ALL ABOUT MOVING & BEING REAL

Ready For A Kiss 2006
Today was Friday; I went to Home Depot this morning with Harry and KeeKay (who's fixing our house.) It wasn't as long or exhausting as last time. I chose a tile flooring and once that's done, the bathroom will be finished. And then on to the powder room in the basement which should look terrific when it's done. I have so much to do on my own to get this house ready to be shown/sold.. I spend inordinate amounts of time on here looking at houses in Glenside and every other suburb around Philly. But I've been painting even when I have small amounts of time. I'm still fooling around with two abstracts but I'm happy doing it. Now I have a digital camera and I need to take photos of the two I finished. I like them all really; I'm glad I keep loving some of my paintings. Others eventually I see as failed, or just paintings I don't like. I can't destroy them though; invariably somebody says they loved that painting and I could have at least given them the piece. That way everybody's happy. I did that with the Swimmers. I could not get that the way I "saw" it and I couldn't stand the painting. Now that KeeKay took down the painting covering the opening to a closet over the stairway, I'm stuck with that one too. Ugh. It's one of a couple of old abstracts. I don't like either, but I do very much like the one on the wall in front of me. And it's old too.
I hope I get to go out to my brother's in Port Orford next year or so; I have a bunch of watercolor/pastels from there--my favorite of which is facing me (above the Little Man)--and I'm not happy with it after all. It turned out to have been the only one I liked. And now I don't. I have a lot of stuff in 16 x 20" frames and some extra frames too, and I'm not working in that size anymore. Plus I have at least fifteen framed pieces--oh, probably twenty-five--that are framed and not worth the frames, or at least not now, to me. (Sigh)
I'm still depressed. Why? I eat too much and I'm kinda lost. I don't have my footing as far as "being"; not yet. I saw my "Realism Therapist" Wednesday and she showed me a sensible way to look at unfriendly people. I haven't completely internalized that yet; maybe because I'm still being influenced by my habit of fading into the wallpaper in response to my mercurial mom and her family. Mercurial is a good description with a heavy dose of shoulds, and expected ESP of her needs and desires. (I'm too old for this. I'll probably be 78 and still complaining about my mom (who I loved, by the way.) But I remember seeing a woman my age in therapy when I was about twenty and I know what I thought.) I think I'm a very lucky woman to be getting therapy (from two good therapists) in this mean-spirited time (despite being more than middle-aged.)
The majority of people can't get therapy because either their insurance won't pay or pay too little and/or they're afraid of being seen as "crazy". I know some people take therapy as a sign of weakness too. Also, how many good therapists are there? From my and my friends' experiences, the number is limited. And when people finally take the plunge and don't benefit, they assume they can't be helped or that's all that's available. Looking inside and interacting with other people from that standpoint is food for the soul--in other words it feels real and exciting. And being open, honest and vulnerable is all I know how to be.
Meanwhile, either I'll go look for chin hairs then go read in bed or go do the free tarot and see whether it says anything about selling this house or buying a new one. A psychic friend of mine said yesterday we'd be out of here by June. I think that's true, but I am concerned about selling this one. (And going through all my stuff.) Ah, life.