Waking up to sad news is never a good thing

Maya Angelou passed away this morning. I didn’t know her, except through her writing, but she always felt like a friend to me. I can’t say that I know what it’s like to grow up dirt poor as a black girl in the south during the heart of the civil rights movement, but she made it come alive for me in a way that other writers never could. Maybe because there were so many incidences that we both shared in our lives; it made me feel less lonely. I will miss her voice.

This entire past week has been a rough one for me. I’ve slipped back into my depression, but I’m fighting hard. One of my Pandora stations is a country station that I’ve put together, which is limited to songs that were released prior to 2006 (with a few exceptions), because that’s when I stopped listening to country for the most part. It started to get too personal. I like relating to my music, but I don’t want it telling my life story. A few days ago, I made the mistake of tuning in to that particular station, and a string of songs came on that reminded me of happier times, when I had fewer worries, I still enjoyed life and spending time with my best friend, and my life hadn’t yet unraveled.

I don’t know how other people react, but when a song reminds me of a happier time, and I know I’ll never have that moment again, it puts me in a sad mood. So basically, the entire theme of my week is one of sadness. I’m trying to break out of it and trying to find my inner peace and happiness again, but it’s been rough.

On Friday afternoon, just before my surgeon’s office closed, one of my incisions reopened after having the stitch removed the previous morning. I did what any sensible gear-head/field doctor would do and re-sealed it with super glue until I was able to get in to see my doctor yesterday. He’s not concerned about it, except that it’s going to leave a scar. Honestly, what’s one more scar to add to the hundreds I already have?

I’m trying to decide on a tattoo for my right arm to camouflage many of the scars on that arm. I’m thinking of a climbing rose, to honor my paternal grandmother, as my orchid honors my maternal grandparents. I’m not sure yet, so it won’t be happening any time soon. It will definitely be flowers of some kind. I’d like it to be bright and colorful, so maybe just wildflowers. I’m in no hurry, and it’s best to not get something permanent done while depressed anyway.


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