Friday, March 7, 2014

Christmas Busted---Ice Here and Back Again

Many places in the Northeast experienced the weekend before Christmas 2013, an extreme ice storm with power outages and states of emergency to prevent unnecessary travel.  The unnecessary travel allows emergency vehicles, utility trucks, and law enforcement to get where they need to go without having to deal with as many stranded motorists or accidents.

Many of my concerns centered on power being out at my home where my heat source requires electricity and worries without heat the water pipes will freeze and break.  Just being cold seems secondary to this worry of broken water pipes.  I was very fortunate because the power outage lasted  5 hours on a Saturday afternoon.  It was about 6:30 pm when the power was restored by a utility truck on the highway in front of my house with the eerie sound of the linemen on loudspeaker talking to each other.  It was disorienting, but in a grateful way, I welcomed this strangeness of hearing them in the darkness of the early evening talking to each other as they did the necessary work to bring electricity back to our neighborhood.

This was my backyard:

It's March as I finish writing this blog segment.  It's been a long, difficult winter.  There's somewhat of a touch of spring in the air, but it seems snow and cold are wearing on.  Hanging on to hope that spring will be here soon is a difficult task for me at this time.

The Bitter Sweetness: I Get Dressed and I Show Up

I'm feeling bitter sweetness and loneliness tonight.  To assist myself in working through these feelings, I've been listening to soft music that evokes some of the emotions I've been feeling.  And I scribble and doodle in my Windows 7 Paint program.  It helps me to feel peace.  I turned here to my oft-neglected blog to soothe myself and find hope rather than loss.

This is a self portrait that I did once in Paint.

I am progressing to upper middle age, where I guess 50-ish is the new 60-ish, in my case.  My face looks old to me and I wear cosmetics very seldom.  I don't color my hair, nor do I get the latest hair style and trips to the beautician are few and far between.  I seem to have a "kick me" tattoo on my forehead that invites weird and off color comments at times when I go out in the community.  I have to tell myself that maybe someone that comments like this will know what it's like some day.

Today I talked to two people who have suffered great trauma in their lives and I feel defeated and sad for them.  I wonder why it has to happen and why the healing must always be so painful and filled with anger.  There is no sweetness in this for those who have been traumatized by violence and horrendous acts.

A scan of the brains of those who have PTSD,  Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, show there has been an actual change in the make-up or what I will call the "wiring" of the brain as compared to that who has not experienced such trauma.

This is a picture I did this evening in the Paint program that I titled Archangel:

And here is another that I titled Scribble:

I don't think I've ready for the MOMA, but it helped me to paint and doodle my way out of the sadness I'm feeling tonight.  And maybe there are angels or archangels looking out for the vulnerable, the prey of the predators, and the lost and alone who feel no sweetness and may only taste the bitter.

I will just keep getting dressed and showing up.  It is sweet to be able to do that and hopefully the bitterness I feel will take care of itself.