The Day After

I’m up and then down. My yo-yo of a body deciding if it can function but I am physically exhausted and have now decided I need to keep myself free the next day after a race for recovery.

As I lay in my bed, my brain is even too tired to tell me the endless lists of items it feels I should be doing, instead of what I am; nothing, nada, zip, zero.

Okay, I did do one item, I ate a homemade cookie in my bed. I was too tired to go out into the other room and thought what the hell! The dog is snoring beside me and she is lifeless today. I am pretty sure she thinks she ran the race because she has nothing left to give.

You know you are tired when you are chewing a piece of cardboard and fall asleep with it still in the side of your mouth, at least I didn’t fall asleep with my cookie like that.

I do feel different today, kind of like I have kick started my therapy and am changing directions. I have been in what I call a plateau stage. I haven’t moved forward in my eyes, but I haven’t fallen back too bad as well. I am just staying at a consistent weight; referring to the weight of my mind.

This past week there has been an emphasis on mental health in our community, it has put a few thoughts into my head for my talk later this month. I am working through how I lay my cards out and feel like in some ways I am opening the skeletons of my closet.

I finally get an opportunity to head to the painting room, dog in tow. Up on the bed she goes to play with her toys, hopefully not disturbing the sleeping kitty who is snuggled up in the pillow. Note to self, I need to complete a major bed wash to ditch his furry white hair.

Anyways, I pull out a black canvas and not sure what is planning on coming out. Abstract? Photo? There are tons of paints laying on the floor around my working area. I pull out a magenta acrylic paint and write the word “Life” in the centre of my canvas in my calligraphy writing.

Life? I sit and listen to my music, each word and think about what the word means to me? My thoughts start pouring out in big teardrops, each one running down my cheeks. I do not wipe them away I keep painting.

Everything is releasing. More words and abstracts begin to take shape. I sit contemplating each of them, thinking of my gratefulness that I still have life.

I can choose. I can embrace. I can love and I can be brave. The colours of each of them symbolizing my emotion, blues, red, orange. The blackness of the background is my demons but more colour is being embraced, they are beginning to take shape, take a new form, reminding me that there is more.

I paint till my eyes are tired and decide I need to take a walk in the cold rain with my dog; I need to see the greenery, smell the rain. As we walk I work on the word touch with her as we stand at a beautiful purple lilac bush. I’m trying to teach her to touch; to smell, not just to eat but to try and see the beauty of what I see in another way.

She smothers her nose into the lilacs for a big smell, and a small nibble; I laugh, then on to the next tree and bush for some more smelling. We talk with a neighbor we have not seen in ages wondering if I had moved. We welcome some pats on the pup’s head as she gets to know everyone and meet more pups walking in the area. I feel better, life is better.

Life is changing and it feels as if I am in the metamorphosis stage right now. I am curious what that means when I reach the other side.

Mr. Jones shared a quote for me that he was going to give to me the evening of my talk.

“Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.”

My voice shakes now just thinking of how I am going to let the words escape, the feeling, the burden it is on me, the joy I am finding by finding me again. I hope that someone finds that evening beneficial to them.

Love always the magenta painting, life living, Woman in Process






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