Good morning worlds

Eye kan an fo lere mi, lere mi, o f'apa otun ba'le, O re gbongbongbon bi oko.

A bird twirls all over me, touching the ground with her right wing, and sounding as does the hoe when struck.

Eye kan an ba lere mi, lere mi, o f'apa otun ba'le, o re gbongbongbon bi ada.

The bird then perches on me, tapping the ground with her right wing, and sounding with the strength of a cutlass.

Bi alaworo - Òrìsà ba ji, a f'ada Òrìsà no'le, a ni "Òrìsà, e ji tabe o ji!"

When the chanter - priestess rises at dawn, she taps the earth with the Spirits cutlass saying. "Spirits, I want to know if you are awake and attentive on this day!"

Thank You

I lost my Beloved March 27, 2022. He lived, loved, gave, cared, laughed, sang, drummed, fished, traveled and never gave up hope and arrived fully at each juncture of his life. I will miss you for all eternity. I love you darlin.

A salute and thank you to all members of our Caregivers for Stroke Survivors Group.

I bow down deeply, and I’m grateful, for all that you gave me. You have been there when no one else was, you gave me solace, in my grief, and often gave me clarity, when none could be found anywhere else. You have been my rock, my family, and my support, and soothed my soul so often in the past years. I can never thank you enough, for caring for me, and my husband, and each other.

I say farewell to you all, yet it is bittersweet. I long to stay, as there exists remnants of my husband being alive in this world, within this group. 

My dear beloved husband, laid down his robe Sunday morning at 11:38 AM March 27, 2022.  I am more devastated that I could ever imagine. Thank you all again, and I wish you all love, joy, peace and ease as you navigate the complicated road of being a caregiver to a stroke survivor.  never give up hope, and remember what I’ve always said, never base one bad day as the whole of your loved one’s healing process. strokes are very strange and mysterious, and it is not always what it seems. There can often be really good clear days cognitive wise for our loved one, and there can be very bad days when it seems like it will never get better. But we have to remember that strokes are very strange and mysterious and they are not linear. 

Much love to you all, Prettythunder

Working 35 Hour Days

I’ve been unavailable lately. Not on purpose. I’m not ignoring anyone or mad at anyone. I’m trying my best to get through the days nights days. Trying to fit 35+ hour days into 24 hours. It never seems to work, I always come up short and find myself standing at the kitchen sink at 1AM, eating a ripe mango in the dark or throwing a last load of laundry into the washer after my loved ones are settled into bed for the night - my cup of tea sits cold at my desk. I’m lucky to have had a sip or two.

It’s not due to poor time management, ignorance, stupidity, lack of judgment, bad charter. I’ve been busy surviving.

I work 15 hour days, everyday. Sometimes longer. and yeah I know, I don’t have a degree, own a home and I shop at thrift stores and Walmart, but my jobs do require intelligence, fortitude and ingenuity. It takes intelligence and ingenuity to create something out of o thing. To be able to rub two sticks together and create a miracle.

You see, all this Academic elitism and classism, isms of all kinds has tried to disappear my accomplishments. My jobs, my responsibilities. My workload. These isms have pointed their ugly finger and tried to shame and criticize my Walmart food and drugstore lipstick. Pointing out my GMO oatmeal, my used tires.

I’m exhausted. I care for my family. My husband has endured 7 strokes. Some major, some minor, all devastating. People tell me I need to take care of myself, need to eat better, need to take time off, I need to do all these things. and, I know. I’m not trying to intentionally suffer myself, not trying to be some martyr or appear to be one, no, It’s what happens when family and commuity run the other way in the face of blindness and those who have endured strokes. People scram, they leave, they go on vacation and have dinner parties, have babies then use that as an excuse for not showing up, they lay down the new carpet and pay contractors for custom work, they go to Baha and Costa Rica but I digress.

What I’m doing is moving in a situation in a normal way. This is a normal response to an abnormal dynamic. We are not suppose to get sick and be alone. We are not suppose to have babies and be alone, we are not suppose to die alone, to suffer alone. What people are seeing in me is exhaustion and zero support for the past 10 years of taking care of my husband who has endured 7 strokes, the 6th on leaving him blind. His own children have not even came to see him since he went blind 10 years ago. Expect once when one of them had business in San Francisco. Shame.

Those who have left, please stay gone. And don’t, don’t ever reminisce with me about my husband and who he is was.

It’s easy for me to stop loving you

it’s easy for me to stop loving you

The way the bobcat becomes rattlegrass on Inverness ridge The way a footprint is the mainsail then the lost visa You’re not new I’m datura along I-5 A ghost rattle This is how i came to Bloody Bay Tobago and to a husband who made sure the cupboard was full but dragged me by my hair from the bed to the joining room This is how women become fog and smoke and 1000 starlings leaving the city before you awaken

It’s not because I don’t try

So it’s 8:48 PM at night, I’ve been trying since 1:30 PM to paint, to write and to make medicine. To have a day to myself. It still hasn’t happened. And it’s not because I’m not trying. I can’t even finish a cup of coffee without it getting cold like that. It’s not boundary issues. It’s responsibilities. And caring for others, I know I need to care for myself, but it’s not that easy. Don’t judge or deconstruct me. O, and I even said no to several things asked of me today.