Did earlier versions of humans hibernate?

Because my body feels like it could hibernate 

I want to stuff my face with food,

crawl into a comfy duvet

Lay my head on a fluffy pillow, and fall asleep

Waking up weeks from now 

having magically lost weight and feeling rested

My feet

Are banged up, sore, bruised, 

and sometimes (after a stroll in my art studio) stained by paints

I feel them burning from dryness, from neglect

I see scars and bruises and all the stories they could tell

The stories of the miles I have walked, the adventures I have lived, and the places I have been

The challenges, the obstacles, and the struggles I have faced

They’ve gotten callouses 

from wearing heals, 

from standing too long, 

from wearing shoes that are too small, to shoes that are soaked through,

from walking for hours, for days, for years

They’ve been bruised from stepping on a nail,

They ached from walking on gravel

from walking barefoot so many times

I’ve felt my skin burn as I walked on hot pavement 

I’ve had sand, dirt and grass between my toes 

from roaming beaches, deserts, gardens, and fields

I’ve ran through grassy fields, and slipped on mushroom patches

I’ve dipped my toes in puddles, streams, lakes, and oceans

My toes have been broken, my feet have been bruised, 

they’ve bled, but most importantly, they’ve healed

The kids are away at sleep away camp this week. And of course I miss them, and of course I don’t!

My job as a mother has been to worry about my kids. It’s exhausting. From how much and what they are watching on tv, making sure they go outdoors, using sunscreen, the proper sunscreen, wearing helmets while riding their bikes, making sure they eat their vegetables, making sure they get enough sleep, look both ways before crossing the street, that they are kind but not push-overs, that they are growing up to be independent, reliable, smart, empathetic members of society, as well as worrying about too many other things, but mostly that they feel love. I don’t remember not being worried. 

But the kids are away this week. It’s on the camps shoulders to worry. Obviously I am worried about them, but it’s on a much different level. And as the worry dies down, I find myself again. Staying up too late painting, sleeping in till noon, eating when I’m hungry, having the music way up high, cursing (cause I can), watching scary movies, and other things not so kid friendly. 

I didn’t notice how much I missed this till now. Spending the summer with kids is great, but so is spending this week with myself. 

Commissions Accepted

I have mentioned in previous post/blogs that my painting style has changed throughout the years due in part on my state of mind and my physical ability. This has also affected the amount of painting I have been doing lately. Because of this prices are going up. Knowing  I could never reproduce previous paintings, and that future paintings may be few and far between, they have become more valuable … to me. They are a reminder of who I was, how I felt, and how I have changed

As a result I feel my inspirations and motivations have grown.  I sketch, I take pictures, I dream, and I am overflowing with passion.

So if ever you see a sketch or a picture you would like to have as a painting. Let me know via private message and we can discuss size, colors, price and any other details that may be relevant.

A sketch/draft will be shown before any painting begins. And if we eventually agree, I will put my soul into it, for how ever long it takes me.

Thanks for your support,

CARO

Included are some sketches from the last few months….

I am sick. I feel the weight of the disease more and more everyday. The weight of fighting for years. My body hurts and is suffocating. I am exhausted, and scared. And unfortunately I am very aware that I exist in a body that is wilting at a much quicker pace. Or so it feels. And mostly, that I am mortal. I am in a full blown mid life crisis. (Honestly, I feel like it’s 4/5 life crisis.)

It doesn’t help that I’m 42, the age my father was when he died, and my daughter is 11, the age I was when he passed. He’s been gone 31 years and I finally know just how young he was, how scared he must have been, how powerless he must have felt in his final days.

When my father passed, I thought it made me an expert in life and death. It didn’t. It made me an expert in loss, and in grief. Now I think of death much differently. MS is not a death sentence, but it sure feels like the person I was disappeared. 

Adjusting to MS has been difficult. Figuring out what to do for menial tasks that have become very hard to accomplish has been overwhelming and a pain in the ass.

I try to stay positive, to “will my body” to move, to fight, to be better but it doesn’t work. 

I am not an ideal spokesperson to look upon on how to handle or accept the changes disability comes with. I think MS sucks, it blows, it blows real hard. 

I have closed myself off more and more as I wilt. Wanting to be remembered as I was. Independent, self reliant, vibrant, adventurous, a real fire cracker ;). And as a result I avoid situations where I could be “found out”, It isn’t healthy.

But in some aspects, I’m ok. I’m doing good.

I realize the best way for me to “survive” is to create memories, memories that give my kids strength, memories that will last long after I am gone. I will take advantage of my time, and hopefully I have lots of it. 

For instance, 

I spent the winter months, the months I can barely go out, painting. I painted and I forgot where I was. It was distracting, defining, and simply awesome. 

It was one of the best winters I’ve had in a long time. The pieces are close to my heart, revealing, and inspired by life.

And since the snow has melted, and the weather warmed up. I have enjoyed the outdoors as much as I can.

On too hot days I wait for evenings, light breezes, and shade

I’ve stared at the sky, at the clouds, the birds, the moon, the stars, and the colors

I saw a shooting star and fireflies

I saw the day, and the night

The sun and the rain

I crossed the land and the sea,

I listen to kids playing, birds chirping, and all the sounds of nature

And I took pictures, lots and lots of pictures

It has been refreshing, peaceful, and another opportunity to define myself

I’m ok~ish

 

This disease has changed me. 

I should of felt more relief Monday when the doctor said the results were normal, they were “what you would expect”. That the prognosis was “good” since it doesn’t seem like the disease is progressing quicker since stopping the meds. That’s good right? But the disease is still there, and still progressing. So it’s bad. I don’t know how to feel. After my doctors appointment I felt numb. No sadness, no anger, no joy, no passion, no relief, no grief. Just nothing. I felt empty.

How is a spinal cord filled with lesions “what you would expect”?

I wanted improvement. 

I use to dream of the things I was going to do.

Now every dream has barriers and hurdles and I constantly struggle to reach where I want to go. Now I have nightmares.

My normal was independence. My normal was walking, hiking, biking, for miles and miles . I use to take ‘the road less travelled” as often as possible. I parked far and enjoyed the walk. I climbed, I lead, I wanted to surpass expectations, be in front of the line, I wanted to be challenged, to feel pride in my actions, in my abilities, in my strength. I carried many boxes up many flights of stairs, I’ve trekked over logs, hopped over obstacles, I’ve swam through rapids, I’ve climbed mountains, I’ve crossed narrow bridges by slowly putting one foot in front of the other. I miss doing these things literally