Life Goes …

Last week I wore only a t-shirt to work, and it was cold – (I also had on a jeans and socks and shoes). Now, the office sweater is hanging on my closet door. Being responsible for a shared thing, like children and clothing, is stressful. Suppose I wash the sweater, and it shrinks. In fashion language, it is a shawl-neck cardigan. Destined to be an office heirloom, maybe – but then it ran into me!

These gesture drawings are killin’ me – I don’t know if I’m outlining the contours or maybe I’m getting the skeleton mixed up with shadows – am I drawing the outsides or the insides or both. Too many lines and curves. When I feel myself getting frustrated, I find something else to do. And everybody’s gesture art looks different and so is their approach – am I supposed to draw a circle or a square or a rectangle maybe a cube or a sphere. I think I will go back to drawing from existing artwork for a bit so I don’t get discouraged.

Here’s a gesture for ya!


I accomplished one out of two goals at the doctor this morning – she will refer me to a sleep clinic. But she didn’t prescribe me any appetite-suppressing pills. Apparently, I was supposed to get assessed for autism and ADHD – notes in her file from my psychiatrist. I don’t remember that. It was over a year ago – y’all ain’t got alerts. Shit!

She is especially concerned about an ADHD diagnosis because that could explain why I overeat or eat when I am not hungry – something about dopamine and rewards. Why can’t I get rewarded by writing and drawing? AND these damn tests are so damn expensive. Hmmm! Maybe I looked into it but didn’t have the funds to pay; then I forgot the whole thing.

I ain’t got no private mental health money!

I only got buying shit I don’t need on Amazon money!


“Can you give me the pills I would need if I have ADHD?”

“I know you’ve been struggling with this for a while, but let’s do it in the proper order. Your diagnoses aren’t straightforward because a lot is going on with you and ADHD medication can cause other complications. I need to be sure.”


“Are you still taking Prozac?”

“Oooh. Not really! No! Sometimes. It works for my BPD. Helps me think straight, but it messes with my creativity!” 

Then she weighed me – I had to stand cause they don’t make adult baby scale. 😦 Got my papers for ECG, cholesterol, and she mentioned something about diabetes. I’m fucked – I got raw sugar, every -ose, flowing through my veins. Shit. I don’t wanna be diabetic. 

Now I’m gonna obsess about everything D-word and stalk D-word sites until my results come back. And if someone says “dumpster,” I will hear “diabetes” and have a panic attack. Good thing I am not married to waste management or anyone who calls me “darling” or “dumb bitch.”

Mon Nov 07, 2022

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