I’m sitting in my darkened bedroom eating leftover pad thai from last night’s dinner at Monkfish Abbey. I didn’t get to eat it last night when it was hot, and fresh, and being enjoyed by a dozen friends. I had a migraine.

Since I fell out of remission in mid-February the thing I’ve struggled with the most is the loneliness. When you are chronically ill you are alone a lot – in the waiting room, in your sickbed, in the drug addled confusion of your own thoughts. Chronic pain is isolating. It keeps you from connecting, even when you manage to be physically present. It isolates you from your true self, the self you knew yourself to be before you … {read more…}

Many of you have traveled with me through the saga of chronic migrianes. About a year and a half ago I wrote about packing up all of my art-and-writing projects and putting them in the box headed for the basement. When I did that I had just begun on and idea for a ‘zine — actually for a series of ‘zines — and that is the project who’s death I mourned the most.

It’s truly a sign of my increasing health then, to introduce to you my first, flawed attempt at a ‘zine.

This tiny edition, Hiver, is a collection of essays, songs, recipies, and petite pieces of art to get you through the grey … {read more…}

I have an article up at the Huffington Post today! It’s about becoming fearless again after being sexually abused. Writing it was a very empowering experience. May it in some way, bring healing to all who hear part of thier story in the telling of my own.

You can click on the title below to read and comment on my piece: Fearless Bodies Fearless Voices.

I work as an artist/writer everyday.

Every. Day.

I have chronic migraines, so some days, like today, my work day is very very short.

In What Her Body Thought, Susan Griffin describes working as a writer with severe chronic fatigue syndrome. She says that often, her work day goal was to read seven pages.

Seven. Pages.

Today, my seven pages looked like donning dark glasses to drive to the nearest art supply store for paper and this:

I’m finally realizing that a real artist/writer need real tools. I know. I’m a little slow.

Here’s to showing up at the page!

I woke up early this morning to plunder and remember. Here in Seattle, the local glass artists at Art by Fire have been busy. Together they’ve been blowing glass balls to mark the second anniversary of the 9-11 attacks. Last night, after dark when the park was closed, they tucked nine hundred and eleven of them into the sea grass and between the breakwater boulders of Golden Gardens at Shilshole Bay. In the morning residents were invited to comb the beach for these colorful surprises. I was at the park by dawn’s early light. The park, popular in the summer but typically abandoned at 6:30am on a Saturday, was crawling with people, empty handed and disappointed. One mother I passed … {read more…}

Okay, thought I’d shoot you a little something to let you know what’s been up.

Last Week at the Abbey
Norooz was a blast last week. Helene brings art wherever she goes, and usually creates a sing-a-long or dance-a-long as well. We had an amazing feast of Persian delights, learned the symbolism of the Haftsin table, and enjoyed an impromptu concert by Heather, who played a Persian flute and violin songs from the middle east. Heather also sang Iranian folks tunes, and Helene sang one from Bulgaria. There were also funny songs for the kids, lessons in being coquetteish (the lion and the lemon!) and even a waltz in the middle of the very crowded living room. A dreamy … {read more…}

Well, I got the infamous botox treatment for migraines yesterday. Paul went with me to keep me company. The scheduler said it would take 20 minutes, but we were there for over an hour, so that’s good to know for the next time (if there is a next time.)

First I put ice packs on my neck and forehead for 40 minutes. This was actually nice because I had a migraine at the time and the ice on my neck helped the pain back down. Then my doctor came in and offered to get me “something for the pain.”
“I have demoral at home.” I said.
“Yes, well you might want something for now because it is 20-25 needle … {read more…}

The elevator doors open with a hiss, with a sigh. Jake sighs. He moves heavily through the retreating doors, shoulders creeping unknowingly towards his ears, his head weighty on the stem of his neck. He wills his feet to move him towards his car; puts his hand into the large square pocket of his canvas coat; his fingertips reach for his keys. Instead he finds the ridged rim of a prescription bottle. It rattles. Jake encloses the cap with two fingers and a thumb, extracts the culprit. Lyrica, 20 milligrams, 60 count. Do not operate heavy machinery. Do not take with alcohol. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Lyrica. Such a pretty name. Like a sultry goddess. Like … {read more…}

I don’t know why I write about my mirgraines so much, other than I’m trying to stay present to everything in my life — not just the good. This is what I wrote this morning:

“I don’t feel good and my head hurst and something is wrong. I don’t know what to do. I just sit in my room with the shades closed and it’s still not dark enough. It’s a perfect Spring-like day and I’m sitting inside a darkened room. It’s ironic, becuause I’m acting just like I did when I was depressed in college — curl up in a ball, hide out in my room, cry. But the wierd thing is, I’m not depressed. My body is defintely not … {read more…}

There have been no posts lately due to the fact that migraines have returned (day three and counting.) But hey, a three week pain-free run is nothing to sneeze at so I’m still winning the emotional battle. Hopefully these will ebb soon.

Until then, check out this video from Pink (Thanks Bob C, for sending this to me.)