This was pre-bath McCoy (so dusty!). I think he knew something was up. Post-bath McCoy is not talking to me, despite being provided with top notch organic lettuce.
The first plant (a Nephthytis, aka Arrowhead Plant) was rescued when somebody donated it at work a couple months ago. Yes, somebody donated a plant to a thrift store. Don’t do that. I wasn’t sure how to go about saving it. Normally a good soak and some time in the sun does wonders, but this particular friend is of the low light, medium water variety. I waited and fretted and watered gently, and then waited some more. Its twin is not recovering quite as quickly, unfortunately, but I have my fingers crossed.
My succulents are looking leggy, I know. I’m waiting until I move to do something about that. I’ve been researching propagating a bit. I’m hoping to give it a go.
I have been in a creative rut, lately. The sort of rut that involves turning watercolor paintings into mixed media collages because the image I put to paper is not the image in my mind. In the past, art has been my best way of coping with bouts of anxiety and depression. I could really use the outlet.
And (if you were to ask), nothing is wrong. It’s never anything wrong. This is my life. These feelings come and they go, as they always have, and there is little consistency. That I notice. Maybe someone else would notice. Maybe I am too used to it. Needless to say, I am looking forward to my shiny new health insurance to kick in so I can finally talk to someone about potential solutions. There is some unearthing to do.
Though tomorrow I could feel entirely differently. This is my normal. Today has been sunshine and kindness, so I am feeling less apprehensive. Grey changes everything. The world is a beautiful place, and I am thankful to be here, right now, a collection of stardust and age and light. It is simply that there is always threatening darkness. Some days (some nights), I am debilitated by the thought of it. Some days, I do not get out of bed until late afternoon. Some nights, I stay awake, worrying that I might die in my sleep and miss all the beautiful things that I didn’t even take time to notice (because I stayed in bed all day being afraid of those things).
And then, you know, some days I am a completely ordinary functioning adult who goes to work, runs errands, says hello to people walking their dogs, and remembers to eat dinner.
I find my inability to adequately explain these feelings frustrating. The feelings themselves are frustrating. I don’t know how to ask for help, because I honestly don’t know what will help (or if I even need help). I feel weak and I feel vulnerable, and my weakness is …damned embarrassing.
There will be a less darkly introspective post tomorrow. I appreciate the heck out of your eyes.
Please kindly tell me about your day in the comments. Did you make anything? See anything?
If you are from the seacoast area and these look familiar, please get in touch with me! I would love for them to get back to you. They were brought to our store around mid-September.
Thanks for stopping by. My name is Naomi, and this space is made of girldust. This blog is a picture of my comfortably scattered life on the coast of Maine. I'm trying to be a slightly better version of myself every day. I like old houses, reading, the ocean, ghost stories, and museums. You can learn a little bit more about me here.