Death and a New Direction

Grief 2020

Grief 2019

Hello all you lovely people. I lost my password to this blog and was too out of it to find it. That pretty much prevented me from posting. The good news is that I stumbled across it the other day. The date next the user info was 2010. Wow! I’ve been at this blogging thing, off and on, for 10 years.

A lot has happened since my last post which I think was in May of 2019. Some good and some pretty damned horrible. The most horrible thing was that my beloved daughter died at the end of July. To say it ripped my heart out with a rusty chain saw would be an under statement. 😥

To those of you who are familiar with my writings about my daughter, you are aware that we had an extremely rocky relationship. She was mentally ill and refused any formal medical treatment. She self medicated with alcohol and some pretty hardcore drugs. I hadn’t heard from her in almost a year.

In mid July her ex husband informed me via Facebook instant messenger that she was in the hospital. (He didn’t have my phone number) Thank God for instant messenger. What he didn’t tell me was that he found her unresponsive with her eyes open.

I immediately hopped on a plane and flew up to Boston to be with her. It turns out that she had been sick with a bad cough for months, but refused to go to the doctor. During this time she had been drinking alcohol non stop and refusing to eat. As a result her weight had ballooned up to over 250 pounds. Her normal weight was about 160.

She had some kind of horrendous lung infection that spread to her other organs. They threw words at me like septic and ascites, which I think means free floating fluid in her abdomen. They tried suctioning the fluid in her lungs repeatedly, but they filled back up within a few hours. They were pumping her full of every kind of antibiotics known to man but it just wasn’t working. After 2 weeks they looked down into her lungs with a camera scope and saw that her lung tissue was completely destroyed. There was no coming back even if they beat the infection.

At this point I had to make the most difficult decision that anyone has to make for a loved one. The doctors told me that even if they put her on full blown life support she was so sick that she would only last a few weeks. So I asked the doctors to take her off life support and switch her to “comfort care.” I guess that’s what the medical staff like to call it. Doesn’t sound as dreadful as “give up and let the patient die.”

They did this at 5 p.m. Without the tube down her throat she was able to talk a little. At one point she asked “why is this happening to me?” I didn’t think it was the time to tell her about all the things she had done to her body. I just told her that she was very sick and that I was there with her.

I kind of went to this other worldly place. I didn’t have any sensation of time passing or any need to go for a walk or even use the restroom. It was really weird. I sat with her holding her hand from 5 p.m. until 5 a.m. Then she sort of breathed out in a huff and that was it…her last breathe. I put my head down and cried for the first time since this all started.

Things were sort of a blur after that. The nurse came in asked me if I was OK. How do you answer a question like that when your child has just died? Maybe they thought I was going to start screaming and ripping my hair out or jump out the window? A doctor came in and did the official time of death and whatever else. I was in shock at that point which was kind of a blessing. Total physical, emotional and spiritual overload.

Somehow I managed to order an Uber to go back to my hotel. I sat there in the back seat looking out at the growing dawn. Even as grief stricken as I was it occurred to me that in a way her passing was kind of a blessing. She had been profoundly unhappy for so long and wasn’t suffering any more. I will wish to my dying day that she had found a way out of her abyss of suffering that allowed her to remain alive and be happy.

So as far as new directions…..floundering around in grief for the last few months I’ve realized some important truths. Truths for me anyway. 1) life is a gift and it’s pretty short. Don’t put up with bullshit, negative people, etc. 2) Today is the day to start doing what you want or dream to do because tomorrow may not come. 2) Tell everyone that you love…that you love them. Don’t assume that they know. 3) It’s time to take myself seriously as an artist. It started out as a hobby, but it has morphed into a full blown love.

The picture above is a painting I did to express grief through art. It’s not totally original content. I searched Google images for “grief” for ideas.

So that’s all for now folks. Love to all and as always…thank you for listening.

Free Money?

Economics
In economics, TANSTAAFL demonstrates opportunity cost. Greg Mankiw described the concept as follows: “To get one thing that we like, we usually have to give up another thing that we like. Making decisions requires trading off one goal against another.”[17] The idea that there is no free lunch at the societal level applies only when all resources are being used completely and appropriately – i.e., when economic efficiency prevails. If not, a ‘free lunch’ can be had through a more efficient utilization of resources. Or, as Fred Brooks put it, “You can only get something for nothing if you have previously gotten nothing for something.” If one individual or group gets something at no cost, somebody else ends up paying for it. If there appears to be no direct cost to any single individual, there is a social cost. Similarly, someone can benefit for “free” from an externality or from a public good, but someone has to pay the cost of producing these benefits.

I had an interesting talk with a charming young lady today. She is the wife of our gardener. They are both in their late 20s. Somehow the subject of collecting social security came up, and the fact that I would be able to collect mine next year. She said “oh nice, free money.” I was kind of shocked and informed her that there is no such thing as “free money.” I worked for FORTY YEARS and paid into my social security during these decades of drudgery intermingled with interesting jobs.

It made me wonder. Do young people think oldsters are getting a ride on “free money” from social security? Do they understand how the social security system works? Maybe not. I don’t really understand it myself. All I know is that I am entitled to it. Yeah I know, the dreaded “entitled” word. However… there is a huge difference between “I’m entitled to this because I paid for it” and “I’m entitled to this because I exist on this planet and I have decided that I should have everything free.”

I remember my grandmother used to say to me “there is no such thing as a free lunch.” And there really isn’t. Everything costs something. Time, effort, money, materials, thought, preparation and on and on. For example: you may say air is free. But you still have to do something, yeah breathe. The air isn’t just going to float into your lungs with no effort on your part.

So I am interested and concerned at the same time. I keep hearing the term “democratic socialism.” What does that even mean? Socialism has been tried over and over again, in many countries. If we can learn anything from history is that it doesn’t work. Human nature drives us to explore, try to improve ourselves, make money. (yea I know another evil word ‘money.”) And we expect a result.

I only truly know myself, and just barely. What I do know is that I expect some outcome or benefit from my efforts and adventures. If I work at a job I expect to get paid. If I work on an art project, I expect to end up with a painting. I would not appreciate the government stepping in and confiscating the fruits of my efforts. “Well we want 30% of your paintings, and we decide who gets to have them.” We want 30% of your salary and you have NO say in what we are going to do with it or who we give it to.”

I’m just basically confused. Where do people think money comes from? It doesn’t grow on trees. It comes from the sweat of someone’s brow. All these people proudly cruising around in electric cars…..where do they think electricity comes from? Electricity comes from power plants that use … yes…take a deep breath…fossil fuels.

I am at the end of my rather rambling rant. It’s good to be back to my blog. I’ve really missed it. Love to all and peace on earth.

I’m Back in the Saddle!

Hey guys. I took an extremely long hiatus from blogging. I blame it on a bout of bipolar depression which has greatly improved..thank you Universe. That was getting old.

Also I got engrossed in another form of creativity..oil painting. 💕

Melancholia. Oil on Canvas 24 x 36. (This is an original work created and owned by me. Please do not copy or use without my consent)

 

Thomas Hardy Can Bite Me

One of my ongoing life projects is to slog my way through “the list” of classic books. Also I’m working my way through a list of 100 books one should read during their life that I found somewhere, don’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. Thus Tess of the D’Urbervilles came up on my mental jukebox and I wasted a day of my life reading it.

My overly brief summary is a poor young woman who is voluptuous for her age is brought to shame by a rich man who is supposed to be helping her family. As a result she has a baby and is shunned by her village. The baby dies. Later Tess runs off to get away and takes work as a milk maid on a farm far from her home village. She meets, falls in love with and marries a man she idolizes and thinks is a virtuous and beyond reproach kind of man.

On their wedding night he confesses to her that he had a fling with a woman who tempted him beyond his ability to resist. (poor men,  they just can’t handle us women) Tess is relieved by this revelation and unburdens her sordid past to her groom. He is shocked, horrified, repulsed, decides he doesn’t really love her after all, and leaves her to her own devices. He runs away from England all together to try his hand at farming in Brazil. Yea, yea, finding out your wife is not a virgin on her wedding night can do that to a man. At least it did in the 1800s according to Thomas Hardy. Although today it can still be a death sentence to a woman if she lives in some places in the Middle East.

Tess spends the next few years descending further into poverty and degredation, fighting off the advances of various men who find her looks overwhelming, claiming to be married, but no one believes her. For some reason known only to the author she continues to defend and be true to the husband who abandoned her. She eventually ends up homeless with a mother and sisters to care for and gets so desperate that she finally gives in and  hooks back up with the guy (D’Urberville) who brought her to shame in the first place.

Meanwhile, the husband, after years of illness and failure in Brazil decides that he loves Tess after all and comes back to England to reclaim her. Alas he finds her living with the evil D’Urberville. Tess is so undone by this and wants to be with her “true” husband so bad that –get this- she stabs D’Urberville in the heart with a fruit knife and runs off to be with said husband. He dies and the landlady discovers this fact by noticing that blood is dripping through the ceiling from their room upstairs.

Tess tells her husband what she did and they wander the country side for days hiding in various bushes and abandoned houses. But justice must prevail you see. She is caught of course. The final scene is Mr. Lily White husband and Tess’s sister are standing on a hillside looking at the prison. A black flag is raised indicating the Tess has been hanged for her crime. THE END.

I’m outraged by various things about this book. The main thing being it is yet another book written by a man who seems to think that he knows how the secret heart and mind of a young woman, or any woman for that matter, operates. Another thing that bugs me is that this book is given to our young women to read and touted as a classic. The main message being “see this is what happens to bad girls.” I’m still seething and I read the book over a week ago.

Discussing Politics Makes Me Rip Out My Hair

Tweedle Dee

Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle;
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.
Alice in Wonderland

Ever find yourself embroiled in a political discussion that has morphed into a battle? Now  your morals, intelligence, and even your right to exist on the face of the earth are called into question.

The last few days I’ve been attempting this fruitless activity on Facebook. First with my ex-husband and then with my son. Once again I remember why I hate Facebook and question my sanity for attempting to have a public discussion about anything more emotionally charged than which way the wind blows.

No I take that back. I say the wind is coming out of the east someone will attempt to rip my head off and say “the wind used to blow from the west and this means you don’t care about global warming. Therefore you probably put your cat in the microwave on a regular basis, and when you’re not doing that you spit on homeless people.” Say what? I give up. I usually end up thinking “I know you are trying to make a point, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is.”

First my Ex fires a shot across the bow when I commented about how I don’t like how our government spends our tax dollars. “I think we should tax the rich until they bleed.” Oh come on. That’s a rather violent response, don’tcha think? This is coming from a man who used to work for the Internal Revenue Service and knows first-hand how convoluted and crooked the whole tax system is. At this point I murmur to myself, “Now I remember why I divorced your ass.”

Next comes my son. He was raised by his dad. His comments left me wondering “what the hell did your father read for a bedtime story? The Communist Manifesto?” He actually said something to the effect of “I don’t like how the government is spending our money, but I think there should be more taxes.”

I just don’t get it. I feel a migraine coming on. I must refrain from such useless and frustrating attempts to talk about politics. But dammit, sometimes I just can’t help myself. I have a brain and sometimes I like to use it.

 

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