Ok, so I'm a tree-hugger. THIS beauty is an actual baobab - the oldest in Miami. This is also the spring when I was in 'The Little Prince', so I needed this hug.

trying harder to be less angsty.
the weather certainly helps, and gardening. some things have changed – i have found a better way to cope with missing luna, work has me busier than ever and i’ve committed to a major theater job. i’ve been getting to spend more time mentally and in person with hannah, who so inspires and encourages me, and less with the down-spiral downlookers. some things haven’t changed. i’m still me – hurt, angry, crazy – i’ve just reset to coping a little better, thank goddess. i am still having some tough times and blow-out moments. poor x coached me through one a few days ago. he sat on the potty and listened while i crouched at the bottom of the shower and roared and sobbed and whispered through a list of histories. it actually helped a lot.
i think this was brought on by the arrival of my neurologists' appointment (lawyer appointed - thanks to Mr. Perkins, of B.A.D.D. who HIT ME with his fancy !#$% motorcycle) - later that day. i’d rescheduled it THREE times, and finally could not again. i’ve only seen a neurologist once before and that appointment put me straight into therapy and eventually into an institution. so those memories were fresh – which means the memories that PUT me there were too. i try hard to get chris to understand the scope, and he rides the wave well. i know he’s listening, he’s hearing. it helps.

i put a few things together that i never had before – some of ‘why they did these things’, but mostly ‘why i do these things’ kinda stuff. i also, still carrying the echoes of grief with me on the way to work, was inspired to write a poem about a beloved and respected woman in our community. i wrote is as a comfort to myself but of course it makes me happy to think of how she felt when she found it on the seat of her car. she told me that she cried - twice* - and that she and her family/coworkers enjoyed the mystery of guessing who’d left it. those are some of the good things.

some of the bad things are: having a rational enough moment to realize the scope of your own stuff. i definitely have problems that i was not being consciously aware of. i’m not sure how to cope with them, but i’m very grateful to be aware. the condition that eventually hospitalized me had a similar symptom, a complete overall lack of awareness of the problem. luckily as soon as someone points it out, a minute awareness comes and then you go a different KIND of crazy trying to accept it, sort it all out, make sense of it,

DEAL with it – but that’s a start. (at least it’s something different, right?) what i’m realizing now is that this new awareness removes a great deal of one’s now intrinsic coping skills, and though they teach you basics for replacing these coping skills in programs like the TSP and places like River Oaks, they probably expect that you will stay in therapy and continue to see a professional – at least periodically – for the rest of your life. my fear of the medical/legal/governmental system have always kept me away from doctors in only the most dire of emergencies – cut and bleeding badly, pneumonia, severe appendicitis, blacking out mid-conversation, inability to work, or talking to myself with my hands like puppets and unable to ride in a car. yeah. serious things. i have honestly tried to seek counseling since i came here and due to having no insurance, my options were not only limited but ridiculous. it’s pretty much been me, self-prescribing shower-bottom time, various cravings for stimulants (coffee, chocolate, boyfriends...) and depressants (red wine, bad movies, boyfriends...), luna, work and art-therapy, this blog (thank goddess for blog!) - and just grinning and !#$%^& bearing sometimes.
now, there’s also Dr. X. he does a pretty good job too. especially with the coffee, chocolate, bad movie and boyfriend stuff.
sometimes i can’t help but thinking that i need some more serious professional help – just for new ideas, even. but ‘es o si que es’ i guess** - it is what it is.
the only thing i know to do is think about it, read about it, write about it, talk about it, and hope that some illumination surfaces from that jumble. it often does, and thank goddess, ‘cause it’s all i got.

i will share a little sample of my therapy*** with you, this is the poem i wrote for abe’s mom. my ONE semi-sentimental, accidental semi-concession to recognizing mother’s day. she’s worth it.

EarthMother’s Day

I passed your place today –

and to me, it will always be your place –

Van Morrison was assuring me

as I swung slowly through the curve and up

that if I meet them halfway with love, peace and persuasion

that I could expect them to rise to the occasion...

I was thinking on peace and withstanding,

remembering the times when I’ve wrapped my arms around trees

to borrow their strength

and thought that to rest my head against your golden shoulder

would give me the same feeling.

I saw you then, working in the shade,

working the earth,

moving yourself the way you move the world around you,

with love, with thought, with joy, with determination, with sweat.

You have earned your crown of wheat and flowers,

your circle of free-thinking worshipers,

your place among the constellations.

For Debi

[and the goddesses we are all blessed to know and be]

05/20/08

i wish you all inspiration, understanding, overview. 'post secret' helps too.
xo
-s

*ott called this poem hippie shit. he's gonna LOVE the public admission/proof of tree-hugging. !#$% poseur. he's full-blooded, OLD skool hippie and he KNOWS it! :) the recipient of this ode was his mother, my sometimes boss, former landlord (for the gallery) and good friend.

**’ s – o – c – k – s ‘ huh huh huh. this was a joke my mother used to make – i don’t know if it is grammatically correct, but i still always thought it was funny.

*** ’ter’py ‘– see the documentary ‘Home Movie’ – please. it is NOT a bad movie! it is DEFINITLEY ‘ter’py’.