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@spruceriver

"Thank you for your support and kind words.
It seems that with R A, that I am a child again trying to make a sand castle in very dry sand. I can call on my imagination to overcome reality. There is no clear sense of any concrete progress as much as continually on an ever changing battlefield. I had my eyes checked and have new glasses, but my eyesight is digressing. I can see that going online and texting on my phone are a factor, but there seems to be relationships with different things that don't really offer clear ways to combat them. I was out walking on a trail in the woods to refill some bird feeders I have out there and with no warning fell on my head. I didn't have any chance to put out my arm in time. I just drove my head into the mud and grass. I felt my neck starting to bend to the breaking point and then stop. In late fall the ground would have been frozen. I think that I would be in for another concussion. Now with R A, when I slipped on some ice and hit my back, it felt like my back was welded into a solid mass, and then the pain came out in my arms, like my upper arms were nailed onto my shoulders. It seems with R A, my body is not reacting how it has most of my life. Before I would take illnesses on with a clear motive and plan to overcome the damage. With RA, It seems I am wrestling with some invisible opponent, where what I seem to be engaged in has some sort of gap with what is happening with my mind and body. I am accepting that I have to confront depression and anxiety, but what I have done before is now disconnected and there is no sense of progress. I work on building up confidence to do things I did before, but I somehow feel too disconnected in myself to take them on.
( to be continued)

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Replies to ""Thank you for your support and kind words. It seems that with R A, that I..."

For most of my life I was able to go on without any recognition and support. I was basically searching in art without any discouragement that it seemed no one was interested in what I was discovering. My high school English teacher encouraged me to write poems, and that was enough to go on writing over a thousand poems over 60 years with no real interest in publishing anything. What happened later was that a group of writers in St. John's, Newfoundland wanted to produce an anthology of poetry from the province and wanted to have representation from Labrador. They contacted me somehow and asked me to send some poems for their consideration. I did, and there was one poem that they rewrote as if I was a Hippie, that I was to agree with, if not, it wouldn't be included. I loved being a father and a school teacher, and had no desire to be an insatiable Hippie. I refused, and the poem never appeared. Years after that I never even considered trying to publish any poems. I bring this up because where before I would just forge ahead with my painting and poetry, totally indifferent to any support or interest. Now with R A, I just can't do that. My life seems in every way a rejection. I am trying to adjust my painting with my shaky hands to a more impressionistic style.

Just how do we face this kind of reaction to R A? They say R A is linked to anxiety and depression. I wonder if R A produces depression and anxiety or anxiety and depression produce R A.