My son used to say that to me all of the time when I was married because I was depressed and angry all of the time. Then I got a divorce and my life changed. I was happy, I had friends and family, entertained once in a while, had dinners with friends....

Since my son died, I have allowed myself to slowly slip away. It was not just the loss of my son, but also the loss of some very near and dear friendships and cutting ties with members of my family. Two of my sisters got really ugly with me after my son died, but I wrote about that already. I decided that I did not need to listen to anymore of their hateful, jealous B.S.. Sixty years of it is enough already!

I don't handle losses well. I handled it by playing turtle and tucking under my protective shell. I have known this for many months and suggested it in so many ways- like my most recent painting, but last night it really hit home.It was a night of, "if this is all life is, what is the point?" I thought about my son committing suicide. No, I am absolutely not suicidal, but it occurred to me that I live as if I am in a vacuum or just waiting to die. It was as if I could hear my son shouting at me, "Mom, get a life!"

Making changes is scary. People usually do not make major changes until their life becomes untenable or intolerable- until it becomes too painful not to change. I think I have reached that point.

That painting, by the way, is called "Defining Moment". I think I had one those moments last night.