Fatigue and the new year

Stream of conscience writing-and reflecting

I am here, still here.

Thankfully less frightened than my last post.

******below written at the end of last year******

I gave my artist talk and three people came; well three besides my DH and the social media person that was recording it for the guild.

There were marches all over the city that day, so it was a tough day to get around. The three who came were a guy I went to high school with and his daughter and a friend who were interested in art. It was a nice audience and made for an intimate experience for his daughter to learn about the art making practice.

I had too much chocolate and carbonated water, but it is better to be over prepared than under.

My hubby recorded the talk, as it was requested.

So far 10 people have watched it, and two told me they had a hard time hearing what I was saying.

So it was a learning lesson and an act of presence. 

I did enjoy the act, but the build up was A LOT.

Afterwards we went to a middle eastern restaurant,  and quickly realized we were a minority, as the place filled with protesters and we were watched quite closely the whole time. I think I asked hubby a couple times if food was on my face as I was getting so many stares.

It was tough, and heartbreaking and only a few days after the kidnapping and so my Jewishness was obvious to many.

I returned home to focus on my next task, make new work for my annual submission  for the next big event. No pressure, no stress....no terror.

Hubby got a cold, and I had had my infusion coming up so I slept on the couch for a couple nights so I would not get breathed on all night. I added it to my internal dialogue of "suffering artist" narrative in my mind and after several months of struggling, and working and crying and wanting to burn the whole place down...I created some new work.

It was the most challenging experience to date.

I submitted work a day before the deadline and walked away knowing that I had tried everything in my power and wheelhouse to create something new, unique and that I loved.

The Barren planned an anniversary getaway for us...and it was 10000000% needed and a complete surprise. We celebrated 21 years married and 31 together this year. We went to the desert and a very nice hotel...there was a soaking tub on our private patio where we took turns soaking by a fire, we got a massage and had a fancy dinner out. Mostly we got quiet, a reprieve from our own thoughts and reality.

*****

After the return from the desert, I was faced with another wall of stress...

which had me dealing with the logistics of switching pharmacies that 

 supply my infusion medicine. I spent a month trying to get one office to submit a signed document. The delay was so prolonged, it delayed my medicine for an additional 10 days, which doesn't sound like a lot until you factor in that I get this medicine monthly. I ended up going to the office personally, twice with a copy of the document, the line highlighted in hopes to get it resolved. The second trip was the keystone, and I broke down into a waterfall of tears when I had the signed/faxed document in my hands. 10 days after my medicine was due, I got a needle in my arm.

I was so absolutely spent from the process, I had broken down multiple times with people on the phone. I lost my shit, I apologized for it and then grabbed my bootstraps and took care of business.

I sat in disbelief for a couple days afterwards, not really saying anything and just staring into space.

The new year opened with a rescheduled MRI after The Barren had taken the day off to support me, and showing up at 7am to have it. Someone changed he date and location and neglected to inform me. I showed the front desk person the confirmation, but told them I understood that didn't change anything, so please just tell me where and when I am supposed to show up fasted and ready to drink insane amounts of contrast fluid. I go Tuesday now...3 weeks later.

The December art show was well attended and my work sold in the first two hours of the opening. Another of the works I had submitted for the show was selected for a separate exhibition which is open now. That was a lovely happy response to all the stress and sorrow of the prior month.

Now I am in a holding pattern again, trying to refill my energy reserves and start making work again. In the meantime, life has laughed at me over and over, delivering tasty tidbits of stress and worry. 

I start to wonder, is this what my 50's will be,? 

I know the world is an absolutely chaotic place and there is so much horrible outside my door; it sometimes feels like I am being a glutton for punishment when I wake up everyday...greeting the day and thinking of all the best for the time ahead....and even if I am beaten down over and over again, I still greet the next day with hope for something better. Does this qualify as insanity?

A woman I have meditated with for these past pandemic years just found out that she has breast cancer...and when she told me, I was numb. This woman is a peer, she adopted her kids, she is an artist and she had an ultrasound because she was told she had dense breasts and they found over half her breast had cancer growths in it. I was flattened by the similarities.

 I told her that I have been on infusion therapy for the last year and when I started I didn't want to be seen as a sick person. So, in an effort to not say "you are in my thoughts" I told her that I will focus on her making all the best choices for herself, and being given many options and strength to do what aligns best for her goals. I rethought about that encounter many times over, and feared that I had diminished her experience. 

I am finding myself at a loss for many of life's most difficult moments.

What is wrong with me?