Letters in Rememberance and Final Wishes

 

I'm overflowing with inspiration and not quite enough successful use of my time to get it out.  Palettes.  Color palettes.  More color palettes.  Let me bring my camera and take a picture of every beautiful palette I've ever seen.  Let me recreate art with THESE beautiful colors!  I've got to change some things in order to let these inspirations thrive.  Cell phones are for daytime.  Daughter time, painting, songwriting, and reading are for nighttime.  No more texting or checking my phone at night time--it doesn't produce anything creative really.  It just distracts from the now and the things I could be creating. 

I leave for Seattle in two days for a vacation.  Sometimes I wonder if I'll end up in Seattle or Portland indefinitely; but for now, I am in Shreveport.  And Shreveport is where I need to be happy and present for now.  I can't wait to see mountains and fresh, cool air.  I already feel like the air here smells different and feels cooler, just thinking about being elsewhere--being there.

I wrote a letter to my daughter, in case the plane were to crash.  (Melancholy--apologies.  Let me rephrase).  I wrote a letter to my daughter so that some day I can read the letter to her--thoughts from a past experience and a younger her and I.  I started crying while I wrote the letter, overcome with such love that I never knew was possible.  I think about her little face and precious little cheeks and chin, and I just want to hold her and love her while I have her so tiny and fully mine.  She will always be this special to me.  But there really is something about her full trust of me and getting to explain what the sky is or the moon is--this time with her really is magical.  I could spend every day with her for the rest of my life and be happy.  I hate that she has to grow up.  I hope that she never leaves me, but I know that is selfish to think.  I hope that she lets me come with her, really.  I hope she lets me come with her when she is a strong, powerful woman who knows what she wants.  I hope she still wants me.  I love you, honey.

Very difficult just thinking about not being with her for a few days. 

(Some day, I'd like to get this all printed in book format--pictures and all.  Even the silly posts or the difficult-to-read posts.  I'd like to get a copy printed for Evelyn.  I'd like her to know everything).

Happiness

I was raised with the viewpoint that no one "deserves to be happy."  That being happy is not the end goal.  That loving God and talking about Him is the only thing that matters at the end of the day; so don't chase happiness--it is a futile chase.

I am very happy, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Girl who Cannot Be Told What She Can and Cannot Have

I will be traveling next week to Seattle, Washington.  I will be staying with a dear friend, Kelsey McClure, with whom I spent many of my most pivotal years of adulthood with.  This is a friend with whom we shared our first house away from a parental unit.  This is a friend with whom I had to discuss how to mark my groceries, in order to be most clear to have marked my territory so as to not find my food raided on a day when I might need it most.  She hated that I marked my groceries, as she said that "she would not be told what she can and cannot eat."  I was confused by this, as I had very little money to buy groceries, and oftentimes would find my food missing.  Somehow, despite the turbulence in these conversations, we both made it through this time without either of us going hungry or without money.  As it turned out, marking one's groceries ended up being an unsuspectingly minute part of adulthood.

She moved to New Orleans, Louisiana in the wintertime.  By the time February had arrived, I needed a place to escape to-- I felt that I was in a manipulative relationship that allowed me no haven and no safe friends to discuss my troubles with.  Most of them knew that I was in a manipulative relationship and had no pity left for me as to why I could not pull myself out of it.  I didn't have the strength to say no.  So Kelsey and my friend JJ, both living in New Orleans, offered me a way to take the choice away from myself, to submerge myself into the unknown, and to gain some independence and respect for myself.  So I up and moved to New Orleans.  I don't know that it was following her, as much as it was seeing her bloom in a place that she did not feel tied down by.  The idea of an unshackled place to call home has always been appealing to me. 

Sometimes I wonder if I will follow her to the West, where she has found the love of her life and a place to be happy, to create, to fall in love, and to explore.  My heart flutters thinking of these things being possible for me.  For my life.  In a way, she has always lived the life I wanted.  And she has always been happy doing so, "not being told what she can and cannot have."  Maybe that's my problem-- maybe I need to view that mindset as an opportunity instead of something threatening my livelihood.  Maybe I just need to be set free.

I want to be free.

I will be getting a tattoo while I am in Seattle-- a slingshot shooting out flowers as a commemoration to the woman I have become-- a tomboy who is a bit guarded and keeps a means of protection close to her, but leaves a trail of flowers in her path.  A spray of positivity.  It is something that I have wanted tattooed on me for a while, but something to which I have been scared to commit.  Maybe it's cheesy.  Maybe I'll hate it next year.  Maybe I won't.  Maybe I just want to inspire myself to be the person I want to be, and that I know I can be.  Maybe being strong is not as scary as I think.

Also, I have read Just Kids, a book by Patti Smith, and have fallen in love with her and Robert Mapplethorpe's friendship and closeness, as well as Mapplethorpe's art and genuine nature and Patti Smith's writing.  In fact, I have found quite a bit of enjoyment out of reading her work.  Reading in general has become a great means of focus for me--of imagination and diving into someone else's world.  It has become less laborious to me than writing, but almost just as much of a release of stress and anxiety.  Almost.  I really love it and have just ordered four more books to read, and plan on reading more of Patti's work in M. Train and The Coral Sea.  I will also be seeing one of Mapplethorpe's portraits in a museum off of the beaten path in Seattle.  I will have to take an hour train to get there just to see one piece of his art and to feel a part of his world, and it will be absolutely worth it.  I am obsessed. 

I will be traveling alone, looking at museums, eating vegan food, and purchasing little trinkets of magic to bring back home--a little piece of my journey to keep (me) alive. I will bring my journal and sketchbook on this trip with me in order to allow my inspiration to have a means in which to unfold.

Counting down days.

Breathe ::: Parenting a Toddler

There is a lot going on in the world right now.  Believe it or not, the KKK and Neo-Nazi's have arisen from the ashes in order to fight for their "rights to free speech," etc., and I can't help but feel a panging ache in my chest about bringing my daughter up in the South in a time such as this.  I want her to be in a place away from this kind of pain and fear for your life if you stand with your brethren, standing up for what you believe to be right.  Sometimes I'd like to just go out in the woods of a different state and just not come back out.  Sometimes I'd like to just disappear.  And then I think about social strengths and weaknesses for her and how it is GOOD for her to interact and to feel strong feelings towards things and other people, even if that feeling is a feeling of "I do not understand you" and "I disagree with you."  I just dislike that there has to be so much unnecessary hate in this world; the fact that I have to explain that to her some day is heartbreaking.



On top of all of this, I am experiencing some real difficulty in raising a toddler.  It is very difficult for me to not lose my temper.  I feel like I need order in my house in order to keep my anxiety at bay.  I guess "anxiety" is what we're calling it--the need to have alone time, the need for peace and quiet, and the immediate sense of "fight or flight" when I feel that this is taken away. My daughter is in a part of her childhood where she needs to be with me a great deal; when she cannot have my full attention, she becomes very upset and hits or screams or throws things.  When she acts this way, I become frustrated.  I am frustrated because I feel like most parents would be able to have their partner help at this time, and I don't have that luxury.  I become frustrated because after a long day of work, the last thing I want to hear is a screaming child while I continue to work (or cook) in order to feed us.  I become frustrated because after a long day of dealing with people non-stop, I would just like to relax and cuddle instead of trying to talk more to a little person who doesn't understand me.  But the problem here is that all of these frustrations are about the way I feel.  She is frustrated because of how she feels, and I just keep the cycle going.  Wouldn't it be nice if I were able to recognize this moment as a time to teach and bond instead of power through an unpleasant situation, turning off my ears and my emotions to attempt to accomplish absolute zombie/autopilot state in order to retreat into the part of my mind that can shut off all outside forces. 

She just needs me to be present!  She's begging me to be present with her--she's had a long day too, and she just wants to feel understood and loved.

I can do better.  I've got to do better.

I love this little girl to death, and I want her to know that feelings are FINE to have!  It's the way we deal with them that makes the difference.

Easy Come, Easy Go. Will You Let Me Go Home?

I recorded an entire album over the weekend with my band!  Hours and hours and hours.  10:00a.m. - 11:30p.m.  Six hours of vocals.  I am proud of the vocals.  I am proud of my instrumentation.  I am proud of our project and all of our rehearsals and the time each of us has put into this project.  It is very encouraging to have something finished--we will have something physical to show for our hard work.  (I can't even IMAGINE the feeling that will occur when I get to record MY project!!!)  Anyway, I brought a huge sketch pad, pencils and blenders to the studio in order to draw or sketch during the down-time in recording.  And I USED them!  I sketched one of my favorite pictures of my daughter in the same way that my dad sketched each one of his children.

 

I carried on a tradition.  I blended several of my passions and loves into one exhausting, semi-stressful, and fully creative weekend.

And then today, I sign on to Instagram and see a post and back-and-forth comments by two of my newer, dearest-up-until-recently-when-we-went-through-a-rough-patch-where-I-was-up-front-about-issues-and-ways-we-could-deal-with-them friends discussing how you shouldn't pursue a friendship with people who don't make you feel loveable.  And how if a friendship is not mutually beneficial, you should be done. with. that. shit.   And I realize that neither of these people have been texting me or hanging out with me lately. 

And I realize that post is probably about me.  I realize that maybe they think I am a bad friend.

Which is odd to me, because I think of myself as a very steady person friend-wise.  I don't have very many new friends.  Most of my friends are very old and dear to me--we don't get to hang out often but we care deeply for each other and always will, and we feel close still whenever we do get to hang out.  And we don't hurt each other intentionally.  And if we do hurt each other, it's all flowers and notes and "please let me cook you dinner" afterwards and "I'm so sorry.  Are we good?"'s.

It is odd to be a part of a friend group who defines and validates themselves via posts and likes and comments on social media as well as cliques.  I feel validated by the time that is put into being with me and being spoken up for, being appreciated. 

I feel guarded.  I feel like I want to delete my social media accounts and hide in my house and see if anyone would ever show up.  (I can't do that because I have a show coming up, but still). 

Half of me is fine being by myself.  I felt productive and happy up until I read that post, at which time I felt feelings of hurt, defensiveness, and guilt.  The other half of me really wants friends.  Or maybe really I just want a partner.  I don't know. 

I've always felt like I had a really great community here in my hometown.  But I am realizing that I don't really have that many people who really understand me or are here for me when I am not begging for their help.  I am realizing that maybe I am both stronger and weaker than I thought I was.

I'll hold a little closer to myself and my baby and relaxation and creativity.  None of these things have ever steered me wrong. 

Here is an interesting article on repressing emotions/staying busy/reclusing and how they are all connected as a means to deal with feelings you don't know how to deal with.

Whoops!  I don't mean to be self-destructive, or to continue down a path that I know is avoiding confrontation of feelings.  But at the end of the day, I know that I am happy and feel fulfilled by doing things that make me feel happy and fulfilled, which is creating, pouring out my heart and soul into music, playing with my daughter, and occasionally combining all of these things with a friend.  But I don't want to search for validation in time with friends anymore.  I am enough.  I have always been enough.  And I know people care about me, but I will never be happy by looking for happiness in other people.

Encouragement for Creative Moms

You know. It's easy to be tired.  It's easy to go to bed early and not do the things that you think you want to do.  It's easy to find inspiration during the day and then say you will work on that inspiration tomorrow.

 

I feel like I'm losing momentum on art and music.  I feel like I'm getting comfortable again instead of pushing myself.  That is a feeling that I absolutely despise.  But when it is nine o'clock at night and I know I have to be up at 6:30 the following morning, it is easy to think that I should get my rest and that I will have more energy tomorrow.  But this is never true.  Momma is tired.  Momma will always be tired.  For now, anyway.

 

::CONFESSION:: I have a tendency to get really excited about things and then lose momentum and stop doing the things I was excited about.  Jumping the gun, then jumping ship.  This is what I consider to be one of my biggest closet weaknesses that I try to hide, and absolutely one of my biggest insecurities.  No one wants to be the girl that spends thousands on workout gear and then decides she'd rather stay in bed.  No one admires that girl.  No one even admires the girl that sells all of that workout gear when she realizes she's just a lazy fuck.  I'm having a really hard time not seeing myself as that right now.  I can feel the familiar "giving up" feeling, the embarrassment of that dejection starting to take hold.

 

But I admire the girl who may be slow, but stays the course.  Just because I've been slow or have been tired is not a reason to give up on the things I know I love and the things that I know I want to do.  I'm intimidated by how little I have done and how good other people are.  The amount of practice they have had is comparable to their talent and I...  Well I have chosen an early bed time and easy lunch breaks over practice.  Also, sometimes I feel like I want to do too many things for me to focus on any one single thing.  The confusion of prioritizing gets dizzying.

 

So today, on my lunch break, I am going to start on a little drawing.  I am going to start using my time a little better.  I can take my time becoming great.  But I've also got to use my time correctly in order to become great.  Sleep is overrated.  We'll all be dead soon enough.

 

Life is for living.  Life is for growing.  Life is for enjoying and not beating yourself up about things that are really quite silly.  If you want to travel, then travel!  If you want to art, then art!  If you want to music, then music!  Naps are for when you can't go on anymore.  Coffee is for the other times, if you want to continue to provide for your family AND enjoy creative, rejuvenating outlets.  In a perfect world, I could enjoy naps daily.  But this isn't a perfect world, and so I must create my own perfection.  Life is not for sleeping away feelings and fears.

 

So get those self-depreciating, self-debilitating thoughts away from you!  You've kept a blog for almost ten years--slow but continual.  You are not a notorious quitter.  Those thoughts and ideas you have of yourself are your insecurities speaking to you.  You are full of solo travel and confidence and vulnerability and adventure.  You are full of musical talents, intelligence and ideas--future and past, and most definitely present as well.  You are full of curiosity and raw, hidden talent, and PASSION in art and graphics!  You are full of potential and you are full of creative energy!  And you are also a single mom with a full-time job as well as a second job, and you are figuring out ways to balance everything.  I hate even having to separate those last two sentences, because it makes the second sentence sound like an excuse or an apology--it is not.  The separation of the two sentences is merely to avoid causing a run-on sentence.  The fact that I have to explain the separation ought demonstrate both my active membership in the Grammar Sticklers Association and my passion for empowering moms to CREATE BECAUSE YOUR CHILDREN ARE NOT CRUTCHES.  THEY ARE A PART OF YOUR BEAUTIFUL LIFE AND YOU ARE STILL A BEAUTIFUL, CREATIVE INDIVDUAL WHO IS FULL OF POTENTIAL OUTSIDE OF YOUR MOMDOM!!! *breathing in and out, slowly and deeply*  I hope you feel enlightened.  Be patient with yourself.  You are already admirable, and you don't have to prove anything to anyone.  But do things for yourself, girl!  You a cool ass chick!

 

(Is it sad that my pep talks have to be in third person?  That I have to pretend I am looking at myself through someone else's eyes in order to offer the correct amount of encouragement and love?  That is a conversation for another day.)

 

For now, use your time to be you.  Use your time to create.  Use your time to become the person you want to be and the mother that you want to be.  They don't have to be mutually exclusive.  In fact, the harmony of the two sounds pretty damn beautiful.  You're doing great.

Single Mama Starts a Business

I started my L.L.C. today.  I started my own business.  My own invitation and graphic design company.  I have completed one Save the Date suite and have two more invitation suites on the books.  I have a website in the works with my art listed.  I'm doing the damn thing.

And then I have doubts.  I painted something for my band's show flier and I keep looking at it and thinking that maybe people feel sorry for me.  Like maybe people are thinking, "She's not very good."  Or "Did Chelsea do that?" in a bad way.  Or "I wonder how long it will take her to realize she sucks.  I feel sorry for her."  I wonder if people will not come to band's show because they don't want to support something associated with my failed art.  I realize that I am overthinking all of this.

But when it comes down to it, I've never really had anyone tell me they like my art.  I am not confident.  I don't know what I'm doing most of the time.  And there isn't really anyone saying, "If you don't pursue your art, you're crazy!"  In fact, it would be much more comfortable and convenient for me to keep working my day job that I hate and making stable income.

But I also have these daydreams of making art that appeals to me.  And maybe it appeals to other people.  And maybe it encourages other people.  And maybe even I can become a successful single mother based on my ideas and my jumping into the unknown business world with courage, drive, vulnerability, and guts.  And maybe I can learn some things along the way and provide a stable life for myself and my daughter by doing something that I never even considered myself worthy of doing.  Maybe she will see her mom as an artist and a creative.

I want to paint abstract paintings.  I want to paint detailed oil portraits. 

I want to get better.  I want to do exactly what I want, and be the stronger for it.