How the Battle Was Won

Last night I had one margarita. Just one. And it wasn’t very good either, so I probably could say that last night I had one glass of margarita mix and I would only be a smidgen from the truth. But. I don’t drink much these days at all. Yes, a glass of red wine occasionally with dinner. But I barely do that either. Reason being, alcohol, no matter how little or large the consumption, always invites a braincloud into my forecast. So there must have been something legal only to those 21-and-over in my margarita mix last night, because this morning a grey, ominous cloud was hovering in the corner of our bedroom. I saw it, and rolled over to face the other side. Probably the worst thing I could do, because my backside was like a magnet and funneled that cloud immediately into my mind. There I am, my day hasn’t even begun. My feet have not touched the earth. My body has not moved to vertical yet and my mind was running like a racehorse at Derby. That cloud had taken over…there was no usual brain waves like exciting ideas about paintings and sewing projects, or dwellings on sweet memories of the ocean, or even sexy thoughts about the honey laying next to me. Oh no. That nasty cloud would have none of that. Instead, the braincloud thinks its funny by performing magic tricks in my mind, turning positive, happy thoughts into anxiety and negativity.

“Art,” it says, “you think that paint pushing you’re doing in the other room is Art? Huh, loser.”

Then it starts to taunt me with comments that I have no idea where they’re coming from. “You have no friends, no one likes you…You’re ugly, better start doing more power yoga and less time threading a sewing machine lard-o…..What does Hansel see in you?….He’s gonna leave you one day, you know…..You’re only getting older girlie, better start being responsible with your life…….You gonna stay in bed all day, huh, like a real loser that you are?…Huh..Huh…Is that what you’re gonna do???”

That last comment really pissed me off, so I got out of bed. Though the thing about the ominous, grey, braincloud is that it makes everything look grey. Damn that margarita. I tried to sit in meditation for a while and tell myself its only a braincloud, it will pass. I reminded myself over and over again to “practice being strong, not breaking down.” Then I just walked into my studio, opened the curtains, and turned on the computer.

Ah-ha. The braincloud doesn’t like sunshine. The braincloud is scared of all my art supplies and paintings. And the best thing of all, the braincloud was evaporating into air once I visited my good friends in blog land.

“So I do have friends, and not only do I have friends,” I told the evaporating braincloud, “they’re way cool…and strong…their love is stronger then you’ll ever be–you stupid braincloud!!!”

That is how I fought the ominous, grey braincloud, with the help of some awesome friends out there: Erica, Dee, and Sandy. Plus, Mary my beloved, dearest friend, came in with some back-up artillery with her sweet email.