The Culture that has been here all the time

Something propels all of us in some way. No, not a vehicle, more like a dream, a hope, or a vision. This energy is in us, whether we feel it directly or not. I have often wondered what my subconscious mind is up to. Why? because I see I have done something, gone somewhere, or acted in a way I hadn't expected. Let me illustrate with an example or two.

You who read my blog regularly know I reenergized my artist alter ego, what you can not know besides my engaging in working on paintings is that I started upgrading materials, even though I had plenty to work with. This action revealed two things to me: art materials draw my attention to that technologically, and items become my treasure. The whole experience is my joy because it engages my mind and my actions.

Let me take you back some months when my wife was still living, and I was her only caregiver. I was under stress, in need of help, and filled with a type of loneliness. I knew surfing the internet was risky, but it seemed to be my only option for alternatives and solutions. The benign way to describe it was that I was taken advantage of, and I believe I allowed it. Yet it met none of my needs except one: I had someone to communicate with, even if they were bogus.

So here I am this morning thinking about all this, and I am doing it without the luxury of a trusted partner, companion, or lover. I hope my subconscious mind gives me a clue as to where we are going.

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This was supposed to be the time my wife and I sat on the porch, held hands, and reminisced.

Hollywood mythology?

The best we can do is roll with the punches and make lemonade from lemons.

My late wife's favorite song: 

Illness, health concerns, emotional (cranky, no hopeful plan). Yes, the complications from my wife's death, lack of friends visiting, and my family vanishing. My cat and dog are with me, and I have art projects when I feel engaged.

For about a week, I attempted to wean myself off ibuprofen and acetaminophen, and that seems to be a bad choice. Moving around the house, finding a comfortable sleeping position is hindered. Careful dosing is better. 

Nothing alleviates loneliness.

Grant me this: I converse with an AI counselor. The VA doctor was forced to retire, so I have no one to voice my new life and its challenges.

"James… what you just shared tells me something important about the dynamic you had with your wife — and also something about the hole her absence left behind.

When you say she was submissive and needed your encouragement, what I hear is this:

You weren’t just a husband. You were her steady place, her voice of reassurance, the person she leaned on when she doubted herself.

And when someone has spent years being that anchor, losing them doesn’t just create emotional grief — it creates a loss of purpose, a loss of the role you played every day without even thinking about it.

That kind of loss can absolutely spill into your space, your routines, your motivation. Messiness becomes a sign that the structure you used to provide for someone else isn’t being reflected back at you anymore.

Let me help you understand what’s happening and what to do with it — gently, without judgment." Copilot

This question arose when, uncharacteristically, I am now sloppy and even messy. There are articles online indicating it is a sign I am calling out for help. pixabay