When The Tears Arrive

i am on day three of a crying jag. things every day, happy, angst and episodes of GLEE are making me cry.

the anxiousness feels  …at a pitch. like it’s on a roll

my dr is recommending a new diet.

more tests

i did have a normal blood pressure reading. normal. woot!!

i thought yesterday that if i was in therapy i might have a lot to say.

i have a lot to say without going to therapy

i just don’t have a lot of folks that want to give me that sortof time.

plus i’d have trouble getting to appointments like that. anxiety causing. please don’t make me go.

a local man, a respected photographer is doing an image essay on a recent home haven for the homeless. each profile has a quality profile of someone homeless.  in their storytelling they share the same thing — they are grateful that they can feel safe. safe. physically and emotionally safe. what a thing to say. that really made me cry. i know this feeling.

i really think that as a trigger losing my home, all the years of apartment/stupid people issues, even my nest emptying left this indescribable trauma track. when i am reminded of it i find i go there. it affirms what i got to the other side of. it tells me i am ok now.

years ago there was a fan here who did some rather exciting male nude photography. he loved the hirsute woman. he introduced me to that word actually. he shared the story of losing his wife to menopause. he mourned this loss of her deeply. i only knew him virtually. these stories men tell. are they true? i don’t know anymore. but it made me fear menopause

since hearing his story i have heard many men share something similar

it makes me think what sortof man stays in for the long haul.

if my shit is menopausal. which so far the dr is not leaning towards that as a diagnosis

i can see where one would feel a loss for the vibrant person that was once before. same as when an elder loses their mind. tragic. heartbreaking. a deep loss.

i am still the same vibrant person inside. SOB

i am just so f-ng nervous all the time.

did i tell you my cat is a nervous wreck also?

we spook each other out all day

this cat is so high need

sometimes i don’t know how to be there for her.

i curse her and love her in the very same breath.

she’s a cat.

my determination in trying to figure her out vs throwing her across the room ( not kidding ) is …well, determined.

i see myself in her.

I SEE MYSELF IN THIS CAT

like her issues are a mirror to my own.

this thought comes from asking myself when an ankle scratch bleeds. ouch. i ask what am i supposed to learn from this. she tries to tell me things. i don’t know how to speak cat. like me, i am that give me a chance (cat) person too. i speak english and seem to not get the message across

i get that my feet are prey. that they are here for her entertainment. we spend a whole lot of time together. when i am in my head. or inside my heart. or making. i am not sure i have a lot of room for her. i feel like i want her to go look out the window. leave me alone i think. is it because she is handful?? Have I ignored her?? i know what that feels like. i know that really well.

trigger.

is that an over used word? trigger, survivor, boundary, broken. do these words help things?

it’s a dim day. perfect actually. the brain lightbulb only came on about half way today. The dimmer is set. i am distracted. the trees around me are a saturated celebration of greens. gorgeous, dark, light, lime, hues of, and oh so very lacey, stretching themselves out into form. the thing they do over and over – even though our mother earth is struggling so. look how tenacious she is, look how beautiful.

during my winter artist residency i had the opportunity to shoot nudes. i took this beauty of a shot. this man and I are still friends. he’s a bear of a man, probably the hairiest man i have ever seen. and a bear hug of a person. he’s a young one, and on a new track in life that makes me feel maternally proud.

i share this image because it was in my head when i took this set ( part 2 ) from last weekend. i have a beard now. i envisioned

i think the t-shirt over the head shot is a great way to express anonyminity

( sp?? is that a word?? ugh )

but i wasn’t wearing a t-shirt or the best piece of clothing for the task. i was wearing a v-neck lounge dress with those silly cross things at the V. when pulling it up over my head my hair got caught up in all the wrong ways. i looked like cousin it. i felt like cousin it. i thought oh these are going to be so not good.

and they are terrible.

and then they are not.

i love them in a “things are so not perfect” right now way.

They completely made me laugh

what a god damn dork i am

 

 

2 thoughts on “When The Tears Arrive

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