My emotions are rather higgledy- piggledy. I'm in the Gallery, listening to Russell Morris belt out "Sharkmouth". We had a great day, yesterday, with visitors to the Gallery, at least ten groups coming through the door. Some of them stayed and had a cupcake and a cuppa, some were just there for my scintillating company (!), some were friends and some were just curious. They all seemed to enjoy the experience of visiting the East End Gallery.
So what am I feeling and why? Is it frustration? Is it anger? Is it resignation? Is it guilt?
My beloved husband is in bed today. He had an absolute blast of a day yesterday when he and Guy ventured out to enjoy "Sets, Bugs and Rock and Roll" in the Big Smoke. He caught up with old friends, enjoyed the documentary and had a thoroughly satisfying man-date with Guy. Even a kebab for lunch.
So, now he's paid for his outing with a rotten night. His chest infection isn't dramatically worse, but he's not improving either. He's been wiped out by the sweating and discomfort and chose not to get up at all before I left the house. That is highly unusual for Michael. I am enraged by The Bitch.
My feelings here are pretty straightforward. But, I dislike feeling angry because it is often accompanied by sadness and guilt - the hallmarks of my recurrent depression. I think that's part of the reason I'm in such a state of flux. I do not want to go there again.
Don't think for one minute I regard myself as special or precious. In fact, I have come to loathe sympathy in all shapes and forms. Back in the Dark Ages, when four out of my seven babies died (that's right - they died. They didn't pass away or go to a better place) and then I found myself , most reluctantly, the mother of two autistic children, I used to grit my teeth at the ridiculous comments made when I divulged this information.
God chose you for a special purpose.
You only get given what you can live with.
You must be so strong.
Have you tried faith healing?
Or my personal favourite (on having my girls both stillborn at twenty-six weeks) -
Well, at least you have Vanessa!
If you had seven children and four had to die, which ones would you choose? Give me strength....
So I don't feel special or gifted or strong. A woman like me deals with what happens. Sometimes well, sometimes badly. I am solution oriented. I thrive on confronting the issue and seeking an answer to the problem. Doesn't always work, but I try never ever to give up.
Which is another reason I am feeling topsy-turvy. I have two campaigns active online. One is on the HelpX site, We need volunteer labour to help us finish the East End Gallery. So far, I think I have one young Pom turning up in the next week, working for us in exchange for food and accommodation. But I have been assured by at least three other couples that they are coming. And they don't. So our hopes rise and then get dashed again.
I really hope this young bloke turns up. It will renew my faith in human nature.
The other campaign is an Indiegogo campaign to raise $30 000 by 17 August, so we can finish the East End Gallery. I didn't enter this campaign lightly. I thought about it, I wrestled with it, I composed it. After I read about two architects raising $150 000 for the fit-out of a cat lovers' cafe, I thought I might as well give Indiegogo a bash. But I am also very aware we may be viewed as begging.
Here's the reality. Michael is on a Disability Support Pension. He has asthma, emphysema, reflux and anxiety. I am his Carer which is a bit of a black joke due to my own depressive episodes. We look after each other. We have spent all our money, super, savings, borrowed money on saving the Forbes building and establishing the Gallery. I was pretty useless before I was injured at work. Now I am totally useless as I have a fracture in my right forearm that isn't healing.I do not blame the child who hit me. I blame the Education Department for not accepting liability because there were no witnesses.
So I can't work and Michael is exhausted. We need to finish the building is the shortest time possible, so Michael can get back to what he loves best - making metal sculptures. We are not eligible for any grants or loans as we are private operators. I accept that, I understand that, but three years ago, when we bought the building, Michael's fitness was still pretty good.
My birthday is fast approaching. I will be fifty-four on 17 July. How bloody ancient! I am completely uninterested in presents. I have always found giving far better for the soul than taking.
What I'd really like for my birthday are two wishes.
One - that Michael recovers from this latest visit from The Bitch
Two - that our Indiegogo campaign picks up and we reach our goal.
We are in this together. And we are in it for our artists. We just want to finish the dream.
Love,
Kate.
PS is it too early for a glass of vino?
PPS - here is the link -
https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/east-end-gallery-supporting-wheatbelt-artists/x/11068363#/story
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