Art and Processing Life Changes

2023

Anxiety, her name is Faith

This last week has been trying. My head tried to take me down depression street. I needed rest from the world so I turned my phone on do not disturb for the most of the day. I’m definitely trying to take one day at a time but there’s so much from yesterday that plagues me today. Today I had yet another tooth that broke off at the gum line. Unfortunately, it’s in the front.

I have issues with dental hygiene because I can’t use toothbrushes. I can’t stand the way it feels in my mouth. The dentist gave me mouthwash but the damage to my teeth is significant. If I had it to do all over again I’d find a way to keep them healthy. How, I don’t know.

I’m painting a piece about loss and finding traction to move forward. This is much larger than usual for me. I’ve been planning a painting where the wheelchair is made of sunflowers.

detail left side

It feels like a piece that is helping me truly let go of some of these things that pain me. It’s no where near finished but working on it has helped me deal with overwhelming anxiety.

My little place genuinely feels like an art studio now that I’ve got a bunch of art in various stages of completion.

SOLD

I’m pleased that my little bag holder doll with glasses has found a home. The glasses were the final touch. 🙂

Joe Schmoe, age 14

Despite the fact that it’s not even midnight, I’m going to take a PRN and go to sleep. Joe and I need a fresher start tomorrow. Better sleep will do a lot to make tomorrow better than today. Let’s just hope I don’t need to go to the restroom every 2 hours like last night.

Dang, menopause is kicking my butt! Is my bladder the size of a pea now? In addition to menopause, my bladder is over active when I’m feeling stressed. It’s helpful to know my symptoms (over active bladder) so I can then respond appropriately; manage stress better, don’t internalize so much.

In addition to snuggling with Joe, I’m looking forward having dinner with friends, at my place, on Sunday.

Faith

Healing. Heart and Rock Art

Fractured but still joyful

Drawing and doodling continue to be my primary way of relieving anxiety; however, I may have a new way in a few months. Before the wrists, my doctor approved me to do one hour of vigorous exercise each day. I enjoy exercise. Always have.

I was going to go to the gym on “amputee night, ” as well as other planned physical activities. I can still do some stuff but the gym is going to have to wait. It’s going to be a bit b4 I can do that much.

It’s the small bones in the base of the thumb and wrist area that are broken. I chose not to have a fixed cast bc I’m a bit claustrophobic. So far I’m dealing better adjusting to the ones I have. Still kills me it had to come out of my pocket!

I’ve been painting more rocks while wearing the basic wrist braces I have. I also noticed that lately, hearts have shown up quite a bit in my art. I put in on the chest of figures or hide them in crosshatch or shade. Now I’ve moved to painting hearts on random rocks. I feel compelled to do it. I’ve not explored why, and I probably won’t. But I am allowing myself to paint hearts on rocks.

One rock has a heart on top but the rest of the rock is black. Mixed in the black are hints of blue and orange. I sealed them with Mod Podge. I’ve still got the painted rock from when I was in the hospital. 🙂 These guys make great encouragement when arranged together in a bowl.

The casts kinda hurt and they don’t let me do too much. Using the restroom is interesting. Lol.

For a bit the broken wrists took me back to one of the best years growing up. During my Sophomore year I rode my bike to theater club and loved it. I saw my mother very little. I remember fondly how life was very much a teen movie plot. I remember the summer and how much fun I was having. My sister had fun too but she shattered her wrist that year. She also stole my boyfriend. See what I mean, teen movie drama! The Breakfast Club. Pretty in Pink! There was deception, inner conflict, school life and music 🙂 I remember dedicating love songs on the radio to my boyfriend. I love memories like this bc they’re normal and innocent. Sisters make immature mistakes. We were just kids.

It’s helpful for me to look back and see normal parts of childhood. It feels important to have affirmation that I wasn’t a victim child being abused 24/7, like that was all I was alive for. I had good times, especially life as a student.

Faith

Remnants. Art. Seeing.

I’m getting ready to start physical therapy here at home to help some of the healing along due to recent falls. I’m pleased it’s at home. I told the doctor I’m not able to tolerate going to a center for physical therapy because of the setup. There’s too much public activity, noise, movement and touch, for me to be able to think straight and not panic.

The painting shown is still being worked on. It’s one of my collages, which I have found myself drawn to lately. I’ve got many pieces of this and that saved art piece that on their own doesn’t work but added to other cut outs, makes a great piece of art.

This is very indicative of how I’ve been feeling. In my head, I see myself as fractured and torn, both physically and mentally. It feels good to take the remnants of my art pieces (pieces of me) and make something good come out of the broken pieces. It’s similar to what the Japanese do when putting pieces of a broken bowl back together with gold. My goal is to improve self esteem. I also enjoy it.

General updates

  • Soon iI’ll know a decision from my insurance about a new Jazzy Pride electric wheelchair.
  • Joe just turned 14. It makes me a little nervous. His only issue is from the stroke. He doesn’t see as well.
  • Joe is still very much a service cat. He still alerts me to my blood pressure dropping too low.
  • I learned to make sour cream from my homemade yogurt. I’m growing my own ginger and turmeric inside. This growing season I’ll do spinach and salad greens with grow lights. The point of all this homemade stuff is to shave some off my grocery bill.
  • My OCD has been raging but I’ve been able to challenge it. Things go terribly if my thinking is too disordered and I’m overly stimulated. When that happens I have to go on an apology tour.
  • Dissociation and switching has occurred regularly, including switching while my nurse and CNA are here.
  • I’ve been able to paint as before with no real issues. There’s one painting in my Etsy shop.

Another physical change has taken place that affects my art. I can’t see! Dang it! I have to wear glasses to read or see anything in front of me, including my dinner plate. I can see far away, though. I need to see the eye doctor soon for prescription glasses. For now I’ve got bifocals from Amazon. I like them. Life is easier all around with bifocals.

Interesting is that it feels weird painting through glasses. It feels like I now have a physical barrier between me and what I’m creating. It feels like I’ve got my hands through the holes of a glass panel trying to paint or sew on the other side of the window.

Another new tool at home is this comfy Kaftan. I’m obsessed! I also like that I found an Etsy taylor with prettier dresses for the same price. I’m looking to get two more by this summer.

Kaftan’s are user friendly for disabled people with incontinence. I have spastic bladder as a result of the Thrombectomy surgery, which means I have to change depends several times a day. The last thing I want is to take my pants off several times a day because I need to change depends.

These dresses are fun and they are sooo me! I think I’m loving my Oprah glasses and Kaftans. I have one pink, white and green tie dye and one blue, gray, black and white tie dye. Totally me.

Faith / Joan

Artist Thoughts: The Color of Healing

First dress in 30 yrs

I recently purchased a new dress for the first time in over 30 years. I’d been wanting a kaftan so I purchased a pink tie dye kaftan. That got the ball rolling and lead to dress number 2.

When I was a child I didn’t wear much white because I tend to wipe my hands on my clothes, but unfortunately my family attached my worth to the color white. Here’s what I mean –

In 1992 I was getting ready for a function so I was ironing my white skirt and blouse. As I ironed, my sister kept walking past me saying, “Whore. Whores don’t wear white.” My mother and she were cruel. They wanted me to feel low and loathsome.

My sister was truly a piece of work. I got married in white and I could hear her evil words on that day, too. Fast forward to 2022. Not only am I older, I’m mad now.

I’m upset that my family attempted to harm me in whatever way seemed good. I was shamed so terribly over getting white dirty. It was always such a big ordeal. Living in the house with those two, I knew I was out numbered.

Recently I’ve been trying to reclaim a few colors associated with abuses. I’d been working on yellow for a while. I can say with pride that I have successfully reclaimed the color yellow and restored it to its proper place; next is white.

I’ve been tossing this idea around for a bit. It’s finally coming to fruition. I purchased a long, solid white Kaftan…..to paint in… to purposely wipe my hands on and get it all covered lol. Then of course I thought, what about shoes? So in February I’ll get a pair of knock-off, high top Converse, white for about $20. Converse right now are $115. I’m not trying to make that expensive of a point. Lol

Where the label on the shoe should be, I’ll put a sunflower. To tie the whole statement together, I’ll toss in a white dreadlock wrap and some hoop earrings.

I’m going target a few areas where I have unresolved issues such as over the heart, the lungs and the tassels at the bottom.

Colors of significance will include deep shades of purple bc the purple survivors ribbon is for Lupus, Domestic Violence and Dementia. All of these have touched my life significantly.

I don’t know when I’ll say the dress is “finished”. I do know I’ll wear it around the house to paint in. My paints are permanent and vivid.

A bit of irony – the dress arrived very wrinkled. I absolutely have to iron it before I put it on.

The rest of life is as troubled and discombobulated as everyone else. I’m taking it day by day. I find the world increasingly difficult to manage. I’m worried about the havoc politicians will reek on their world playground during elections. I’m not looking forward to racism being encouraged. Thank goodness I don’t understand the joy people feel when “sticking it” to someone else. But they love it.

While living in excessively violent times, politicians gleefully spit rhetoric to inflame groups and turn people against each other. It’s like it’s a billionaire’s game where the one with the most casualties wins.

Other than that, the frogs are great and so is Joe. The jumping spider is doing well. My CNA situation is “interesting”.

I’m a bit lonely right now though I see people regularly.

Rumination is pretty bad still. My emotions get intense but not like months ago. Sleep is too much or too little. Appetite is zero still, and last but not least menopause is kicking my butt.

At least I’m not as reactive and emotional as I was. I can catch myself sometimes, before I start, but it can be difficult to stop once started. I feel shame because I don’t feel I have the control needed to maintain interpersonal relationships. I’m worried about it. We’re still tweaking medication though.

That’s about the size of it.

Jordan

Anxiety. Support. Long Haul.

I bought a second sketchbook that’s small and easy to take with me if / when I leave the house. It’s also easier to hold in bed. And for the first time in a good long time, I had to buy art supplies. I was able to get ahold of the paint needed so I’m happy with that.

Right now I’m making the art supplies area more disability friendly.

Symptoms of the clinical depression (my nervous breakdown) significantly decreased but have crept up again. After my aide left, a person with whom I felt safe) abandonment issues began to derail me. At least this time I know better than to wait to see if the depression, anxiety, etc will get better. I immediately began using the skills I’ve learned in the last year so as to never revisit that horrible-for-everyone, deep, hollow place.

I remember thinking that everyone has an invisible line that represents a division between coping and totally losing it. It feel like as long as I don’t cross that line I’ve still got hope of getting better. Well I blew past that line and had no way on my own to get back. I couldn’t reach inside and pull up strength because I was hollow. There was nothing to pull from. I couldn’t even stop or control the emotions anymore. I felt stranded in the middle of the open sea.

I’m not where I was last time but some of the symptoms are troubling. The decline began shortly after being triggered by the loss of a CNA I felt safe with. Right now I am regrouping and using new skills so I don’t again completely fall to pieces.

I’m grateful for art. I can’t believe I did that mental health crisis with very little art. I had no way to redirect anxiety so it felt like it just sat inside eating away at me.

My included art piece shows individuals with solid black skin. I noticed the color of the shirts as being significant. The person who reflects my current state is wearing an orange shirt. I don’t think I’ve drawn my sister, me and my mother together in at least 5 years. This time it’s definitely all three of us, with me in the orange shirt with one foot and extra long arms.

When I looked at the chart created to record color significance, I could see a bit more into what I’m actually feeling. Come to find out, it’s very much representative of what’s going on in my life right now and what I’ve been thinking about.

The Art Therapy gallery explains color and symbol significance.

  • Orange: Fleeting courage or self doubt, ambiguity,
  • Purple: Self worth, pride
  • Black: Emptiness, vacant, does not exist, emotional death
  • Red: Strength, courage, empowered

My mother has been on my mind quite a bit because of my menopause symptoms. I remember seeing some of this as a kind.

I remember one winter my mother only wore a long, thin, black trench coat (it was the 80s ok) despite the fact that it was freezing cold. Several years later she had it so cold in the house that I wore a jogging suit to bed. Fast forward to 2022. The heat is still off. I had no idea menopause would be so life disruptive. My friend said her severe covid was easier than menopause. Wow.

Lastly, I did finish stealing the art piece but I’ve not put new art up for sale. I’m not certain I’m ready for that step just yet. I’m just going to keep at the art while working on emotional issues.

Faith

Life in Pictures – The Assignment

My abandonment issues have raged since the exit of the CNA I adored. She’s been gone for a week now. It’s affected my trust issues, paranoia and OCD issues. Going through the week with her knowing she would be gone in a few days was rather difficult.

I can feel the anxiety and emotion in my throat. I’ve been dealing with it by concentrating on art, plants and the cat. I’ve done so very little volunteer work. Argh.

Poor Joe is going to need a lightweight shirt to wear for the winter. My menopausal symptoms have affected heating the apartment. I can’t take this heat! I had it so the heat would come on at 65 degrees even while I have an 8 inch strong wind fan blowing on me. It’s not good right now LOL I’ve only turned the heat on about 3x since the season changed. How is it possible to be anemic and have hot flashes hourly, daily!

There was a day again where Joe seemed to have trouble with his front paws so I made him a bed, this time it’s on the floor. I would have made a box bed for him but my cat hates boxes. He doesn’t get in them. As a matter of fact, Joe runs when he sees a box or plastic bag. Yeah, he’s odd.

I thought I’d try to track the barometric pressure so I can kind of anticipate his arthritis pain and mine. Getting too cold will only make matters worse for him. I hope getting a lightweight shirt will help. It needs to be light bc cats can overheat too easily.

When Joe isn’t wearing his shirt I could let him use his bed with a safe heating pad that auto shuts off every 2 hours. I can set it to a low temperature and put it under his blankets, like I did last time.

I’ve done nothing more with designing Frog Mansion. It’s set up nicely but it’s not finished. I’ve done nothing to the Tomato Frog Apartment 🙂 I’m not calling it that LOL It’s just that it pales in significance beside Frog Mansion where my Australian Green Tree Frogs live. Anyway, I intend to work on it at the the beginning of December, at which time I’ll also add more soil and leaf litter to the Mansion.

Putting many of my houseplants in the mansion didn’t give back as much space as I thought but it has helped me simplify my watering system. Now I water plants 3 days out of 7 instead of daily. And it only takes anywhere from 20 min to an hour to water. I love how simple it is now.

I’m uncertain if I spoke of my hope plant. I’m seriously in love with this plant bc it’s name is my favorite word; hope. It’s in the peperomia family, which I’ve come to enjoy lately.

I would be lying if I said I’m not going to buy more plants but I will say they’ll have to wait bc I’m going to need paint. I’d like to get to Hobby Lobby but I don’t think it’s going to happen. It would save money though. I’ve never purchased from their website.

I’m stuck on the art piece in the photos because I now regret adding the ghost-like memories leading to and through the house. I’m not certain how I’ll make it look right. I’d remove them if so many other images weren’t dependent on the ghost-like memories.

I’ve got a completed painting that I’m determined to completely seal by Monday. I seal paintings in very small areas at a time because I don’t want pooling, running or gaps in the seal. I’m not going to spray it, so it’ll take a little time.

I’m not sure why I’m procrastinating. In general I’m not a procrastinator but I’ve been putting this off for 3 weeks. I’m having trouble letting go. I think I’ve been unsettled and I’m holding on to things.

To also unsettle me are the recent mass shootings, three back to back with a horrific quadruple knife murder. I don’t even know how to process this stuff and manage my own horrors.

I check the news online once a day, from various sources.

I will continue to have zero friends on my Facebook page so I can limit the amount of exposure to politics and the hatred it produces.

Despite the fact that the world has gone mad, I feel 99% like my normal depressed, anxious, dissociative self. Do I feel strong? No. I feel prepared and supported. I feel I better understand this part of the assignment.

Faith

Art. Frog Mansion. Future Pets.

What an exciting few weeks!

Art. I’ve continued to work on the three paintings. I’ve been able to sketch to help with anxiety and menopausal fueled rage. That’s been an issue for sure but I’m searching for ways to manage it.

The essential oil called Peace and Calming by Young Living has been instrumental in helping me not lose it when stupidity finds me. Stupidity always finds me. Menopausal rage and stupidity don’t mix well. I’m all but huffing Peace and Calming or their Lavender essential oil to remain calm …. and out of jail. I told my nurse practitioner that I’m going to end up in jail with how upset I can get over stupidity. I said, I can’t afford jail. She said, there’s always crowd funding. That is solid medical advice. Lol

One of the issues with painting is privacy. There is very little privacy in an efficiency apartment which means people can see artwork that’s drying. People can be so critical of my art and I’m very sensitive to such criticism. I want to give myself a little more privacy and shield myself from unwanted viewers by installing a curtain that completely sections off the bedroom area. I’m purchasing this on the 3rd so I don’t feel so exposed. I can put drying art in the bedroom area behind the curtain and feel a lot more private. Only having a nurse’s aide 3x a week has been helpful bc it provides more private time.

Frog Mansion is in the works. This project is huge! I’m waiting until I have more money and I’m a tad bit more organized to start making everything permanent in this set up.

It’s going to be insane keeping the glass clean. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by size of the tank and of the project itself. I think once I get the drainage layer in (which I have obsessed over) and lay down the substrate I’ll feel a lot better. Today I learned I should add active charcoal to the soil instead of putting it with the leca in my drainage layer. I’ll do that.

If you zoom in you can see my frog Lentil sitting on a tree branch, halfway down, to the left. Here’s a close up of my girl sleeping.

I have no idea why Joe is sitting this way. He’s an odd boy. LOL

I’ve been isolated with Joe since March 2020. He’s been here for 3 years now. Now when I leave he cries at the door. When I come back he’s clingy. Still, I’m enjoying our relationship. He’s such a good studio cat and wonderful, cuddly friend – even if he does love the wine colored blanket more than me. He traded me for a soft blanket so I call him trader Joe.

Possibilities. Last but not least, while my current CNA is frightened by flying bugs like gnats, she’s full on for me getting a tarantula. And yes, she absolutely can bring her snake to work, though I doubt she will. Just let me put my cat up first. Lol

There’s a strong possibility that I’ll get a spider but I doubt it’ll be a tarantula. There was some talk about another praying mantid or snails. Those are the pets we’re considering for the not so distant future. 🙂 We’ll see.

Any entries with snake or spider photos will have a clear title so as not to shock anybody.

Until soon,

Faith

Uncertain Title – Work in progress

Several years ago I painted two sisters on vacation. They were under the hot sun in summer dresses. There’s a whimsical feeling to it that makes me smile. But the painting / collage of the mother and two children in this entry, gives off an entirely different emotion for me.

When I look at the cropped painting below, I see a family that has traveled a very long distance. What drove her to walk across inhospitable terrain with children? What they are seeking must be worth the danger and inhospitable terrain. And then there’s still this question; Has the family successfully made the journey or do they have further to go?

The mother’s hair branches out like a tree while the hair of the children is circular. I see a difference in the expression of the children, too. The other thing I see is a family that’s held on to tradition for a long time.

I’d say the most striking part for me is the amount of movement, contrast and texture in the whole of the painting. The background itself could tell you it’s story, if only it knew where to start.

I really enjoy using parts of my own art as collage pieces. I use cut outs from art I did, but it didn’t work out. I keep a box of those art pieces so I can use it for something later. I’m working on two more collages in different stages of completion. I think collages speak to me right now, but that’s an entirely different blog entry 🙂

What should I name this piece? I have no idea at all. I’ll have to figure it out soon because this is a piece I don’t intend to keep.

Until soon,

Faith

Words to yourself matter, choose them wisely

Over a week ago I saw my nurse practitioner. We talked about the PTSD from the hospitalization in 2018. I told her that I just can’t paint anymore. I added, “When the legs failed and my foot was amputated, so too was the art in me.” Well, I’ve said that before. I’ve been saying it for nearly two years, but that time I truly heard myself say it and I knew I believe it. That’s a problem for me. Don’t tell me I can’t do this anymore. I was mad at myself. How dare I speak to myself that way?! I can’t be the person I was born as? I won’t accept that.

Point blank, I was born an artist. That art comes in many forms; culinary arts, painting, making dolls and creating terrariums. I’m driven to make things in an artistic way. The only way I stop being an artist is when I stop breathing. It was close back in 2018. Even still I want to be in an artsty urn. It’s already been chosen cause y’all can’t put me in any ol’ thing. I’m just happy I’m not in said artsy urn right now.

When I realized I actually believed that I can no longer paint, like I said, I was mad. Later that evening I got out my paints and started painting. While painting I remembered saying something very important to myself – It doesn’t matter if it’s good, just enjoy the process. That’s the moment things changed.

It doesn’t matter if it’s good! I was willing to have the art piece fail and that is significant. Before getting new depression meds and having a little more clarity, I was too afraid to fail. It felt like I was a failure instead of the art piece not working out. But this time I didn’t internalize its possible outcome. That’s how I know I’m in a different space. I was able to separate the two. I’ve been painting for over a week now. I’m risking a bit more and it feels good.

I didn’t die in 2018. I’m still an artist through and through. Regardless of any amputation, there’s no way to amputate my art. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I worked hard to get to this day. Oh my goodness I worked hard from the day they told me I wasn’t going to make it until this day. I’ve worked hard. It hasn’t been pretty, at all. Some things I messed up beyond fixing. I know I’ve hurt people by spilling anger or responding while unhealthy instead of just walking away. Why did this happen? Because I’m a speck of dust like everyone else and I do and say reckless things. But I am not a vicious person, just a profoundly imperfect one battling mental health and physical health.

I understand something now. You’d think I grasped this four years ago but I didn’t. I understand that I didn’t die in 2018.

My entire life changed. I can’t walk anymore but I’m alive. I’m extremely limited, but I’m alive! The person I knew myself to be left the hospital and the nursing home, then moved here. I don’t need to be afraid to live.

I was living this life of “why bother, I’m just going to fall over dead anyway. ” I was afraid to live, make attachments and risk a little because I just didn’t want to lose anything else. I feel like I lost so much in 2018 that the thought of losing anything else was unbearable. I was afraid to live. I’m in a better spot but I’m not OK. There’s so much more physical healing and emotional healing to do. I no longer worry I’ll have to endure it without my art.

What I’ve learned is that I believe the words I say to myself. I know you reap what you sew. If I plant tomatoes I get tomatoes. It works that way with words too. I was planting fear in my garden and that’s exactly what I got. Words matter. What I say to myself matters.

Art work – The painting changed quite a bit from when I started. It’s a collage now. And true to form, I’m working on multiple art pieces at once. My studio mascot Joe Schmoe is helping with quality control. He’s such a good studio cat and mascot.

I’ve been putting art in people’s homes since 2007. My 2023 art goal is to fill my own walls with my artwork. It’s time I did that. I’ll give an Etsy update soon.

Speak kindly to yourselves,

Until soon,

Faith

Sculpture with found items

I was searching through a catch-all art drawer. It’s got the stray button, string, cut paper, this, that and the other. Two days ago I was looking in that drawer, for who knows what, when I stumbled upon a split rock I’d written the word “hope” on. I put in on the table and kept looking. Then I stumbled on another split rock in a pear shape. When I put it next to the Hope rock my brain started ticking.

I am powerful – Hope

I abandoned the first search and concentrated on finishing the body to the figure. I used my own handmade beads for the hands. The 2 rocks are ones I picked up from the grounds of the nursing home back in 2018. I found 4 goose feathers I’ve had forever.

To top it all off I found a pop top that says, I am powerful.

Not for sale

I wrapped it with jute and glued it together with Mod Podge. I need to get a fine tooth comb so I can make the feathers neater.

This felt good especially since it was so spontaneous. I’m not the most spontaneous person in the world, I’m quite the opposite.

I hope I am regaining a little bit of trust. That’s the only thing that will allow art to flow from me again – trust. It never occurred to me to pray for trust but I have been recently.

Here’s what I was thinking – I firmly believe that when a person goes against nature that it hurts. At this point my lack of trust for anything at all prevents me from doing what is in my nature to do. I create stuff. I’m an artist from head to toe, however, I’ve not been able to do what comes naturally to me and it’s starting to hurt. I feel like a bird in a cage. Like the big cats at the zoo who pace back and forth at the bars. I feel that kind of anxiety since I’ve created so little.

Trust. I have to regain it. Courage is needed to trust. When it comes to art I need the courage to fail. I need self confidence so if an art piece doesn’t turn out I’ll keep it in perspective. The art piece didn’t turn out but it doesn’t mean I personally am a failure. All of those things changed during the hospitalization. The amputation is harder to accept and has affected my self esteem negatively.

I’ve commented that art was amputated too, but that’s not possible. But trust got shattered. I was walking my dog when my life forever changed without warning. How am I to trust “the moment” now? I don’t, not much.

I’ve been able to find relief from physical pain but my very core needs relief. The best way to sooth it is to create, trust and create. What is special about this sculpture is that its made from items I had before the hospitalization, during and after. The only part from this side of the hospitalization is the cap that says hope.

There’s so much work to do to regain my equilibrium. One step at a time, they say.

Faith