Mothers Day

Most holidays I simply ignore. When I met my husband he informed me that he was holiday challenged. That suits me just fine. No stress. Saturday I was in a department store shopping for a bedspread for the guest room. I think my stepson took the one I had on the bed with him the last time he was here. Anyway, I found something that would work and handed the cashier my debit card. She put my bedspread in bag and told me I could pick out some roses then I remembered it was Mothers Day. For a brief instant I thought I was going to cry. I didn't. I picked out a bouquet of half a dozen roses -- pink and yellow. I wondered if my husband who was with me at the time picked up on that moment. I didn't ask him and I won't.

The roses are beautiful and I spent some of today sketching them. I did make my strawberry cake though I had so much wine Saturday night I had no recollection of eating any. A set back. I had been doing so much better. No alcohol tonight and I hope none next week. I try very hard no to drink during the week.

Speaking of Mothers Day. I didn't do anything for my mother. I don't have a good relationship with my parents. I went to see them this Christmas. It had been nine years since I saw or spoke to them. They were glad to see me. I didn't really get much out of it. Mainly I want my parents to feel forgiven. Especially my dad. He sent me a note after the visit saying that he was sorry and that knew he had not been a good father. I never ever thought I would hear those words. I haven't talked to them since Christmas. I keep thinking I should do something but I have no idea what. The truth is I simply don't like them that much. I am trying to be a better daughter but seeing them takes me back to the past. A past I would just as soon forget.

Update

It has been awhile since I last posted. I sold my house. Lost money. A lot. A whole lot. But it's funny how you can (eventually) accept something like that and move on. At least the taxes and insurance aren't sucking the life out of me. The project I am working on is ending. I put in my notice. I will be going home to Charleston on May 21. My husband is so happy. So am I.

I don't know what I will do for income when I go home but I have some ideas and plans. I got a small place in a consignment shop. I have some antiques there and one of my paintings. I hope to use the space to test the market for my work. The space is very reasonable and I have had fun with it.

I plan to focus on drawing rather than painting this weekend. Well, we're also going to cook. My husband and I are pretty good. Stawberries are in here. I want to try a homemade stawberry cake. Something I have never tried before.

Memorial day weekend marks our fifth wedding anniversary. We never had a honeymoon so we are taking a vacation. We are not going far but I am so excited. Life right now is good. I have decided that this year (fifty) is my year. Last year was a black year. Not my blackest but right up there. This year, I am determined, will be different.

Doing Better

I have been doing better. The tendency is to write when I feel really, really bad. I need to resist that because then the view of me is skewed. I cleaned house this weekend, organized some paperwork, walked my dogs, watched a movie with my husband and went out to dinner with him. I must confess I drank too much wine Friday night. May sound like no big deal but I spent the last several years pretty sloshed and I have been proud of the fact that I don't drink during the week and only modestly on the weekends. My husband is not an alcoholic but a regular drinker and I fear that I will fall into old patterns when I go home. I hope not. I really think it would be best if I didn't drink at all. Drinking and depression don't mix.

Oh, I also painted. I painted, let the paint dry, and then cleaned some more then painted some more. Didn't paint anything great just experiments. My secret desire is to make my living painting. My husband shared a book with me: Talent is Over-rated. The theme of the book is that the great get there by practice and hard work not merely by "having talent." I found that encouraging. I hope to paint some things I have the courage to post. I have a portfolio of "keepers." Things I feel proud enough so sign and keep. I looked at those this weekend.

I don't have my paints with me here, but I look at on-line art lessons on the internet. I also study art and artists online. My favorite living artist is Mary Whyte. I took a class from her once and hope to take more.

I think the fact that it is spring helps. SUNSHINE makes a difference. However, April is the month when most suicides are committed (at least the last time I researched it). Most people think the rate of suicide is highest around the holidays.

It is nice to feel more in control. Last year was a black, black year.

Moving Forward

When I am depressed I think about all the mistakes I have made. I focus on my faults and failures. Unemployed (well marginally employed in a temp position) and feeling lost and scared I began to think of the people I have helped. I have mostly worked in the helping professions. I have worked with people who have had to rebuild their lives after horrible accidents or after the onset of severe mental illness. I thought about these people and how many serious issues they had to cope with. I asked myself if I were my own client, what would I tell me? That created a surge of energy and new ideas.

I would have a client focus on the positives. Such as: sure I have had many jobs, but that has given me a broad range of skills. Also, I have had some phenomenal successes. I have saved people's homes from foreclosure; right out of law school and with one letter I got an insurance company to pay for cancer treatment it was refusing. I charged nothing for the service. I have facilitated supported groups, written funded grants, passed two bar exams the first time. I have a masters degree and was a certified rehabilitation counselor. (I let the certification lapse after going to law school.) I have done a lot and all while struggling with severe depression.

I am capable but I suffer from low self esteem. I always feel "less than." Everyone else seems to have it together and I feel like such a mess. I feel washed up. But I am not giving up. When I was younger and had moments like this the idea of re-creating myself wasn't as daunting. I feel like I should be accomplished, settled into a career. I know there are others like me. People who are having to start over. Especially in this economy. It is up to me. I have to let go of the fear. I am more and more in touch with the relationship between fear and my depression. I have to trust that what ever tomorrow brings, I will be able to handle it.

On My Way to Better Days

Things are getting better. I went to a conference to network and job seek. I also ordered some study materials for a new credential. I'm starting to feel in control and less concerned that I will never find work again. I actually have a plan of action and I am following through. I feel in control of my destiny. I feel strong and capable.

Wednesday Reflections

I have a contract on my house. I will be free of it. I can move on to a new chapter.

I hate that the house became such an albatross. I bought it after my son died. It is a small kitchen house in the historic district of Charleston. It has a wall around it and can't be seen from the street. It is in the heart of the city but very private.

I moved there to escape. After my son died I wanted to be left alone. I walled myself off from the world and started renovating. The kitchen house was where the meals were cooked for the "big house." The big house burned in a fire in 1861.

I searched the title back to raw land and learned the history of the man who built the house and the son who inherited the house. The son was two time mayor of Charleston. I know where the men and their families are buried. I searched the slave censuses to find out about the slaves who once lived there too. It is likely that the slaves who cooked in the kitchen house also lived in it. I found a few names, but little else.

I ran into a lot of problems with the renovation mainly because I didn't know enough about what I was doing. I just jumped in with both feet and learned as I went. I put too much money in it and won't get it back. Taking myself out of the job market wasn't too smart either. I now have to explain my train wreck of a resume. I have done many things but I have trouble staying with any one thing.

I think a lot of my depression is fear. I am afraid I won't find a way to make a living when I go home.

I had an interview once for a job I think would be perfect for me. It was working as an attorney for a nonprofit that litigates on behalf of the disabled. In the interview, I was trying to explain why I didn't practice right out of law school. I gave a little bit of my history and then I just burst into tears. There's no crying in interviews! Oh well. Sometimes I think I will contact the agency and propose working on a volunteer basis.

My secret hope for this blog is that at the end of the year I will be working in a job I love. I will look back at this as a hard year, but one I endured. I hope that I will laugh to myself and say, "Remember how afraid you were?"

I hate the saying "everything works out." When people say that to me I want to respond, "My only child killed himself." Everything does not work out. You get through it. Hopefully, you grow stronger. I just don't think there will ever be a day when I can "see the good" in that event. I am just hoping for a little peace.

Okay, so I rambled. My sitemeter indicates that I won't be boring too many people.

Waiting for the Fog to Lift

Kind of a rough weekend. I spent a great deal of Sunday in bed, but I made myself get a few chores done. I don't live at home during the week so I felt bad that I was not a better companion for my husband. I hope better days are ahead.

My thoughts are with Marie Osmond and her entire family. I am so sorry to hear of her son's death. It is such a tragedy. Everytime I hear of a suicide I wish there had been some way to take away the pain before the person gave up. I know what it feels like to want to die -- to just give up.

I wrote a very short poem some time ago. If I were going to have a headstone I would want this poem on the stone:

Tarry not into the day
Let go your fear
Feel the sun