It is 10:10 and I will soon be asleep. That is so good as sleep is what I am lacking and throwing me off. I am not as blue as I was yesterday; I thought long and hard about how honest I would be in terms of what I would write then. I decided that full blown, rip the bandaid off was what I needed to do. It would be so easy for me to revert to old patterns and I knowingly did and was called out on it either intentionally or unintentionally. And by called out I mean was presented with information I was not sure I wanted to have. I am glad that happened. It is better to be honest, even if it is uncomfortable. 

I am staying with good friends in DC. I mentioned that I had been going to church quite a bit recently and was asked why. And again I was honest. When you are lucky a really engaging thoughtful sermon that deals with issues and concerns present in life. And community and the comfort of ritual. Neither is religious and that is fine. A joke was made about also not going to hell and my instinctual response was "i don't believe in hell." and I don't in the bowels of the earth fire and brimstone Dante realm. But I do believe in living hell. In many ways thinking about it the past few years for me have been just that. A living hell. And I do not want to go back there. 

So today was a brisk but mostly sunny day and waking up and seeing a blue sky made me happy. Again, there are residual blues thrown in and I am still a bit tired, thoughtful, and reflective. I AM rebuilding myself and very consciously doing so. I am adding blocks and testing the mortar and balance and realigning as needed. I am building my life to MY specifications. What works for me? Who cares if this seems like it wouldn't work or is silly to 99% of the population as it is my patern and I can weave it however I choose.

Some of what I am learning is I can put my nose to the grindstone and work and work and work and do what it takes to get the best possible product/thought/idea/end result in the time allotted to me. And I dan do it happily sober. I do not crave the numbing effect of use. But it takes a toll out of me. I become stretched so thin that I crack and am exhausted and without my glasses of joy and humor. Perhaps they are dirty or lost. I work and work and work and have this  elated TADA I DID IT!!!! BELLS WHISTLES CHILDREN SINGING IN THE STREETS FIREWORKS EXPLODING ART GODS CHEERING ME ON and then splat. I can't look at what I have done. I don't see it right now. I either see the flaws or it looks like some alien object. It is so detached from me. It is not mine. It is some specimen. Some other person did this. They just borrowed my body for a bit. It is not mine. 

Now I don't mean that in the I'm not proud of it or that I don't recognize I made it. It is alien because I am seeing it as seperate from me and it has been so intimate, so connected, in the utero of my creative process that it is now a strange anthropologically bizarre entity of its own. I'm in the corner staring at it and scratching my head. And it isn't post partum depression of anything like that. And seriously when the lady at the b&b broke one I almost started to laugh. And shrug and think, eh, that was a short life. oh well. I couldn't even tell you what that one looked like. I don't remember it. I was putting them away fro my friends counter and I picked one up and saw how I had detailed it and had forgotten I had chose to test out crystal designs in that manner. It's so strange.

And that is one of the downsides of going into hyperdrive. The work is intimately alien. With my other objects that I have been working on they develop. I have an idea, test it, and build from it. I have time at each stage to have it simmering in the back of my head until it's time to add a new spice and adjust/ These I really was the goose that laid the goldem egg 6 times in a row in a day. I was the Faberge sextuplegger. Combine this strain with exhaustion, a failed craft fair, a hiccup with a new friend, and an unexpected renewal of the New Yorker that sends your bank account into overdraft and indeed the sky is falling.

I am rambling, but this is good rambling for me to do. If it's boring skip to the end it'll either be a nice statement about tomorrow being a fresh day/start or taking the path leth trodden or some other overused sentiment of that nature. But it is good for me to be writing this as I rebuild myself. I can push to extremes but realize why I shouldn't. I have to recover. I have withdrawal. not from a substance like alcohol, but from myself. I go so deep into myself that I begin to lose some of the things I really enjoy about being me. I become a different version of me. So I will try not to do this. And if I have to figure I need to have at least week after in which I can slow down. And website and paypal and all of those things. And sleep.

Fun Christina is coming back. And tomorrow is another day. And perhaps a robins egg blue. I have good pics, but am not going to post more than 1 as I am tired. 

Im little spoon 😍 

Christina Osheim