Swimming For Shore

I’m so sleepy. Two Tramadol, a slice of personal pizza and upheaval cause the body to want to just sleep and sleep. I keep dozing off at the computer but staying awake is important as trying to get back on a normal schedule, even if that means going to bed at nine pm, is a goal of mine. My body wants to sleep all the time except once it’s dark.

There’s been major upheaval in my little family. It was very painful but it’s getting less as I know that everyone is safe and cared for … I’m growing accustomed to the knowledge it’s changed.

My tiny family has always been my pearl. I once wrote this of them:



You are

You are such pretty babies,

sunlight caught in human form.


You are my laughter that saves

me from crying bitter tears.


You are my hope when

the money just isn’t enough.


You are my strength when

the world makes me weary.


You are my food when

my heart is near starving.


You are my wild roses that

bloom in a snowstorm.


You are my precious jewels in

my crown of gray lead.


You are such pretty babies,

sunlight caught in human form

Christal La Fountain 1999.


Just by their very existence, pride swells in me. They are not “mine” per se, but in the sense that they are MY FAMILY, my loved ones. There’s a rift now. There has never been one before and I’m not equipped to deal with it. I’m learning, but Holy shit, these waters are choppy. Painting is helping a lot. Basically throwing myself into work, I have six or seven paintings I’ve been backed up on for some time, I’ve struggled with one for a few years, every time I’ve tried to draw the subject requested out, he came out looking like a spider with cotton ball hair. Finishing a portrait I started five years ago is my methodical way of doing things. I can work on this, I can see progress and build on these paintings. One thing at a time, first things first. Work in a queue.

Writing in the “I” or “we” is how I do things and I do it for a reason. This blog began simply as an outlet for my thoughts, a place to go during a time when I was unable or not allowed to speak completely. That was moved to my old 360º blog at Yahoo. When that closed, I wasn’t fast enough to save it. I was writing for a long time before S. left for college, but especially during that time, I remember how important it was for me to scream “on paper”. Then I moved to Blogger, where it began to form a little more. Also, I don’t presume to know anyone else’s thoughts, so by speaking my own, it may allow someone else to speak theirs or join in. I don’t give a flying fuck how anyone I don’t know interprets it, but I’m laying it out there for anyone I care about’s opinion of me.

Smoking again, I’m ashamed to admit, has me by the short hairs. I won’t make excuses. I knowingly picked up a cigarette. When I will quit, I don’t know. At this point, I have the gum and I’m beginning to time wean myself and when I wake up at night I do not smoke. These are positives for a smoker. Losing five pounds in a week time is not a good sign, nor is the accelerated hair loss, so, every day I make a protein shake large enough to contain enough for my least daily need. Even if it’s a day I can’t bear to eat anything worth a damn, I can drink that throughout the day, take my meds and the majority of my vitamins and it’s slowed the hair issue dramatically. I keep busy now, whereas the first week was at odd ends, cried every day and was in a serious emotional condition, which would do the situation no good and only worried those close to me. As I said, knowing the other members are safe, making good healthy choices and have good counsel was the weight off me that allowed me to slow my roll and start to get my shit together.

So, I let go. I let go of it all. Whatever floats by me or reaches out to me, I grab and work on but I’m not forcing anything anymore. The work has been done. It’s sink or swim time, I’ve kicked everyone as close to shore from this shipwreck of a life I made as I could (some of them kicking and screaming and slapping the whole motherfucking way), now, I guess, it’s time to see how close I can get to shore.

Tomorrow is my EEG at Temple. I wasn’t able to paint last night, my hands wouldn’t work and I had to finally admit to myself, that’s why I stopped painting or kept putting it off. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with my work, why it just wouldn’t come out. Now I know, which is good. I had taken an antihistamine for hives and my movement disorder was triggered. I’ll be too tired to paint tomorrow, probably, but Friday I’ll work. In the future, I can begin to be ready for these times and be less frustrated and grief-stricken. I become so upset that my language, my art, is slowly being taken from me, when I see my neurology taking over. Knowing it was simply the antihistamine really reassured me. As this recent painting builds, I’ll share it because painting is part of my “therapy”. It’s the one place that is mine. NO one, and I mean NO ONE can tell me how to BE there. I don’t care or give a fuck about art critics, or passers by’s opinions, advice or directions … it’s all me there. I build, I soothe, I caress, I make paint grow there … I affect there, I exist there.




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