Donne said that no man is an island

Recently a friend wrote this sentence in an email to me: "I used to be a HUGE oversharer before social media was a thing." I thought about social media. Lots of people just put up pictures of their vacations / parties / marriages / children at their finest moments and call it a day. I actually know of numerous people who have deactivated their Facebook accounts b/c the competition got to be too much. They feel like everyone else is saying, I have the best vacation, the best husband/wife, the best baby. With the implication of, and you don't. I got the feeling that this friend who emailed me feels like sharing their life, in all of its dimensions, is frowned upon.

I have a problem with the term "oversharing." Also, the word "needy." "Oversharing" assumes that no one wants to hear your personal stuff, that it's impolite or socially wrong to share your personal stuff, that we should all walk around projecting only positivity and the more shallower dimensions of our lives.

Everything looks shiny; no one allegedly has to feel anything except YAY YAY YAY.

When really, I think it's a continuum. At my old job, I sure as hell would not share personal things with certain people. Especially administration. Most jobs are like that. But I think it's okay to share things with people who are your friends or close colleagues. Because what the heck are friends for if you can't be there for each other during the positive *and* negative times?

My friends are some of the best people ever because they have listened empathetically to me and really been there for me, especially over the past year-and-some-months, when things happened with my mom. Or they have distracted me with wonderful things like coffee and Indian food and visits and children and simply the beauty of their presence. I never feel judged by them. And I in turn feel special and honored when they come to me with important emotional things. Like: wow, they trusted me enough to ask me to listen. I feel capable and strong when I can support them.

The word "needy"gets kicked around a lot, just like "over-sharing." "Needy" pathologizes the idea of interdependence. As a culture, we live under this delusion of self-sufficiency, like that's the ultimate thing to strive for. It's very American. Or United-States-ian, I should say. But when you dissect it, the idea of INdependence is fundamentally impossible unless you decide to become a hermit on top of a mountain. And then what happens if you break your leg or need to go into town for food?

Each in their various ways, my mom and dad raised me to believe that self-sufficiency was the ideal. In  reality, they were not self-sufficient, but I was raised to believe that I should strive to be. I think they thought they were doing me a service. This created a schism in my thinking which still continues. On one hand, I feel the old emotional pull: do it yourself at all costs. Appear strong at all costs. If you can't, that's bad. Other people will take advantage of you OR You're weak. Incapable. Less-than-adequate. 

On the other hand, I know my reality, and I try really hard not to judge myself for it. Ahem, I'm not saying I succeed in being nonjudgmental, but I try. Yeah, sometimes I need. Everybody needs. And sometimes I NEED. And everyone in their life goes through a period of that NEED too, whether they admit it or not.

I think about need, and sharing, and interdependence also as it applies to teaching. I think about it a LOT. When I went through teacher training in grad school (ages ago… yikes!) I was taught that students are people, that learning is collaborative (students learn from the teacher, students learn from each other, the teacher learns from the students), that each student will have a different learning style, that it's okay to be honest with your students when you don't know the answer, that it's okay to be vulnerable and to expect (and accept) your students' vulnerabilities.

Then… I taught at a certain place for awhile and it really made an impression on me. The culture was rather the opposite of the way I'd learned to teach. Not necessarily through word but through example, the ideal classroom was presented as: the teacher makes the rules, the students follow the rules, the students get punished if they don't follow the rules, each student is an information bucket into which you deposit key skills, and then they somehow translate those skills into a well- or poorly- written paper and then you grade them. Nobody needs to be feeling their feelings all over the place b/c there's no room for that in the syllabus.

I really tried to be that latter teacher and I did not do well being that teacher, and it burned me out. I had colleagues who taught at that place, and still do, who somehow managed to be a combination of the former teacher and the latter teacher. Or colleagues who were so untouchable (some concept called tenure of which I know not) that they could be the former teacher and the administration could go… fly a kite.

If anywhere I thought I could succeed as the former type of teacher, it would be in the teaching of writing. Whether you are writing poetry or a thesis-based argument, the idea of empathy is important. The ability to accept  and not vilify emotions is important.

Now that I'm feeling a lot better, I'm going to start revising / submitting my own work again in January. I'm also thinking about teaching (as a concept), because I really miss it. But, especially given my geographic limitations, I don't know where the right place is for me, if any.

20 things : Positivity

So for those of you who read my blog and think that I've fallen into an abyss of morbid reflection... you may be right. However, DBT is all about the "and." Simultaneously acting on behalf of your recovery while accumulating and acknowledging positive experiences. I wanted to make this entry b/c I need you to know, and to remind myself as well, that there are positive things in my life. These are in no particular order.

1. I helped Mike re-jigger his office set-up in the apartment last weekend, which involved the purchasing of a desk, the disassembling of another desk. I felt... well... helpful and not burdensome. It was a really REALLY good feeling. And the new set-up, although it will not be complete until December, is already looking smashing. It unblocks some energy in the apartment, allowing for new openness and flow.

2. I've taken advantage of National Novel Writing Month to write a poem a day. The official NaPoWriMo isn't until April, but I wanted a project for November to push through my writer's block. In regards to beginning a draft, Stacey Waite said "writing ain't no thing." Because all my emotions have been so weighty lately, it's bled into my attitude about writing as well. Every possibility becomes too heavy, too important. When you write a poem a day, they just can't all be important. So far it's working out well. I'm eleven poems in.

3. Autumn: the colors, scents, tastes, sounds... except the sound of leaf blowers. Use a rake, dammit.

4. I lost a lot of weight and thus dropped some sizes. I went from a size 12 to a size 6 or 8. Probably I'll opt for 8 because I like things to not be too tight. I like jeans better now. So I bought myself some pairs of jeans. The losing weight did not make me happy or sad --I did not intend to lose the weight. But I'm trying to keep it off. The reason this qualifies for Positivity is the jeans. Jeans are nice sometimes.You can just put them on. I forgot. (for those of you who don't know me IRL, I wear dresses and skirts).

5. I've been making a lot of progress in my healing process. I don't really want to talk about it right now though. But I can notice the progress, which gives me hope for the future.

6. I've had the fleeting desire that it's time to consider making a plan to go back to teaching.

7. I like Thanksgiving and Christmas. And my birthday. They all take place in November and December. It's like bathing one's brain in mulled cider to make January and February go down more smoothly. Not saying it works 100%. But I'll deal with January when it happens.

8. Friends. They are good to me. I value them like family. I love them. I need them. They mean more to me than words can say. 

9. Shutterdown <<< this is a friend's project. It's also the music of dream alchemy. You should click / listen / support.

10. I made soup for the first time this year. It's possible that I made soup for the first time in two years, because I may not have made soup at all last year. Now I have a lot of soup. Chicken soup anyone?

11. The art community at Polyvore. This site may look commercial and material on the outside but once you peel back the layers you find many amazing sub-communities of collage artists.It's not actually all about clothes.

12. Our apartment keeps getting cuter as we make improvements to its layout and decor. I'm tentatively planning a crepe party for my birthday. Like, I make crepes and everyone brings a topping and then there's a lot of eating and celebration.

13. It's a year since I started IOP and I can notice how much better I am. I'm listing this one separately from #5. [It's my blog and I can list stuff how I want to.] It's just that... at the time, I didn't / couldn't see ANY way that my life could get better. It was all raw emotion. There are still days when I take life in hourly chunks. Sometimes minute-ly chunks. But that is okay.

14. I've gotten back into yoga. Yoga is good.

15. I can read stuff again. You might not know this b/c I've kept it quiet, but a year ago my concentration was so bad I could barely watch a half-hour sitcom without getting restless and amped up. I wasn't able to read a magazine, much less poetry. Reading poetry made me cry. It reminded me of how much I [thought that I had] lost in a short period of time. But last week I read a fucking essay on poetic theory by Lyn Hejinian, and it made sense to me --relatively speaking-- the argument was not very accessible. So yay for the restoration of cognitive function. Therapist N said it would come back.

16. I had both kitties with me on the couch the other day. 

17. I've managed to not fall off the DBT wagon, and my last IOP stint ended in early August.

18. My hair came out this really unexpected, pretty color the last time I dyed it. 

19. I've made the decision that in January, I'm going to start again to send work out on a schedule. Last January I was not ready. I'm taking it slow this time. Planning two months ahead. I'm excited that my psyche has / will have mended to the point where I can actually consider a work schedule again and not just make stabs at it and beat myself up when I don't fulfill my expectations. Even though January 2013 did not work out so well, the month of January has momentum. I broke away from university and started my full-time devotion to writing in January 2012. It feels like longer. Can you believe I only got seven months into my one-year [ha!] sabbatical when my mom did what she did? I was at the top of my game. It was like being smacked down by a force of nature. 

20. My dad and Pam said they were gonna come to Pittsburgh and visit me. Maybe it will be near my birthday. I really miss my folks and although they can probably only do 48 hours, it will still be good to see them.

Angel for Alaina

Yesterday I found out my friend Alaina was killed in a car crash; apparently she'd had an undiagnosed heart condition and had a heart attack while driving. We had been friends in high school; then Facebook reconnected us after many years. She was a back-to-the-land type of girl who ran a small farm with her husband, had her own silk-dyeing business, and home-schooled her six children. 

She even commented on my blog sometimes, especially on the posts about dealing with chronic pain or disability. A year, or was it two? time seems to fly faster and faster she was in a previous car accident that left to her endure multiple surgeries and lots of medication. We never got to re-connect in person, but I always looked forward to her fb posts. She wrote about her family and her daily adventures with such honestly and wit. The love she radiated to the world was amazing. I can't believe she's gone. 

I made this collage for her this morning. I hope the loving energy I felt while doing it makes its way to her on her journey.

Angel for Alaina

Foggy, druggy, dopey, mopey, and panicked

This is venting. You can skip if you're bored or not into that whole whine-whine-whine thing.

Mmmm, wine.

I like to be efficient, even in my venting, so I'm separating it into two topics:

1) MEDS
I'm already taking a cartload of meds. My therapist N upgraded my meds to deal with all the crap that's happening right about now. Which is great. It means I don't go supernova on the streets of Pittsburgh, or throw glasses of water at people at lunch. It also means, however, that I too, feel like I have age-related dementia. I'm used to fibro fog. But this is fog of yet-another-level. I'm grateful that I can work out and also write coherent sentences and stuff. I couldn't do those things the last time I took such heavy-duty psych drugs. But I lose words. Nouns, mostly. I tangentialize and then forget what I was talking about. And there's still breakthrough-anxiety (of course, right?) while I subconsciously process what is going on with my mom, and everything else.

The breakthrough anxiety is exacerbated by the fact that we have been at our usual routine. For example, I'm at a hotel right now. Before that I was at my house for an evening. Before that, GA. Before that, Eastern PA. Before that, my house for a few nights. Before that, hotel.......... So like for example, I'll misplace my cell charger and all of a sudden ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING will feel overwhelming. When I am at home, and have my normal (not bad) level of ocd, the ocd actually works in my favor and somewhat ameliorates my visual impairment. Everything goes in its place. That way I don't have to look to find it. I have my house, my items, practically memorized. I say practically because there's probably some I don't have memorized but I can't think of what they are right now. I can navigate, and accomplish things within my house when in total darkness, in which I am completely blind. But right now it's like.... OMG.... cell charger..... where .... intense feeling of PANIC WORLD ENDING GOING TO CRY AND NOT BE ABLE TO STOP HELP OH GOD.

To continue with meds, I was just able to go see my PCP, goddess bless her she is wonderful and got me in this morning to deal with the scabs on my legs. She calls them lesions and I'm like, ew. She said what she thinks is happening is a bacterial infection and / or I'm getting new spots because my immune system is cranking out extra histamine like a champ. She has me on an antibiotic (which is like so f-ing huge.... luckily I literally have a pill cutter with me, at the hotel. Which I just bought yesterday) and a topical steroid, which I have to dab on each spot 2-3 times a day. And she wants me to take Benedryl pills at night and put Benedryl topical cream on the spots when they itch in between applications of the steroid.

So I counted the spots. Because i had to put the steroid on EACH ONE, which I will do at least the first few times and then will probably just rub a daub into the clusters where there are clusters. I have 38 spots. Thirty on my left leg and eight on the right. Plus that scary thing on my right ankle. She poked, prodded, visualized and was like, "For that thing alone, you need an antibiotic."

So I should stop getting new spots and these ones should decrease their gross-lookingness. Yay. Seriously yay b/c they are so itchy that I scratch them in my sleep and wake myself up.

2) MY MAYBE-NOT TRIP TO THE SHORE
I was supposed to go to the shore with my family, which I haven't been in 10 years. I was really looking forward to this vacation. With everything, I need it more badly than ever. I also told my dad that I was looking forward to walking down the boardwalk with my husband, something which I have never done.

However, circumstances etc. means I would have to take a Greyhound to Allentown so I could depart with them. But Greyhound is hell on my back. Seriously. And I already had one back spasm last week. Size medium. Which means I could still walk, but it was dicey for a little while. Amtrak is better but it goes to Philly only. Dad offered last night to drive me from Pittsburgh to A-town. If you will remember, he had originally offered me this when I was set to be with my Dad-Pam for a month, so that I could do Prosody. Now Mike is not sure he can go because of some work-shit that imploded, and my dad will probably no longer be able to take me from Pittsburgh to A-town because of some of HIS work shit that exploded.

Which... disappointing.

But then he said something. He's got to always say something, right? So when I was relating to him how .... brain fog. I just lost my thought. Real time Meds In Action.

So when I was relating to him how Mike might not be able to come he was like, "I want Mike too. I mean it's going to be all couples there. You'll probably feel like a third wheel or something."

REALLY?

Actually what I wanted was to be with my family in the relaxing ocean atmosphere, and the doc even said I could go in the ocean b/c the spots were all closed-over. And I wanted to walk on the boardwalk and buy cute beachy clothes even if I couldn't do it with my husband. And I wanted some time to decompress with my family. Especially more time with stepgoddess Pam. I don't think I can ever have enough time with her. She is like, nurturing to the nth power.

But I don't want to be a third wheel. And what's more, without the sighted-guide of my husband, I'll have to use my cane. And I wouldn't want to attract undue attention with my cane and make the whole family feel uncomfortable.

I know that last bit is taking it out of context. That's not what he said. But. I. I.

I need to go have lunch with Jenn now. God bless Jenn. And all you bloggerinos for reading and sending me good energies. I <3 u.

Weird stuff that happened this week.

Okay, the post to fulfill that title would take up volumes, but here's a list. You know I like lists. These are in no particular order.

1. I learned that my Gran has serious age-related dementia. She is 93.

2. Gran cornered me (she is good at this, for she operates a walker and it adds like 2x to her personal space) in the doorway of my guest room, just freaking out with anxiety b/c she knows something is wrong with my mom but THE FAMILY HAS DECIDED TO KEEP HER IN THE DARK and I had to pretty much lie to her (is how I saw it) about the situation. This happened several times. I had to leave GA a half-day early. This was to make my goodbye constructive and decent for my mom, so that I would not leave a trail of psychological carnage and salted earth behind me. My family has never told the truth. I had years of therapy to untwist my brain. They were pushing me back in that direction.

3. I saw a woman on the plane wearing an ombré hijab. It went from pale blue the top of her head to dark green to dark blue. I remember when I was working at DU, how I thought those corn-fed preppies had nothing on the Muslim girls when it came to pure glamour. They worked it. I don't know I feel about ombré as a trend, but maybe I will end up picking up a piece or two. It's better than neon. I tried to find a picture but they wouldn't load so if you want to look some gorgeous ombré hijabs you can see them here.

4. My cats welcomed me home last night and are now installed in each of my pockets. They are all like "mow!" and "mew!" and "we love you" and "pls dnt lv us we <3 are hoo-manz!"

5. Sadly for them, we are staying in the hotel the next few nights so I can get my stuff together for the Prosody taping on Saturday. Mike said it would be good b/c I was having more bug freak-outs at my mom's. They have ants. Which brings me to #6...

6. I asked my husband to check my body over for ants. Which I was pretty sure were there but maybe not. So you see OCD, still rolling strong. It has not kicked in yet because a) I'm pretty sure those things on my legs are hives created by stress and overheating and b) I'm chock-full of nice meds from therapist N, who has really be helping me through all this.

7. I saw my husband step up like he has never stepped up before, dealing with family members, making flight arrangements, making sure I got back to a safe environment. When he could have INSTEAD been like "well, we're leaving tomorrow so suck it up." Then again, this is the guy who waited with me in the psych hospital ER (this was like 15 years ago? more?) for ten hours to protect my fragile emotional state from the detoxers and peeps that had gone off their meds who were sort of violent or just weirdly twitchy. I love him, I love him, I love him. If you work with him or are his friend, give him a hug; give him a break. He's been through a lot helping me get through this stuff with my mom.

Just a PS for casual readers of my blog who don't know me very well. My mental illness has been stable for many many years. This is a serious break b/c of all the SHITE that has happened at once.

PPS to my friends who have helped out with Team Cat and everyone who has just sent their well-wishes, prayers, and healing energies, thank you. You really are my extended family, and I love you. My mom has made her choice. Now I've made mine. To live well. To celebrate life, and friends, and creativity. To attempt a removal of the emotionally toxic elements in my environment.

PPPS: I have to go b/c Ruskin has just knocked my books & crap off my desk with his big butt. This is a sign that he wants Second Breakfast and will not be denied.

<3 <3 <3
Jyl

updation

So YWI is now over SAD loved those kids loved them and I don't know how many are coming back for the fall if any well I guess I will have to love new kids then the weekend which started out sad but Mike and I scrubbed like hell the carpet in the bedroom to deal with Ravi's territorial behavior and decided indefinitely no cats in bedroom though I miss Ruskin & snuggling I know he does too b/c he doesn't get that much solo time with me and he's getting older maybe we'll let him back in for winter but Mike has surgery on the 27th so need relatively clean room for recovery sorry kitties

then we said officially farewell to Andrew SAD but also I got to meet his other friends which was neat and his best friend's stepmom makes AMAZING VEGETARIAN FOOD I almost wanted to re-convert the meal was so freakin bliss-tastic after that I don't remember Sunday much maybe that was the day we scrubbed the carpet I do remember writing two poem drafts and putting off yoga then I got a cold Sunday night and so yesterday I mostly watched tv 

brain in tofu state you know the extra silken variety that falls apart in your hands I had plans like submitting to Hayden's Ferry and designing second summer tattoo but will have to postpone them until feeling less crappy 

today I have to get my hairs trimmed and if it looks really really like crap maybe re-dye this aft but if not put that off too then A then Hem's tonight 

I have that revolting / fascinating feeling of being extra ordinarily snotty like my head is cut off from my body it is certainly cerebral except I get out of breath doing the stairs and did I mention the cold provoked a fibro flare (that happens sometimes not always) and when you run your hand along my arm it feels like ground glass lodged in my skin and you are trying to dislodge it

THE END

I can't stand it, I know you planned it --I'm tellin y'all it's a sabotage

On Wednesday and Thursday I woke up happy. Not bubbling-over-with-joy happy, but ... I will try to describe it. Not so skincrawlingly anxious was the biggest change. Not feeling all-over-angry. I smiled. I laughed. I giggled. I talked more and faster. I spoke up. I smiled at people even when they were being a little nerve-wracking or the situation was tense. And it wasn't a fake smile. It was like, oh well, things are weird, but it'll pass. And the cane. It didn't matter. Not as much. It was just a serene sort of... whatever. In a relative sense, it was BLISSFUL. I felt like a weight had been lifted. And I don't know what caused it or how to get it back. 

I know that when I have a large positive change like this, I tend to exploit it. For example, in January of 2011 I switched my meds and had a lot less fibro pain, I said yes to every opportunity that came my way. Workshops, classes, readings, meetings, projects. I did everything because I was feeling so damn good. I steadily burned into July. At the beginning of August I was completely exhausted and then had a bit of a "trough," shall we say. A valley of exhaustion. That lasted from August 2011 thru January 2012 when I got PT for my back injury in November '11. 

So yesterday, when I realized I was getting a BONUS DAY of feeling good, I made a list of events. I had three events planned. Usually with the fibro, two is a good plan. But I had three. I knew I was pushing it but hey, once in awhile is okay, right? So I did a bunch of errands that required a lot of exertion (event one), visited with Jenn (event two) and had drinks with Katherine (event three). This all involved a lot of walking, busing, standing waiting for buses. It was really hot out. I felt happily exhausted, kind of gross with sunscreen. 

In the meantime, I found out that surprise! there would be a fourth event. Dinner with in-laws. I thought we weren't going to see them until Saturday morning, but I didn't get the memo about the Friday night dinner. Mike apologized for not telling me about it. I forgave him but was still pissed off. Intellectually I know he has been under enormous deadline pressure, and that a miscommunication was inevitable. But emotionally I was pissed. I think he quasi-offered for me to skip the dinner. But here's the thing: Mike plays the dutiful son. Mike IS the dutiful son. In many ways, not just this one, he is, morally, a better person than I am. So I feel extremely guilty when I don't play the equally dutiful daughter-in-law. But I'm not wired that way, to be close to my family. My family visits about once a year. Sometimes less. It's not enough. We see his family like ants in my pocket, every three months. They both work full-time. It's a five-hour drive. And still they come. It's more than I'm used to. But, weirdly, I have sort of started to LIKE having family around. Again though, not wired that way. When I see his family so often, I miss my own. It's hard to explain. I want MINE, not his. It's like... cognitive dissonance. 

So, exhausted I came home and took a shower to get all the sunscreen off. The shower was Edenic. And I knew it was the first day of Real Summer. After showering, my back started to spaz a little. I was like oh, fuck. No. We have one more damn thing to get through. C'mon back. I know you're tired. We can do this. So I flopped on the bed. "I have to rest my back for five minutes." I needed an hour. I got ten minutes. The door knocked. I was like, "Shit fuck hell." Mike was like, "oh for godsakes." I guess he thought I was overreacting. Fair enough. 

I should mention that during the errands event in the morning, i bought pretty sandals. Most of my shoes sort of tow the line between pretty and utilitarian. I have balance problems, so I can't really wear heels and I need the shoes to be stable because I don't drive, so, walk a lot. But yesterday. I bought in addition to cute-yet-functional black sandals to replace my falling-apart pair... *~two pair~* of cute sandals. Not practical. Not for a lot of walking. Ornamental. One pair of red flats and one pair of silver sparkly sandals with the tiniest of heels. Vegas baby! We leave next week. Finally we get our vacation. 

I figured going out to dinner was a great way to break in a pair of sandals. Minimal walking. We were going in the C A R rrrrr. So I chose the red flats. They were the easier than the ones with the heels and I was tired; I knew that. 

Aside: I usually practice walking in my shoes, whichever shoes they are, because of my balance. My feet have to get acquainted. My equilibrium has to stabilize. My muscles have to learn. Just for a few minutes. But we were leaving NOW and so I put the sandals on (glancing in disgust at my chipped, grown-out pedi) and went downstairs.

And as we were exiting the porch... it has two whole steps. And I tripped down them. And I hung onto the newel post to avoid falling. The result was a sort of total-body whiplash, with OF COURSE my lower back having a total spaz and my right elbow getting the rest of it. Fuck. I took a whopping dose of muscle relaxers and fell asleep on an ice pack. It sort of helped I guess. I am SO MAD NOW. I hurt all over this morning. 

Both A and N have spoken to me about back spasms in particular and fibro in general that happen because "it's my body's way of expressing my needs when I refuse to do so in the normal (speaking: hey, I need this) fashion." They both feel that the more emotion I can get out of my head and into the world, the less my pain will be. Not that it will go away, but that I am holding onto it, in some sense creating it, as a result of the constant anxiety and repression of anger. 


I have to give this idea some cred. N is a psychiatrist. A is an "energy worker." Both ends of the mental health spectrum and they say the same thing. I've also read scientific articles about fibro and the parasympathetic nervous system. How your fight-or-flight response gets stuck in the on position and you can't relax because the "danger" never goes away. And it makes these "overactive nerves" that they talk about in the commercials for Lyrica.

Which leads me to want to be like *head desk**head desk**head desk**head desk* until I black out. Because wtf?! I'm doing this to myself? I can't help it, but somehow, I can? I get it. I understand. But I resist. The story of my existence. Intellectually I get it. Emotionally, I'm like *head desk*. 

Needs. 


Mike asked me awhile ago when his parents were planning on coming up for Memorial Day weekend, did I mind. Well, what was I supposed to say? Did I mind indeed. Not at that moment, no. In fact, I believe I was involved in something, like putting together a submission or some other brain-taking task. But somehow, I knew there was a chance that I would mind. But what could I say? I had no actual objections. So no, I didn't mind. What was I supposed to say? Who says no? Who says I mind? A selfish person.


But guess what: I do mind. I haven't spent any fucking time with my husband who has been DROWNING in work with no real foreseeable outlet in the medium term future. He's sacrificing to pursue his dream. I get that. And he's doing really well. And I am so proud of him. And there will be Vegas in a week. I hope. But the last time we were going to go to Vegas, he got very, very sick the night before. And I'm praying it doesn't happen again. So yes, I mind that they're here because I wanted to spend a goddamn weekend with my husband. All the fun family shit we're supposed to do with THEM, I want to do with HIM. We both have chronic illnesses, me and him. But this weekend, neither of us are sick. My family visited just a few weeks ago. I feel like his family JUST HAD TO VISIT AGAIN, just to keep the ratio as uneven as ever. I know some of these feelings are irrational. And some... some of them may have valid points........ {trails off}

But I didn't speak those feelings. Now I blog them. I blog them to the entire fucking world because maybe my back spazzing will spaz a little less. In fact, I swear I can feel it unwinding just a little. {insert maniacal crazy laughter here}

*head desk*

*head desk*

*head desk*

The art of Barbara Dahlberg

So I went to my friend Barb's art opening yesterday, which was amazing. Here are some pics along with descriptions (that I felt were relevant) from her artist statement. The majority of the pieces were paintings or ink and watercolor pieces but my favorites were the shrines and this quilt. The pic is just a detail of the quilt...

[from artist statement]:
"This exhibit includes works in several different media and poems that either inspired the works or were written later. Represented are different styles and some of my personal history. Because both my parents died before I was 30, it has been important to preserve family stories.... "

"I made my first shrine, Children Cannot Fly, after my son Jesse's death eight years ago...."

"My love of nature and farm animals come from a childhood spent in the wilds of northern Minnesota and on my grandparents' dairy farm in Wisconsin."

Barb's work is on display from now until the end of the month at the Undercroft Gallery at the First Unitarian Church on Morewood and Ellsworth in Shadyside.