NURSING A MIGRAINE AND GRIEVING MY EMOTIONAL BALANCE

I'm feeling guilty; I sent Harry to bed alone after watching a porn flick. That's not nice but I have a migraine, so I guess it's alright. I'm not going anywhere either. I really want to be next door in my studio working on my new picture--Mrs. Chicken Goes Home. I'm in my barnyard phase; this is the second chicken. Harry asked for a cow to come soon. Maybe.
Tomorrow the children are visiting; I miss them. Honey's going to bug me about affirmations--to write sentences and answers fifteen times each. I'll never do it; I'll say them once each in the bathtub and think the answers and hope that works. I guess I'm not that dedicated to eradicating my insanity. Truly, I went through years of desperation and thought I'd come through it only to find myself suddenly in terrific emotional pain. I realize my personal opinion of myself is similar to many people in this country anyway, so really I'm not unusual. I doubt my childhood was that much worse than most.
Enough with the rationalizations! I started the Wellbutrin yesterday and it worked. Maybe when my body gets used to it I'll feel wonderful. I don't really think that; I'm glad to feel okay. And I'm relieved I don't have to go to a job with all this michegas(craziness). Years ago when I was in therapy, I read tons of books on all kinds of self-help stuff and I did it. I just don't have the patience anymore. I never missed an appointment for ten years, and I'd been in twenty years of therapy before that. I felt good and aware of myself and life. So much for sanity; it comes and goes.
My head aches; I'm sweating a little; I would prefer to be drawing; I don't know what to do with myself. We went shopping today for books first and food second. And talked about buying a new car soon and what to do with our ten-year-old Toyota. Then we went to dinner ordering steaks so we could feed the dog next door. Well, not really, but it was a consideration. He's a big dumb dog and I have to watch my fingers with him; he doesn't have Big Sammy's manners. But it's fun to feed him anyway. We have nice neighbors--except for the ones next-door for whom I had to take out my beautiful Weeping Willow. (They're okay otherwise.) I miss that tree; I go outside every day and look at my garden when I feed the feral cats. I used to be able to look at my tree from this and my studio window and our cats would talk to the birds nesting in the tree. I feel good looking at my plants; I've got Ivy in here, a tropical plant in my studio, and more downstairs. They don't cure migraines but they don't give them either. Unlike Bourbon Manhattans.