Progress

Hello dear friends --  I'm making progress. I think. I've apparently gone through all the stages of grief regarding, husband, the business, the home and am settling into caretaker mode, as well as accountant, chef, and maid. 

There are all sorts of decisions to be made and I really wish I had someone who could guide me -- hell decide for me, but ultimately it's my decision what happens next. Good news, I don't wake up panicked or feel like throwing up all day! hey, I'll take it. The first casualty is the horses, they are gone now. It was a very sad day when that happened. 

I sold some more things to help keep us going. Still need to figure out how to box up and mail art supplies safely as someone wants to buy them from me.  Still have a few hundred dollars worth of "how to" art books if anyone is interested. 

The chickens are doing good.  The rooster pecked that little white one to death -- should have seen that coming and moved her, but the others are laying up a storm, I'm having to give eggs away to friends and family.  My favorite calming thing to do in the morning is to walk to the chicken coop, say hi to the ladies and then make poached eggs with two fresh ones. 

Also, ECT for husband is really on the table as the next option if this last 'new' medication combo doesn't work. I've read good and bad about it. The memory loss bothers me, but he is very ill. I don't relish this decision, but I'm not relishing any of my decisions lately. 

My mind has been forced to think on a whole new level. It was nice to be financially stable, write and dream one day my mixed media would be good enough to sell and I would travel from fair to fair in the Southwest meeting people and selling my art. That is not to be. But something else will come along. Clearly I like to be creative and I was looking for community and I like not worrying about money.  So I'll find us something small to live in and perhaps go to the Cordon bleu school for cooking, develop community, then am not so isolated caretaking, apply for disability for him at this point and who knows. 

What's is making things extremely difficult to put plans into action is my attachment to this home. Every time I think of a plan, I look up and I'm surrounded by beauty and wide open spaces -- no neighbors, just the wildlife and the hermit in me digs it's little feet in deeper and shouts a resounding "no" in my head!  hard to fight -- get a pit in my stomach every time.

Another thing is I can't tell what my authentic voice is anymore -- I don't know if I like me, if others like me, if I was ever liked, if I ever liked me? -- I know odd --It makes me question whatever I write privately or publicly. And what I think about others is a question mark as well. Weird.  It's like someone through the puzzle pieces of my life up in the air, and they're still hanging up there so I can't even put them back together-- suddenly feel  for poor humpty dumpty.  

Well gang, I'm in one piece in any case. The shock, denial, debating, have receded and I've pretty much settled into acceptance.  Fear and confusion like to heave themselves at me, but I push back. Also, there is a lot of good people out there that didn't let go of me. That was one helluva a nightmare this summer and even if the puzzle pieces are mid-air, and there will be more casualties, gratitude is squarely on the table. 

Off to collect some chicken eggs -- still trying to figure out how to smuggle a chicken into the city -- I hate store bought eggs! 

in love and grace