Three weeks shy of the one-year anniversary of my return to the ranch I can observe now, with far more clarity, just how incredibly horribly living in Shitville fucked me up. I can also observe, with relief and joy, that I have finally pulled myself mostly out of that black hole. One clue that appeared just last night was the painting that poured out of my brush and onto the canvas. Though not as huge as many of the works I painted living in Shitville, it does feature the big, bold, invented flowers I had once been so fond of painting, back when I was trying to trick myself into believing I could adjust to living under the perpetual threats rained down upon me daily by a bunch of Trump psychos.
Thinking of you and your Great Protector today. Peace to both of you. 💕
I wish I could give you better words than this heart emoji.