You know someone is really good at something when they make it look easy. When they make the impossible look easy, that's how you know they have talent, skill and experience.

a moment

I need a moment.
The run of emotions today is so high
at funeral I didn't even cry
Now off to work...
But I need a moment,
as fatigue is starting to press hard.

Relief, release, will writing help now? Or should I close my eyes. I'm pushing my 80. Maybe already beyond, but what do you do when there is more to be done?
This is the struggle with my tenacious brain and the mark that was left internally.

Silly, silly artistry

Yet, focused on fix
I can certainly say that I am far better off this way.
And really, I think,
 not so much broken anymore,
rather I am still just weak.
Rebuilding takes time if you want it solid,
If you'd rather not push too hard thus causing cracks in the scars.
So slow I go as I grow
more gracefully into me

Grace may not be the right word but whatever. I like who I am and I like all of my silly artistry.

Last night, we got home late, but so much emotion was wanting to push out. The canvas and color that sat in the garage called and I succumbed. So with fingers and hands, while tears streamed silent, I let what was hiding inside push out. 

Can we pass on healing?

Today I crave sleep.
MH, the fallen angel, is in such bad shape and I know it. I want to sleep, and let my healing energy somehow pass on to him.
But I know I can't. It is impossible to do this. So then I wish to sleep to keep the heart from hurt and to keep the mind from memories, meaning and maybe even mania.
And I am still healing. 
Not just my ankle, but my whole leg and hip now remind me. The other foot and the tired brain remind me.
Then there are the scratches all up and down my legs... new wounds, new healing.

.But healing is happening and stronger I become.
..My heart, though it hurts for this new man, this time it simply hurts figuratively. Not the depth and complexity, not the injured chemistry.
Today I feel it in my chest but not so nearly physically.
Back in November my heart physically hurt. I could feel the chemicals surging and it hurt. Only to subside per the tabs of the drug that had caused it. But with out the drug -I was no longer allowed- it hurt. off and on physically, all the way through to somewhere in March or April. That is a very long time, but I'm glad I'm adjusting. I'm healing.
The process is so slow and confusing
broken in my own way
yet still far better off, in my childish state,
than the man that fell from the sky yesterday.

Fallen Angels fall so fast.

A man falling from the sky.
He really could die
right after husband said "the penalty is high"
For this freedom to fly
Why?
I run as soon as we know its not going to be good. The stakes are high. He really could die.
Call 911, get your phone, no go to that house. Others around already have. Husband follows, I'm faster. He tells me to be careful of my ankle. He loves me. He thinks of me.
It's fine and it will be, at least better than the man who fell if someone doesn't get to him fast.
through fields. I don't have the stamina, but I push. I see the chute and I shred my legs as I push to get to where he's landed. Closer; I see a man walking. He's okay.... But I know better. It's help. Others are there but I don't stop. Do they know what to do and what not to do? Will they know how to protect his head, neck and back? Will they know how to help him breath or close a gapping gushing wound? I keep going. We get there they have it under control. Keeping him from moving, keeping him awake. I analyze fast, legs shorter, get in close large chin gash to the bone not gushing, from chin strap. bend down make sure the two attending know what they are doing. I stay close. Touch. It is so important. Keep him here, awake. Touch his face. I know my power. They are all men. He is in good hands, but I may be needed. Everything we can to help him hold on until they can get to him and care.
He wants to move his legs. They hurt. He can feel them. He wants to move his head. I am asked to take the position to stabilize his head. He wants things elevated. I tell him that they are, so he won't keep trying to use his fully functional arms to flop then over again. He calls me out that they are not. "It is good that you can feel that," I say with a smile, "hold on, they are coming"
"Can you move to the side?" 

"Are you the EMT?" 

"No," he says but as I turn to see he has a uniform and open bag is moving fast and he knows what to do. I move knowing he probably misheard. I ask where they want me. No time to reply as another guy, 2 more, in uniform come on. I move out of the way.
Doggo, where I left him leash attached to the fence.
Husband standing back.
Emergency responders are there, and more coming. People with more experience and training the gear and supplies. We can go. I don't want to be in the way now. I retreat but not before surveying the scene. There is another female present now. She can fill that role if that role is needed.
Life is so very short and can change in the blink of an eye. We learn so much so quickly when life is truly threatened. I know more about me and husband than I did before.
Confirmed: Instinct and intuition, I'm calm in the storm, I know what to do. and can make decisions quickly. ...and I will sacrifice me and my wellbeing for the sake of someone else.
Husband: He loves me so much he's thinking of my ankle. He'll follow directions when it matters. He's slower to respond and not as sure about what to do but he's there and he'll support and surely see it through.
He's also very clever, reminding me the cost.
We are not so keen to fly so much anymore, that drive instantly satisfied with the reality of the price.
I pray for this man to be okay, and that doesn't mean to survive. I hope that he lives but I hope more than that, no matter where he is, he'll thrive again.
Why do we press for the thrills the adventures that come at such high costs?
Who am I and what's really important?
So many things learned so quickly. And my life so completely bizarre.
Walking home I fight a limp now, to keep up with my husband. finally I retreat and listen to me as I know I am pushing too hard on injuries not fully healed. He'll go ahead and bring back the car, while I sit and wait. As I fall behind I feel relief because I don't want him to see the tears come out of me. I don't want him to see me breaking again and know the ties to the injuries. Enough trauma for one day. and the tears they barely wet my eyes and then they come no more. I'm dazed and writing it out in my head as I wait and analyze the sacrificed socks and scratched up legs. This is reality and this is me.
Please, God, please bless and protect the fallen angel Mykel Henrie. https://www.gofundme.com/mykel-henrie039s-accident-recovery-fund

rewrite the wrongs

They say you can't rewrite your past. But actually you can in so many ways. and people do all of the time.
I can rewrite my focus and my perspective.
My husband, running with me, on a broken leg and we didn't even know it. No changing of truth, just changing of understanding and perspective, lets go of frustration and hurt, now the past is rewritten to a happier, even comical story.
Rewrite your past. Find the truths you may have over looked, find the parts that can give you peace and comfort and rewrite your own wrongs, than love the new you

Piñata People -Per Tab

My chemistry is getting all awry again and I am not entirely sure why.

I'm getting a little messed up again and chemicals are starting to surge and it really bothers me. Although it can be exhilarating it bothers me when I have to work so hard to maintain the "normal" levels. I don't like when I have to make such an effort to pretend that I'm just like all the other unimpaired humanoids walking around; when I struggle to keep down the reckless party that is pushing internally on my piñata like walls, waiting to be burst by any happy party goer.
That was yesterday. I took a quarter of a clonazepam to counter the chemistry. It helped.
...but I still hate that at times I seem to need that. Do I?