Paranoia, Fear, OCD and Art

My caregivers take me in the community regularly. They assume their presence is enough to keep me calm and feeling safe and grounded. I’d say the statement is 75% true. My anxiety after being stalked has risen. It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a game. It was a lot longer than a year! And it was violent and intense! I’m happy to be safe now.

I’m not paranoid in my new home any more than I’ve ever been paranoid. I don’t think being stalked changed that level. I’m back to my old fears, obsessions and compulsions in the new place. Like always I’ve kicked into my coping skills.

Reality check – Can I validate my fears? Are they in the realm of possibility?

Grounding. Remind myself of who I am and that I’m safe. My name is XYZ. I’m X yrs old. I’m safe now! I have an friends, an apartment and most of all a future!

Stimulation / Distraction. It’s time to switch the channels. I have a small vile with me that has the tiniest little bit of lavender in it. It’s my on the run aromatherapy. I also carry a small scratch pad to sketch in because art works for me. Earthing, sitting by the fan or just going outside can help eleviate stress and get it back down to a manageable level.

I would not normally suggest using a tablet at the table in a restaurant but I do it regularly now. I’ve done it in line at Ross because the line was long. The new Five Bellow needs to open more registers but this entry isn’t about that LOL. I sketch at any time, any place in order to control the anxiety, especially if I’ve already tried lavender.

Usually by this time the CNA has picked up on my sketching and starts to ask questions. She kicks into CNA mode and we move to the side for just a bit.

There are times when I can catch my breath and we can proceed but other times I just want to go home. In the car my pen moves like crazy.

OCD Getting all my teeth pulled was the single best thing I could have done. The tooth brush was simply too much.

Bidet. Yeah, should have done this a long time ago, too. It’s difficult to use the restroom. Difficult to clean up especially if there are issues.

The disorder is not fun. I’m trying to manage. I see the new psychiatrist August. That feels like… is... forever.

Faith Magdalene

Project Reflections

I clearly remember the first and last brush strokes of the painting, More Than A Clown.. They were equally moving.

By the time I got the features together I remember the feeling this project was huge, different, emotionally powerful.

I was going to to have to tell a story in color, on her face. A story of someone not taken seriously, not listened to , unseen by people who refused to see. I was going to paint it all; including the parts where they laughed thinking they’d won.

The last expression would be through her hair. Red, blue and purple flames licked the sky all around. The flames licked but did not scorch in the garden where she stood. The name of the garden is Hope. As it is said, “You only start a garden if you hope to see it grow.”

The young woman knows she holds hope in her hands…. and sunflower seeds. I knew I’d have to paint all my that. And I I did. I know it’s a deep piece but ha! it’s her truth and mine.

Live Free. Create Well.

Faith Magdalene’s Sundrip

Lupus: Destruction. New Home

Evevn though I’m not over here actively dying of kidney disease I’m kinda flipping out about it. With Lupus the most precious organs you have are the kidneys, lungs and heart. Lupus is going to attack them!

The only thing wrong with my heart is the right branch bundle block and the left bundle block. No artery disease. No failure.

I have three times tested for difficulties with my liver which means I’ll soon see the specialist.

Things are yucky right now. Day after day of yuck. Lupus rolls through damaging whatever is in its path.

Thursday is the move! The place I’m moving to has an entire care system. They have :

  • Independent Apartment Living (me)
  • Assisted Living
  • Nursing Home

There’s a transition program in between Assisted Living and Nursing Home but I don’t remember what it is.

I llike the idea of being set up with a very nice health system on the side of town where a big part of my support system lives.

I hope things go well here. I’m looking forward to a new home.

Faith Magdalene

The Damage. The Appreciation.

My kidneys are weak but not dead. That’s great news. I’m drinking 64oz of water a day, doctor’s orders. As long as I add a bit of fruit to the water I really don’t mind at all.

I’m in a decent amount of pain because of the inflammation and the rash associated with kidney disease. Who knew the skin could be affected so negatively when the kidneys go down hilll? My back has a nice rash and my legs get so dry that I flake like Tony the Tiger. It’s not great!

There’s been zero art. I look forward to painting in the new place. The new place will also bring two new caregivers because the one I liked so much wasn’t able to continue. In the new place I’ll have a female in the morning and a male aide in the evening. After him I’ll have a person for five hours until midnight. I have overnight care. They’ll lock the door and return in 9 hours.

All that so I can live independently. I appreciate it.

Now for tea.

It’s Just a Foot

I owe you an apology. Please, wake up, I owe you an apology. I said it was just a foot and not worth dying over because I didn’t understand. Tears swell in my eyes. My lips begin to trimble as I stand before headstone after headstone. Wake up! every Granny, aunt, uncle with a leg, arm, hand or foot they let get too bad until it was too late and tell them I was wrong. It’s not just a foot is it? No. Not when it happens to you. Instantly you understand your humanity.

The wind hesitates. I pretend to breathe. I owe you an apology.

I didn’t know the brain would need to rewire. I didn’t know the fear you’d live in of another amputation, or of physical therapy.

“She’s your nurse” doesn’t contain the impact a stranger has of touching every inch of your body at all times, of dangling fingernails over all your belongings leaving nothing untouched, feeding garbage food you can barely taste because life itself is stale.

Sweetheart wake up. Wake up. I touch another headstone. I didn’t know it would be this hard.

For the living

I’m colder than I’ve ever been. I’ve felt more pain and fear in the last 7 years than the previous years of life. Only 2% of the time do I think to myself, I should have died. Most of the time I’m happy I made it but I’m in the crowd that has to say I was wrong to pass judgment on people who couldn’t see the amputation through. It’s not just a foot. I was young. I didn’t know what I was saying. Who am I to say who does or doesn’t have the strength to endure an amputation?

Faith Magdalene

One Cup More: Ginger Apple Carob Tea

The third cup was delightful!

  • Large piece of fresh ginger chopped
  • Small piece of fresh yellow turmeric chopped
  • 1 green cardamom
  • Cinnamon
  • Ground black pepper
  • Fresh lemon
  • Dried apple pieces
  • Carob chips

Anxiety has been rather high as neighbors try me…. My paint brushes fly in an embarrassing flurry. My heart is troubled. I remember I have coping skills. I have friends and I have anger enough to propel me forward one more step, one more day.

Faith Magdalene

Awake Stroke Recovery Art

Finishing “Awake” took much effort but it is here, reworked, beaming with color and striking details.

Bellow are my comments.

I woke to a new existence somewhere unknown, they called it a stroke. Now words come like slow snails, or they are kidnapped so as not to form on my chapped lips. 

I painted the emotional roller-coaster I felt as I played tug of war with my body, emotions, speech and interpersonal relationships. Ultimately I felt lost, defeated and misunderstood. I also thought I’d never paint again.

Grueling therapy and persistence with paint brushes helped me get to the point where I can say I’m awake. I’m awake to what has happened and the I’m happy the hardest part of it is behind me. Awake is about surviving the body after stroke and making it my new home.

You will find more images and a short video on Etsy. I also accept PayPal.

Thank you for letting me talk. Thank you for visiting SUNDRIP Art for Life.

Faith Magdalene

Validation. Symptoms. Wording.

A nurse came out to assess me for continued in home nursing. I asked about the difficulties I have with speech but not with reading. She said my speech and memory issues are related to the stroke.

For example, say I may want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I’ll get the bread and peanut butter, however I will ask the nurse to get the jelly. I can see the jar in my head but the word won’t come out for anything. But if the jar is turned around with the label facing me then I can read it and say “may I have the jelly please”. Otherwise we could be sitting there for three weeks with me trying to get the word jelly out of my mouth. I can picture the object in my head but it’s as if the word is trapped.

I’m not accustomed to being believed. It was hard to admit how often it happens.

The nurse said this is related to the stroke. I thought I was just growing stupid with age. As it turns out, it’s not stupidity at all, but a symptom of something else.

Sometimes the words used to describe myself are a bit harsh.

When in bed, only in bed, primarily on my right side, heavier at the feet and head, my body jerks really hard, like really hard. Hard enough to wake me. I have a semi electric hospital bed, noise thing. I jerked really hard, slammed on the bed frame and woke the neighbor directly above me. We have paper thin walls, but still. Not sure if the doc is going to take that seriously or if it’s going to get brushed aside like many things appear to. I know when I lie down I’m going to have to deal with the hard jerking around. It seems to have increased lately. Interesting.

Faith

Today’s Endurance

I screamed myself awake, and possibly my neighbors, around 6 this morning. I don’t exactly remember the dream. I just remember it was horrible and I was terrified. I was kicking and screaming. But I didn’t catch it on camera because my camera wasn’t set up. I hate that.

I wish I had caught that on camera so I can see what I was doing before and what I was doing after. I would like to have seen Joe’s reaction. After much struggling I finally had the camera set up so we’ll see how tonight goes.

Today has been really difficult. I have been scattered brained. I’ve messed up just about everything I’ve touched; everything I touched broke today so I’m pretty annoyed.

It’s just one of those days so I decided to list things that are good in my life. I listed five things that are blessings in my life because if not then it was just going to be an overwhelming day of sadness that seemed all for nothing. So I did, I came up with five things. I’m happy I was able to pause and go , okay listen, endurance is for a reason. It’s not to see who can suffer a long time, endurance has a purpose for the issues. That purpose is what I’m fighting for.

Here is a plant corner in my studio apartment that I enjoy.

Joe has been put on a different food by the vet. He’s been taken off his meds and he’s doing very well. His skin looks sooo much better. The boy’s actually kinda got an attitude now. He’s still Super Service Cat like no other but wow is he mouthy. 🙂

I’m down to two breathing treatments a day. My lungs still hurt very much from whatever chemical was in my apartment. I was in the hospital twice over it. Yuck. That’s part of the, “endurance is for a purpose” entry.

Lastly, I missed my OCD meds for a week. Life is hard right now. Prior Authorization and such took a bit. I finally got them after a full week. I can feel the difference. It hurts.

Until soon,

Faith Magdalene

The Crooked Tea Cup – Chatter Art

I take pen to paper and near violently sketch, in order to manage obsessive thoughts and counting. The Etsy painting expresses anxiety building that I needed to manage.

I paint what’s swirling in my head, marching, counting or popping. Art helps manage the symptoms and situation. 

When focused, I’ll express how I feel in bright colors next to black lines, and upside down flowers without uttering a single word.

This painting is 5.5×8.5 inches on watercolor paper, unmounted, signed, sealed

“The Crooked Tea Cup” – Arrows direct the path I should take;  paranoia is her guide.

Please see my Etsy shop for this raw art original.

Faith