Facing fear of illness and death is the utmost challenge. I do not know how many face these fears but I bet there are numerous; especially those chronically and terminally ill. My fears ratcheted up to the nth degree the past several years as I grew older with yet another illness in which the medications were just about deadly as the disease. Anxiety began to snatch my days. Until I had enough and started to fight back and face my fears.
It is still very hard for me to write and share about this publicly; however, I feel I need to for some reason. That’s another fear. Facing Fear.
I have debated whether to mix writings with my photography and artwork blog. What I desired to opine and express is not necessarily about photography or art. What I want to write about is the process of aging, creativity, and life. I used to have multiple blogs and websites. It took a year to let them go. What remained was this blog that I have been back and forth on as to keeping. I decided that I do want to write whatever comes and that I will just keep one blog. Just let it morph into whatever. As much as I like to have a picture with writing, I think it distracts.
I have debated whether to have my photography and artwork showcased with my writings or not. I decided to separate the writings from the photography and artwork posts to keep it simple. Writings are writings and visual art is visual art. If I do have a writing with a visual art post, it will be about the image featured.
The writings are to stand on their own in sharing.
The visual art will stand on its own in expressions.
Each on their own merit.
I prefer to keep it simple.
Growing old isn’t for sissies—a phrase I’ve heard before and do not know its attribution. However, there is truth in the saying. Why write about growing old? For me, it is a creative endeavor as well as having my own opinion. I am not an expert. I am just getting started in the growing and getting old business. I am a baby boomer yet not into my sixties. My gutsy mother, aged 80, says she is old as dirt. I have to laugh at that. I feel old as dirt sometimes.
I’ve been studying about the brain and growing old. Yes, studying. Funny in a way. I want to read what is being said. I am not much into the very few who weight lift or run marathons or fabulous looking at aged 80 to 90. That really doesn’t represent the aging population of baby boomers going senior. I’m interested in those who have chronic illnesses going into so-called senior citizen. How are they dealing with health issues and challenges all the while growing older?
Yesterday evening as the winds continued to gust up to 30 miles per hour, the evening sun became a deep yellow-orange in a hazy orange and pink sky. I’ve seen this kind of sky before in which brought forth tornadoes. The winds have howled for days as the harbinger of change from the warm winter to a cold front headed to and through the Midwest. A battle forthcoming to commence. The sun in a wind chime madly swinging on the front porch dislodged with a snatch by the force of the wind blowing away. A tornado watch was issued and then promptly thereafter, a tornado warning. The sirens wailed and warbled renting the unstable wild air. My hubby and I with our fur babies headed to the stone basement beneath our old 100+ year old house. All we could do was wait and listen like sitting ducks for target practice by the force of nature.