Grrr . . . grrr . . . grrr . . . blah, blah, blah . . . dammit . . . dammit. Sad -> angry -> worried -> sad again . . . sad, sad, sad . . . pissed off . . . seething -> crying -> pacing -> petting cats . . . awwww 🙂 Animal therapy.
That person. That toxic, heinous person, and her rude, dishonest, bungling, inept, insensitive behavior . . . insults me. Screeches at me. Talks down to me. Has the audacity to slander my professionalism . . . my ART MODELING . . . the thing I love . . . the thing for which I have the greatest passion, the very thing that inspired me to start a BLOG for heaven’s sake! That person . . . that . . . insert the dreaded “C” word -> my mother will get mad if I type it. (The “person” has a website too by the way. It’s about shoes. Yes . . . shoes. :listens while everybody laughs:)
I had eight months. EIGHT EXCELLENT MONTHS with no sign of “the beast”. I’ve been immensely proud of these eight months. I battle it on my own, with nothing but supplements, diet, meditation, and the unconditional love of family and friends. And now the actions of this horrible person have triggered anxiety in my head. For those of us who suffer from the beast, any measure of anxiety -especially a hard-hitting one like this – is a very, very precarious matter. Not funny. Let’s just say I’m having a crummy day. If I allow this to slip into an “episode”, then I am in deep shit. And my triumphant eight month record will be ruined. My goal was to stretch it into a full year.
But the beast is only lurking for now, and I’m doing everything in my power to keep him at bay. Went for a drive earlier which was nice. Home now, on the computer (obviously!). Tinkering around on my Delicious page sorting through my bookmarks. Going to log off soon, light some candles, put on a Ravi Shankar CD, and ease into some meditative yoga. I have a couple of dear friends on my mind – people I love – whose faces, voices, and precious spirits are keeping me company, unbeknownst to them 🙂
Art for this occasion? Of course. And I don’t think I have to spell out the symbolism. It’s pretty self-explanatory. By Pablo Picasso, this is Blue Nude from 1902: