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He asked about my depression. I was honest. I agreed that I need to find a psychiatrist because the depression isn't something that's getting better. I have days where I don't feel so heavy but this depression isn't getting any better. Where do I find the energy or drive to search for a psychiatrist.

He asked about my eating. I was honest. I'm eating mostly crackers, peanut butter sandwiches and Cheerios. I stay close to bed. He knows it's not like me to neglect hygiene. Even as I type that I'm thinking about going back to sleep.

My leg is back to normal. I see the new doctor the 22nd. Thinking about these appointments I have this month make me want to go back to sleep. It feels so big. I don't want to get to know a new doctor. I don't want to look at this woman and see a look on her face that says she doesn't want to treat me. I don't want the rejection. What if I get there and she says its better for me if I go somewhere else because I need more care than she can give?

The last few years I've had such a hard time with my birthday. It feels like something is slipping away with each birthday. Something? I don't know what, but it hurts. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Crackers and Carrots"

10 pm
My right leg is still swollen but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did yesterday. I'm still wearing compression socks.

I fell asleep shortly after writing my last entry. I've been sleeping for a very, very long time, all day and night. I got up to use the restroom. I got up to feed the cat and take medication, other than that I've been sleeping. I couldn't keep my eyes open.

11:48 pm
I went for an orange and got distracted. I cleaned the kitchen and vacuumed the floors. I had an orange, water and some tea.

Yesterday evening was scary because I wasn't sure I'd wake up today. I jotted a quick note to my friend Snow and closed my eyes. The leg was really bad yesterday.

One of the best things for edema is activity. I need to increase blood flow. I also need to be conscious of what I eat. I don't take a lot of sodium but at this time it's best to be even more careful with it. My stretches will be important. My vascular issues are Lupus related which means the root of the problem is in my blood and immune system. If I am to have any impact on this I'll have to do it from the inside out. I have to get that turmeric, ginger and black pepper back in me on a regular basis. I have to get cinnamon and garlic back in me as well as organic honey. These are vital. Funny how I can now see how vital it is after having stopped regular intake for nearly two months. ...continue reading "Lupus and edema. Dignity in life. Finding light."

Dr D called Friday around 11 am. I spoke to him briefly. He wanted to apologize and say that he has an opening next Friday for me to come in for a session. I then got dressed to go to the grocery store. My pain level has been high all day, high enough that I've taken pain meds three times. That's not normal for me.

Emotionally I'm raw. I'm physically tired. My right leg is good and swollen the way it used to look before I was on blood thinners. I don't have a blood clot but I need to remember to drink my teas daily. That's a strange thing to say but my depression has been deep with self care and normal activities taking a back seat.

...continue reading "Not an ordinary day"

We talked to him about my aunts going to New York to clean out his apartment. I wonder if they thought to get his personal violin and music sheets.

google imageWe talked about my level of depression and the physical toll its taking.

We talked about going two or three days without drinking a cup of tea because I just didn't think to do it. That's like putting my left arm down to my side for days on end because I forgot to use it. Tea is a part of what I do, it's a big comfort for me but it's also used medically. I should drink tea and will as soon as I finish writing.  ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Violins and Skyscrapers"

I've slept quite a bit but I'm still alive and kicking. Any weather shift can cause a change in symptoms. I got off lightly with fatigue instead of higher pain levels.

The last few days have been cooler which has brought Mary Jane back to her old self. She's back to chasing the pencil as I sketch. lol. She's back to trying to sit inside my pencil box or in front of the screen so I can't see it. The best thing is hearing her pur box on full speed.

I've yet to figure out what I want to accomplish next week. No goals have been set. I know I need to get back in my little studio, at the table with paint and paper. I've been feeling distant and hesitant to express myself verbally or in art. There's a strong feeling of inadequacy and a lack of self trust that I can see a project through without messing it up. For this reason, I've put the piece Encaustic Rise to the side.

Issues with self confidence pop up from time to time. I won't attempt to pin it to a specific event, instead, I will focus on affirmations and creative resistance. I need to squash the harsh and crushing fear that I can't paint with any measure of success .... I believe I just came up with goals for next week. 


He talked about how he's seen adults crumble from the pain of caning, so why did my mother think a child could come through it time and again, whole. He said he had to find a way to get through it so while he was being beaten he began to think of more pleasurable experiences which included sexual contact with the girl next door. We were in the 4th grade she in the 3rd.

It didn't seem odd to sit next to this girl and talk about what was being done to us by adults. It was our normal and didn't seem like something we needed to hide from one another. My mother was well aware of the relationship. It was that experience and experiences with other girls that I tried to focus on when being beaten with a dowel rod.

Robert explained that the young girl's uncle had been abusing our girlfriend and that one day while my mother wasn't home the uncle came in our house. At the time, my sister and I were sleeping in my mother's bed. He sat on the end of the bed for the longest time. He made a phone call, sat there longer and then left. I called my mother to tell her. She didn't even bother to come home. She was at work and had the liberty to leave but didn't. Another time this uncle stood in the window of my mother's room and watched the three of us in bed together. That was my 4th grade year. Only when my mother and he made eye contact did she decide to call the police. She was mad because they used their sirens to announce their presence. She wanted them to sneak up on him. After that day I never saw the guy again. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Robert Talks Physical Torture and Suicide"


I found out about an hour ago that Chester Bennington from Linkin Park killed himself. I'm from the Linkin Park era. I'm from the era where we wrote their lyrics on our school notebooks and watched Chester scream while wearing plaid. He was a strange attraction, someone we could relate to.

I've watched this band grow from kids to activists to fathers. I own every major CD they ever put out.

I know the history of many of the band players. I know how difficult their lives were and I know the songs meant a lot to them and to those who listened. When I heard Chester died it shocked me then the tears came because he killed himself. That's a totally different thing than dying, it means there was excruciating emotional pain that he had to end and that he was past hearing a voice that might help him out of his pain. Hearing that he took his life means Chester was suffering, that is what's behind the tears. I know suffering. I know it emotionally and physically and I hate to hear that others suffer, especially someone I felt a connection to through their music.

I know grief will bend you in half. It will break bones like they're toothpicks. He grieved. Boy did he grieve. I know the emotional toll grief has on a person especially when grieving the suicide of a friend or family member. It can break you, burn your eyes out. My God it'll eat you alive trying to grasp that someone you love committed suicide.  ...continue reading "Suicide is Complex, to say the least – Chester Bennington"


I'm a little slow in thought and somewhat medicated.

A few years ago one of my alters suggested we take a photograph of ourselves each month. She said to do it on the 17th and that's exactly what we've done. It's to give us a clearer view of ourselves, to break from old negative messages.

Without a photo in front of me, what do I think I look like? I feel.......... and there's the challenge. The truth of what I look like is based on categories like, 5'4, African-American, plus size, brown eyes, brown hair, not feelings. That's what I look like but what I feel I look like is totally different. And that's what the photos are supposed to do, stop the shaming and see myself better. Stop 'seeing' me in phrases like I feel small, I feel like an elephant. I feel stupid.

I am still working on how I speak to myself and how I view myself. I'm still working on splitting up feelings based on truth and feelings based on shame and self loathing.

A photograph of on the 17th of each month doesn't have my face with red inked letters that spell out 'bad' so why should I include that word when describing my appearance?


My cab driver said the most shallow thing I've ever heard. She said, "If I could ask God for anything, I'd ask him for a big butt." ..... cue the crickets........ I gave no reply. I mean really, what do you say to that? Screw world peace, forget curing cancer, feeding the hungry, releasing the oppressed, give me a bubble butt! Child please, I'm not on enough medication for crap like this.

I will have my guest here Wednesday. It hit me that I'm a bit shy about my humble home. I told Dr. D today that I struggled with having someone come that might expect more. I'm not poor, I'm destitute. I've heard about this poverty line but I think, like Big Foot, it's an urban legend. Has anyone ever seen it? As a child, the mother's income saw us way above it. Despite bouts of homelessness she kept her position, strange, but she did. I almost detest money until I need it. I told Dr. D that my needs are primarily emotional and spiritual. I have very little use for ...things....

This individual will come here and meet me with no pretenses, no complications, just me and the walls that hold the things that make me tick. Eventually I returned to my center and stopped the whole garbage about my home being too humble. Jordan will handle the artist that's visiting us.

Dr. D asked if I still feel suicidal. I said yes. He asked if I am going to act on it. I said no but I'm surprised at the length of time these thoughts have lingered.

Car accident number two in one week. Lesson learned: never ride with someone while they're very, very manic. I actually screamed out, "Oh no, Jehovah, this is going to hurt!" She started laughing. It did hurt and still does. Can I get in a car and not slam into something? When she's not driving recklessly we have a total blast. I really enjoy her company.

...continue reading "humble home. pizza-giggle. pets"

First I had to clean up then accept two guests. After they left I worked with the terrariums and the frogs. The cat waited patiently for her turn as Snow and I discussed the service animal issue before me. She wants to know if I can do the stairs. I said, I fear my depression has gotten to the point that a cat will allow me to lay in bed for a good long time but a dog demands I get up. Besides, I am a dog person. Mary Jane is the best girl ever, the best. I'm afraid of losing her and I'm afraid of what I'm feeling in my head and the desperation in my heart. I feel my situation is such that I can do the stairs to take him out daily, 4 x. I've gotten stronger. At the end of the winter I'll know for certain if I can do this. Dr. D and Dr. Yes are on board with this. I need something that forces my hand, that forces me outside myself. I'm afraid of me. I'm afraid of the depression, of the anger and anxiety. I feel like I'm betraying my girl by bringing another furry creature here.

...continue reading "Anxieties Amass"

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