Coming Into Health

My suitcases are out.  I have begun to pack for a two-week trip to the East Coast.  It will be a chance to catch up with friends and to become acquainted again with my young grandson.  It will also mean withdrawal from my Dremel.
 
Last night in my studio I worked on my latest batch of assemblages.  I noted my progress with constructions.  I have learned ways to hide the papier mache in the middle of the piece rather than simply smash two pieces of wood together.  I have learned to use tape and armatures to hold my wood up in ways I can more easily apply the papier mache.   And I am learning ways to balance tall pieces as they dry so I do not have to revert to shims to make them stand upright.  Clearly, I am no longer a beginner in my art.

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This break will mark another transition in my process.  This time, I feel the move from an explorer in art to a “professional” artist.  I will be more actively displaying and selling my art.  My initial reception has been so very positive.  Now I can move forward with the promised rewards.
 
I am also taking a few moments to reflect on the path I have traveled to arrive here.  Six years ago I was taking 15 different meds each day.  There were the anti-inflammatory, the antidepressants, the anti-anxiety, the knock-out sleep potions.  I had a near-death with pneumonia.  I still remember the soft lights, and the intentional decision to come back to life.  At that moment I was reluctant but felt something good might still be waiting for me
 
I moved to Arizona.  I sat on the edge of my bed watching GSN for six months, few friends, much loneliness.  I pulled beyond this, only to face another health crisis.  My weight ballooned way over 200 pounds.  My liver functions pegged me at chronic hepatitis, my doctor wanted me to admit I was diabetic.  Then my lungs failed.  I needed round-the-clock oxygen.
 
Disgusted by the entire situation, I withdrew to my house.  I cut way back on my eating.  I announced to anyone who would hear me I was not going outside until I had a better way to walk my dogs.  Ever try walking two little wiggly dogs while hooked up to, and carrying a ten-pound tank of oxygen?
 
For four months I remained inside.  I tried to find a more portable system for the oxygen.  Nothing was available in back-water Arizona.  My son came to visit.  We went to the Grand Canyon.  He and his wife went for a hike, leaving me in a parking lot.  Somehow I got locked out of his car with my tank on the front seat.  I started walking.  I got lost (I always do that).  Two hours later I re-found the car.  My son was waiting.  Alarmed at being that high up without oxygen for so long, I grabbed my pulse-ox.  My O2 levels were at 97!  I had not needed the oxygen.  I looked more critically at my clothes.  I had lost a significant amount of weight.  I never again stuck an oxygen tube in my nose.  I walked my dogs two hours a day.
 
A year ago I went through another dip.  Anxiety and depression came back.  Chronic fatigue and insomnia racked my life.  While walking my dogs, I passed out.  A combination of a urinary tract infection and an overdose of Tramadol.  I got to a psychiatrist and cycled off my anti-depressants, my anti-anxiety meds, cut way back on my sleep potions.  I redoubled my meditation routine, chanted my left-over slogans from AlAnon.  
 
Life took some more unexpected turns.  Through a set of situations, I found myself in a different home, one with breathtaking views of the Verde Valley, right under Mingus Mountain and Jerome. I breathed in the inspiration of this setting, then learned about papier mache.
 
I continue with my AlAnon slogans, my meditations, my gratitude lists.  I have never been happier!