Wednesday, 10/28/2020

Spent some time "arting", as an acquaintance's two year old daughter calls the art of collage.  'Turned on the old stereo and picked the next two albums in the order in which they had been unpacked years ago.  We  I (Shayna was too busy trying to rip her bed) listened to Peter Nero's "Summer of 42" and Henry Mancini's "Six Hours Past Sunset".

This was music from the 70s, so it was all very nostalgic.  My friends were listening to Grateful Dead and there was I - totally square and unhip, but quite happy to be so!  

I rejoined WW in an attempt to lose the Covid 15.  I had lost the weight I wanted to lose, but then being house bound and seemingly always hungry, and with Amazon, Peapod and Instacart, each just a click away, I fed my anxiety with yummy but unhealthy goodies.  Think Smartfood popcorn, Cape Cod chips and my total weakness, Good 'n Plenty.  Damn.  Between the popcorn kernels and the chewy licorice, I also had two dental issues.  

Friday 10/30/2020

First snow of 2020-2021 season!  Productive work day.  MHN requested kasha varnishkes, so made that for him and then decided to peel and cut up the mother of butternut squashes.  It was huge and was selected by the Instacart folks. While I was praying I would not chop off a finger (or worse), it took me nearly an hour to get that mother ready for the freezer.  We will eventually make butternut squash soup but MHN had an early rendezvous in the kitchen and made some split pea soup. So butternut is on the horizon.

Tried to nap later in the afternoon, but couldn't.  Decided to collage.  I find that I am pretty uptight with my work.  With collage, it doesn't have to be straight or make sense.  It is a stream of consciousness event for me.  Maybe that's wrong, but that's how I do it. It is blowing my mind that real people - like real artists - are beginning to follow me.  I think I also have too many "spaces" in my work.  I will improve in time. Or not.  Working in this medium is immensely satisfying to me and relaxes me.  I am not worried about the mess as my work table is covered with papers, ripped magazines and all kinds of ephemera.  

If you know me, you would know I am a neat freak, so I guess my laissez-faire attitude with regard to my arting area means that I am loosening up.  (Or not.)

Albums played this afternoon were Laura Nyro's "First Songs", Richard Marx's "Richard Marx" and Beatles "Rubber Soul".  The Beatles album was a gift from a high school BF.  (I was in high school; he was a bit older and working.)  He was my introduction to the art of innocent romance.  

Our first kiss...it was really the first kiss that mattered;  I was shy and looking down and he gently lifted my chin and gave me the softest kiss, like a feather across my lips.  I was hooked.  (Until I wasn't.)  "Our" song was "Never My Love".  Remember that one by the Association?  He used to call me Lovey.  (Isn't that what Thurston Howell the third used to call his wife?)    Mike passed away, suddenly, a little more than a year ago.  

Where does the time go?

Love Was a Many Splintered Thing

Previously Posted 2017

So, back in the day, way back in the day, if anyone had suggested that I would be married more than once, I would have laughed until my belly ached and coffee spurted out of my nostrils. 

As it turned out, I am currently in my third marriage.  

I was a sweet young thing of 23 when I first married.  My first husband was a worldly 29, served in the Peace Corps and was working on an advanced degree.  He was an electrical engineer.  He designed and fixed things.  If I said it would be fun to have a wine rack that hung from the cabinet, he would make me one.  We sprouted beans, drank Postem, went to the symphony, lectures and the theater.  We had a sailboat.  We talked about living on a boat.  We bought a house and got a puppy.  We gardened, dined and wrote poetry.  I cried myself to sleep most nights.  After 6 years, I filed for divorce and subsequently had the marriage annulled.   

Husband #2 came along when my heart was broken but he was complete opposite of #1.  He was an entertainer, a musician and usually the life of the party.  But, what one saw was not always what one got when behind closed doors.  I spent a lot of time alone.  We bought a condo, had a baby, built a house, got a puppy and I cried myself to sleep most nights.  After nearly 14 years, I filed for divorce. 

I vowed I would never marry again, but then along came Michael.

What can I say about him?  What do you say about someone who is selfless in his desire to make you happy?  What can you say about someone who wants to heal people and make things right? What do you say about someone who listens when you speak?

Michael had clinical training and recognized that I suffered from depression.  During each divorce, having been seen by two different therapists, for extended periods of time, no one recognized this issue.  I probably would have gone on for the rest of my life crying myself to sleep.  But, thanks to this man, who would not let me hide my fading embers under a bushel and who helped me escape my shroud of sadness, I have my life back.  Granted, half of it was already over, but half of a healthy life is better than none.

Do I have regrets?  There were real problems in both marriages, so understanding my depression would not have stopped the divorces. From each relationship, I learned so many things…that the world is bigger than my short horizon and yet I do deserve to have a shining place under the sun. And I deserved to be loved.  We all deserve love.

Do I ever cry myself to sleep?  If I do (and I have), they are for reasons that I understand.

“Depression is a mental disorder that affects the mind and can have noticeable affects on physical and social wellness. According to an article on depression by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, depression remains one of the main causes of death and illness in the U.S. and is linked to inability to function socially, reduced quality of life and disability.”    

From the website, http://www.livestrong.com.

W T F?

 

So, for a variety of reasons, I have deleted most of my subscribers.  I really don't think anyone truly gives a shit, so I only want people who care to read my stuff.  

This blog is my emotional outlet.  It is for me to help me work out what I am going through.  It is not meant to downplay anyone else's pain or suffering.  Everybody is going through shit of one kind or another.

But, this is my way of getting to see myself to the other side:  becoming a widow, prayerfully, later than sooner.  Selling my house and downsizing.  Worrying about money the rest of my life.  Worrying about who will find me when I don't wake up one morning.  Worrying about my little dog and what will become of her.  Worrying about my kids and grandkid.  Where are they? Where will they be? Worrying about whether my job will continue.  I really never considered that these "golden" years might actually be "pyrite" years!

In the meantime, I am trying to "get ready".  Getting rid of stuff, slowly.  Probably too slowly.  Trying to teach myself to be a better caregiver, like not saying "no" to requests for massage, making sure the food he likes is plentiful... I know I should be doing more for him, but he feels better when he can do for himself, so for now, I allow that.  But he no longer blows the leaves and he misses that chore so much, nor does he putter around the yard.  He needs to walk on stable hard surfaces and while we have a flat yard, it is bumpy and lumpy in places and he absolutely can not take a fall. 

While I am pissed that few people in my family check in with him directly, I have to say kudos to my 95 year old aunt who manages to call him and even wished him a happy new year.  She is the only one, aside from my parents, who acknowledged his Judaism.  It is and was very touching to him.  

He found videos of my parents on his computer.  I can't wait to see them.

He did ask me a weird question.  He asked if he would see VAT on the other side.  I said yes and he got a little upset.  I explained that heaven is all good and all loving and there will be no hard feelings toward anyone.  That is a very hard concept to grasp.  I believe this and at times, I also have a hard time with it.  

So, there are people I have disliked, with or without reason, and I have tried to right the wrongs as I become conscious or aware.  There are people I have loved with whom I have lost contact with and am trying to find them and re-establish friendship and lines of communication.

As I wrote on my Instagram account, I am trying to become a "be" and not a "wanna be".  @ciciellyn514.

Sending love to all who care and even more to those who do not.

Descent into Sadness (or Madness?)

 

Nothing even happened yet.

This has been me for a few weeks now.  MHN has more pain and he has been saying that he's heading to his end.  I deny it and fluff over it because I am not sure what else to do.  I want to scream and "make" him get rid of the disease.  I don't accept that his pain is something that he can't handle and every groan makes me angry.  The click of his cane makes me silently moan.  He can't be dying.  No!!!

The golden years?  All the work, blood, sweat and tears to get to a place of relative comfort.  All the plans of where we would go and what we would do...they were all for nothing. 

My therapist retired and I can not bear the thought of starting all over again with a new one.  68 years of shit.  There is no way I have the energy to hash through all that again. So, I do the best I can while at the same time, I am upsetting the very person I care most about.  When he asks for a back massage, I sometimes say "no". What is wrong with me?  

Coupled with all of this, we approach November.  My sister passed 11 years ago on November 21st and my daughter's father passed a year ago on the 12th.  Both of these events still are with me.  I remember each event leading to the actual deaths and the aftermath.  Seeing the heartbreak in my parents eyes and hearing the wails of my daughter.  

I worry about the election and what will happen to this country if the worst thing happens that could happen. (45 becomes 46).  What if social security goes away? What will happen to all the seniors?  What will happen to ME?

November was always the best month for me.  Thanksgiving, Christmas and the new year approaching; new ideas, new plans.  Fires in the fireplace. Family around the table.  Now, November is an open wound in my gut with raggedy edges, bloody and deeply painful.  

I am so scared.

 

Sunday, the 18th of October

 It's a nippy morning out there today!  Went down the driveway to get the newspapers and was so glad to have grabbed a jacket.

Planning on a low key Sunday.  Just a few chores on the To-Do.*  MHN requested escarole and beans with some crusty bread for a peasant Sunday lunch.  I hope to work in my studio;  'Decided to stop calling it "poor woman's studio" or italicizing or offering quotation marks on "studio".  At this time, it IS my studio and I love spending time in it!  Also hoping to finish reading My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante.  The 4 book set was purchased and I am enjoying it, much more than when I first tried reading it a couple of years ago. Not sure why I couldn't get into it earlier.  

We have already voted and the votes have been confirmed as received.  At this writing, I believe there is going to trouble no matter who wins.  We have 45 stating he will not accept the results if he loses and I see civil unrest on the horizon.  And, if 45 wins, the protests (and GOD only knows to what level), will be ramped up.  I can only speak for myself, and I see those things taken for granted as being compromised -  life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness.  I am so scared for this country.

*One of the chores on the To-Do is to, once again, clean the inside windows in the family room.  We are lucky (or unlucky, depending on your perspective) to have floor to ceiling windows on the first floor, which allows one spoiled little dog to guard her territory.  She spends many hours surveying and as a result, there are many little snootski (as we call her little nose) marks along the glass.  😁

Best wishes for a wonderful day.  xo

And the Beat Goes On...

 

To continue my last post, Temple of Sighs, I finally did receive the reading.  It was very generic and somewhat disappointing.  He (the medium) said he could not be more specific because none of my guides showed up.  (In the past when I have had readings, the medium had to tell the people on the other side to keep it down to a roar as she couldn't hear anything!)

But a promise is a promise and I proceeded to attempt to pay him. The first email address he gave me - the one that I said sounded "weird" was no longer a viable option, according to him.  He gave me another email address to use and I sent the payment which he immediately refunded to me.  He wanted me to download a cash app (No, sorry.) Then he wanted me to go to a store and buy an EBAY card.  (No, sorry.) Then he told me to hold off paying him until he got back to me.

I had a very uncomfortable feeling so I blocked him.  I didn't pay him at all.  I am feeling so guilty.  I wanted to pay him but he was making it so difficult and it got weirder (more weird?) with each communication, so I did what I did.  

I am spending at least an hour per day working in my "studio" doing collages.  Shayna knows "craft time" means we're headed to the basement where she has two beds from which to choose and a giant antler to chew.  She sees me cutting and ripping papers, so she decided to "help" this afternoon and started pulling pages from a magazine.  Then she went over to a larger collage that was drying with matte gel and tried...only tried...to pull a large piece off the board.  I had to rearrange everything and will now have to try to outwit a 2 1/2 year old dog on the next craft date, tomorrow!

So, my old stereo is in the basement with all of the LPs that I had saved.  Some real good stuff but also so pretty lame stuff.  My musical tastes are in the category of "Really?".  Today, I pulled out Joni Mitchell's Court and Spark and America's A Horse with No Name.  As I was listening to the latter, I cracked myself up.  This was the album to which I lost my virginity.  And then I felt nauseous and had to remove it from the turntable.  

One last bit...speaking of the America album.  Last night I had some pumpkin ale; 3 sips to be exact.  (It doesn't take much.)  M said something about a desert;  all I heard was "desert" so I promptly burst into the title song.  I made him laugh so hard that he decided he is going to find a way to hook me up to a pumpkin ale IV so the fun never ends.

Be well, kids.  See you soon! xo

Temple of Sighs

So, sometimes life is sublime and sometimes it is not.  Sometimes things are easy and sometimes they are not.  Sometimes you just want to dance on a pinhead and sometimes you'd prefer to crawl under a rock.

This is the collage I completed this morning and it says it all.  (You can see my lame attempts to be artful on Instagram.  @Ciciellyn514)  

It seems as soon as one situation resolves itself, another takes its place.  I know this is life, but I need a break.  I don't share everything going on in my life, contrary to probable, popular belief.  I am very open and honest about my life, but I do hold some things back.  And will continue to do so.

When I awoke this morning, there was a message from a psychic medium whom I had followed for a day or two on FB when he offered free readings.  Free.  What the heck?  I never did receive the free reading, but he did ask if I wanted a $$ reading. I said no thanks and that was that.  

In his message this morning, he asked if I wanted to hear a message from "the temple".  I said sure.  A few minutes later he sent a message about intuition and not being afraid to listen to mine.  (I always do!)

Fast forward a couple of hours later, he reached out again and asked if I wanted a reading.   I said I would have loved one but his service is not in my budget this month.  He said he would accept a donation this time.  My first thought was that he had some important information to share.  Am I a dope or what? So I agreed to make a donation via Paypal.  I asked for his email address and it was a bizarre email.  Not going to explain..it just didn't fit and I became suspicious.  Yada, yada...we left it that he would do the reading and I would pay him afterwards.  I said fair enough as long as it is not an off the wall reading.  I want to know about two very particular situations.  He said okay that he'd be back in about 40 minutes.  Ha!

Its been about 2 hours.  Nothing.  I didn't pay him, but he has my name, DOB and email address.  And he knows I have Paypal.  So, I have now put out fraud alerts with the credit bureaus.  Not sure how far he could get, but I don't want to find out out.

This is of my own doing and I am beating myself up over it.  My faith should be enough to comfort me, but I am weak and I am sad. 

Are you there, God?  It's me, Nancy.  (sorry Judy Blume).