The past few months have made me feel as if I've been on the lowest rung of some ghastly emotional food chain. About the time I had my battle with UPS over a painting that had gotten damaged in shipping, the bottom seemed to fall out. I definitely believe in moving past negative relationships or circumstances that create drama and angst, so when it became apparent that I needed to end my 40+year association with a group of people, I did it without any regrets. My only battle scar from it has been that I haven't been able to paint since then. Even though I know certain things that were said to me were said with the sole purpose of hurting me, my confidence in my artistic ability is shot. My ego took a huge hit and I feel somewhat empty now. Even though I may never be what some would consider a true artist, I had fun with what I did. It relaxed me and gave me an outlet to express what's lurking on the inside. My next step needs to be finding a path back to the things I once enjoyed doing.
A couple months ago a close friend of mine lost her middle child. I don't know what losing a child feels like and I hope I never do, but Daniel's death is about as close to it as I ever want to get. Even though waves of grief still hit me at unexpected times and I truly want them to subside, my main concern since this tragedy happened isn't with myself and my own feelings, my heart is with his mother, my friend and with her battle. I want so desperately to help her, but I know there isn't anything concrete that I can do to ease her pain and suffering. It's difficult when every fiber of my being wants to make a difference in her life and to lighten her load, yet the reality of the situation is in the harsh knowledge that no difference can be made by anyone. Time is the only thing that can help her now.
As many of you know, I battle with several serious health problems. Recently, tests have revealed that some of my illnesses are getting worse. On an intellectual level I've always known that would happen eventually, but on a feeling level when it has happened, I'm at a loss for how to handle it because I've always been Wonder Woman and Wonder Woman doesn't get ill and she doesn't age. I'm one of those people who tend to isolate themselves when things aren't going well and isolating myself has gotten extremely easy over the last few years for a variety of reasons. In many ways, it gives me a strange sense of comfort. Does that make sense to anyone? I've always referred to myself as a hermit or a troglodyte, but the truth is that's exactly what I am now. A once vibrant woman is now nothing more than a sophisticated cave-dweller. Perhaps, I should cash in on my current status and develop a line of clothing and furnishings for trendy troglodyte.