, you know). I will have to take it in soon, to keep my word… and I need to see my wonderful therapist because memories are pushing their nasty little heads into my reality…

It’s the “holidays”… The time of memories… poo poo, bluck, bluck…. memories have too much power over me, so I guess I just stuff them. Me, the one always saying that “you have to let it out!” I let it out too much, which gave too many people too much power over me, too many ways to rattle my chain. I have been solitary, and sequestered here, and while it may be a little too much solitude I am glad to have my space. True, my sleeping habits could use improvement, but then I am a work in progress…

Just for today I don’t have to mourn. I can just be ok.

Right Side Down/Wrong Side Up

20170703_091151I wish I looked like this right now, because it looks like I feel pretty good about myself in this photo! And I did! I think it lasted a couple weeks, it was after I was alost finished moving in, and I was enjoying exploring my new home town.

I had gone into ma cute little salon for a haircut, a new look for my new beginning, and the young man who did it was a true artist!

Then I saw the prices! Forty bucks, just for a wash and cut! Ahhhhh!!! I never paid more than 20 bucks for a cut, and most of the time that included a five dollar tip! As I paid my bill and thanked him, I still felt on top of the world! This was my new, fresh start!

I was full of hope about my financial situation, I still had money after buying my new (1970) mobile home and land. And I had also purchased a car, cash, so I would not have alot of expenses and bills! OOh , I was SO smart!

After all, in a month or so, I would be selling my art in a new gallery, and be in new shows, and my fame would spread like wildfire! I had a big opportunity to be in ” a really big show”, as Ed Sullivan used to say, and I worked so hard-sure that I was a shoo in.

Months passed, money dwindled, but my hopes were steadily pinned on my huge success in this upcoming event. I spent more money, remodeling, new furnishings, paint, welding class, tons of art supplies.

I worked round the clock, taking photos of my work, even going to a free class to learn to present my work just right. I bought black sheets as backdrops, spent hours setting things up, months agonizing over artist statements, resume, biographies.

I wanted to really knock ’em dead, so I got a little dramatic with my entry, really emphasizing my struggles with trauma and mental illness.

I sent my entry in at 11:30 pm on the last day they accepted entries, and the cut off was 12 midnight. I even thought this was brilliant, to make me shine even brighter.

Even thinking about it makes me feel a little queasy, I put so much worry and sweat into the process. I told friends about the show, and I said that I was not pinning all my hopes on it.

That was a BIG Fat Lie. I had pinned EVERYTHING on that show. I even planned how humble and gracious I would be.

Then the e-mail came. The same e-mail I got last year:

“We thank you for your entry, but……”

“…but…”

…but…but…but…but…but, but, but,but,but,butbutbutbutbut….BUTTHEAD!!!

so here is my inner rotten, little Susie-In-A-Red-Devil-Suit-On-My-Shoulder, whispering in my ear: ” You stupid, stupid girl, You should have known you aren’t good enough, they are all laughing at you, you LOSER!!” The little Susie-On-My-Shoulder even has the audacity to make an L with her hand and hold it to her (my) forehead.

She has not stopped this horrible dialogue yet, but she will. VERY SOON. VERY, VERY SOON!

“Ha, I DARE you, you loser, nya!nya! You don’t have the guuut, HEY!, What are you DOING! PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN! AHHHHHHHHH!….”

“bloop!” Oh, my, what did I do? She slipped out of my fingers and into the huge pot of scalding Turkey soup I have boiling on the stove! Oh, my!”

Her tiny little mouse-sized red suit boils to the surface, I scoop it out and toss it in the trash.  There is no trace of that rotten little monster!

I will brush the dust off of me, off of my canvasses, off of my paints, and do what I love best: Create Fresh and Relevant ART! YAY!!!

Where Am i? Where Have i been?

Strange days, these. People are acting wild, out of control. There is fear in their eyes, urgency in their speech. Anger in their hearts.

I have been running away again, from storms, from memories, from emotions. Thankfully running towards God, who has taken me in, again. I am so grateful.

I had a bad episode last night. The rabbit hole. I was in and falling fast, the need was to cut and run-out the door, into the street-no looking back. The memories flooding in, the doubt, the helplessness, loneliness, the inevitability of it all… 

I had to find a way to STOP! , and I could not. I began to panic, and sobbed to God, to please , please intervene before I disappeared completely. I had nearly lost my grip when I could feel the glimmer of a change- like a tiny golden wisp of thread-blowing in my direction. Kind of like the tiniest branch coming towards me, or a vein full of golden “life blood”.

The thread reached me, thru the darkness, or perhaps I reached for it- maybe both? I felt my panic lessen, my breathing subside just an eensie bit. More prayer, more sobs, more beseeching, the thread grew side threads, auxiliary branches that began to wrap around my heart.

This force gave me the strength to pick up my Bible, all dove gray and soothing, and it opened to the 65th Psalm. The words like chamomile tea, like warm fuzzy socks on my troubled hands, my aching head.

He is there, He sent me help. Jehovah hears, He knows.

I begged for an angel, and He sent His Word to me.

I saw hope in the shape of golden light, threads of golden light to wrap around my broken heart. To bind me up until the final healing comes.

(The big bad wolf has had his day, and now the sheep can come out and play. In the freedom of untroubled love, We shall serve Our God above!!!)

Maybe I sound like a raving lunatic, but I honestly do not mind, because I know what happened last night.

Jehovah saved me from the trap of the birdcatcher, to live another glorious day. He put the Bible in my hand, a song in my mouth, and words of praise on my lips. The raging sea is calm now, the outlook serene.

Come storms, if you dare. Jehovah’s outstretched arm is not too short. jehovah always saves those loyal to Him.

Praise Him in the Heights! Praise Him in the Heavens, and On the Earth below!

It WILL NOT BE LATE!!!!

Fanning A Flicker

In my last post here on The Wind, I shared how ashamed I was to not want to help myself get well. Upon further reflection the episode was cringe-inducing, and I must confess, my statements were  frightening!

Back in pool playing days my motto was, “It’s not the dog in the fight, it’s the fight in the dog!” This , of course, referred to my uncanny ability to get behind 1-6 in a race to 7, and the saying fueled more than one come-from-behind upset. (remember Chanelle?) So, I always believed I was not a quitter. I was in for the long haul, and nothing was ever going to slow me down again!

I forgot something in my rush to judgement on myself, in my fierce denunciation of my own weakness. I forgot that I am human, and that I am made of dust. I forgot that I have a real, unmistakable disease, one among many, yes- but I believe the worst one:

I have Bipolar Disease, Bipolar Disorder, Manic Depression, The BIPO, and it is deadly. In this instance it stopped me, blinded me from recognizing a simple fact: I was physically ill and needed a medical doctor. I had become so discombobulated in my grip on reality that I did not realize I could not breathe!

I blamed my lack of sleep for my headache, for my terrible weariness. This I believed was due to a myriad of different causes, ranging from the bi-pap machine not working right, my bed not feeling right, the fact that I had too much caffiene the day before, even so far as to think I was being persecuted by the devil himself. The brain fog was so bad that I just lay in that agonized state, unable to pry myself from this bed of torment even long enough to take my medication, which would have at least enabled me to get to the doctor.

Finally, only through an extreme exertion of prayer, and a HUGE inner push did I roll, really roll out of bed and onto my feet. Still berating myself as a failure, and feeling hateful towards the entire medical community, I was going to cancel the appointment with my PC. For some reason, though, just due to my suffering, I suppose, I did find clothes and the courage to leave the house and fall into the car.

The heat stifled me, and the weather was blamed, the sun blinded me- so it was complained about. My car wasn’t right, my head wasn’t right, NOTHING WAS RIGHT!!!

Then she walked in, in a ray of golden sunlight, thermometer in her hand… 

” Hello Ms. Martin, I hear you are not feeling well…”

“grrrr…mumble, mumble…headache…grrrr…pneumonia….grrr…sinuses…mumble, mumble….no sleep…rotten sleep apnea…grrr, mumble mumble….”, says I.

Doc replies, ” Alright then, lets have a listen to your lungs!”

“grrr, wheeze,,,grrr…well I did use some spray paint….grrr..wheeze…”

“OK, Susan, let’s get you a breathing treatment! I’ll be right back with the nurse!”, pipes Dr. Wonderful, as she floats out on her golden cloud of I-Know-What-I-Am-Doing-ness…

 

——————————————————————————————————————————

(Twenty Minutes and 1 Treatment Later)

“WOW, Doc, I really feel BETTER”

(down curtain)

———————————————————————————————————————————-                                THE REALIZATION DAWNS

In retrospect, I DO NOT KNOW MORE THAN Highly trained Physicians. I do not recognize when my manic episodes have overtaken me, and I am unable to recognize how sick and confused I am when my Bipolar Disorder is not being managed properly.

Should I hate myself for giving into weakness and despair. THE ANSWER IS

NO-NO-NO-!!! A THOUSAND TIMES NO!!!

I would not berate someone with a terminal illness like Cancer for giving in to despair, especially when they are sick, sleep deprived, manic and lonely. I deserve the same consideration, and yes, LOVE, from myself. If my GOD, JEHOVAH loves and forgives me, then who do I think I am not to???Picture 015

PostScript: My choice of featured Image reflects on feelings of Love for my puppy Izzy, who I had to put to sleep last month. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, because she was not at death’s door, of having a life threatening emergency.

No, my darling girl was just suffering. Suffering the pain an injured spine can bring, and the indignities of age on tiny Arthritic Feet. She lay awake every night panting and groaning, and spent each day unable to walk without crying.

She and I had a long, heartfelt talk, and she finally helped me to see that she loved me enough to let me go if I was suffering. And I recognized that this was also the most loving thing I could do for her. It was a hearthwrenching and agonizing decision, but for her, I did it. She would have done the same for me.

Goodbye my dear friend and ever loyal and dedicated companion. I will remember you. I thank God for the gift of our fuzzy cohabitants on this glorious planet He made for us.

His day is coming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inertia

Life in a  funeral parlor is very boring. Father sleeps all day now. He was always a napper, and absolutely loves to sleep. Perhaps it was an escape for him years ago, a way to avoid dealing with Mom or us kids.

A big part of his nappiness is sleep apnea, which wasn’t even heard of years ago. In the 1990’s Mom convinced him to see the doctor about his constant sleepiness, and he had a sleep study done. It was found that my Dad has one of the most severe cases of sleep apnea that the doctor had ever seen. It was incredible, the number of times he quits breathing in an hour. So finally we had an answer to why our father was always trying to “catch up” on sleep, making us tiptoe about the house each day when he was lying down. I coined the nickname “Sir Nap-a-lot” for him, which he did not find amusing, but we all thought was very funny and accurate.

Fast forward 50 years, and here if my Dad now with severe Alzheimer’s and Dementia.

From the research being done insomnia and lack of restorative sleep are key factors in the onset of Alzheimer’s disease. This is no surprise to me, having watched my Dad lie on the couch all hours of the day, waking more exhausted than before. Now his eyes glaze over twenty minutes after he gets out of bed, it’s all he can do to make it back to his room or over to the couch. It is especially bad after he eats, which has made me wonder about his blood sugar. He was prescribed one of those machines for people with Apnea, but he never, ever used it. He is totally non-compliant when it comes to stuff like that.

So, here I sit in this quiet house, dogs lying about on floor pillows and blankets, cats on beds,chairs and couches, and Dad laying wherever a space can be found-out like a light!

Do I nap?  Oh, I try. I tell myself I should try to live by Father’s schedule. so that I am not falling asleep when he is up and about. That doesn’t seem to make me sleep, though. I lay down and shut my eyes,but the mind races and the pain lies under my skin like an ever present organism, draining my life juices away. my nap time is spent turning this way, then that-stuffing pillows here, moving blankets there. Petting dogs, pushing cats off the bed, always listening for a movement in the next room.

cleopatra
cleopatra

IMG_20140709_003602

I lay sometimes on my new (used) big red couch, such a pretty piece, and a great napper, and now and then I drift away. Dreaming of yesterdays, when my body moved and I was loved. Dreaming of giant grasshoppers eating my zinnias. Falling asleep to the sound of my silent prayers, prayers for God to send me an angel. An angel to stand over me and keep the bad things away while I rest.

Kiko-San Majestic
Kiko-San Majestic

When I awaken, it is always time to perform a task, feed a father, a cat, a dog, a bird, a plant. Wipe a hand across blurry eyes, beg a brutalized body to creak to it’s sore feet. Teeter off, half bent over, to fry a sausage, crack an egg, sweep a mess, say a pleasant “good morning!”. He looks vacantly past me into the blazing day, sips old coffee and says, “I didn’t sleep at all. I’ll be going back to bed after breakfast. After lunch. After dinner. After snack. After everything, I will be going to bed.”

Ok. Me too.Picture 485

Killing Time…

Under rocks I see the clocks,

When they buzz I hit with rocks

The blasted thing when it rings

Seems to knock me out my socks

I try to sleep, and on it beeps

I try to sing, not hear it ring,

It won’t be blocked, that awful clock.

I will throw it off the dock

It sucks me in, but I can’t swim!

I beg it , Please- sound alarm!

But it reminds me of the harm

That I caused the rotten thing

The lesson here: Let it Ring!!!

 

An early morning ditty by Kikonizzy!