A Sunny Panick

Afternoon. Monday the 30th of December. Studio. Painting. Just wrote a piece about how I’m “Feeling”, politically. Can’t publish it. I’m scared. Scared of a police state. Loop in my mind. Back to the same thing here, again. Nothing we can do to stop them. Except something I’m afraid to write publicly. I don’t feel safe anymore. My computer doesn’t feel safe. Maybe it’s best if I don’t write anything about politics. Every time I think about what’s happening now in our government I start thinking the worst. I don’t feel like the politicians we have on our side are tough enough to stand up to the Trumps and Bannons of the world. I need to stop thinking. Breath. Worked in my studio today. Made some nice marks, once I let go of my literal mind. I can only do that. Make art and let go of my literal mind. I am completely totally open. Even in my pessimism I am a walking talking fully engaged smiling person. I love people. Sometimes I hate people too, but mostly my heart is filled with love.

Saturday, we went to Limatour Beach. The weather was perfect, sunny, fine sand. Jack and Fiona ran their hands through the sand and watched it fall to the ground. My husband, brother, and I drank wine and ate roast beef sandwiches. I felt like I needed to celebrate the last days of life as I’ve known it. I felt things shifting, my brother told me not to worry, that the courts can prevent a lot of what Trump is doing. It was a great day at the beach, and every day is a great day for me. I work in my studio, I write, I take care of my family and my dog, and I enjoy life. I’m one of the lucky ones.

I have one hour left. I feel the toll the stress I’ve gone through over what’s happening has taken on me. My back is tight and I’m tired. I got in trouble by my friends on Facebook this morning for sounding pessimistic about our resistance against the Trump presidency. I apologized, I don’t want to sound discouraging. I feel right now that my body and mind are fried. I am frightened about the fate of our world.  I am disturbed about what’s going on. I say I shouldn’t write about politics anymore and here I am again. Maybe I’m panicking?

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Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist