Golden Star | Lake Champlain | Burlington, VT | original photograph by Stacy Sweeney
When it comes to analogous color schemes, think of it as all the colors in all the colors; analogous color schemes are not limited to just three colors. “Golden Star” at Lake Champlain in Birlington, VT, shows another analagous color scheme because they all share warm, related undertones: yellow, yellow-orange, orange, orangey-red, red, red-violet.
Golden Star
As the smoke filled my lungs, the world shifted; I came to a rolling stop because my legs simply went numb. My connection to the Earth changed. My feet melted into the ground. I would rather go up in flames than to put my cigarette out.
Sometimes I took a slightly different tack, following the same script of an alcoholic — the pursuit of intoxication. My first drink in 2002 had been just as transformative. Booze hit my nervous system with the force of a tidal wave, shifting my gears into neutral. I was a slave to alcohol, always chasing the next drink. I simply loved the effects produced by alcohol — of leaving my body and floating above the stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
As a rising star of science and research in 2002, I devoted my life to nursing, and I even wore a gold, star shaped pin on my lab coat as a notarized statement. Even then, I was drinking on my way up to Sigma Theta Tau International’s Honor Society of Nursing in Indianapolis to present my thesis on the health disparities of Appalachian women. Well, here I am.
It took years to turn around and open my eyes. I realized I didn’t know where I was. I felt lost. That feeling of being lost was a full flight from reality. It was one of the most disorienting and frightening parts of recovery and chronic illness. It was the moment when
I realized I’m not very much of a life — any life isn’t very much on its own. I was standing in a landscape I didn’t recognize. The air was clear, but the landmarks were gone.
For years, my life was a battle — fighting to keep the “rising star” facade alive. When I stopped running, the noise within me stopped. That silence felt like being lost because I had defined myself by the struggle for so long, and my golden ‘rising star’ pin
was just a yellow piece of tin.
E Sweeney, RN
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