life, love,art. heart failure and assorted ramblings

life, love,art. heart failure and assorted ramblings

Don't Talk Like That...

I write to find out what my heart thinks....

I write to expose and work through the ugly parts of this raunchy disease. My words always help me understand that in this life there will be times that are crappy painful and unexpected but tucked in there are the amazingly wonderful, too. That is when I realized the only control I have over any of this is how I chose to experience them! I realized that I could understand, celebrate can survive even better when I could express these feelings with my own words of courage, humor, and grace. I am the Queen of my own life and the choice is mine!

I am here to celebrate my life, to uncover my fears, to hold on to love, to grieve my losses, to laugh long and hard, and to learn how to live a full magnificent life with heart failure.

I am honoring my creativity, and exploring all of my emotions out loud ...before anyone can say....."Don't talk like that!"


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Monday, January 29, 2018

Where the hell were you when I was painting?

 I wonder if I can tattoo this one!  Do your own thing…it does not matter what they think.  I have submitted 2 artworks and they were both accepted, and now as I wait to deliver for the opening I stare at them and pick apart all of the things I did wrong or could be better. That low voice in the back of my mind that always haunts me, is getting a bit louder insisting… wanting to know…” who the hell do I think I am?” When I do not answer it immediately sees an opening to speak up and one by one clearly identify in detail everything wrong with the work.  I wonder why and in my mind,  scream back…where the hell were you when I was painting this…Why show up now?  Why did I think that was a good idea?  Who do you think you are?  That fear scares the bejesus out of me.  I so desperately want to keep moving forward, be relevant, and meaningful…I need this life to have meaning.  But when I am not strong enough, I just put the work in the back room and do not look at it!  That pisses off my critical voice and I do not have to hear it…at least not until delivery day!   Then I have to keep whispering to myself…no matter what, don’t stop doing what you love doing…
"Gone (Going)" Jack Johnson

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