The Bachelor

She looked confused and unsure. She certainly didn’t make them feel as if she really wanted the prize. She said she couldn’t say it because she wasn’t that kind of person. In truth, she didn’t know why. If she had known she would have said “you want me to declare my undying love and devotion for your son to you, and to be honest, nothing would feel better. But to assign words to the feelings and actually say them out loud would make them acutely real. I can’t wear my heart on my sleeve, I have to keep it safe. Right now, it‘s not safe.

“I could though, I could walk this path with him as far as it goes, off into eternity if possible. And I would, if it were just me. But it isn’t just me, is it? Sarah is also a factor.

“And oh what a factor she is. Bubbly, ambitious, goal oriented, Sarah is beautiful and kind. She has never known the pain and disappointment that have made me so private and guarded. She has so many of the qualities I wish I could possess. She is a big factor, and she would help him break my heart.

“So please don’t ask me to give what he cannot.”

She knew she wasn’t safe, but she didn’t know quite how she knew. She chalked it up to the game. She’s an intelligent woman, after all, and surely she knew what she was getting herself into, right? No one really knows how it will really be. Twenty five beautiful women claw and bite their way to the bachelor, as if having him in the end is worth the means. But it’s a cruel, and evil game.

It’s a wild rollercoaster ride designed to throw all of the women off kilter. They put them all in the same house to divert their attention to unimportant matters. He plays them all. He makes them all feel as if they’re the only one he sees.

That’s how he made her feel. She trusted him, and believed that he was being honest with her about his intention. She never would have done this if she hadn’t been so busy trying to prove the him, her and everyone else that she was worthy of his affection. She couldn’t see how wrong the whole thing really was. Why should she prove her worth to him, or any other man for that matter.

The truth nagged at her constantly, but she didn’t understand it. If he loved her the way she deserved to be loved, he would have told her and the entire world, ratings be damned. You know he told the girl he picked. She couldn’t hide it, it was written all over her face.

So while the one walks away with a date for a while, the other one is left to pick up the pieces that are left of her heart. She didn’t wear it on her sleeve, but she didn’t keep is safe, either.

FROZEN

Ice Falls at Shoshone Falls February 25, 2006

I was an explorer not long ago, babbling happily and flowing free.
Now I’m bound to this melancholic scene trapped with brutality.
The river runs before me, heading to the sea.

I crave to mingle within it depths, and journey on out to the deep ocean.
But, I dangle from a rocky precipice, silent and hopeless and frozen.
The sun is shining hotly, still I‘m not in motion.


Shoshone Falls February 25, 2006


Rainbows and waterfalls torture me pounding and glowing with all their might.
Oh! Do they know how I long to be with them and laughing in the sunlight?
But I must wait for my turn, my freedom is in sight.


Potholes of Shoshone Falls, Feb 25, 2006

The water I’m watching with such yearning was once as frozen and tortured as I.
Now it has the freedom to frolic and play and make rainbows that dance in the sky.
Soon I’ll get to join them, when time has passed me by.


Shoshone Falls, natural bridge. Feb 25,2006



Shoshone Falls February 25, 2006



Ice falls watching the Snake River flow to the sea.

I will again be an explorer, flowing free, no longer frozen, playing happily in the light that comes from the sun so high.

Depression

Stay Afloat

I don’t know the exact point when things began to change. I felt so strong and confident about where I was and where I was headed. There was peacefulness to my existence. I was happy just being in the moment, knowing that the days ahead would take care of themselves.

I have a faint recollection of the melody playing inside my head, but I thought for sure it would not be a threat this time. Oh January, you never announce your arrival, and you never leave in silence. I always dread your visits. Why must you be so unkind?

I’ve spent the past several days trying to sleep it off, to no avail. I read the words of others, yet feel no reprieve. I breathe in deeply, breathe out with intent, and yet suffer a fear of tomorrow. Tomorrow always comes for me. That should bring comfort this late in February, but apprehension is all I have. I don’t know why I wake up each and every day, but I am not always happy for it.

The wonders of modern medicine intervene when I want to cry. I don’t cry. I think I miss that. At least I feel alive when I cry. But now, I only feel hollow inside, unmoved by the sunshine, I am alone, and indifferent. I am now most dangerous to myself, for I have no will to live. My will to die is still not stronger than my fear of dying, but for how long? The race is on. Again.

I guess all the medicine in the world won’t stop this cycle. There are pathways in my brain that have been used so often throughout my life that they are easier to use than all the others. I need to find a way to prevent their use. I think in the winter I become so fatigued that I have to turn on the autopilot just to get out of bed every day and get to work. Getting enough sleep is not possible for me.

I look forward to May.

Back Off!

Back Off! It has been that kind of a week. I keep staying up till all hours of the night playing with my new computer. I am soooo tired right now that I really do think I am very possibly asleep. It was definitly not because of any meltdowns, just ordinary every day kind of noise. But by the time the end of the school day approached, I was gone. I roamed the halls and worked really hard to get realease students to actually leave the campus like they're supposed to. I bared my teeth.

I drew this in charcoal. I was helping a student in his art class who is quite self sufficient in art. The fact that I have been going to art classes for the past several years as a part of my job, is why I have been able to get to where I am with my art today.

I am really looking forward to finishing my acrylic painting and work some more on a couple of oils this week end. But more than anything else, I'm sleepy and need a long nap.

Happy Valentines Day!

Valentine bouquet Another Valentine's Day come and gone. My valentines came in the form of a good friend and great kids. Still no significant other, which is a common theme for me on Valentine's day, yet this year it hasn't bothered me in the least. The school office filled up with thousands of dollars worth of red, pink and white artistic compilations that will only be enjoyed for a few short days. The flowers my friend bought me were very sweet and beautiful, the dinner with my kids was great. The items were only temporary. The flowers will die, the dinner will be processed and eliminated (with any luck at all) and the cards will be recylcled. The memories, however, are forever. I have them now, they will remain with me.

Neither gift was given as a trade for my affection. They weren't given to declare a love that must be returned. They were simply genuine gifts of sincerity - yes, I thought enough of you to actually think of you when you were not present. I like you enough of you to show you that. You see, you do matter!

I do matter!


What makes this drawing a Valentine's Day Bouquet? What doesn't make it a Valentine's Day Bouquet? What is it? What is it not?

What it is is a special part of who I am, and I think enough of the viewer to share it with you, which makes it a sincere gift. Once again I give back a small piece of my (he)art.

Have You Seen This Alien?

Have You Seen This Alien?

I was sitting on my couch one Saturday afternoon, watching cooking shows on PBS and working on a cross stitch project. I looked up at my VCR and froze. I saw two round black eyes staring at me. It looked so strange, like an alien depicted in those unsolved mysteries shows.

I couldn't see where the reflection was coming from, maybe behind me? I slowly turned around to look. No, there were no aliens behind me. I sat for a few more minutes, then got up the courage to get off the couch and move in for a closer look.

The two black round eyes were the volume control buttons on my VCR. What was making the reflection for the rest of the creature, I could not tell. It is gone now, except for in this drawing diary, and now on this blog. I will never forget you alien reflection! In my memory and in my (he)art you shall live on forever!

Summer Eagles

Summer Eagle This oil on canvas board was an impressionist depiction of an couple of eagles taking in the last of the hot summer evenings in the Idaho desert. Came out of my head, down my arm through my fingers along the brush and onto the canvas. It was a kind of magic really. Not perfect, but not bad for one of my learning curves.

Pastel Shell

Pastel Shell This pastel drawing was done in November of 2004. I sat watching tv and helping my son with a homework art project and decided, hey, I'll just draw one of these shells I got on our last vacation! So here it is. I believe I was really starting to see!

My Eye!

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My Eye! No really! It is my eye! My eye as I saw in in a make-up mirror! This was the first Charcoal drawing I ever did that I really thought was right on. Created on January 27, 2004, it was the object of much admiration, not just mine either! I was offered many opportunities to draw people for free too! Unfortunately for them, I am no longer free and easy. Hot and ready, yes, but I am no longer free for the taking.

Autism

Autism. When my son was diagnosed, I don’t think anyone really knew what it was at all. Things aren’t much better now. The Pediatric Neuropsychiatrist who made the official diagnosis wasn’t the best thing that could have happened. He was kind enough to imply that there was no cure, but that my son could grow up to be an independent productive member of society, or, he could end up in an institution - all depending on how I handled it.

No, he wasn’t calling me a refrigerator mother, but he was putting a heavy burden on my back. There were no services in our town. The closest we had was Mike Day in Boise, and he was simply too busy to be of any real assistance to us. He tried, and had some great ideas about how my son should be educated, but the local school district, my employer, dug in their heals.

After four years of waiting, my son finally got accepted into an ABA program that was coming to our town. The first therapist we had was extremely gifted. She is one of those people who sees the person underneath the behavior. She taught me how to be non-emotional and far more accepting of the symptoms that were a part of his autism.

My son got a lot better in the short time she was with him. I unfortunately stayed with the program for too long after she was gone. The others, while they were good at saying “no that’s wrong” and putting kids in time-out, were absolutely clueless as to how to help their clients navigate effectively through their lives with their disability. A lot of stress was added to my son’s life. I limited their services to working with him in school, because the school district has really strong heals, until he was functioning well enough to not need them any more. I gave them a couple of months of social, then pulled him. It was more harmful than good.

We cruised along for several years without private services. Then his high school teacher suggested he see a counselor friend of hers. He seemed nice, and it felt to me as though God put him in my path for my son. It worked well at first. Then he wanted to put Zach on medications. I should have, and wish now that I would have, said no, no, no, and stuck with it. He used my insecurity and fears against me and now, my son is on Seroquel. Now he’s 18 and decides for himself, but he still hasn’t chosen to stop. He is also on and Zoloft, and should probably stay with that as he does seem much happier now.

The real problem is, that even though this counselor (Mike) has a son with an ASD, I don’t think he understands it at all. My son didn’t develop the skill to recognize the shadows were just shadows, so Mike decided that he was hallucinating. My son has been bullied and teased and used and abused by so many people in his life that he has some real paranoia to have to deal with. But Mike is sure this is Schizo related. I think Mike needs to read some of the blogs by autistics. My son is just like them. The way he thinks, the way he feels.

At this time, it really looks like my son will live an independent life. I don’t know how productive he will be at this point, but SSI will be there for him. He dreams of attending college and moving out on his own. I see no reason why he shouldn’t.

It was a difficult road, but we seem to have made it successfully. And to be honest, I don’t think I am the reason for my son’s success. He deserves all the credit for that.

I think I’ll start working on a Neurodiversity blog. Neurotypical people think that, because they are in the majority, they are right. I would like to disprove that notion.

A New Year, A New Computer

Whew! I made it through another January! It was so close, but I think I'm out the other end now.

Last weekend, I went to look at cd/dvd burners and realized that the way to go is to get one in a new computer. And since I was getting a new computer, why not replace the old bubble jet with a new printer/scanner/copier? So now I can add some of the things that really speak to my relationship with all that is.

My art is rough, but getting better. I hid it away my whole life to protect it from my mother. Now that she is no longer a threat, I can develop that which really makes me me!

This is my first painting! It is oil on canvas and a practice of grapes. I am currently working on a still life of grapes for my friend because she liked these so much. The leaves don't really look much like grape leaves, but I really learned a lot about painting with oil during this process.

Not bad for my first, is it?

I've been reading some blogs written by people who have autism. It is a real eye opener. Maybe sometime I'll put some of those links on this site and discuss my views on all of it, but not now.