Microphone blog

This morning I'm tired but I feel better than I did when I wrote yesterday's post time on a roller coaster I guess I'm speaking my blog just as an experiment definitely feel strange thing physically typing somehow more satisfying when I was in my teens I wrote pages and pages of a journal I wish I still had them but then I think just just to wonder about if I have that things have changed for me but I think I was worried that maybe they haven't so maybe it's better people say not to look back. I'm also experimenting with this method to see if I actually speak English and if my microphone understands me so it's interesting makes me laugh a little bit like I have so much to say but not enough of the right words I wish I didn't feel depressed I wish I didn't eat weird stuff I know I feel alone and empty and I seek comfort seek to comfort my hurting in yourself maybe maybe the recent struggles are signs that my feelings are coming out more and being hurt hurt sorry heard and it's just time and maybe I'll feel better once out.

I think I prefer to type my blogs it's more satisfying this is an interesting experiment and it is good to know is available to me

Dread

I am struggling more and more too much going on not enough release and grounding. Suicidal thoughts daily, still no clear plan,mostly fantasizing methods,no actions towards any of these. A slow dread has been stalking and escapsulating me for months ow. There has been death in the past couple years, a family member,a friend and other upheavals. Feeling like just letting go of
Life not really sleeping well, never have of course. Once in awhile I get a chunk of solid hour or,aye even two. But that's it so tired a great del.feelingvulnerable, bitey (the word popped into my head). When in doubt just ake upward. I think a lot has to south how strong iwasfeelingandhowexcited, atoned I was to take some steps toward my phd and even had a skype interview witha prospective supervisor then I crashed. Hard.and i dont think I have recovered yet. I haven't seen my therapist for awhile so i guess I,m due.

found what i thought I'd lost

Haven't known what to do with myself all day. not sleeping but mostly I think it's my poor diet. Sugar, gluten, don't know. Denial of me having any other contributing factors i suppose. stayed off commenting or sharing or liking anything on FB today because a friend said she wouldn't be on FB out of respect for the day. One day is so paltry. platitudes. when reality is changed policies, downgraded or erased supports and escalating suicide rates. Was just watching a show about a u.s. crisis line, remembering wishing I was capable of doing this work still, feeling robbed feeling heartbroken for all the broken hearts and minds and souls out there, dying painfully with each though.SO many veterans of wars are suffering, needlessly and there is so very little I can do about it. I feel a fraud. I read all the kind and I believe sincerely loving comments and shares on FB by friends and family about me and other people they know who have served, Family members lost. I feel a fraud.  Theoretically I am a veteran but there are such scales of difference such breadth of unrelenting suffering that so many young and old experienced. I only heard the slightest bit of the stories out there. I cannot count myself on a par with these grieved souls. And I don't know why I think I have to be the same because there is no same, there is only anguish, degrees of, depths of severity, longevity of. Lately I've been doing pretty well. But not this day. The one day a year the country stops in its 5 and one half time zones to be still, seems so fucking paltry. I feel paltry really.I will never feel worthy of this gift of life, the pension I receive when so many others live on the streets. Do I give it all up? Is that the answer? Part of me says , dares me: yes. But then so then what I receive goes on to help probably at least 4 others very well and 8 others somewhat and then I am gone and maybe then will I feel worthy of this life, is that is what is being asked of me? To achieve the love I do not feel and have not ever felt worthy of, must I erase myself? Making art is good, is good for me, but seems so nothing  does it help? does it help  to make something out of an everyday object to transform it into something eyecatching? My artist statement asserts that this sublimation (word??) gives a message of hope in unexpected places. I just don't know.I don't know anything. I don't care enough about myself yet I care too much. And by the way I don't think paradox is as accurate a concept as I once thought. I think it is a paradox  is a paradox ad nauseum.
Glad to at least rediscover this forum, where I can hide, I can till be found, but not so [publicly. Sometimes I feel brave to speak my truth and spout things on FB but I am raw today, I am uncertain today. I am waiting for midnight so this illusion of time lets me out of November 11th. It is a;l illusion.assigning descriptors to experiences to try and make sense try and create order out of this chaos of chaos who are we trying to fool.
Sound and fury signifying nothing, fine William.

I hate Remembrance Day

well I guess at least I was able to vent. FUCK

I just lost about 500 wds of straight stream of consciousness writing and entire fucking post.

very frustrating

i hate remembrance day. I've been unhinged all day. Lost adrift, no sleep, waiting for the day to be over. 

staying away from FB and the platitudes.

Despise people in government, despair for the state of the world

so many homeless veterans, so many in poverty giving up, making the decision to take their own power back in the only way they have left.

all the words are spewed out

I guess the purpose served.

Art is a car, apparently

well, I said I'd report back, it was far more challenging and left me reeling. I was thankful to have friends there. A couple of contributing factors: the presence of a former therapist, the words of other artists which left me feeling disappointed and incensed at their shallowness (my judgment) and resistance to acknowledging their place of privilege their racism. It was such a white room, although a good turn  out. I liked what I said, mostly. I felt very raw throughout and I did speak far too long oh well.

Art is an amazing vehicle for expression what words cannot even begin to capture.

Acknowledging my Anxiety

I'm feeling so nervous, I can feel my belly churning. I am going to be in a panel art talk this afternoon. I enjoy public speaking I miss it in part as it is purely performance for me, perhaps thinking of it in this way removes me to a safe distance, I think so, reduces my anxiety, as does the writing I do now. When I have not acknowledged my anxiety in a concrete way it has more power over my choices, I am more apt to say things from a place ruled by my insecurities rather than from a deeper, calmer place, where I am better able to listen, to pace my words and actions. I am excited about this opportunity to speak about my art; to speak to its strengths and limitations. I hope to be courageous in my words and actions, to speak of what I know which is only me and no one else. Everything is subjective, and my art is me on display, which is an act of courage too.
I want to assert myself, not interrupt others. I hope I speak words that are meaningful. I hope I challenge what is suitable to challenge, with grace and respect. This feels like an important opportunity for me. I'll report back.

ok what am I grateful for today?

My husband who makes me feel better with his hugs. my dog who sometimes seem to like me. he's soft and fluffy, I love his coat.

I love the sun and wind and waves and mountains that were so clear today.

I am please I sent in a proposal today to Gallery Gachet!