I'm falling swiftly into a deep depression. I'm desperately trying to fight it off.  Do I force myself out of bed, exercise, eat whole foods and stay on task to avoid that overwhelmed feeling? Or do give into my vices and comfort myself, binge on chocolate...stay in bed, rest and wait it out?

Of course I know what the 'right thing to do' would be. It's plan A.) stay healthy, stay motivated... Be happy! But that's the funny thing about depression. I'm beginning to feel like I have no choice in the matter. I can hardly bring myself to leave the house. I don't want to see anyone, I don't want to bother getting dressed or applying a touch make-up. Heck, I don't even want to brush the gnarly dreadlock that used to be my hair.

Yesterday was my Brother's Birthday. He would have been 36. He died nearly two years ago- there's this window of should've beens that haunt me. I guess I'm just one of those people, anniversaries and significant dates just stick with me on an emotional level. I went through this last year as well. Without anticipating the day, it hit me then stayed with me as my mind played 'this time last year..' games on myself. 

On January 21st he turned 34. Sometime during the night on February 14th he found his escape.

I was knee deep in my own turmoil. Financial pressures, my marriage in shambles and depression mixed with my daily struggles with chronic pain and fibromyalgia engulfed my life. I remember wanting to do more to help him. I felt so powerless seeing his pain and troubles yet being unable to help.

If I have but one regret it's that I didn't ask for his help more often. Maybe if he knew how much we needed him, maybe he'd still be here today.

  

I miss him terribly. 

What I really want to do is spend the day in bed crying. But there's work to be done. Orders to be filled, emails to be answered. And so I (gently) press on.

I found myself in my studio and the strangest feeling came over me.  I was for a moment happy. When I'm painting I'm at peace with the world, with my inner demons. All is well, all is one.

I stop and the thick viscous sludge of depression oozes over my shoulders, down my spine. 

So I move onto the next project... Reclaim my solace. As I tidy up my workspace, organizing my paints... my mind is still.

And so it's decided.

I take it easy, eat whole foods, sleep in if the family lets me and spend more time making art. 

Tomorrow, I begin anew.

Next year, the 21st; my Brother's Birthday will still hold significance- however January 22nd will be the day I celebrate my first leap into my new-self journey.

I'm challenging myself- to make something, to be creative everyday. To stop beating myself up with negativity and foods that harm. 

It's time for this heart and this body to heal.

feeling down

I fight with fibromyalgia every waking day. The fatigue that comes with it is my greatest enemy. What I lack in energy I make up for in pain. Nature (in this case, my body) has a way of finding balance like that. As my health wanes, my desire to create grows stronger. Yin is to Yang as my illness is to my drive to create art.
 I've learned to limit my expectations- more or less. I want to be super mom, super wife and friend and sister all in the same day. But I can't. I still struggle with this- I want so badly to function at a 'normal' level. I have however, found a way to cope. I dedicate the whole day to a shopping trip with my Mom. Or immerse myself completely with whatever my daughter needs. Whether it's homework or a craft project, I set the day aside for no one but her. I know not to count on having a scrap of energy left for anyone else. I've learned to give completely of myself when I am able and to shut the whole world out when I need to rest.
Lately, that's not always possible.
What do I do now that I have both a baby and a child who need so much of me, all at the same time? In five or six years- when Rowen is more independent it will be easier. But I don't want to wait for my baby to grow up. I want to live it. I want to get down on the floor and discover the world all over again form his viewpoint. I want to make memories with him and give him all the attention he needs. I want to have the energy to do this while giving Kerri the same amount of my time, love and attention. I want to embrace this moment. Every moment. I don't want to miss my babies growing up.
But I'm being stretched thin.

Lately, my Inner Goddess isn't Looking so Hot.

Yesterday, as I sat holding my beautiful baby boy I peered into his bright eyes.

They say you can see God in the eyes of a child. I know it's true. I saw it the day he was born. The miracle of life was in my hands, the very hands that helped bring the ultimate gift of life to this precious child.  Absolute Love is there, in his eyes.
It is the energy that connects every cell, every atom and molecule in the universe.
Love.
And in my book, God is Love.
But lately, I'm not feeling it.

Maybe it was an act of desperation or a cry for help. I'm feeling washed out, dragged down and tired. I haven't been rested or relaxed in god-only-knows how long. I feel out of place in the universe and out of touch with the spirits that guide me. I don't feel love.

'You can see God in the eyes of a child'.
I look into those eyes everyday. When I teach him, I stare into those eyes with amazement at his astute learning- orchestrated by a wildfire of neurons. When I nurse him I stare lovingly into those eyes- watching him blink and nod, then drift off into the sleep that perfect comfort brings. But I want to look closer. I want to see into the mirror of his pure and perfect soul. I want to see God. So I peer into those beautiful eyes. Like a mantra I say to myself: 'You can see God in the eyes of a child'.
Without intending to, I quickly look away. I try again to stare deeply into his eyes and again that avoidance mechanism takes over and my gaze involuntarily shifts to the side. Amused at myself I try it again just to see.

This is the point where everyone in the coffee shop begins to stare at and make assumptions about the strange lady making near-expressionless shifty glances at the baby on her lap.  If I were the type of girl who left the house, that is.
Luckily I am not. This stare-down took place in my quiet- near empty living room. And the baby was winning.
I took a deep breath, centered myself and again I repeated my mantra; 'you can see God in the eyes of a child'. I opened my heart and stared deeply into the all encompassing abyss of drooly cuteness. Only, instead of seeing within those eyes, I saw my own reflection. Crystal clear but slightly distorted across the lenses of those glossy baby blues.

It was there- albeit morbidly obese and unkempt, I caught a glimpse of the divine.
Yes. Indeed, we are all the embodiment of God. I am a Goddess with limitless capabilities. I am as close to God as this precious baby boy in my arms. I am as worthy and as deserving as this perfect soul. My reflection stares back at me. Tired, aging and fat.

Yesterday, I found God.
There is a Goddess within me...
and I think maybe,
I ate it.