This picture is by the woman whose blog alerted me to the Be Brave Project back in July--she is an artist whose cards are for sale, and which benefit animal rescue. The quote beneath is hard to read. It says, "Your work is to discover your work, and then with all your heart give yourself to it."--Buddha.
I like that. It might seem as if I have taken a bit of a breather from the original goals of my particular branch of the Be Brave Project, but I have actually been disconcertingly (to me) assiduous in my efforts.
I have been going to the library to work on the plot of the novel every day now for weeks.
I have health insurance!
I now have a doctor, and have begun to get myself vetted out head to toe, with a gynecologist and a cardiologist. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, when I will hear the results of my blood tests. I'm a bit anxious, but hopeful.
Still haven't got AB to read my screenplay--need to work on that again. He keeps eluding the nets I set out for him, and it is tricky because of our non-dating history (he wanted to, I very much didn't).
My taxes are all entirely sorted out. My account with the IRS is absolutely up-to-date--debts are paid that I didn't know I had, and they turned out to be quite small compared (oh my!) to the amount of money I was owed. This has been a huge relief, an enormous burden lifted. Very important to note about myself that I was not meant to live as a rogue or a rebel: Those who get all fluttery due to late tax payments should not attempt to live as runaways. Note to Self.
And oh, the book. . .well, as I said, I've been working on the plot. And I want to get some intense writing done in the next month, before I return to Chicago for Christmas.
Meanwhile, the economy seems to be sliding into ever more frightening abysses, and my chances of getting any kind of pre-qualifying for any kind of mortgage are pretty slim. . .
The odd thing is that what remains for me right now, to replace the self-contempt I felt due to the losses incurred while lushing it up on other continents, is a sort of low and swirling anxiety. This is not helped by the holiday season and the worry over my mother's cirrhosis. This is not aided by my father and step-mother being locked in a cabal of recrimination and blame, talking of discontinuing relations with my brother due to what his wife said, and accusations to me of treating my step-mother badly--in the future. Yes, they've decided to become angry before-hand, to save time and money.
All the causes of the drinking and the running away are still there within me. Of course. I thought every thing would get sorted out so quickly, be so straightforward. I am learning to practice a little patience; it takes a while to undo these things. But today I will again go to a meeting, go the the library and work on my book, go to the gym.
Tomorrow I work at the Consulate. There is really a great deal to be thankful for on this crisp winter day, where thin pink strips of clouds float over the Manhattan apartment buildings outside my window, and sometimes that is the brave think I need to do most of all. Just be thankful.
Tomorrow I work at the Consulate. There is really a great deal to be thankful for on this crisp winter day, where thin pink strips of clouds float over the Manhattan apartment buildings outside my window, and sometimes that is the brave think I need to do most of all. Just be thankful.
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