Self Will Run Riot

 Well good morning dear reader(s), I come to you after a few AA meetings where the topic of self-will has dominated the discussion. I know my writing has been basically an exploration of the self, which I am supposed to let go of and let my Higher Power run the show. This is why I forever remain parked on Step Three—something that might prove most dangerous as it could always lead me to picking up a drink again (or weed, which would be disasterous for me). It makes me wonder if I do indeed have a death wish; and yes, it’s true there are many aspects to my life that I find most unpleasant, number one being that I have to take these medications day in and day out, ad infinitum. But something, that voice inside of me is booming that I must embrace acceptance of my current state of affairs, and express gratitude for what I have been given. So I’m clinging to that right now, as I work my way through these entries. And yes, I am meeting sponsor Shawn today, so I’ve got that going for me.

Yesterday’s visit to the Vets Museum with my sister was most interesting and really emotionally and mentally stimulating too. We started with the artwork on display in the lower level, which I honestly could have spent a good deal of time studying were I alone. There were some really, really powerful pieces on display, including artworks and written pieces. I saw several collages that I was immediately attracted to, no wonder, given my own collage artwork that I have been doing over the years. I found myself really wishing my sister weren’t with me so I didn’t feel as rushed going through the exhibition. But I took pictures, so I have those to study at my leisure.

We next walked through the main exhibit on the first floor, and had a great conversation with a docent who had served in the armed forces in the 1970s. She gave us an intriguing lesson of the history of women in armed combat, which I was most interested in learning. We had a chance to leave a note for veterans, who in particular I had no idea, so I thanked the person for their service and wrote blessings for them. We then made our way up to the second floor, the remembrance area, where I unexpectedly encountered great difficulty. The windows all along the corridor were covered in brightly colored stripes—I could not proceed down the corridor without considerable discomfort, the colors giving me optical pain that is kinda hard to describe. I can only compare it to the time Michael and I walked downtown for some festival and I, in a manic state, looked up at a colorful billboard and got immediately confused? Elated? Ever since then, maybe since the trauma of being psychotic, extremely bright colors enhanced by light make me extremely uncomfortable. I’m wondering if I now have some optical disorder linked to my bipolar? I’m not sure.

But at least I now have more things to work with as I continue with my own artistic study of the self. Perhaps my anger might soften a bit, perhaps my pain might ease and evolve into joy? Or maybe my wounds are healing with time. Who knows. Do I have something to teach? I wonder. Mom says do my art for myself. Yet here I am, wanting an art show. Guess my Higher Power is in charge of who shows up in May. With my luck, it will probably rain. Oh well, if so, I will be singing. Later friends.