Most of yesterday was cloudy, which is nice in the summer when the sun can be so hot. It stayed in the low 80s, so it was nice.
I felt sluggish. I have for the past month, had that feeling of moving through syrup that people with chronic fatigue are familiar with. Even though I have had neurological problems for 40 years now, I still get frustrated by these bouts of fatigue. I am able, mostly, to keep up with my social obligations — in fact, I find often it helps to be around other people. I kind of leech off their energy. Although sometimes I can’t answer questions coherently, and forget things, I still like to be with other people.
Then I nap. I don’t get much artwork done.
I have had a morning writing practice for about 5 years now, but this last month I just stopped. I slept. I told myself it didn’t matter whether I wrote or not — and I have all these piles of composition books filled with nothing much.
Yes, that’s a sign of depression.
I’m being treated for it, but fatigue and depression, they are part of my life, no matter what I do.
My son’s been helpful. He paints with me sometimes, gets me out of my lethargy bubble. He’s in his thirties and energetic. But after we painted for about 2 hours, he said he was tired and took a nap on the couch.
I was delighted. If he needs a nap after painting, then maybe I’m not so abnormal after all. It is intense work, even if it’s nourishing work. I took a nap, too.
So this morning I did my morning write: I wake up, make a cup of coffee, get back in bed, prop up the pillows and write in a notebook for as long as I need — usually about 30 minutes. Most of it is just recounting yesterday, or working out a problem. Sometimes a real story or poem will flow out and I’m there to catch it.
The day starts with words. It helps my memory. It’s a space that’s all mine.
And now, here I am writing a blog post again. One creative act leads to another.
Late yesterday afternoon, the clouds got a darker shade of gray, thunder rumble like long monstrous growls. A light rain sprinkled down, then a heavy rain drenched the ground. As the sun set, it lightened up, and for a while it rained while the sun shone.
The light changed as the sun sank lower on the horizon, and glowed a golden pink. A magical kind of light that made my little bit of the world like another planet, with soft light and sweet damp air.
I am so lucky, so very lucky, to have a life that’s slow enough that I can see such moments, savor them from beginning to end, to watch the sky fade from the magic of daylight to the rich dark blue of night.
Yesterday, I accomplished nothing. And I accomplished everything.
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