Time after time

 ICE is in my town

I can hear the helicopters daily

My neighbors are all on edge, and terrorized.

There are trucks chasing down people, ripping them from their families at school drop offs or at work places. They come in unmarked cars, with people spilling out of them some in uniforms, some not. 

They are terrorizing the local farms, greenhouses and field workers. My area grows strawberries, celery, broccoli, avocados that not only feed our county, but the state and the nation.

I am forever wounded from what I have seen broadcast across community protection live-streams, help your neighbor, film what you see, encourage them to be silent and not allow entry.

One of my senators was handcuffed for trying to ask a question yesterday.

I am immunocompromised and exhausted, but today I am printing postcards that will be addressed and handed out at the protest tomorrow, in hopes to get more people to contact their representatives; write their rage to the white house and supreme court.

These most recent days have re-awakened a level of generational trauma I didn't know I carried.

I have planted food, I have touched earth, I have sat in contemplation and I am so deeply enraged.

I will not make excuses or ask for forgiveness for it.

I am shouting and screaming and fighting in any way I can.

My neighbors deserve better, children deserve better, the world deserves better.

Some go this way...

“Some go this way. Some go that way. But as for me, myself, personally, I prefer the short cut.”

The Cheshire cat 

I thought I would give the rest of the world a peek at what it is like where I live right now.

It occupies much of my mind, and time and takes up a lot of space in my head.

So in many ways I am documenting it here, maybe in hope that it will seem funny after a while.

 via Instagram: Gripster2000

Yes, these are screen captures from my phone and I hope you can forgive my luddite qualities.

My county still has an average of 600+ cases a day and about 20 deaths a day!

We don't have enough vaccines but to inoculate 75+ year olds and medical workers so far.

All appointments are gone, and we get weekly deliveries that are given to the above group...

The governor expanded to allow vaccinating 65+yr olds 

but there is not the inventory to allow that. 

Yesterday our stay at home order was lifted and so outdoor dining is available again starting Friday.

It makes zero sense.

sigh

I continue to stay indoors, taking online classes and attending zoom lectures.

Doing yoga in the living room or studio...

There is rain this week (for the first time since last year) so all my outdoor park classes are canceled.

My father is finally recovering from his surgery, thanks to my mother being a drill sergeant and making sure he does his breathing exercises and walks and sits in places other than the bed.

It was a bumpy road but thankfully, looking better.

I really enjoyed sitting with my mother and waiting for updates about my father. The time highlighted that she is older, and I am older and our time here is fragile and uncertain.

My stress levels during all this have been through the roof, I fear I have massively altered my digestive system and I am now trying to regain control of it.

Do any of you get heartburn or ingestion 6+ hours after eating? 

I am experiencing that, I can not lay flat in bed right now, and 6-8 hours after eating  in the evening I awake with chest or stomach burning....I get up drink water and sit up in bed and then fall back to sleep.

But, MY GOSH this is getting old.

Stress Much lady?!

Okay this post has become quite a bitch fest...

I am understanding that I am the person who reaches out to others...I am that person.

I am a person who enjoys simple pleasures, like a pretty plant or listening to rain or falling asleep on the couch watching tv or reading while hubby strokes my hair or holds my hand.

I love the sight of the sun peeking through the branches of a tree.

I love having vivid dreams and sitting with the visual memories for half a day trying to figure out what it all means.

I love a cup of hot tea and sometimes a cookie

I love the cool air on my face and blankets up to my neck

I love that last week when I left my parents place, I saw my nephew riding his bike with a friend and when I waved and said hello, he said "Love you Auntie" he is 13!

I will take that and wrap it in my softest folds of self and carry it forever.

Pet Peeve AKA Rant

Okay, I have to admit, as time passes I have found that I have a new pet peeve.

I can not stand when people post on social media how proud and excited they are

 that their children are actualizing and becoming small humans.

Example:

So excited little child has pooped in the potty

So excited little child slept for three hours

So excited only threw up twice today

so excited ate food

Ugh!!!

you don't need to report that your child is acting like any other human 

wow, not only did you procreate but now you are surprised 

that your little human are now acting like a little human

UGH!!!

Putting feet where my heart is

I have become an voice in the fight

I am making choices everyday to speak up, regardless of my fears.

I am actively choosing to attend marches and sign petitions and make calls.

I was quite overwhelmed for a couple weeks, 

slipping into the door of depression for a time and again.

I felt the weight of my white privilege and 

the responsibly to make sure others acknowledged theirs.

I felt angry and heartbroken at family that said they loved me and the world around them,

 but then stood in support of Lord Marmalade and his racist, sexist and xenophobic choices.

I have made the choice to be a voice, 

I am fighting the BIG fight, looking at the BIG picture.

I am thinking about the generations after me, 

I am trying to secure the rights and safety.

I am learning and growing.

I find being infertile in this struggle has given me a unique voice

in this conversation. 

For that I am thankful.

Run over

So last week I was dead set on going back to yoga after missing the week because of my head-cold...and I arrived to my class on Friday with a sore stomach and feeling sweaty.

I brushed it aside to peri-menopausal symptoms and that I ate too much cabbage the night before.

Plus now I am convinced that the heated room 

and a good sweat can solve all coming cooties and ickies.

I got settled into class, and I started to feel dizzy...

OK move slow...

then the face-down poses started and the pressure on my stomach was not good....

then the standing was iffy, then the forward fold...

and a "wet burp". 

I calmly walk out of class and await the following...nothing. 

Performance anxiety

I try and return to class to finish and it is made PERFECTLY CLEAR

 that is not going to happen!

Defeated, I roll up my mat, take my cold sweaty body to the showers, 

get dressed and head to work....

Wrong choice number 2

I am able to stay for about an hour, 

before I need to get into my car to head home.

Along the drive I think of all the errands I still need to do...

and then I head a voice in my head.

"take care of yourself, don't do anything but go home"

I reason with myself that I can take the mail the following day to get postage...

I make it home to see the neighbor walking his toddler and newborn, he looks up at me as I am exiting my car and says hey how ya doing? 

I say " I'm sick keep a distance" 

he says yeah, I'm trying to keep her head out of it, 

she just tossed all down the front of me, 

referencing the swaddled newborn he was attached to. 

I suddenly image the smell of curdled milk....

I made it in the house, up the stairs and to the bathroom just in time to lose it....

The rest of the day was spent shivering, 

sweating and sleeping until The Barren made it home from work 

with anti nausea medicine and saltines.

He rescued me once again.

Why do I go into details?

If I had a child this would have been made SOOOO MUCH MORE complicated

I was thankful that I just needed to deal with me that day

as I could barely do that.

This last weekend was spent recovering

Then....

The Barren started to not feel well again, we have  

both been battling something for the last two weeks!

Now he is headed off to the doc as his cough is sounding different 

and keeping sleeping at bay.

I joked with a friend that 46 is HARD

I got to be a birthday girl for three days and then I got sick!

Can I call a do over?

Then after this last weekend I told The Barren that I was in 

metamorphosis and that I am gonna be one DAMN fine butterfly

when this was gone.
I refuse to let everything lead to something bad any longer!

Day Three

My bestie got a residency here and is going to be gone for almost a month.....

out of range and texting and distractions.

I am thrilled for her, and I know she will excel with the time away from family responsibilities and work drama. She needs this time, her artwork needs this time.

It is only day three,

 and I am finding myself and the inability to connect with her at any time challenging.

We normally text each other everyday

I spoke with her the night before she left and wished her well and told her to have a super fun time!

Inside I was crying, and it felt like when we were headed to different colleges.

I will miss her greatly, but can not wait to see what she makes while away.

The Barren took me into the big city to see an exhibition I had been dreaming of seeing since I was a teenager...it was a good distraction and inspiring and offered some real time with him.

Such beautiful, moving work

I was reminded of my own darkroom practice, 

my desire to make images that move, confuse, and connect with people.

I cried a few times viewing the work.

Not only remembering my own days gone by, 

but seeing this brilliant artist disappear before my eyes in his self portraits.

Mortality and disease

We ate a lot on our day out and away, 

I even indulged in some vegan "junk food"

eating a mac n cheeze pizza!

it did have broccoli on it, in my defense

The following day was spent on site with a project I am the photographer for.

We were out in the hills and outside all day.

I almost stepped on a snake

picture of snake "walking away" from me and my foot

I have since been editing and distracted until today....today I am floating.

I will work on art for the next few days. The Barren has been working way too many hours, both at work and working at home. He is stressed and it appears that tickets we had to secure almost three months ago will go unused for another weekend getaway, as his work clients are a big drama queen.

With his extended hours and my desire to maintain a studio practice and my second job schedule and early yoga classes, we are now not often able to spend time together until the weekend...at best.

Our schedules are almost opposite of one another.

I got a text from him this morning:

" at work...feeling a bit sad and lonely. : (

hope you are doing OK"

I was nearby and offered to swing by for a hug and a kiss and a cuddle,

but he was in between meetings and couldn't break away, even for a moment.

I am thankful that we still check in with each other.

Relationships take work, everyday.

I never take that for granted, and neither does he.

I make dinner every night for us, making sure that there is always a homemade meal 

at the end of a pressure ridden day. 

Something made with care.

We see each other at this time and shortly there after I am off to bed 

and he is still too wound up to sleep.

So we meet on the weekends.

My relationships super sucks right now, 

but I an hopeful and know that many aspects are temporary. 

Hope is a new word to embrace

Rejections are part of being an artist.

I know I have mentioned this before, but today I got another one 

and it seems to be a year of just being rejected.

Everything I have applied for, to date, has been rejected.

I know it is not " a reflection on my work"  but instead 

" There were so many beautiful, accomplished and uniquely creative photographs. Unfortunately your work was not chosen for the exhibition, but it was a pleasure to view your work, your accomplishments as a photographer and your dedication to the process of being an artist."

blah blah blah

I didn't use the word hope for almost a year. I didn't type it, write or say it. 

It was a sacred word for so long when we were trying to become parents. I was afraid to use the word casually, or on a whim...like saying the name of a demon or stepping on a crack in the cement. 

As I have started this process of stepping back from my lost dream, I have started to use it again as an empowering word again. I am not afraid to hope for things, 

I am just a bit cautiously optimistic in the 8 year wake of IF pain.

My art has given me a platform to try and use it again...

Every check I write to a gallery to view my work for consideration, 

every hour of research I do on the juror,

every image I review for compatibility for the shows theme or concept;

I pin hope on that last stroke of the key when submitting.

I know that I have tossed caution/fate into the wind. 

Art is subjective and curators/judges often have a vision of the show 

before even seeing any of the work. 

I try to forget about the submission until the week they are due to announce the results.

Even after all these years and all the rejections

It still feels like a kick in the heart when the generic letter arrives

I get sad 

I get mad

I get unsure of my self and my work

I wonder if I am on the right path, the right road or

in the right state of mind.

Somehow, I seem to always pull myself up by my bootstraps 

and write another check for chance, 

for HOPE.

I just keep working towards/for my dream of supporting The Barren and making him a kept man,

and having someone love my work as much as I think it is worth being loved.

I throw my hands in the air

I'm walking away

I love my parents.

I am close with them and thankful that they are here.

But sometimes...I don't like what they do

How they make me feel and that more often these days I think about how they will not be here forever.

I got a call from my mother at work this morning:

"Hi I am at the ER with our father. He had me take him here because he couldn't catch his breath"

I asked if I could come and sit with her while she waited with him for test results.

She said yes, so I packed up and left.

I met her in the waiting room and then we went into the bay my father was resting in.

They were waiting on the results of a CT scan to see if he had a blood clot in his lungs.

He was whacked out on Ativan and quite comfy and mellow.

He drives a lot for his job. Often sitting most of the day.

So checking for a blood clot made sense.

He has had a portion of his spine surgically fused due to deterioration and sometimes he swims...but for the most part my father likes to sit, eat really processed food, 

and not do much else if given the opportunity.

He has never been an exerciser, and thanks to pharmaceuticals, he can eat what he wants,
as the medicines do the hard work for him.

I sat and kept my mother company while he slept, the doctor finally came in with the results and said:

we did two EKG's and they are clear

We did blood work that looked for clots in your legs, and that is clear

We did a CT scan and that is clear of clots too

You didn't have a heart attack

so all tests look normal and clear

I think you might have had a panic attack, and I am prescribing a limited amount of pills for you to use when you feel the same symptoms again.

I do recommend that you don't drive long distances alone for the next few days

and I recommend a stress test to make sure all is clear and we have looked at everything.

I want you to run on a tread mill

( I saw my father go from happy to mad)

I asked the doctor if my father was clear to drive as a passenger this weekend for a work related event in a town three hours away, he said 

" Um, he is probably fine, but I would wait until the stress test results come in 

to do anything like that"

My mother was on the phone right away to the doctors office to schedule the test...

My father looked mad, 

I asked him what was going on, what you thinking about:

"I don't want to run"

I smiled and said, " well, that is not an option now"

I picked up the anti-freak out meds, while my mother took him home.

When I met them there, he was acting like nothing had just happened.

My mother was making french toast for him and he was looking at the bottle of pills. 

I told him that they were for easing the same symptoms he had before,
not to be taken for recreational use.

He said he was fine now.

I told him, you can't just shove it off, it was serious enough a moment ago, and that just doesn't go away. You need to take the doctors order seriously.

He said that they were still going on the business weekend away trip. I told him again what the doctor said and he said he was going.

I ate lunch with them (as they ate breakfast) and I said goodbye

I had said what I could, repeated doctors orders

and he probably will be fine if my mother drives...but FUCK

why do the rules not apply to him?!

I drove home and passed out/crashed on the bed for an hour

I still think I have PTSD from when my mother went into the hospital
I canceled plans for tonight and instead am watching TV and working this whole thing out here.

I have to walk away for my own mental health.
I have to realize that he is going to do whatever he damn well pleases and if (heaven forbid) something goes wrong he will blame someone or something other than himself.
I have to understand, I can not make everything OK all the time

Women of a certain age

My birthday is around the corner and while speaking to my mother, 

I expressed that I had no problem with my age. 

I explained that in my mind, this milestone number 

will release me from all sorts of things...

but mostly THE PEP TALK statement 

" there is still time to try and have kids, don't give up!"

I am done with people telling me to not give up, keep trying

and that there is still time.

I am actually feeling kind of soapboxy about it lately.

 I've spent years waiting, trying and watching life go by 

as I pinned my hopes on something that wasn't going to happen.

Actually now is the time to LIVE

I don't want to give up on me, on us, on what we still have left!

My mother seemed a little emotional about my revolutionary call to arms. 

I see her watch me ever so closely when I have a little rant or rave. 

I have done this since I was a child...but not until recently was I ever really heard 

( that took loads of therapy to figure out)

So when I see her watch me, I see her witnessing her reality of time 

and how long ago she was 

a young (she was 22 when I came into being) mom 

and all the hopes and dreams she had for me.

She declared " this is quite a milestone for you then isn't it"

I changed the subject, as I didn't want her to become a puddle of tears.

We then talked about our daily practice of our power poses, was she doing her "wonder woman"?

We had seen a TED talk together all about changing your mindset by simply holding these power poses for 2-5 minutes a day or before a big stressful event.

I have been trying to "re-educate" my mother on her feminist theory as it seems to be slipping away as she ages. Reminding her that she still possesses power and a valid voice.

I told her I had come across

a photo of myself that my grandmother had, that had me in this same pose.

I have been holding this pose for decades, 

I was meant to be strong

resourceful

powerful and brave!

I am going to be a 45 year old woman!

who still wants to be Wonder Woman

Fearless

Growling at the bears

My littlest niece is growling at the bears, 

fearless and unaware of anything except that she knows the sound that bears can make. 

I will be taking my ques from her as the year begins.

I had my blood taken again to see if the eating shifts and all have made an impact on my numbers.

Keeping me well away from medications and allowing me to be in control.

Sadly, no movement in the numbers.

only a handwritten note from my doctor:

" keep up the diet and exercise"

So I binged on three days that week....I ate food I would normally not.

I ate a piece of a butter ring on Christmas day.

I ate a some pizza after christmas:

 We made latkes and hosted a party for our nieces and nephews, 

so I has a few of those and had to have sour cream on them:

I was also introduced to Kahlua and cream/White russian

When the three days were up, I felt like lead...heavy and tired and oily.

I was only able to practice once the week of xmas and that made me feel bloated too.

As I walked to class yesterday, I wondered how my relationship with food had changed.

How it had changed with my own vision or reflection of my body...

In reflection, all the foods I binged on gave me only a moment of pleasure, and that mostly came from the feeling that I was "getting away" with something....like I was sneaking a treat in, but it never felt like a treat....it felt more like defeat.

I decided that I had crossed a bridge of sorts, the guilt from eating these foods had me frantically researching how to "detox", how to loose weight, 

how to do better, be better be perfect do perfect....

I caught myself spiraling and then I stopped.

Did I have a disorder with food? Did I see food as a reward, 

and a way to get back at myself or others? 

I got scared and living in the state I do, vanity and body image are distorted all around me...

it is a daily fight to make decisions that embrace who I am, and what I look like.

No plastic surgery, no tanning, no botox and no starving please.

Finally after seeing where all these destructive roads could lead I said out loud:

 I will eat the cleanest I can, I will keep up with my practice: because it makes me feel good. 

end of story. 

Selfish? Yes

Self preservation? Yes

I am no skinny Minnie, but I am stronger than I have ever been.

and

As much as I would like to make a voodoo doll of my doctor, I understand now, that her prompting brought me enough fear of death that I returned to a way of living that makes me feel better.

Food is not a comfort, not anymore.

I need to find comfort in my own strength, weaknesses, loves and fears.

I need to find what my littlest niece already knows about the world around her.

I will be stronger than I think I am,

 I will be happier than I think I can be

and my body will carry me for many more years.

I have shared this with no one, and now I share it here.
This is the start and the current of my body.

Thoughts from The Barren

I have invited The Barren to post as often as he would like,

as he is an amazing wordsmith and I love to hear inside his head, 

no matter how painful or sad. As we know, writing can help...so below is a piece he has been working on/through.

 

 



 

I fear I may be hiding within the empty lattice of a working life, focused on getting by each day instead of making this childless life my own. One way I see this is with how I react to questions about our childlessness - specifically that I'm left out of them. The cuts and calloused comments question only the woman I share this burden with, and in being ignored or feared by those careless questioners, the vacuum of any engagement leaves me feeling more alone than I would have expected. That part of me that wants to get angry at someone for the morning-news interrogations merely aches and folds back in on itself, without satisfaction or even the shame of an outburst. Does it rot there, stuck in the folds of itself? Or is it potential energy, waiting to be unlocked with the turning key of a kind or cruel thought?

Irrespective of my anxieties about folded emotions, I like to think it is the panoply of what each of us holds dear in that dream of having a child which gives rise to so many critiques - to the apparently obvious solutions and the baffled, furrowed, even scornful faces that accompany them.

A particularly painful accusation that is made by friends, family, and acquaintances with equal casualness is the "You haven't tried hard enough" comment, though it is never spoken so directly. It can be variously rephrased as a peppy "Don't give up" or the more bard-like rendition of "I had a friend in your situation, and they just kept at it and it was years later but you know what she got pregnant and now they have three kids and they are so happy I mean it's a miracle don't you think..."

There are many tangential lines to that initial focus on work-rate that expand the theme of not trying hard enough - not exhausting all options: "I'll have your baby, use my womb!"; "You should try IVF..."; Have you used egg-whites as a lubricant?"; "my sisters best-friend got pregnant after she went to an acupuncturist...", "I read on CNN that supplement X has gotten lots of infertile women pregnant, you should try that!"

Each solution caters to one or another price to be paid, but what they all hold in common is the end-goal: the acquisition of a child. This focus on the goal warps into pathology for many couples, with the result often being broken bodies, hearts, and unfortunately, many marriages. The goal is achieved! The couple acquires a child - success! And then divorces because of the immense stress and suffering caused by the process. Really? Goal achieved?

Inevitably the conversation turns to Adoption. Why don't we adopt? This question nags at me more than any other that I hear, because it assumes that the end-result is really what matters and moreover for the fact that it derives that end-result through commerce. Our desire was to create through the union of our mind and bodies a progeny, a physical manifestation of our love for one another and an expression of the universal mystery of life. In our case the end-result we were dreaming of was not just the child - it was the child created as a result of our union.

No path exists for us to achieve that end that does not compromise some essence of what is ultimately a matter of spiritual conviction.

The popular counters do little to answer or support this conviction. For example, the standard "...you will come to love them as your own...". A painful twist on this is promoted with heart-felt and honest emotion by the adopted themselves; after all, they can attest to the love and meaning that their parents brought to their life! See? The goal is achieved!

I do not doubt that I would love an adopted child with all my heart; that they would be my child and I their parent with all the associated joy, sacrifice, tears, and elation that any other child brings to the world they inhabit. My wife and I have spoken of our willingness to let such a child into our lives; our willingness to commit with our entire being to such a journey. But to buy into that experience? To go shopping for a child - a human life? To visit orphanages and adoption agencies with the same commercial details you would find in the purchase of a new car? To negotiate on a price? The dark-skinned children cost less. Older children cost less. They have been valued by the market and found to be...less?

I do not pretend to know a better way! The stories of Russian and Chinese state-run orphanages are stomach-churning and convincing enough to avoid any kind of centralized government method for finding good homes for the parent-less. All I know is that I can't participate in the current system. I don't begrudge anyone their participation! I just can't do it myself. This is a price I'm not willing to pay, to put it in the context of that most-common of underlying themes: "how badly do you really want a child?"

So this is the syllogistic critique of the infertile couple: "you haven't tried hard enough / you must not really want a child". It hits at the core pain experienced by an infertile couple - that they are to blame for the infertility - while at the same time trivializing that pain - it's just a decision to really want it, after all...what's so hard about that?

What's so hard, indeed...

Boo- this is your self doubt knocking!

 

I can not tell you how much I love this little GIF.

I don't care if it is real or not...it makes me laugh.

 

 

This is my favorite time of year, but I fear the drought will last though the year still....making the fall far from cold and rainy and windy...but instead keep us on our toes for fires and water restrictions.

I have become the water police in our neighborhood, calling landscape companies and hotlines to report water being wasted....it is scary I have become that woman.

I should wear my pointed hat on the next call....scary...ooo

 

This time of year offers a cocoon of sorts in my mind...the last of this years submissions are by weeks end and I am relishing in the fact that I can kind of rest my mind, cocoon maybe sew something or bake something or simply step away from the ledge or anxiety and fear and self doubt.

I have been on the verge of tears recently.
I feel quite raw, and fragile.
My mantras have been helping, and I can recognize when that self doubt is talking under an action.
I asked my brother today if he feel confident, in new situation or situation in general and he said no.
I didn't question further but I find it interesting as I only see him as self confident and ballsy.
Ironically, I visited with an artist friend who is very successful and she and a couple other friends were voicing their own self doubt as of late, I find their thoughts interesting...and comforting.

Artist friend #1:

As far as my attitude about my work…here goes…I seriously feel it is never good enough, pretty sure at the end of most days it is total crap and I wake up mostly in fear daily that I will never be able to have a good idea or at least not be able to paint one if I managed to have one. I recently found photos of a large painting that was going splendidly until I was totally unable to finish it as I wanted to…so, it turned into something completely different. Now, I am going to try that same idea again and demand better results from myself. 

"Paint what you love, paint a lot and find a good gallery…someone who shares your passion and respects what you do." That is my mantra.

Artist friend #2 forwarded this article " universal artist experience"
stating she was toggling between bargaining and depression:
 

Here’s an idea of what these stages mean to me:

Denial: This is not bad…not the painting I had in my head when I started…but maybe this will work…
Anger: Why isn’t this working? Why can’t I find that color? Why can’t I draw a horse?
Bargaining: OK, if you (the Art God?) just let me get this one painting done in time for the show, I promise I’ll clean up my studio and give up popcorn…and maybe ice cream.
Depression: This is never going to work. What made me think I could paint?
Acceptance: Well, this is not bad. This is going to work for now and the next one will be even better. I hope. I just have to keep working at it and I will get as close as I can before I die.

So I take comfort in knowing that we are all mad and sometimes crippled with self-doubt.

Comfort in numbers I guess.

Red is the color of power

OK, so this is the shade I finally decided on.

I wore it the night of the opening and felt confident, and sure of myself.

I was comfortable in my own skin and was able to speak about my work easily and freely.

I recommend this experiment to anyone who is shaky in their shoes.

I got my lipstick for .99 cents at the local drug store...low investment, high yield.

Beside my feet being beyond tired and sore the following day I was projected into a numb space.

I think I had put out soooo much the weeks prior, that after the spotlight turned off I went numb. I turned off the smile and drove home. We ordered Indian take-out and I sat on the couch and watched The secret life of Walter Mitty....it made me cry remembering how much I loved film photography.

This coupled with the amazing documentary I saw about Dorothea Lange not long ago; 

I was reminded of my roots and original goals for my life.

I am having what The Barren refers to as an existential crisis; I am feeling at a life crossroads.

Being an artist with a second job has me constantly juggling my mind from off ,to on, to off , to pause.

I met with a couple fellow artists yesterday, we are collaborating as a group to try and secure a location to manifest our personal visions and goals for our careers.

It has hit quite a road-bump, but when meeting yesterday, we asked of each other what is the "big dream"

What is the image we can hold on to?!

I went quiet in my mind.

I had lost sight of my long term goal...hence my existential crisis.

I have been working on making but forgetting what for...I got short sighted.

My response was to say that I would like to only have one job...

(the reality is still quite hard to swallow, but I want to put it out there)

A little voice in my head said, you don't deserve this....that is why you can't see it.

After our meeting, I drove home in silence, and then my brain got so loud and overwhelmed with thoughts that I collapsed and took a nap for 20 minutes.

On waking up I was shaking, I needed to find my goal again, 

I needed to remember what I was working for or towards.

I needed to know why I was hearing a voice tell me that I didn't deserve success?!

What allowed that voice to enter me, sabotage me and make me question all that I am?

I was at a loss and wasn't sure when that naysayer became part of my internal conversation.

Like many things in my life, when I get scared I say what is scaring me out loud. 

I learned this when I was preparing for surgery. 

Buddhists laugh in face of fear, as it reduces the power of the fear.

I call it out. I say it out loud....

If I say it enough it becomes mine again.

I deserve success, 

I make art that is loved by people other than my family and friends.

I am good enough for this

I am declaring it like I did with the lipstick.

Fear ME little voice, I will silence you!

Ignore the woman crying about cheese

NOT my only wish....

OK so firstly, I am not gonna mince words here:

I am sad about food right now.

I am a foodie, and this last bit of veganism is hard and heartbreaking.

example:

this past weekend was a long one for many in the US, it was labor day 

this is my favorite visual to go with that day of thanks:

I live in an agriculture center, and so daily I am reminded of the many that are laboring much harder than me for the food that I eat. I made sure to point out to my niece and nephew what food is grown where, so when they pass those fields, they recognize it as food and become conscience of the people working so hard to bring it to our tummies.

That being said, when the Barren and I were thinking about what to make, BBQ and snack on this weekend, the Barren suggested a caprese salad...one of my favorites and it makes sense to suggest it as it was a go-to for SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO long.

Except, this time when he mentioned it I began to cry; a sad silly cry...and then I became mad...at him for no reason and then suggested we just go home and I would eat the drywall instead.

I was possessed by a bitter, self-loathing demon, who wanted me to feel as horrible as possible about holding true to my health concerns and desire for self-preservation.

Thank goodness the Barren recognized this and simply let it all play out and then when I resurfaced and apologized for it, we went to the store for BBQ fixings.

He in his wonderful way, ended up putting soft cheese into the basket for himself...but did it with puppy-dog eyes of "I'm so sorry I am putting this in the basket, I know it haunts you"

We got home and when it was time to fix dinner he realized he got the wrong type of cheese for a salad and told me " I got the wrong kind" I said you got burrata huh?, it is creamy and super soft and delicious on toasted bread with tomato and basil...

He smirked and I just smiled and sighed.

I am having a hard time with this last stretch of vegan; dinner out is hard, dinner in is a constant dance of what to make, prepare and plan for. I'm exhausted from chopping veggies and reading recipes.

After a long day, it would awesome to have an option to just pick up dinner on the way home...but there is no real way to do that, and to add insult to injury, I have a soy sensitivity, so tofu or soy products are a no go for me... by sensitivity I will weigh the pros and cons of how intense a hot flash will be if I eat this or that.

So I am often eating soba noodles with veggies or a microwaved yam with peas and walnuts.

When my parents asked if we could do dinner together last night, as the Barren was working late, I just about burst into tears again...but instead said : I would love to but food right now is really complex and once I figure it out we will..I just have to work on it a little longer.

I have been trying the mantra: it is just food, you are fed the rest is decoration.

I went to an art opening last night and when three girlfriends asked if I would like to join them for dinner, I was ready to say thanks but no thanks...but it turns out they wanted to try a new VEGAN restaurant in town....I felt self conscience thinking they were suggesting it as they knew I was now vegan....but it turns out the place also serves gluten free which two of the three were sensitive to! 

We were a group of special food needs people, it was my tribe of particulars!

We all had a dinner together, I was able to relax and talk art with the others who are also artists and when the ordering happened I was not the only one asking what this or that was, everyone did! 

below are the obligatory food photos...in case you want to see what was tried.

top was gluten free the bottom was not...but both were vegan

STREET TACO. CACAO BLACK BEAN. JACKFRUIT ‘CHORIZO’. BLUEBERRY CHIPOTLE SALSA. CARAMELIZED ONION. HEIRLOOM TOMATO. SUMAC. JALAPENO SLAW  $10

BLACK BEAN, WALNUT AND GRILLED KALE BURGER. FLATBREAD. PEA TENDRIL. PICKLED WATERMELON RADISH. TARATOR LEMON TAHINI  $15  
the rings are breaded and fried preserved meyer lemons...weird salt/sour experience
the red smear was SUPER spicy chipotle sauce that had me gasping for air

I came home feeling a little less excluded from food culture...

Wednesday....whining

 

mad DJ skillz kitteh

 

I needed a distraction from my building ulcer....

I ordered some dresses for a little weekend getaway last week

 and my package did not arrive on Monday as it should have but instead is

still hanging out on the WRONG SIDE of the country!!

 

I am a little frustrated....OK a lot frustrated!

first world problem I know

 

My yoga class was PACKED this am, all the college students are getting in the last workout before heading home for the holiday....so new hairdo's, talk of departure dates and work breaks were all the air was filled with in the locker room.

 

Meanwhile my pretty dresses are stuck in the wrong postal office!

ugh

 

Back to what you are doing...I am just bitching for no real good reason

 

Ch Ch Changes

So remember way back in June I mentioned I got my blood tested and it triggered concern from my doctor about my cholesterol levels?
 I was all pissed and mad and ended up starting this yoga-addiction I am currently in?
I also:

stopped eating cheese
 stopped eating bread

stopped eating whole eggs
(eating only whites sometimes)

stopped eating ice cream

  stopped having the occasional drink

I started taking a vitamin daily and extra Vitamin D

I started to exercise 3-4times a week

I started eating only vegan 5-6 days a week (I am human for goodness sake)

I restricted everything that went into my mouth/body

 

joke: How can you tell someone is vegan?

a: don't worry they'll tell you 

my answer was : they are grumpy and want an ice cream

 

Well, I went back to the doc this month, as an advocate for myself and to see if I could eat goat cheese again and if any of these extreme changes was doing any good.
I mean, if this evil self experiment was really making no difference
what the fuck is the point of being miserable?
(with the food restrictions, not the yoga)
It turns out I am making changes, but the levels could drop some more.
My doctor told me "with all these measures for three months, I might be fighting "the inevitable"
A family history of high levels."
*sigh*
"If I want to stay off medicine for correcting it, keep doing what I am doing and add an Omega-3 supplement."
 *sigh*
and "BTW you have lost some real weight too...."
(well yeah, I can't eat anything fun anymore)
Can you tell I am a little bitter about this.

So here is where I turn lemons into lemonade:
I learned how to make "cheese" from nuts...well, cashew cheese.
I can now have a comfort "quesadilla"
I am learning to be that person who gets to live with a restricted diet,
I am choosing to accept it at this point.
I don't want to take medicine for cholesterol
Instead I get to take four big supplement pills with breakfast and my meals look like this:

Pistachio Mint Smoothie and a handful of almonds:
Local Pistachios, Fresh Mint Leaves, Banana, Agave
Nectar and Homemade Raw Sprouted Almond Mylk



My lunch box:
romaine, corn, lentil salad and homemade cashew cheese balls

dairy free/soy free yogurt, fresh berries and a vegan toaster waffle

my lemonade:

I got myself a
"congratulations on the three months strait of yoga girl,
those 4:30am wake-ups are a bitch "
dress from modcloth.
It is grey with little pink elephants in wine glasses all over it,
plus I am going to wear it to a wedding and
I had been drooling over for a long time, and even though
I didn't have the money for it,
I said FUCK I have had enough bullshit in my life to let that stop me.

SO The Barreness has taken control of my uterus, my family history has taken control of my food loves and now I am taking what I can back.
I am now a relectant vegan....ugh

Focusing under a grey cloud

 

I think I am fighting some melancholy.

I think it is that, it seems grey and unformed.

I am not sure why....well maybe I do.

 

I am being tested it seems, or poked...or taunted, still unsure how I am reacting to that.

Maybe that is why I am unsure if it is melancholy or not.

 

I found out a friend is doing IVF, I have a new niece, one dozen children play daily outside my front door (literally, our front door and garage door are the start and end points of their games),

I got bamboozled into a yoga class this week taught by a woman who is visibly pregnant,

I have purposely not taken her classes as I am selfish and don't want to spend my hour thinking about her uterus being full with a baby.

It twisted my mind so much, that I wasn't focused in class,  and I imagined the sounds coming from outside the studio were those of crying babies and it pissed me off and I wanted to run from the class.

She mentions that she is pregnant in every class she teaches and looks like she swallowed a basketball. I heard her tell a student that her body was not meant to carry the weight of a baby, she misses being able to suck in her stomach...I rolled my eyes and fled to the lockers.

Ideally I can continue to avoid her classes.

 

There have been a lot of articles about infertility in the news recently,

both Pamela and Miriam's piece, as well as Tracey's piece too.

And of course this sent me to do some Dr Googling on stage IV endometriosis and chance of pregnancy, with IVF or otherwise.

The verdict: less then 5%

It was a stark reality check again,

and in many ways reassuring that I am not missing something.

 

So back to the focus on my work and self and relationship and the life I want.

A mentor told me the other day that I need to really focus on what I want, career wise,

and then work backwards from that point so I can make that a goal a reality.

 

Once I let go of the feeling that I was doing something wrong, I was left feeling that I have work ahead of me; panic set in and then yesterday I sat down with my yellow pads of paper and started writing down what I want. What my goals are and now I am working on figuring out how to work back from that point to make them happen.

Big leaps are involved and there are big empty spots too....

focus focus focus focus

oh look a shiny thing....

*sigh*

I think my first task is focusing well

I am not quite sure what the point of this post was.....ugh

Ostrich

 

I hid this last weekend...

well, I didn't plan to, but hiding under the remote control and a bowl of hummus

ended up feeling like the safest place to be.

 

Let me explain.

I attended my goddaughters first communion, I got a new dress and The Barren and I met her at the church with her parents and family. We had taken godparent classes at this same church 9years ago so we "as non-catholics" could learn the important role we were undertaking.

We take pride in being her back up team...

though we never really were called to service, well so far at least.

I took some photos of our girl, who was mortified at all the attention and parceled out who could take photos with her, and fought the waterfall of tears that were welling in her eyes from people looking at her. She was clearly stressed, but did really well under the circumstances.

Her mom and dad were respectful of her feelings and space and nothing was forced on her.

She went through the paces of the service, even told her older tween sister to "be less grumpy, because I wasn't grumpy on your first communion day". We were proud and watched her and the parade of squirming and fidgety kids line up and take the wafers.

Then when mass was over, but before we all left, the pastor asked all the mothers to rise...

I have read about this situation in many other blogs and I guess because I was in church for a totally different reason I was totally taken off guard.

When they called for all the mothers to rise, it was like a fortress suddenly popped up all around me.

Like these bodies all suddenly formed deep thick walls; I was shaken, physically and began to fight back a swell of tears, I felt so ostracized.

 

 

The Barren noticing this started to touch my back and the tears fell in two streams down my face, I was angry and so hurt. The pastor was blessing these woman, telling them how important they were and how they were special and had magical powers and could fly and make milk and shit rainbows.

I stopped hearing stuff, and instead tried to hide my tears, and curse my suddenly swelling eyelids.

Then I leaned over to The Barren and told him I was leaving out the back door, there were less people in that direction and I wanted to run...fast and far.

Once outside I wanted to tackle the pastor and priests and tell them how they made me feel, and how they had excluded a non-catholic even further! I thought about the "open letter to the pastors" I had read online and wanted to give them a piece of my mind....but on reflection decided this day was not about me, it was about our goddaughter

and I needed to save these tears for a safe place,

this place was not safe.

 

I proceeded to tell The Barren to treat me like I just had an epileptic seizure and

regain normalcy post hast, that it would help me.

We met the others out front and no one was the wiser to my knowledge.

The like magic, our goddaughter walked up to us to thank us for coming and said she would like to take a picture with us, queue internal tears.

We took a photo and moved onto lunch

I had not stepped three paces into the place when our goddaughters Aunt turned to me and said:

" when you posted that thing on facebook about infertility,

I have a friend that says he has a cure for fertility."

I said: "everyone does"

and walked away into the dining room.

I was cooked; I had a drink at lunch, ate greasy noodles and then went home

and hid through Monday morning.

 

No calls on Sunday, no check-ins to friends...just me, the cats and the TV

I look forward to a day when it hurts less or just doesn't appear to be so obvious.

How I sometimes am envious of that ostrich, it can run so fast!