Melt Down

Ever had one of those days where the smallest thing sets you off. It's not really that little thing that made everything boil up to tears. It's all the events building up and that one thing just knocks you off your everyday balancing act of being in an even positive mood.

I have had plenty of setbacks in my lifetime. Therefore, it shouldn't be a surprise when it happens. Upon starting this project I have been pretty upbeat and optimistic. Feeling like it might be an answer for me. Answer to feeling up and satisfied. It's a work in progress of course, but I really felt this new goal, to read and write and draw was going to help me feel fulfilled. I kinda felt like my melt down came out of nowhere. I could feel myself boiling up. The reason? Paint.

I tend to hold a lot in. I have realized recently that someone to talk to is really important. Most people pay a lot of money to have someone safe to talk to. At this point in life I am just using other things as releases. Writing. Drawing. Crafting. Writing is like talking but no one talks back and tells you that your normal. Writing doesn't validate your perspective or opinion. It doesn't snuggle you while you cry. People are important. My problem is that I put everyone first. All the time. I'm self-sacrificing. I give until I'm empty and I'm not really good about insisting my needs are met.

Doing something for me today was in my sights. I wanted to buy artistic paints for watercolor. Winsor & Newton to be exact. This brand, in my experience has been the best "non-student" type watercolor paint. But then I saw the Van Gogh watercolor paint. As you know from previous posts he's one of my painting inspirations. I thought when I saw the Van Gogh paint that they would be cool to try! Yet, as I looked at both types of paints I began to get frustrated. I went into the store so hopeful that this would help me on my quest to paint children's books. Hoping that it would help me feel a peace and happiness I have been lacking. No sooner had I found the paints with a huge grin on my face, then suddenly the wind in my sails began to diminish. The light went out in my heart and the smile faded from my lips. Sticker shock. I went from disappointed, to angry, to tears in a matter of 15 minutes by the time I left the store.

I could continue to elaborate. But I'm weary. Tonight, just know that today, I learned that melt downs are normal. And no one had to validate me by saying so. I'm still o.k. It was just a bad day. I do not have a bad life. Neither do you.

Free

I believe that everyone needs to feel free. I came to this realization today as we rode the swings ride. I was sitting behind my children when all of a sudden my daughters arms came up in the form of wings. She let them fall and float with the motion of the air. It touched my heart and made me blissfully aware of the lightness of my own heart. 

I also began to think of the adverse. When I am confined to restrictions my creative mind is closterphobic and begins to shut down. Creativity drawn in breeds depression that is a deep dark abyss. Today as we ran around my childhood amusement park I found my favorite rides in my old age to be the ones where we were calmly flowing up in the air. It was peaceful moment and I experienced true bliss.

I feel that is the task. To find things in life that bring us that kind of healthy happiness. No chemicals needed. Just moments and memories that lighten us. We are so grounded with the gravity of the Earth and the weight of the world. We are all meant to fly free. 

Gathering Joy

Just a quick one tonight. It's been a long stressful day. We traveled to see our children. Jane Yolen would call this a gathering day. A day when my thoughts drifted as I drove. A day that I collected childhood living notes. A day that I felt frustration, yet amid that frustration...JOY

Once we arrived at our destination I got news of my oldest son changing his plans about work. He is fresh out of high school. Admittedly, I suck at trying to guide my adult child in decisions. I come on too strong and emotional. It just frustrates us both. 

Amid the turmoil, there were glimpses of tenderness. Glimpses I needed. The grand kids all riding a Ferris wheel and eating ice cream. My youngest son building the coolest fort for his nephews. These tender sweet moments make friction worthy of living through. Tonight, as I put my frustrations to sleep... I will be thinking of these sweet moments and holding on to them. Hoping tomorrow is a better day. Hoping I can let go. Live. And savor Joy.

Artistic

It's day two and technically it is over if I listen to the ticking of the clock. 12:33 a.m. The rules to this new adventure are that I have to write at least once a day. It takes 40 days to form a new habit, right? I can't mess it up here at the very beginning just because it is late and we are away from my regular routine.

As I was lying there looking at the ceiling, staring at the stars out the window, I had a couple thoughts. 

Artistic. The word in the dictionary states the meaning of the word to be an adjective having or revealing natural creative skill. This is according to the apple dictionary. However, from where I sit, I believe it means so much more. 

See, I have spent the last few days with my tears ready to stream at any given moment. Weapie like a willow. Tears are my masterpiece right now. I am unable to really create anything. Though I do put some effort into making something everyday, I do not always succeed. I am experiencing inner turmoil. Dissatissaction with what I am creating in my world. Thus, I have taken on this new task or goal. Writing. To create illustrations later. It's slow going and I don't really know what I am doing. I am feeling overly tender hearted. My eyes leak at the slightest unkind word, or thought. It's like having a paper cut that nags your finger and causes discomfort even though it is so small. Problem is, I live in fear that these tears and tenderness will be seen as instability. When really it is my artistic nature to feel too deep, cry too easily, and love as if my heart were the Milky Way. 

Then I think of the artistic, creative people I know and have studied about in the past. I realize something quite tragic. Artists feel things deeply. Not to say we are better than those who love in logic. However, logical people would claim us creatives to be irrational. Sometimes that may be true in the worlds view. Really though, our emotions most of the time cannot be controlled. They need to be expressed. In a drawing, a painting, a song, a poem, a sculpture. The medium really doesn't matter. But the ache that wells up within the waterfall of emotions must be cut out of us and bleed onto the paper. It is so intense. So consuming. If we cannot recreate the emotion into a piece of art then our tears must spill over to show the world that our emotions will be heard. They will be felt. They must be expressed. This is where I live right now. Wending my way. Wandering through. Discovering a realm within myself that says...I'm okay just the way I am. I just need to express it. 

All of this may sound absurd to the realist reading it. When I think of Vincent Van Gogh,  I feel a softness in my heart for a man who ran out of ways, words, and tears. Therefore, he left this world and to this day we enjoy his works of heart. His starry night has been recreated in more ways than he could ever have fathomed. He was an emotional mess. By his art, I judge, he was a beautiful mess. 

My point? Well, I guess it is this. Next time you encounter a creative, artistic, emotional individual perhaps for just a moment before you tell them they are irrational, too emotional and ask them if they are still on their meds...just perhaps you could encourage them to create....take time to listen to their stories... Or just sit with them as the tears paint streams of sadness down their cheeks. Don't judge them. Don't try to change them. Don't medicate them. 

Encourage them. Let them be. Let them shine in their gifts and enlighten our minds. Appreciate them for who they are.

 A beautiful mess. 

To Begin

Here we go.

I basically have had one dream all my life. To teach. I returned to school in my 30's and finally got my teaching degree. So, my super power is that I teach. What happens when you reach a dream and realize...ummm...maybe not what I want to do for the rest of my life. It becomes your day job. It becomes a means to an end and a meal.

You do what I did, and remember another dream you may have developed along the way. I have always loved books. To be exact, children's books. You know the pretty picture kind. Where the words whisk you away to a place you remember from your own days as a kid. A realm of bliss. Euphoria.

At the end of this school year 2013-2014 I was completely burned out. I am now into summer by 4 weeks. Usually, I have already begun planning for the next year. This summer, all I feel is dread. About the last week of school I was actually looking for vacancies in my district. Thinking if I changed jobs maybe I could find joy in the job again. An art position came open so I called our districts endorsement guru. She said that I was 3 credits shy of having an endorsement in art! 3 CREDITS! One class! Ugh. I started looking for online art classes. Later deciding I wasn't up for that right now either. (I am also a mom, and wife.) I don't need more on my plate, I just need to find a way to like what I do.

Weeks later the birth of an idea was born. I had been drawing with some neighborhood kids using sidewalk chalk and posted a photo in Instagram. Jesse, my son posted this comment, "Mom you need to write and illustrate children's books. You are an artist." I said something to the effect that all I needed was a story. To which my sister replied, "You have a million stories. Just pick one." I dismissed these comments with a smile. 

Then, I began remembering.

Once upon a time there was a 10 year old moody girl who wrote poems in her bedroom window seat. She also doodled on paper, or material, or any blank canvas she could find. Yes, that girl was me. Then she got bogged down in life. Grew up. (In height not behavior.) Married. Had babies. Divorced. Married. College. Whew. I've been busy. Happy life, yes. But, happiness is eluding me lately in the area of livelihood. Maybe, there is something to this little seed of an idea. So, I decided, I am grateful for people who believe in my gifts. Time to put them to work.

The goal is to write a little bit everyday. Which may be difficult. If I want it though, I have to make it happen. In addition, I will need to also doodle or draw to keep my drawing skills up and increasing. I have written one piece that I am working through. I may not publish all my material here for views/fans. I will, however share some. They will be under the MINE tab above. I want to share my journey. I want to share the process. I need a place to keep it all.

The beginning.

This is it.