I’m so emotionally ragged. Perhaps you can tell. A “no” is often the hope.
Emotional exhaustion comes out in creative ways for me. It’s quietly implosive and socially explosive.
Stress = Creativity, too.
Hermit-like creativity decreases my stress. For some odd reason, my sense of urgency to express these words inside me also becomes heightened.
It’s as if I fear being forgotten.
I’m aware.
I’m leaving an AI legacy.
I’m trying not to notify anyone with my life entries through multiple publication alerts.
That’s annoying. To me. It’s like listening to a five year old who loves to talk.
Yes, I love that five year old. Yes, I also need her to be quiet. To be.
Quietly, I walk at least an hour a day. Surfing the sidewalks. Imagining myself at sea.
I’m a mermaid there.
IdaHome, I’m a Sasquatch.
A cryptid god hunting cryptids.
*
Tomorrow is my visit with the surgeon, my doctor, and my counselor.
Today is another medical research day. Epic.
Rad preparation.
Gnarly educational.
*
I’m exhausted of learning. God honest pooped.
Even with mindfulness and meditation, my body seems to vibrationally store the unheard thought waves with physical tension.
So I write.
And I write.
And I paint.
And I create.
I recycle art.
*
And hope for nothing. I think positive thoughts about surgery, health, and the physical pain.
Anguish is right. Being present with it is also true.
What a gnarly life this is.
A doggone wild ride.
*
Thank God.
It’s near to over.
Doubt I’ll surf this way again.
Another Universe is calling my name, and it isn’t Steph Bird.
When it’s the beginning, it has no when, why, where, who, what. No words, names, debates, God, gods, religions, golden streets, pearly gates, or mansions.
Beginning is vibration.
It just IS.
Being.
✌️
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