Year: 2022

An environment that fosters creativity

Posted on by Faith

It’s been a year since I finished a painting or started on a new doll but I feel like I’m at a place in my physical and emotional health to get to sewing again.

I look tired and I’ve got dark circles under my eyes but today was still a good day. This is the feeling that I lost with CNAs. Peace. I feel a measure of peace in my home again. I’m not emotionally healthy but I’ve still regained the peaceful, welcoming feeling in my home.

It’s been a good day

I believe one of the major blocks I had that kept me from creating much was the way I began to view the apartment. It started to feel more felt like a hospital than my home. Instead of feeling able and capable, I ended up in patient mode like in the hospital when I had no control over anything.

Another issue that I’m correcting is my lack of privacy. This efficiency apartment displays everything I own. I don’t like that so I made some changes to my furniture to gain more privacy. I honestly think when I’m better able to feel less on display and gain more peace at home that I’ll have taken a big step towards trusting my environment. When I feel I can trust again that is when some sort of painting will take place. Who knows what style of painting I’ll have. One should not have any expectations as to style.

Several times this week I came close to grabbing my sketch book but I couldn’t do it. The wall separating me from painting is weaker but still stands. Well, between surviving 2018 followed by Trumpism, Coronavirus, the recession, war and monkeypox, my ability to trust the moment got shattered. I’m happy to say it feels like I’m close to rebuilding an atmosphere conducive to creativity which includes sewing and painting. I’ve been working hard on building blocks so art can feel safe enough to happen.

I plan to be full swing into sewing even before the next ten days of bedrest ends. This will total 30 days on bed rest which has been torture.

In-home care is going very well. I feel secure with it. I know I’ll be able to have reliable help when I make messes. I also have two people to assist with getting items mailed out on time. I feel like I’ve done a lot of preparation….. and procrastination. lol

I’ve even narrowed down which days of the week I’m going to concentrate on sewing and days I’ll use for writing letters to elderly people. Basically I’m making sure I have what I need to succeed.

I refuse to make dolls in bed. I won’t lie, I’m up all the time. I’m going to steal an hour or so a few days a week and just return to bed after I’m done.

I’ve got back issues and a muscle spasm that stretches from the middle of my back all the way around to my navel. It feels like a belt. It’s stressing the bowel and bladder.

I’m on some strong meds and muscle relaxers 3x a day which means I’ll be sewing by hand at first. I don’t want a OUI – operating machinery under the influence of meds. lol Really though, I could get hurt so I’ll sew by hand until it’s safe enough to get on the machine.

You know what? My memory foam mattress remembers too much 🙂 Bed rest and memory foam are not friends. I’ve put an outline of my body in my memory foam mattress because of staying in it so long. lol…. I had to have my friend I call Mary Poppins aka Mary to turn my mattress around so I can put a body outline in the other side. lol Thank goodness it’s just a twin bed. It’s not terribly heavy to turn to the other side.

Anyway… as far as the type of dolls I’ll create, I’ve already got an idea in mind that I’d like to develop. The dolls will be sad dolls and some others will have body irregularities. One should not expect happy, wide eyed little girls, cause I don’t do those. I could only paint what was in my heart, it’s the same with sewing. I can’t relate to a grinning, happy, bubbly doll, but I can relate to and create dolls like Shiloh. She is a little soulful girl, full of emotion in her big brown eyes.

Shiloh by Sundrip

I’m nervous about sewing “sad dolls” because I’m not certain how they’ll go over in my Etsy shop. I made 3 a year ago or so. I sold one and kept two for myself.

While going through and sorting doll clothes I found a doll I thought I’d sold. This is Sweet Pea hanging out in a tree.

Sweet Pea by Sundrip

I don’t know what I originally named her but she has a new name since she’s staying with me.

Sweet Pea by Sundrip

She makes me smile with her rosy cheeks and her little shoes. I just adore her. She and Shiloh are part of my private collection.

I will have another doll update soon. Hopefully I can report that I’ve got everything cut out and that I’m started on sewing.

My Etsy shop is still closed for the time being, but you can visit the galleries here on Sundrip and you can purchase prints from my Redbubble shop.

Until soon,

Faith

Gratitude: Relief

Posted on by Faith

While learning to live in a COVID world, I’ve begun to venture out and meet new people. I met a woman who was in the segregated south and was living in the thick of historic moments many only read about.

I’m grateful for the loyal love and patience shown to me at this pivotal moment in my life.

My friends love me enough to want to rescue me. They love me enough not to, but to instead walk with me or offer guidance.

I’m grateful for personal acupuncture and vagus nerve therapies. Some of the therapies associated with my ears have stopped panic attacks within one minute. I wear an adjustable helix or daith cuff (ear cuff) to assist with pain management.

I purchased a Trigger Point Stimulator Tool which I highly recommend. It’s been helpful in relaxing neck and side muscles. Sciatica be gone! The one I purchased explains that there are “two crystals inside will create a small electrical stimulus that mimics acupuncture and helps release trapped energy.”

I have enjoyed more peace of mind as of late than I have in a long time. Peace of mind and happiness are not a constant state of being, instead an accumulation of moments.

I’m grateful for plants. I so love plants! They help me focus my thoughts and do something positive with my anxious energy.

Joe has turned out to be a wonderful service animal. I had to look it up if cats can detect and alert illness because it sounds so strange but, three times Joe has loudly demanded that I wake up.

The other day was the 3rd time he insisted loudly, with screeching, that I wake up. I knew what he was doing so I sat on the edge of the bed. I used my rescue inhaler then took all my vitals.

From Senior Cat Wellness

Long story short, he woke me while I was having an asthma attack with terribly low blood pressure and very fast heart rate. When my sitting heart rate went above 106, Joe began to alert me with that horrible screech.

To prevent me from going anywhere, Joe parked himself behind the wheel of the wheelchair and refused to move. He was clearly focused on me with huge, huge pupils.

Begging for ice-cream

When I had to use the restroom I carefully got in the chair. Joe walked beside the chair all the way to the restroom as if he was escorting me. Maybe an hour later I was so tired that I had to sleep. I felt comfortable sleeping bc Joe was watching over me.

Joe with a paw on my leg

How on earth did I score a senior cat who can naturally detect pulmonary issues? I couldn’t be more grateful.

Faith

Pet Woes

Posted on by Faith

Content: My frog died

Its been trying around here. First one of my frogs passed away then the tank itself got broken by a friend.

It feels silly to feel so sad over the death of a frog but this really hurt.

I especially liked Clyde because he was named after the dog I had before the hospitalization. Clyde the frog was a bit of a character. He made me laugh. If there was a bunch of commotion in the terrarium I knew he was in the middle of it. He was my ADHD frog.

Clyde as a baby

I believe it was Wednesday just before talking to my therapist that Clyde’s issue went from bad to terminal. He went from a beautiful color of turquoise to dark emerald green with lime green spots all over. That’s a bad thing. Then he stopped eating or soaking. He started looking for places to hide under. He tucked his head and he sat there.

He ended up with a bacterial infection because the temperature and humidity went haywire. These frogs will be 5 in October. I did everything the same for close to 5 years but suddenly, out of nowhere, the temps wouldn’t stabilize. The temperature was too low and the humidity was way too high, which is what facilitated the infection.

I went to my frog group but they were so unfeeling that I left the group. However, several people messaged me to assist. Long story short, the tank stayed at low temp high humidity for 7 days before the fix came along. That was too much for Clyde and he passed away. His brother Sam is now struggling but the other two are just fine.

Just like I’d do with any other animal, I sat there with him for a minute. I went from shock and disbelief straight to guilt and sadness. I apologized to him. I wanted so much to provide a full, happy lifespan of about fifteen years. He was in my care. It was a hard day.

The tank was the next thing to manage. I ended up purchasing $70 worth of equipment for the tank to stabilize the environment, but I first had to tear down the entire terrarium, disinfect it and put it back together. Well, my friend and I decided to put it back vertically instead of horizontally. We completely rebuilt it and turned on the heat. Well, guess where the heat bulb was placed? On the top panel directly touching the glass.

It sound like a gunshot when it cracked. Honestly, I was in too much physical pain, too physically tired, too emotionally spent to invest any emotional energy in the situation. It was as if I saw a wall come up and place a boundary between me and anything emotional the situation might require.

As I sat there with little expression, she looked at like, “OMG I broke her tank. Should I run?” My calm response was, “Don’t worry about it.” I’m still not angry. I’m overwhelmed.

One of the small side panels now has a large crack / shattered area in the center. While that panel of glass was still too hot to the touch, I had her semi-seal the “crack”. She put clear 3M packing tape on the inside of the panel, with a spatula. It melted. I had her do the same thing on the outside. As it cooled we added more clear tape in rows- neatly! We then stood the tank up and kept going. I need a new tank ASAP.

While the tank was being handled by morons, the 3 remaining frogs were treated with a topical antibiotic and placed in a sterile environment. The recommended medication was $90 but I paid $0 because I already had some. Dodged an expensive bullet!

After the tank was functional and all the frogs were put in, I noticed Sam was more than stressed. He’s stressed when handled. He doesn’t like it at all. Then I put meds on him and crammed him in with the other two frogs. Hours later I put him in a completely different temperature and set up. He doesn’t look good and I’m really worried.

I hope with everything Sam pulls through

When I told Snow that the tank is broken she asked if the friend was going to pay for it. I said no. I told her that sadly, I was going to do the same stupid, ignorant, common sense defying thing she did. I was going to hook it up the exact way she did. So it was six of one, half dozen of another. Either way, that tank was getting broken by one of us lobotomy victims.

It was so dumb. When I sit and think of it now it’s so obvious. LOL I wonder how many people just lost respect for me now that you know I seriously was going to put a heat source directly on glass. LOL. I may need her to contribute to the cost of a suitable vertical terrarium.

Marketplace may be a good option for me at the beginning of August.

Stand and wait

Posted on by Faith

I will wait

I know how it feels to be so broken that it felt as if I’d die where I lay. But it’s true, if you hang on for one more day the urge to act in a permanent way will not be as strong.

When I couldn’t pick myself up, even after the wait, I reached out and my friends reached back. I’m grateful for that.

Faith Austin – Sundrip

A Joe Schmoe Update

Posted on by Faith

As Joe Schmoe recovers he’s getting away with murder. LOL This furry, green eyed boy seriously rules me.

Joe prefers the right side of the bed, well that’s also the side I want to sleep on. If he’s already sleeping there I won’t move him I’ll just sigh and grumble as I sleep on the left. If he’s sleeping comfortably on the blanket I’ll wait for him to get up.

When I was making all sorts of concessions and adjustments for the boy I knew then I’m wrapped around his paw, tightly.

I can get wrapped up in the blankets like a burrito hugging a pillow, but my zen moment will be interrupt by his paws walking across my back and over my head. He’ll ignore 3 other pillows just to try to fit himself in the crook of my arm hugging the pillow. Several times I’ve given him that pillow and hugged another only to have him find a way to be part of the moment. Lol

Joe, the Sundrip studio cat, is definitely improving since his stroke. He was so…. absent for awhile….. physically alive yet absent. It’s a relief to see his personality come out.

Joe is back to

  • thinking his food bowl is empty bc he ate a hole in the middle and he can now see the bottom of the bowl.
  • to standing half hidden behind a curtain in some creepy stalker way, observing me from a far, as I use the restroom.
  • Resumed his hobby of bombing Zoom meetings
  • and critiquing my art. He takes his job as studio cat very seriously.
Joe – Sundrip Studio Cat

I figure he’s going eventually going to be 100%.

My hard lesson has been learned.

Faith – Joe’s mom

Therapy Review: Sundrip. Death and Dying

Posted on by Faith

Content: Self love. Sundrip and social media. Death and dying. Sexual Assault.

We talked about shame and guilt. Guilt is for actions but shame describes who I am.

Self Love. We talked about fear as it relates to self love. I fear saying I’m worth loving because doing so means I have to fully accept that my mother was wrong. To a certain degree I still deny the full impact of her actions and what she allowed.

I know I have self love to a certain degree. I said I love you to myself for the first time ever.

An opportunity for further targeted psychological treatment has opened up to me. I’m not in the mental health space to accept it but the offer stands. The practitioner, aka Hippie Therapist, will allow me to video conference. This doesn’t replace Dr D.

Sundrip. I’ve said several times over the years that I’d like to walk away from Sundrip.com as it is now. I know in my heart I can’t simply shut things down. Sundrip is my baby, but I think it’s time to bring this to a change from what it is now. It has been definitively decided that I’m closing the blog part of Sundrip in five months time. Why 5 months? Three months are too few but 6 is too long. I need to take gradual steps. I’ve set a date.

This is going to be difficult but needed. The world has changed since I started this blog. The internet has changed. Honestly, I fear I have too much to lose by continuing as is.

Death and Dying. We spoke about how I gasp and sit up in bed because of feeling like I’m on the gurney, at the hospital being wheeled to a surgery I wasn’t expected to survive. That was 2018 but it still haunts me. For days I said goodbye to my friends. We wept and supported each other. I apologized for the hurt I was causing by being in that condition. I said goodbye to my long term therapist. I so did not want to hang up.

It felt like I had been given the death penalty and that at 11am (?) I was going to die.

That hallway was long. The room was cold. They asked me to take a deep breath. It felt like I was participating in my own death. I wasn’t supposed to survive that, so I felt like I was asked to take my last breath. Breathe deeply and go to sleep w a 15% chance of surviving. I took a deep breath in and exhaled the name of my God. The anesthesiologist was brilliant and supportive.

When I woke from a surgery done only a few times in the United States, the nightmare wasn’t over. Did I survive a 10 hour surgery only to bleed to death? The nurse held my juggler closed with her hands because I would not clot. Another nurse held the artery in my groan. Other means to stop the bleeding were used too but the main way they got it to stop was to clamp them manually w me awake.

Despite the violence in my childhood, I never begged my mother for my life or for her to stop. In the hospital that day, w the sheets turning red, I begged the nurse to please not let go. She said she wouldn’t. She said to be quiet, turn my head to the left and look up. Eventually I woke up in the arms of my friend. The first thing she said was, I never knew you were this sick. This is Lupus? She held me.

Amazingly, I only have one physical scar from the surgery to get all the blood clots. Despite the foot being dead, I had to wait 2 more months before they could amputate it. The skin began to slough off. That sight is burned in my head.

The recovery room after the blood clots surgery was interesting. My bed was in the middle of the room. It tipped in different degrees, went all the way to the floor and quite high up. I had my own nurse. I was her only patient. I still remember her name.

There was a large area w homey furniture to the right and down a step, other friends were allowed to stay. I was in complete shock and so was everyone else.

Daily, for five months they took my blood directly from the vein, not the IV. I understood why but it still felt like torture. Changing the bandages on my new stump sometimes took 2 hours. It was torture. I felt like I was going to crack.

Dr D and I are discussing possible emotional and cognitive issues as a result of the stroke. We don’t feel that Pseudobulbar affect (PBA) applies to the fullest extent, but we are exploring emotional differences since the stroke.

What I’m aware of at this point is that I’m unable to emotionally or physically cope. I feel like my insides are missing and have been replaced with a dark hole and overwhelming despair. I don’t feel like I can reach inside for strength because I feel hollow.

In 2020 I was assaulted. Where am I safe? How do I protect myself? I’m afraid.

I need mercy.

Faith