Sketch Twenty-one

Rehabilitation Hospital:

I really don't want to do this sketch; I guess I will just put it out there. Vincent is sharing a room with me; I have a bed now. Alright, the room is long with one corner cut out for the bahroom. Not sketching the bathroom. Anyhow, the wall, where the beds snuggled up against, is blue; the other walls are cream on the bottom and an off gray on top. Of course the currents that all use in rooms such as this.

I can't do this. I want to sketch but I can't concentrate and I don't want to type up my surroundings. So, I'll force myself to just write anything, anything at all.

Anything: yepp; this may be nonesense. Nonsense is better than nothing. Oh, forgive any mispellings and any wrong forms of a word. Tired. The past six weeks, maybe longer, has drained this body greatly. With tomorrow Thanksgiving, I will sleep as late as I please--no schedule to keep! I feel as if I have been locked up in a jail for a very long time. My emotions are messy; messy emotions are hard to deal with. Did figure out that I have this emotional situation that someone finally named for me: "Out of Control." It isn't that I am out of control, it is that my home that once I managed is no longer in my control, no part of it, nor form of it, absolutely nothing. It goes much much further than that. This includes relationships. With a strained marriage already, a teenage daughter who is rebelling, a grandson who is soooooo upset with me for not coming home, I am a stranger in my own home. What will it be like when I return? I already do not feel comfortabel going home; it doesn't even feel right to call it home; I am homeless in the sense of "feeling" a home. This experience has brought much to my attention. Through it all, I have had a few good friends. Words of wisdom, and words of hurtful truth from each has allowed me to see where my future lies. I have a very hard road ahead. The most important part of this journey has been finding my place with God once again; God's grace has shown itself; God's voice has loudly spoken, "This is MINE, do not worry, I will take care of this, just live, love, pray, keep faith and hope, and share. This is MINE; take care of you as I help you; This is MINE." Yeah, I was yelled at two days ago while showering. Started my prayer, and not but a few seconds into it, I heard God yelling at me.  Ha ha, my parent was screaming at me; guess I hadn't been listening to well lately. So, now, I am taking care of me.