Meg Sefton's Blog, page 22

FlashNano 2021: Less than one week to go!

Here is something I am following this year and will be participating in as inspired. Perhaps you’d like to join me! Nancy Stohlman is one talented writer who inspires many other writers in the craft. Enjoy your Tuesday—Margaret

Nancy Stohlman

Are you excited yet???

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!

Since we got SO MANY amazing guest prompt submissions, I’ve decided we are going to celebrate our 10 Year anniversary with a month ofALL GUEST PROMPTS(credited of course) from you, the people who actually make FlashNano what it is. It’s going to be extra amazing!

Not already on the FlashNano list? Join us here:

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Inktober: Gift

Antique reflections by smilla4, flickr

Let me give you a little gift, the mirror hissed. No one cares about your fine education, your little stories, your time as a mom. That lovely who could get by mostly on her freshness, looks, and charm—that girl is gone.

Inktober: Trash

Trashcan by Julien Cole, flickr

Now dogless, unemployed, and frail during the pandemic, Greta found something oddly comforting in the mechanized kitchen trashcan in that it registered her presence. On Halloween, the lid clamped down on her hand and pulled her inside. There was no dog to sound the alarm.

Inktober: Stretch

room by Dean Hochman, flickr

When I was alive, there had been a presence in my room. I used to lie frozen. The night my body gave way to sleep, icy hands stretched out to choke me. In my immortal form, I linger in dark corners, jealous of the sleep-rich.

Inktober: Prickly

10′ Morgan Blacksnake (ca. 2001) – Handle Area, Aldo ZL, flickr

Life as a domme demanded she be prickly. With few other resources, this idea for making money had somehow evolved but humiliating took work, commitment. When a men begged her to freak him out by using his credit card for the day, she was sold.

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Inktober: Chop

Rod’s Steak House by Thomas Hawk, flickr

His fat mitt, a hot potato, gripped my hand; the smell of bloody chop steak declassed the place (there was no pleasant aroma of char); his eyes had an odd intensity. If I stood to leave, his hand would tighten like Chinese handcuffs.

Andy Irons: Kissed by God

Wading in, a lone surfer makes his way into the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Encinitas, California USA, Wayne Grazio, flickr

I seem to be doing some documentary movie therapy this weekend. But some parts of my week have been stressful, trying to find some work in order to cover rising costs, medical appointments, diagnostic tests. Ah yes.

Today I watched the documentary Andy Irons: Kissed by God. Andy Irons was a world champion surfer who had bipolar disorder. The filming, setting, and beautiful people make this documentary truly breath-taking. And the story is captivating.

Something an uncle told me, an uncle who was a psychiatrist, was that people with bipolar can often achieve in spite of bipolar, not because of it. (Sometimes bipolar people stop taking their meds because they believe it is the bipolar that gives them their gifts and that the meds will take it away.)

This documentary presents a great story of a person’s journey to find himself, find love, create a legacy.

Surf culture is a part of life down in Florida and I have known at least one person who has done this on a competitive level. I love the beach and hope to live there and am actively looking for an opportunity. I hope to have the chance to walk my old bod down the shore on the reg.

I was diagnosed with bipolar about twenty three years ago. I take my medication and on the whole don’t struggle with addiction, excluding one over-prescribed drug I am now free of. Something the documentary reminds me of, however, is that bipolar is lifelong. Something I learned about from the film that I hadn’t heard from any doctor I see is that bipolar is now thought of as a whole-body disorder; it affects many of the body’s functions; it can contribute to more rapid aging. It is being thought of now as an energy disorder rather than simply a mood disorder. Here is an expert on the cutting edge who appears in the documentary.

The documentary is beautiful and in an interesting way, therapeutic with all of its incorporation of the natural setting of the ocean and water.

I hope you are having a good Sunday.

Sincerely,

Meg

The Waiting Room

Closeup view of an old retro clock on white wall. Dejan Krsmanovic. flickr

I want to recommend the documentary The Waiting Room, a cinéma vérité  documentary about an emergency room in a public hospital in Oakland, California. Stories of people living on the financial edge and the dedicated care workers doing their best to provide help are often devastating and heartbreaking. But there are many moments of light and hope, especially embodied by a nurse who does health checks in admissions. She reminds me of a phlebotomist I used to see when I had to go into the hospital for treatment. She always knew where to find a vein, what to say to put me at ease, and how to inject the moment with humor. In The Waiting Room, the ER serves a patient population without insurance, those in danger of slipping through the system. There are stories and scenarios that caused me to tear up. So much of our entertainment can be derivative and deadening. Though this documentary concerns itself with life and death, it is truly alive in the most human sense.

Inktober: Candy

When her cancer returned, she held an impromptu dance in the cancer center lobby. She blasted Foxy Brown’s ‘Candy,’ giving a special dance tribute to the administrator who tried to charge $1500 before her first treatment. Other patients, bald and hobbled from treatment, shuffled their feet and laughed.

Inktober: Farce

dollyhaul, flickr

A mental health screening for an appointment required I say how many days of the week I experience each of the following:

I feel down.

I can’t concentrate.

My family is disappointed in me.

I think of suicide.

No one cared, so I said “none.” I was believed (or ignored).