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Acknowledging Fear




The glass experiments are going well. I was able to proof my original concept and am now awaiting more specialized supplies to be delivered - I think they will all be here by July 9th according to Amazon.


This will give me time to create some more designs and templates.


At 66, I think my agoraphobia and social anxiety are only growing worse. I know that these glass pieces will need to be seen in person, and not online, to be appreciated. The refractive and reflective nature of glass interacting with light cannot be translated in 2D images on a screen.


There's a little gallery about 20 miles down the mountain that I am wanting to approach. I spoke to the owner 2 years ago, pre-pandemic. But now - it just seems so very difficult.


I rarely talk about my ASD - it is something I did not even know about myself. I was close to my late 50's when it was identified. In fact, I only just told another person for the first time a couple weeks ago.

I had someone renting a room here, (the woman who attempted to steal my identity through my bank) when I first bought the house - she used to constantly make fun of me because I read so slowly - it took me much longer to finish a book than "normal" people - I just laughed it off - but maybe if she had known WHY it took me so long to read a book, she would not have made fun of me.


Sometimes I just blurt things out without much tact when I feel pressured to say them - I have a feeling that too has been the source of many friendships ending. And each time I am labeled negatively by someone I just retreat farther and farther away from people in general. I see people as dangerous and threatening most of the time. In that way, I am not too different from my 4 feral rescue cats.


The fact is, the only time I feel close to "normal" anymore is when I am alone and working. Working keeps my mind from straying into areas where depression takes a foothold. It prevents me from ruminating on all my past failures and heartbreaks. It forces me to focus.

I was on the anti-depressant Prozac for close to 25 years - I got off it 4 years ago and I absolutely refuse to go back on it. Long term use of that drug had some very negative consequences for me. These consequences prompted my Dr. to put me on even more drugs - despite me pleading to just be taken off the Prozac. The end result was a human being who could not access any emotions. It was like living in a straightjacket for the soul. In fact - when I cried for the first time in over 20 years, a few months after I got off Prozac, it felt like I had reclaimed my soul and my ability to feel emotion again. It felt miraculous. It felt human.


"A cat can have kittens in the oven, but that don't make them biscuits."


For me, it's important to acknowledge my fears. Without identifying and acknowledging the places that scare me I will never break through them.


Until next time ... Here's David Bowie & Queen with "Under Pressure"



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