We are here, why?

A wife is sick for the second time in a 4 week period. Covid took her down first. No one else in her family caught it that she knows of. Because she is the only one who had symptoms. Everyone else was well. She was confined to the couple's bedroom in fear that she could pass it on even though she may already have. or received it from one of her kids. The husband slept in the same bed as she did and yet never caught it. And he stayed far away from her as well. She felt isolated. As she should have. She had the plague. Fast forward 4 weeks later and she is knocked down again with another illness. Not one any of the doctors or the test can figure out. So after 6 days of self treatment and again her dear husband tending to her hand and foot she slowly recovers. A week and 4 days later she still can't recover the way she use to but she is still doing her best. She rests and she tends to her body. But something is missing. Her dear husband has been without pure love and affection for almost 2 weeks. That can't be. That isn't ok. So she succumbs to her desires as well even if she has to pay the price of it. She wants it too right? After is all said and done she resumes rest and takes her time to recover from that as well. Even if it does feel good. She is doing her best yes. She misses her hobbies and time alone even though she was alone just recently. Then it happens again. But she isn't done recovering. She has pain now. Reoccurring. Why? She doesn't know. So she does what she knows to do. Tries to tend to herself yet again. But she was resting, taking her medication, not doing more than she was able. But it happens anyway. She feels bad because obviously it is something she did wrong right? She should have rested more. She shouldn't have taken care of her kids and she shouldn't have indulged her lustful desires. Rest is what she should have done. But she is a wife, mother, daughter, friend, coworker and employee. She can't stop. The weight of the world is on her shoulders. But the world went on when she was down right. It can go on without her. Sounds selfish. It is. She is in so much pain. But she can't take off another week of her duties. The pile up and then she is down longer. So suffer through the pain. Do the chores, break your back, bend over. Because if you don't, they won't be happy. They say, "I want you to feel better so please rest." But then when they are tired they say, "I will not do anymore. Look what I already did!" But she does it week end and week out. Because she has to. But its too much for others. Once she worked at a job that had the same attitude. She worked too hard. She made it look too easy. When she was gone for a week, they asked, "How did she do it?" Now those she lives with don't ask. They say they will not do more. She should take their advice and not do more. Because if it is too hard for them to do and she does it every week, then its too hard for her to do and she needs to stop doing it every week.

December 2023

Sunday my baby sister died. Sunday, she went with her husband and stood beside him, lied and died. No sooner she spoke the words her life left her and what i touched after that day was a cold corpse walking without a soul or heart. She died. She said she told us everything. She defended a lie. She stood next to chaos and chose to be alienated with her person. Therefore she died. She chose to lose herself and fall to the whims of the rich and life of smoke and mirrors. She died. She decided to not speak and not be honest. She chose the death of a lie. And forever will lie in the grave. Instagram pictures with nice clothes. A big house with a grand floor. Next comes a new baby in a toxic fake happy family. She will be born to a dead mother. She will be born to an empty home. Maybe its a he. Because another she will only cause more hatred in the coffin she lays. Life without working. A life without peace. She died. Or maybe I died. Maybe I am the one in the grave. All I see is darkness. All I see is hatred and fuming rage for a life that I have put into. That has fell in corruption. I choke of the putrid smell of the air that should be breath coating the words "I love you". I am reaching and scratching at the edges of the wood panels to get light. Because I can't die like this. I want to live and I want to breath. I want to dance how I feel should be right. I should be able to stretch and laugh out loud for the sky to accept my joy. I want to walk to the beat of the music I have finally created for myself. I want to share my life with those I love and those I cherish. But I have been forced into this dark and damp box. Cold, lifeless, dark. A coffin. She killed me. She didn't die. She killed me. Her words didn't kill her they killed me. They snuffed me out. The flame has been doused. The will to keep on has be ripped from my hands and thrown to an unknown place with no tracker. The feelings won't die down and they hatred is starting to boil over into everything else that I hold dear. I have to get out of this box. There has to be a way. Someone direct me so that I can live. There is no way I will die in this hole with no way out. I have grown out of this once. I found the sun. I had help. i appreciate it. Do I need to scream? Do I need to exhaust all of the avenues? Where are the avenues? Which street is it? Is there a map? No here is no map. There is only endless space and time. When someone dies all you can do is wait for the pain to ease up so you can breathe. Maybe its time to let the relationship die. And wait for time to ease the pain so I can get out of the box. But as I wait. I won't set still either. I will slowly carve my way back out of the box and out of the ground. A coffin isn't for those with a will to live. Only for those that want to live in a box

November bullet journal spreads. It was a washi tape challenge.

I hope this one gives you a feeling.

September Spreads

September Spreads

August....finally caught up. And soon I'll "blog" aka vent about life recently. Sometimes I think I am a good story teller

Something that has been lost in the past 15 yrs, respect. How are you going to teach a child to respect another when you can't even represent yourself in a manner that is respectable and honest. I want my children to be true. All manners of themselves. Do not suppress your being just because another can't handle you. They don't have to. And that is what all kids should know. They do not have to be handled by someone who doesn't love them for who they are and will accept them for who they are. At the same time they shouldn't be placed in a box to be determined lovable or approachable. If you where in desperate need, you would hope anyone would approach you to help you. Same applies to any other human being of any age. You would want anyone. Children are nothing but small adults. They have problems, they have feelings, and stress. The bills they they have due are emotional lessons, studies, and tests. The pressure they feel are, parents, classmates, teachers, and coaches. The illnesses that get them down are the same as you. Have compassion for these people that can't greet you with a simple, "Hello".

August....finally caught up. And soon I'll "blog" aka vent about life recently. Sometimes I think I am a good story teller

Because August Bujo spread was acrylic paint. So I practiced...a little

July spreads