This is the garage door that started the journey for me. I took this picture yesterday. Six days from now I will have been with my boyfriend for twenty one years. Some days that feels like a century… But I digress. When we first got together, his “grandma” (who was actually his adopted mother) let us live in her garage. She had a bathroom put in on the back porch of her house (and had him pay her back for it to teach the twenty one year old us about bills) but she never charged us for the utilities. At the time I was to headstrong to see the gift that she was giving us… She was stern and slightly scary to me. I have learned that she really was an amazing woman since.
I can say that it was a struggle to make the garage into a home. We ran gas lines for a stove. We acquired a refrigerator from a local mission. He and I slept on a large sofa we were given. I failed to appreciate the struggle then, because at twenty one I was ignorant of the way of the world. I had seen the darkness in man, but I had really never had to do the housing thing. When my family didn’t have a home I lived with my grandma. So I always had a roof over my head. The garage wasn’t even the worst place I have ever lived. I have lived ten people in a two bedroom trailer with no running water. That is another story though.
Now Joe is working on getting the house. He inherited a fourth of it and his adopted sister is giving him her share. So we have only two halves to buy before it is ours. This is a convoluted and stressful time for me. I want to keep the memories of this house. I want the stability for my family that the house will provide. But the house also has baggage. Baggage in the form from of people who are currently in the house. People who we are trying to get settled. There is a lot involved with this. Add the fact that we are not able to settle in and you have the chaos of my life.
Then I looked at the garage door and felt like it had come full circle. Which is why I took the picture. The feeling of peace came through in the picture.
Rain is the perfect weather to think in. There is two sides to every story. That is something that we often forget, especially when we are fighting. When we are fighting, all we want is to express our views. We want to show that we hurt, and that we believe strongly in what we are saying. We forget that we love, and that we may not be the only one who is right. Two sides to each story does not always mean just right and wrong.
Sometimes, an argument is about two people who have valid points and neither know how bend to see the other view. It really is normal. However during the fight, it is not something that anyone thinks of. I myself have been guilty of this. We get so involved in ourselves that we find ourselves alone with hurt hearts and confused minds.
Still in the moment it is very hard to step back. It is not a thing that comes naturally to most of us. So we have to decide whether or not to back down or to feel like we are untrue to our own truths. Standing our ground can cause friction between us and whomever we are arguing with. Sometimes backing down is allowing our truths to be ignored.
It is possible for both sides to be right. So when you deal with the hurt from an argument, keep that in mind. If you do not want to back down from your view, it is fine. Just consider that you are not the only one involved. Consider if the other party could be right as well.
So I have my entire life been unable to fit exactly any label. I was sporty, nerdy, geeky, a loner, a bookworm, social, antisocial, introvert, extroverted, a joiner…well you can see where I am going with this. It was not a true issue for me, and was all in the same breath. I always felt like I was on the outside. I laugh… I collect labels… But then I would hide the fact that it hurt. Why should I be a label? I have never been very good at limiting myself…
That being said…. My twelve year old is very much like me. She is fluid in who she is and what she does. She asked me today…. Mama why do people have to label each other? Why can’t they just accept that each person grows and change with each passing day? …….how is it that this child who has not yet reached even a decade and a half umderstands something that eludes over half the human race?
Perhaps we need to learn instead of separately labelling each other, to instead celebrate the uniqueness that is the human race.
According to Wikipedia… An artist is : An artist is a person engaged in one or more of any of a broad spectrum of activities related to creating art, practicing the arts or demonstrating an art. The common usage in both everyday speech and academic discourse is a practitioner in the visual arts only.
I find myself so often considering whether or not I should use the title of artist. I know that I am an artist… But I feel like what I do doesn’t seem as good. Yes this is my anxiety talking. But part of the issue is art is truly subjective. I can look at a picture and feel like it is genius, and then you can look and see it as garbage. The same thing goes for any kind of art…. Paintings, poetry, yarnwork, music. With no baseline to measure the art against, is it really any wonder how many artists fail to have strong self esteem? Add the fact that you then are expected to, if you want to make a living from the art, find the way to sell these small expressions of your soul. It takes a huge amount of courage to even show another soul what you have done. Then deciding what you are worth? Bah I see it as nearly crippling.
so this time of year it is so hard for many people. I often feel like it is the worst because of the expectations we are put under to be nice to people who we can’t stand the rest of the year. Or the fact that we are separate from the ones that we love and have no way to remedy this. Sometimes it is just the weather changes and the sickness that seems to linger about making it even more difficult to be social. I just wanted to reach out and say that you are not alone. If this is a difficult time for you, reach out. There is always someone who you matter too… Whether you know it or not. And in the holidays we some times forget about telling the ones around us how much we care. For some the inner voice is not a kind thing. Trust me when I say that you are not alone. ❤
Ok remember I said I was half mad….here is another slice of my mental world.
- pen names seem to have more uses than I thought, but I wonder if it really matters
- people keep expecting me to tell them who my writing style is like…I really can’t begin to explain that I write, and know that others like what I write…but I will never be a good judge.
- I have no self image. I am me…but I don’t see myself as good or bad…I just am.
- this sounds like I am whining.
- the holidays suck because i want so badly to be with everyone I love…but how I see them isn’t usually how i am seen.
- my daughter cracks me up. she has such a delightful intelligence and a smart sense of humor.
- I have an editor for Death of Neverland who actually made it less stressful. my insecurities make such things painful.
- youtube has some really great science based experiment videos
- I wish I was less insecure
- I am unsure how to express my thoughts when I am not writing poetry or stories. I end up having trouble with what I say being misconstrued. I am a very honest person, but it doesn’t always come out exactly how I mean.
So much I find myself having an issue… I am crawling my way to being healthy and a “successful ” person. For me it is a constant struggle. It means that I have to put the work I do creatively in the world. I face rejection. Ok, you say, and?… Well it comes down to what kind of day I am having. And I know that I am not alone. I so often on bad days convince myself that two monkeys with typewriters could write better than I do. And I won’t even get started with my art. It isn’t just depression, it is self worth. If you spend your whole life hearing that your opinion is not worth a damn then eventually… You believe it. This is not something that you can just get over! This requires you to retrain yourself to believe that you matter. That the systematic erosion of your dreams and desires was not in fact truth. That you can make a difference in this all too dark world. So if I seem to be attention seeking with my art or my writing… It is not because I am actually attention seeking.. It is likely that I am losing the fight that day against seeing myself as worthy of doing it at all that day. Please don’t hold it against the writing or the art.