The Culture that has been here all the time

I can't recall ever having as many healthcare appointments in one week as I had this past week. I am glad it is the weekend, as I used to be glad when I worked. Interacting with the staff at my healthcare facilities is cheerful, and I can put on a facade of doing well even when I am not.

My cat was right next to me but did not roust me or hurry me up, so he must be very intelligent, aware that I wanted to sleep an extra fifteen minutes. I pet him, he purred, and head bumped my chin. My Terrier was snoring lightly, so I let her sleep and went down to feed the cat.

What is my agenda today: Perform a cursory scan of news on the internet. Work on some art. Watch another refresher chess game study. Practice guitar and sing several old songs (I haven't worked on my songs for some time now). Select a documentary to watch and a program from the BBC for later.

Haven't had much of an appetite lately, prefer snacks, fast and light. Besides, my dining room and table are currently dominated by artwork and art materials.

The change back to cooler temperatures and a cloudy sky seems to paint a sense of sadness on me this morning, inside and out. (Pixabay image)

When looking for something fails, it cranks up my anxiety. I can't seem to shake it today. My cat and dog tried, but to no avail. When anxiety flares up at this level, and nothing seems to quench it, it generates the stark picture of a lonely life. A comforting embrace would go a long way, but it is missing, and it's something I can not buy.

A wise black woman I knew a half-century ago often counseled me on my way of thinking. Her simple question was so thought-provoking that I have never forgotten her words, "What does what you are thinking (or believing) have to do with that?" Sometimes she paraphrased it to fit a situation. How she became an impromptu counselor, I do not recall.

The situation was when I was in an emotionally dark place, and the information I had available to me was scarce and often inaccurate, so my mind, being so intensely active, filled all the blanks, and as many of you know from my blog, that is not good because I chose to see things in a negative light.

The missing solution then and now is the same: a warm, comforting embrace. Since I communicate most effectively with human touch, offering and receiving, and I am living in what may be the darkest cave of my life. If only I had just one candle offered to me. images pixabay

UPDATE: I found dozens of my paintings in my self-storage unit. My anxiety dropped very well. I will sleep much better tonight. Also, I will go over my new website notes before I build it; the first step will establish it, and the second step later will offer my artwork for sale again.

So life is morphing in several ways that will make it unrecognizable to many people.

The digital age, with computers and cell phones, was quite a transformation. Now, AI is altering all human activities, and we are probably not fully aware of it. You must have some awareness, of course, unless you live in a sand dune, that is. Oh, quantum computing is about to begin, maybe space colonization, too.

Since I am able to return to my alter egos, I must adjust: My music is already available worldwide, and I used to have a website for my artwork, but let it fade. Now is the right time to reestablish myself as an artist through my artwork using the online platform. I will examine the best way for me and develop a plan soon.

You (if you are a regular blog reader) know me better than anyone has in recent months. I know I am putting behind the hard emotional period caring for my late wife, but I have limited talent in defeating my loneliness and the absence of a loving companion. In this respect, I am a fish on the beach, thrashing around in futility.

I visited one of my VA doctors yesterday, and the visit went well. She is my new psychiatrist and isn't as warm as my last one, who was recently forced into retirement. All is status quo, no changes in meds. I asked if there was a pill to alleviate loneliness. She blew it off as if I were an AI robotic human.

Now that I have allowed the artist in me to live once more, I have reawakened so much. The complex mindset, as I love experimenting with different mediums and subjects. Photos are good to the degree they don't move and are consistent and varied (beyond what I have in front of me). But photos lack one important feature: I can't touch and feel the subject.

In my early days, I mostly painted landscapes, seascapes, and abstract ideas. One art teacher explained portrait painting as he did it. He collected photos, made sketches of the actual person in front of him, and explained his thoughts as he planned the final product. His work sold for a price I can only dream of.

Yes, I will experiment, focus on different subjects, try different mediums, but I fear I may never have a companion, a lover, to feel and know intimately again. Now that I am free to paint nudes, ¹ nothing would be better than painting a lover I can embrace and love. Paint her image in different ways and settings. Pixabay images

1 My wife was a sub and sexually free in our bedroom, but chose a religion that frowned on nude paintings. I followed her to church and complied with her attitude, but I knew we both truly didn't see art in a sinful light.

Cut the head of some insects, and they still function for a time. Cut a worm in two, and the halves squirm and usually morph into two new worms.

The only reason I put forth these examples is to illustrate my current sense of being. The life force is struggling to reassert itself. Reinvent itself. Find a new identity: This is a good development, though my life is fraught with isolation and loneliness. I hope it will pass.

Many of you know I have been anything but happy-go-lucky ^1, and I am afraid it is getting worse. Direct words can mask what's going on inside. I must admit the negative attitude is the most profound I have ever experienced. No mystery, not having nearby friends, family, or a companion; my mind fills with negative words, and, unlike in most of my past life, there is no one here to say things will get better. I only get periodic "cheer up," this will pass if anyone bothers to speak to me at all.

My dog is not too bad, but my cat demands that he help me restring my guitar, though I have told him the strings are not edible. If they could speak to me in English, Polish, Spanish, or even Russian, I would be able to learn about their thoughts. Last week, I learned in my cat language class on YouTube that I have been doing it all wrong. Cats only stare when they are ready to fight. I learned that I am supposed to squint and glance away. I can imagine he thinks I am such a duffas.

Have you ever lost your anchor, drifting on a large body of water, then broken an ore? Then, did you make a sale with a shirt and a windbreaker? I was even rescued by the coast guard twice. What do I do now? Stay on the shore and remain a land lover. This is how my life seems to be now, I must buy an app to make my cell phone a compass and see if that helps me navigate. Pixabay image:

1 Battled clinical depression all my life and was only diagnosed as bipolar about five years ago; eight years as my wife's only full-time caregiver took its toll, too.

Before my wife passed, there were at least five years without intimacy (dementia). I sought a sub to be my FWB, had one briefly, but the overwhelming reality? I came to accept that the scammers were so good at convincing me that I was handsome, interesting, and desirable that I must have fallen into their traps without realizing it. All too often.

Now I don't know what to believe; even the praises that I cared for my wife for eight years out of forty-one seem disingenuous. 

If I am such a "good man," why am I alone? Simple answer? People lie.

Back in the 90's, we considered another legal path because a bankruptcy lawyer made a mistake that cost us more money. We met with an older lawyer, and when we were in his office, his young wife and two small children stopped by. He was old enough to be their grandfather. So, what is the distinction between why he had a young wife and why I can't even find a companion in my age group? 

It isn't money; it is security for the young woman; this lawyer's ability to provide a decent future for his young family. Yes, it was a practical decision.

I have enough tangible things, still active and still able to offer love, but apparently that is not enough. The one factor that could have helped, in my opinion, was being at least 10 years younger. 

And so the curse one of my family members put on me seems destined to be valid: She said, " I hope you die alone with no one around to notice."

ADDENDUM: Yes, I dealt with depression all my life, and in 2022, my doctors finally diagnosed something I knew all along: I AM BIPOLAR. When I was actually able to interact with a psychiatrist, not just a psychologist or GP, I got real meds that work for me. She helped me cope with my wife dying slowly, and now, though I am sad, I can deal with it better between the meds and Cognitive Self-Therapy. Why does my family have a negative view of me? Most likely, the untreated bipolar illness. Too bad it came so late in my life. My late wife also had complex mental issues, and maybe it was the glue that held us together for forty-one years. NO, I AM NOT GIVING UP. I SEE A FLICKERING LIGHT AT THE FAR END OF THE CAVE. I have my interests, my cat and dog, art, and my music that I have reignited.

Most of you know I was my wife's only caregiver for eight years before she passed away, and that I was part of a caregiver group. Th group helped me in many ways, but especially by giving me permission to mourn gradually through the years. Yes, the long goodbye process helps, but it is not perfect: I have very challenging moments of sadness, and I wonder if they will ever fade away.

This is me every morning since my wife died: "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get" is a famous quote from the 1994 film Forrest Gump. Why? I cared so much for my late wife and had taken care of her through a long illness that I wonder if I have burned out all my goodness because I feel so empty. I sometimes imagine she is in the next room and talk to her ashes in the beautiful urn I placed them in. Miescule comfort.

"AI Overview (Google)

Mourning a spouse after forty years of marriage is 
a profound loss involving the grief of a shared life, identity, and future. It requires immense self-compassion, as healing is a non-linear process that often feels like a "roller coaster of hell". Key strategies include seeking support groups, engaging in self-care, and taking life one day or minute at a time.  Reddit +4"

This morning, I do not seem to care about myself at all. Unmotivated. I force myself not to think of lovers and sex, of travels and dreams, and I barely force myself to play guitar and sing old songs. Thinking about doing some simple artwork, like sketching faces, as a challenge. Life's experience has taught me that it will go on unless I am met with a sudden death.

Can there be a new woman to love and love me? Right now, (this morning), I doubt it with no reason to think otherwise.