The Wash

 

"AND IT ALL POURS DOWN",  45" x 5',  2002, oil, plaster on panel

"AND IT ALL POURS DOWN", 45" x 5', 2002, oil, plaster on panel

 

 

I’m so glad I can cry.

Don’t do it very often but sometimes the gates just open.

I wake up the next morning with puffy eyes but feeling clean and ready for whatever comes next.

Yesterday,  I behaved badly.

I got to a place in negotiating this whole MS thing and was feeling alone in it as far as my blood family is concerned.

I wanted to connect and called my sister.

I practiced transparency with her;  being honest about my state of being,  concerns and told her she didn’t have to FIX anything,  just hear me.

The tears I cried had that tinge of ‘over-the-edge’  madness to them.

Too many.  Too fast.

The reason I say I behaved badly is that it was unfair of me to go from NOTHING to SOMETHING with her.

We are as different as two people could be.

I think we both honestly yearn for our sisterly bond to be easier and less frustrating.  We want that THING that we think is possible IF ONLY SSSSSHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEE could be different..  or IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII could be different..

The thing is that we’ve got what we’ve got and that is good.

It is rich and human and multi-textured.

There is certainly deep disappointment sometimes that we don’t jive or experience one another in a way that might get us to that fantasy place of whatever it is we think we want from one another.

This ride we’re on is essentially solo.

I am responsible for the quality of life gifted to me.

Something I really want to address in myself is to pay attention to people when they show you who they are.  Believe them the first time. Appreciate that and love THAT instead of the chronic efforts we do because we think we need or want a different outcome.

When I wrote that,  a peace washed over me.

I’ll take that as validation for this post.

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