Prove Me Wrong

It's a strange thing.  I find myself drawn to someone with connection on multiple levels--sense of humor, code of conduct, familiar feeling of moodiness and a withdrawn nature followed by times of social participation, love for music, attention to detail, intuitive and thinking nature, etc.  I like him.  I like him a lot.  Feels easy.  Feels comfortable.  Feels like I understand him, and he understands me.  Feels safe, and yet still exciting.  However, I still feel myself holding back.  You see, I have a tendency to fall for men who I like more than they like me.  I wonder if this is because I am too free with my emotions.  I wonder if this is because I want to feel like the relationship is not serious so I pick men incapable of a certain depth of feeling--maybe because I'm afraid of long-term commitment?  I wonder if this is because people get bored of me to begin with, and maybe no one can stay interested in me long-term.  I have a tendency to go after men that need help.  I have a tendency to try to mother and fix situations.  I have done this so often in the past that--in this particular situation (and others)--I wonder if I have some sick, weird mama-God complex.  Maybe I subconsciously pick someone that I can mother them with their issues and "make them better," viewing them as if they are my project or something.  And then on the other hand, I wonder if any reservations I have on an issue in their personality (depression, for example) might actually just my being scared of them having a normal and familiar human issue.  Perhaps if I was supportive of them instead of running, I'd be able to view our time as an opportunity to grow closer, and be present with them in their personal struggles, as they do the same for me. 

When dealing with a potential partner, what is a "normal issue?"  Is it that if they treat you well and make you happy, you overlook all other issues (within reason)?  After all, no one is perfect.  At what point does an issue become a problem? 

Regardless of all of these thoughts, I have an overwhelming desire to love him in the best and most sincere way I can while I have him, even though I don't know how long it will last.  I wonder if me thinking that I don't know how long it will last comes because I have an intuition that something isn't right about this, or if it is from a deep-rooted fear in being left, to the point that I can't view any relationship as a possibility to be permanent.  There is no answer for this maybe?

I am also quite aware of the intensity with which I love and feel things.  If I want him, maybe I need to hold back...  If not for the sake of the relationship, possibly for the sake of my own well-being. 

Rarely does any amount of returned affection ever feel enough to me.  Until it's too much.  Sometimes I wonder if I even know how to feel comfortable or how to not feel like someone is on the edge of leaving me. I am constantly trying to prove myself--balance on some imaginary line between too much and not enough, interesting but not weird, eating enough to be healthy and starving myself enough to be physically happy with myself (and feel that other people will like me as well). 

And it's funny-- I think I have very high self-esteem when it comes to my ability to be a good partner, etc, despite how all of the above would appear.  I guess I just don't have much trust in other people following through, and in the goodness of another human. 

Prove me wrong, please.

Upcoming Record Thoughts

It's the time when I should feel most excited about my art; I am only two weeks away from recording my album--something I've wanted to do for my WHOLE life.  But two weeks before I record, one of my band member's as well as someone I had considered one of my closest friends at one point has quit the band (over a reason that sounds so ridiculous and trivial that I'm sure that can't be the actual reason) after months of being very distant with me and talking behind my back.  It feels more like a slap in the face to our friendship than just a band-mate quitting.  I told him we are good.  And to a certain extent, we are.  I can be nice when I see him in public.  But my mind keeps coming back to how do you know if a friend is for real?  Or if they are just friends with you because it's convenient at the time?  The things I value most in a friendship are loyalty, honesty, and a genuine kindness; no amount of "but they are so much fun" can make up for those two values being absent.  I guess that's how you know who will be a good friend to you or a good person to be in your life at all--their values and how they treat other people.  Makes me want to treat people better as well, to be a better friend;  I guess that's what I can take away from all of this.  And to not talk about people, no matter how close the friend I'm talking to is;  if you wouldn't say the thing directly to the person, there's no reason to say it to someone else.

My chest feels tight like I can't breathe. So much build-up, with the looming feeling that soon I won't have much to look forward to.  I am afraid of the future.  I dream of my daughter and I moving elsewhere to a land of promise; I dream my teeth are falling out.  I feel change coming, and I don't know that it is the change I was looking for at all.  But right now is a time to be excited and soon I will have a clean slate.  I suppose that is something to be excited about if I just switch my thinking just a bit.  I need to meditate is what I need to do.

So all of that aside, I am trying to really get myself excited about the record FINALLY being made in two weeks, to think ahead to the art that I want to create for the album, and to first deal with and then put behind me any feelings that aren't beneficial to the goal and theme of the album and the art.  A large task. 

I see purples, blues, and pinks in my music.   I see a particular vintage dress/pattern that does not fit the color scheme, but one I've always wanted to wear and something I could probably work with in Photoshop.  We shall see...  Definitely things to be excited about.  I'm glad that I could write about these things; I feel better just getting it out on something like paper. 

Medicine and Art

Well it happened.  I took the reigns on my mental health and stopped running from my problems--hiding, and trying to make the best of a broken situation.

I feel like a better mom.  I feel more in control of my emotions and thoughts.  It's true--I don't feel things quite as intensely, but it's mostly a good thing--I can't really think of a downside to it.  I don't get as angry.  I don't get as down.  I get just as up!  I get more productive.  I get less sleepy.  I feel like myself for the first time in years honestly.  Free as a bird.  Makes me want to cry how good I feel and how long I forgot that feeling so light-weight and free was possible.  I refuse to think of the past two years as wasted time.  I just want to pick myself up and start moving.

I have a show booked that will be a fundraiser for my album.  It will be my first full-band live show of my music in over 3 years (right after I found out I was pregnant with Evie), and only the third show ever for me to play my music full-band.  I am nervous.  But I feel courageous.  I want to stare the fear down, and put on the best, most free, most confident, and most unabashed show of my life.

Evie and I are buddies.  She helped me make pancakes this weekend.  She loves hugs.  When I wake her up every morning and lay her down on her changing table to change her, she grabs my shirt and pulls me in for a hug.  She holds me, and I hold her little body for a while.  When I pull away to change her again, she pulls me back in for more hugs, like she never wants to let me go.  It's our sweet little time together.  I would wake up early every day of my life for moments like these.  I love her so much.  When we're watching Sesame Street, she always gets off the couch to dance on the rug to the opening song (and any song that tells her to "dance!" or "stomp!").  She always looks back at me and says, "Mama, dance!  Rug!"  And I come and dance with her. :)  I really enjoy my time with that I get with her.  I am so lucky to have her.

I am working on art.  I am putting together a wedding suite for my best friend, Sarah, and have made multiple Christmas presents out of my art.  I am having fun with it, and have learned so much about Illustrator.  Typically, it doesn't ever seem like I'm learning or growing much; but when you look back, you realize all of the progress you have made, and how it didn't even feel like work at all. (Hardly).  It's a good feeling to invest in the things that make you happy!

I have so much inspiration in my head and on my media sources--so many things to draw.  So many things to paint.  So many things to create.  Sometimes it is scary to sit down and actually start on a project, because there are SO many things that I want to do--it is overwhelming, and I want to make great things!  How do I decide what to do first?  I want to play with gouache-- I love the look.  I want to play with oils.  I need to finish some paintings that have sat around unfinished.  I want to start on new ideas!  Really, I just need to start doing it instead of talking about it.  I know I can do it.  I feel it in my bones that it's wanting to come out.  It's some type of creative re-birth happening right now.  It may sound dramatic, but ever since I found out I was going to be a mother, it's as if something was put on hold--not turned off--but put on hold.  And now, I am ready and WANTING to put that creative energy into MAKING what I want to see.  The mind is too beautiful a place to keep to oneself.

A Little More Bare :: A Great Deal More Open

You know.... I wrote a whole book of a blog explaining all of the details of a friendship gone sour, how it made me feel, and how I did everything out of good intention and was still cast to the side when they were done with me--a recurring theme of my life, mind you--an intensely emotional word vomit full of details that made me feel a bit more organized when written down, but not any better.  Funny how I expect talking about something to make me feel better; but most of the time, I just say things that I shouldn't say.  I find that most of the time when I talk about things that I'm going through, my words tend to be a bit more aggressive and condemning than reflective of how I REALLY feel; the words tend to be things I would NOT want someone to use against me and words that I would NOT want someone to know that I said about them. 

So I'll make this short-ish and detail-less-ish.

I had a friend that I held close for almost two years--such a close friendship that it almost felt as if it were some type of relationship stronger than friendship.  We hung out all of the time, texted every day, etc.  She began to become a part of my life on a daily basis and a friend who I could text about anything--she knew everything about my life and my struggles.  She was my first real kindred spirit as a mom, and my first really close girl friend other than the relationships that I had cemented as a solid relationship years ago.  She gained my trust, love, and affection.  But then things changed, and I got fed up with parts of her habits and character, as she had with me as well.  She then started to post vague statuses and posts on social media referencing how someone was "a snake in the wilderness" and how real friendship is supposed to be beneficial to both parties and how she makes time for real friends (all while she was not hanging out with me for the first time in two years).  I could only assume she was talking about me, backed by her acting extremely awkward and distant when we saw each other.  But can I blame her?  I was awkward and distant when I saw her as well.  Time had just changed things, as it tends to do.

I wanted to retort because my feelings were hurt, and I didn't understand what I had done to deserve her trying to get people to side with her on social media.  After all, isn't that what vague statuses are for--to cause drama, receive some one-sided insight into said drama, and get "likes" as approval of one's stance on said drama?  My confusion on this plea for approval was based in that I did not view the "drama" as being based on any real argument, because there was none; there was no huge falling out.  This wasn't a war in my eyes.  But I didn't say anything; (literally still biting my tongue almost completely off about this).

I've tried to just move on and not be bitter towards the "sisterhood" I had found through her or the "mom franz" that I thought I had found.  The thing is, I DID have a sisterhood and mom friends.  And that was really nice while it lasted. 

I feel the bite of being forgotten, but it only stings when I see her being socially free, and me feeling like I'm retreating even further back into my skin.  How can people be so open?  How can they not be jaded?  I suppose it is when they feel uninhibited and as if they have done nothing wrong.  I don't feel as if I have done anything wrong; there are things I would've handled a bit differently looking back, but I feel that my head can be held high as far as treatment of a fellow human and their emotions is concerned. 

Point being that I shouldn't have to wonder what I did wrong and hide in the shadows so that I don't dim her light.  I shouldn't have to walk with my head down or stay at home and hide.  And as far as friendship is concerned, I should not EVER have to beg someone to hang out with me--red flag no. 1.  If you do have to beg someone to hang out with you, one or both of your priorities are probably off.  A friendship is meant to add to your life; it is neither supposed to be your life or be viewed as a burden.  AND CHELSEA :: waiting around for someone that doesn't respect your time or feelings at least ALMOST as much as their own is unnecessary. Recurring theme, as well.

The point of all of this, I suppose, is just to realize that people come in and out of your lives, and
that is okay.  It doesn't really mean that anyone did anything wrong.  It just means that you both are going in different directions, and sometimes trying to meet in the middle is counter-productive.  I don't need someone telling me "you're doing a great job" for me to know that I'm doing a great job.  I am doing a damn great job.

So onto a new road, that is a little more bare, but a great deal more open.

And also.... Hey.  You!  Chelsea!  Listen to some self-care words from a human that wants you to know how wonderful you are as an individual and a human.  You've got the world ahead of you!  Do NOT let someone else make you feel inferior or change the way you view yourself, the promise in your future, or how successfully you can give and show love to someone.  You are more than enough.  You are not a snake.  You are vibrant, glowing, creative, a ball of light--steady and true, burning bright, a force to be reckoned with.  You are a good enough person that people voluntarily and actively become defensive when they realize that they may appear to be in a war with you, before you have even had a chance or felt the need to speak on the issue.  Think of that!  You ought to keep your head high because you are kind and you reflect on and learn from your mistakes, and you have empathy for other people.  All of those things are wonderful, and are valuable and substantial parts of your character.  You are a good person, regardless of how many friends you have.  You have everything you need in you and yours.

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.