Crankin' Out Another Rant

I'm having one of those nights where my whole gut is acting like a ceiling fan, cranked up to wind tunnel speed.

I'm depressed and have no real reason that I can think of to be that way, so that kicks in the anger about myself being depressed, which kicks in the 12-year old in my persona that feels all left alone and unsure about the noises in the attic of the house. I've read and re-read posts on Facebook from my friends and sought out all sorts of inspirational hoo-ha on the Internet to help me get through this momentary tangle of fishing line in my brain. 

I haven't quite gotten a handle on my whole lot in life, sans husband, step-grandchildren or beloved art gallery and that beautiful grand dame of a building that housed it. I've got a much less stressful life, as far as recognized stress goes. I used to fly off to the beach when I get this way, and the sand and salt air and rolling waves usually work some sort of ethereal and corporeal magic that keeps the chakras from blowing too much out of line. But, I'm not three minutes from the ocean anymore, so if I want to take the pups and drive towards salvation, it requires planning, arriving just at the right time to avoid crowds of people coming and going, getting there to spend enough time to decompress before the sun sets.

I think because I've had to hit the ground running since moving back to Florida, I haven't really dealt with the whole last three years of my life. When something slowly dies, it takes a toll on you, and my dream of being a working artist and not having to play the time-clock game had been unraveling for some time. I was holding on to a single-minded thought that I was comfortable, safe and loved. I took a steadfast approach that I could weather the high waves and hunker down. Betrayal, under any circumstances, is a hateful thing.

I was nice until the end. I signed over everything I had invested my entire retirement savings in, my whole life, in one signature, was dramatically and most assuredly, changed. I couldn't have afforded to keep my lovely art gallery and the building that housed it, but I can guarantee had I been able to, I would have. It was out of love that I gave up my marriage, my investments and my comfortable life. But now, the deep roots of rage have set in, and I have to deal with them without completely destroying the fragile threads of this new tapestry I'm weaving.

Everyone has their own particular species of demons to deal with. One of mine happens to be a nagging habit of remembering snippets of promises and shared dreams and I question the nature of there being a person who could actually stand by their words. I have a small circle of friends that I trust implicitly, but as for the general public, I'm not as trusting as I used to be. This demon is tinged with jealousy and stinks of unfairness.

But, enough. I'd like to move onward and upward, and I believe I might be on the right path. I have to stay focused, and this means some hard decisions for me. It means actively seeking a more forceful mental approach to happiness...to make, as Kingfish would say, every day a holiday....