What now...

Firstly, thank you Stirrup Queens for mentioning my most recent post

(hearts and hugs and love to you)

thank you also to those who have arrived here because of her words

you too are AWESOME!

xoxoxxo

******

 

I was pretty spent once Monday rolled around.

What I neglected to mention was that the weekend prior to Mother's Day I went and got a box of 10 blank cards (in case I decided at the last minute to change my mind and not do this project, I could still use the cards for "real life"), in addition I also got a couple specially selected Mother's day cards for women in my life, my mother and a woman who was about to celebrate mother's day for the first time after 10years of struggling with IF.

I sat down the week before and hand wrote messages in each of them.

I took breaks, but sat there and thought about each woman and found myself imagining what her day would possibly be like. Sounds, smells, and sights.
I am sure I infused a bit of my own fantasies, but hell it was my project I can do what I want.

Yep, even mailed one to that SIL

 

I mailed them off on the Thursday before M.D.

and patted myself on the back,

thinking I might have taken the first step onto a new path.

One that had me beginning this new hope for a self that is more then infertility.
( I am a cautious hoper, I am sure many of us are now)

 

What ended up happening was that I couldn't stop thinking about those cards...
first I wondered if anyone got them
then I wondered if it meant anything to them
then I wondered why they didn't mention to me that they got a card from me
then I got depressed thinking I had spent energy trying to make myself evolve
and instead all I did was push myself back.

Was it worth it, I mean did I do it for the right reasons?
The jury is still out on that one.

In reflection:
Much like my NIAW writing, I am thinking that Mother's Day needs to be reduced in my mind, to something closer to Labor day; a holiday, but no one really knows what to do with it.
For me Mother's day will never be what I though it would be,
but I don't need to take it away from others.

So I am onto other more pressing items on my to-do list.
Step One: decide which direction to head

 

Ostrich

 

I hid this last weekend...

well, I didn't plan to, but hiding under the remote control and a bowl of hummus

ended up feeling like the safest place to be.

 

Let me explain.

I attended my goddaughters first communion, I got a new dress and The Barren and I met her at the church with her parents and family. We had taken godparent classes at this same church 9years ago so we "as non-catholics" could learn the important role we were undertaking.

We take pride in being her back up team...

though we never really were called to service, well so far at least.

I took some photos of our girl, who was mortified at all the attention and parceled out who could take photos with her, and fought the waterfall of tears that were welling in her eyes from people looking at her. She was clearly stressed, but did really well under the circumstances.

Her mom and dad were respectful of her feelings and space and nothing was forced on her.

She went through the paces of the service, even told her older tween sister to "be less grumpy, because I wasn't grumpy on your first communion day". We were proud and watched her and the parade of squirming and fidgety kids line up and take the wafers.

Then when mass was over, but before we all left, the pastor asked all the mothers to rise...

I have read about this situation in many other blogs and I guess because I was in church for a totally different reason I was totally taken off guard.

When they called for all the mothers to rise, it was like a fortress suddenly popped up all around me.

Like these bodies all suddenly formed deep thick walls; I was shaken, physically and began to fight back a swell of tears, I felt so ostracized.

 

 

The Barren noticing this started to touch my back and the tears fell in two streams down my face, I was angry and so hurt. The pastor was blessing these woman, telling them how important they were and how they were special and had magical powers and could fly and make milk and shit rainbows.

I stopped hearing stuff, and instead tried to hide my tears, and curse my suddenly swelling eyelids.

Then I leaned over to The Barren and told him I was leaving out the back door, there were less people in that direction and I wanted to run...fast and far.

Once outside I wanted to tackle the pastor and priests and tell them how they made me feel, and how they had excluded a non-catholic even further! I thought about the "open letter to the pastors" I had read online and wanted to give them a piece of my mind....but on reflection decided this day was not about me, it was about our goddaughter

and I needed to save these tears for a safe place,

this place was not safe.

 

I proceeded to tell The Barren to treat me like I just had an epileptic seizure and

regain normalcy post hast, that it would help me.

We met the others out front and no one was the wiser to my knowledge.

The like magic, our goddaughter walked up to us to thank us for coming and said she would like to take a picture with us, queue internal tears.

We took a photo and moved onto lunch

I had not stepped three paces into the place when our goddaughters Aunt turned to me and said:

" when you posted that thing on facebook about infertility,

I have a friend that says he has a cure for fertility."

I said: "everyone does"

and walked away into the dining room.

I was cooked; I had a drink at lunch, ate greasy noodles and then went home

and hid through Monday morning.

 

No calls on Sunday, no check-ins to friends...just me, the cats and the TV

I look forward to a day when it hurts less or just doesn't appear to be so obvious.

How I sometimes am envious of that ostrich, it can run so fast!

 

B-day hangover

I had a very quiet birthday.

The Barren took me out with the intention of us drinking,
relaxing and hopefully starting a weekend of laughter.
I made reservations for us at a local place that actually makes drinks with alcohol in them,
and the food is alright...
We ended up talking about our infertility most of the night...
he is finding himself in a strange place,
wanting to move on but the constant questions from others makes it hard to.
The drinks allowed us to laugh about lots of things, instead of cry.
 

By my third drink I was pretending to be on a first date with him.

He found this very funny, I thought in my drink induced haze I was being sneaky.

...then I suggested we go for a walk; that idea ended after the fourth step outside

when I realized how heavy my head was,
and the act of balancing it took too much effort
 in combination with walking.

He suggested we drive home,
The Barren took an alternative route and I think he was headed to the beach for a

make-out session with his "date"...but

I had closed my eyes and when I opened them I thought I was being kidnapped

and although I made him laugh, it was clear I was panicked.
Make out session nixed
Instead...

We arrived home to me literally crawling upstairs and falling on the floor,
laughing hysterically at the cats "sitting there judging me"
and collapsing into bed.

2am woke me by slamming a hammer against my skull and

Saturday was a greasy food hangover recovery day.

so, for some a typical birthday,
for me bittersweet,
as I think I was trying to make it all normal.

hangover food: vegetarian version
grilled cheese-raw onions-french fries

 

***

My cake eating party went OK,
a friend received a call just as we were cutting the cake,
that something happened to her fiance who was returning from a weekend trip
and the mood dropped and we dispersed.
Leaving a lot of cake and a gallon of homemade ice cream in the freezer.
(fiance OK, but a member of his adventure passed away)
 

My dear friends planned a "do-over"

I was embarrassed at them wanting to make a fuss, but also deeply touched.
We had sangria and dinner and then I got a gift on top of all that.
It was lovely.

I made these two options for sugar overload, plus cookies...
it was insane of me

My birthdays seem to be evolving into a smaller, quieter gatherings.
I use to have HUGE parties and some little part of me still craves that,
but I am coming to understand as we age it doesn't always work out that way anymore.
I think I am OK with this evolution.

I think I carried a lot of last years memories with me into this birthday.
Reflecting on my mother and father and how radically my relationship has shifted with them.
It was hard to not think of, it was hard to not remember, it was hard to let go of.
My mother and father are "fine", and I struggle daily with not parenting them for two reasons:
1. they are not ready/needing parenting yet
2. I am not ready to be my parents parent.
I have to remember this, well mostly number 1, because I know when the time comes number 2 is something I will never be ready for.

I feel a personal evolution within again too:
I am becoming older, and possibly wiser.
Problem is, I don't want to grow up anymore...

Dream

photo via: animalheadvintage

I had a dream last night that I went to the Doctor for my 6month

after surgery check up and they did an ultrasound

and found I had two babies growing in the wrong space...

one was growing in my tube and the other in my ovary.

I had to have emergency surgery and have them taken.

I was heartbroken and worried, wondering if there was any way to save them.

 

I was searching for the Barren and couldn't find him....

I had my mother with me and I was frightened

that she would not hear what the doctor found

...or that she would keep information from me.

Even after waking I was still frightened

 

That dream was followed by another the following night

that I was searching

for The Barren again; the night sky was filled with bi-planes

 they appeared like larger then life fireflies.

As I was searching I entered a building that was built like the Guggenheim (a spiral)

it was a mall or someplace like it in dream logic

I was entering and exiting the maze of spaces

until I reached an open atrium space

where a baby giraffe was, running in circles in the small space, the keeper

laughing at its fear and panic.

I tried to calm the baby, shh-ing and cooing...but before I could

it collapsed, eyes wide open...stiff and strait as a pole.

 

I am not sure what these dreams mean, or why I felt compelled to write about them...

I know they are full of dream symbols:

1. To dream that a giraffe is running implies that you are avoiding the truth. It also suggests that you saw something that you shouldn't have seen. To see a giraffe in your dream suggests that you need to consider the overall picture. Take a broader view on your life and where it is headed. The dream may also be a metaphor on how you are "sticking your neck out" for someone.
 
2. To see an airplane in your dream indicates that you will overcome your obstacles and rise to a new level of prominence and status. You may experience a higher consciousness, new-found freedom and greater awareness. Perhaps you need to gain a better perspective or wider view on something. If the airplane is taking off, then it suggests that an idea or plan is about to "take off" and be put into action. It may also represent your need to get away and escape from your daily life.
   
    
3. To dream that you are a doctor suggests that there is some problem that you need to patch up or some emotional wound that you need to bandage up. Alternatively, it signifies your ability to offer your support to others.

Ironically, two new giraffes were born at the local zoo...

"April 30, 2013: Congratulations, Betty Lou!

    Betty Lou gave birth April 28 to a healthy calf named Sunshine. She is being an attentive mom, and letting the calf nurse. Sunshine is 6' and 133 lbs. Zookeepers have begun introductions to the rest of the herd, and mother-calf pairs will most likely rotate on and off exhibit. Michael, father to both calves, will remain on exhibit most of the time."

 

 

 

Once a year

 

Yep, it is my birthday today.

I am not feeling a whole lot of festive.

 

I have been pulling myself through the week.

I know I have a lot to celebrate and how thankful I am for this life.

My parents are alive and mostly healthy, my body seems to be acting civil towards me,

I have an amazing husband and I am able to explore my art.

I am thankful.

 

I also have this overwhelming feeling that I don't deserve a celebration.

Like I have not done enough to earn it.

It is the battle I have been fighting.

 

All week, and last I was telling The Barren I didn't want to talk about my birthday,

 it was too emotional.

But...knowing me as well as he does,

I have overstressed my beloved, as he knows

I will want to be surrounded by friends at the last moment

and then he will be at a loss.

So to reduce The Barrens stress level I have helped him out this year.

I decided that maybe a cake eating party would make me feel better.

I will report back on that.

I am sending out the last minute invites today.

I also plan on dressing up and

we are having dinner with the parents tonight, and I know that should set me strait.

 

In beginning my birthday reflections,

I think I might go silent next year for NIAW, or not post anything in regards to my infertility.

I hope that this year, I can begin to make a metamorphosis and start to tilt the scales away from

being the infertile woman...and more about being the artist who also has

a body of work about infertility.

 

I plan on making a new list of goals for myself....

and eating loads of cake

with ice cream

Quiet the crazy

Here we are ladies, in the middle of NIAW.

It seems like many of us don't need to be reminded of this week,

 as we live with it daily, hourly, even moment by moment.

This week makes many of us sudden advocates, warriors and spokespeople.

Many of us are reluctant, or fearful of revealing ourselves.

Myself included;
 because after 8 years

I am now working on being something,

someone, other than the infertile woman,

the barren couple,

the sad story.

 

Yesterday I was in a deep dark place, I had a whole lot of crazy swirling in my head.
I had my mean mantras repeating themselves, the destructive ones, the easy ones...

I had a weekend full of my crazy MIL who probably has no thoughts about our last encounter and figures it was just a normal conversation about the weather or a new item of clothing.
 I was not able to tell her how it made me feel and I think that had taken a toll on my mental health. I was not able to make eye contact with her the whole time and it made me feel weak and sad. It built up and when I awake yesterday it was VERY clear to me that
I was going to battle a day of deep sadness.
I have composed a bunch of letters in my head, spoken to myself, with great presence and dignity about how it made me feel and also envisioned whacking her upside the head a'la cartoon style until she came to her compassionate senses.



this is an illustration only, I do not have button eyes

 

None have escaped my head...really
though it was fun to think about picking up the paella pan that
separated us at dinner and hit her with it.

Now, she is far away, and most likely we will not see/hear from her for many more months, or until she calls frantic for us to visit them thousands of miles away, RIGHT NOW drop everything.
We will cross that bridge when it appears; until then I am working on filtering out all the hurt and pain and frustration.
I am better today, I told The Barren this morning while standing naked and wet from the shower: "today is a new day, lets try this again"
it was the start of the day, I was naked and nothing had stuck to me yet!

NIAW makes me remember, that there are other people in this world that have no idea what others are living with, how powerful a casual statement can sit and fester, or how desperately we don't want to think about this week.
 

Empty-NIAW 2013

In honor of NIAW I have decided to post something I wrote two years ago:

Emptiness- containing nothing

Infertility left a hole in me. I was left as shell of myself for some time.

The first sign that something was wrong arrived while I was at work…I got a frantic phone call from my doctor just two hours after my first pelvic ultrasound. “Um… there is a fairly large unknown growth that appears to be in your bladder and we are not sure exactly what it is. So I need to you see a gynecological oncologist, an urologist and get a CT scan in the next day or so”.  I worked at a warehouse and so while she is feeding me a list of numbers and phrases over the phone, I was simply seeking a quiet place to hear all she was saying. When she was done, I couldn’t move; but when I did I shot out the door as fast as I could in hopes no one would see the flood of tears that would be my last for a long while.

I became a pin cushion, I was probed and prodded for months, years…some people were skilled and left no marks, others left bruises, rashes and scar tissue.

I was submissive through this all.

As the months passed, something shifted and I felt nothing; no pain, no joy, no happiness… nothing. Food was not enjoyable; friends were of no comfort. I spent time staring into space, watching the walls be white. I commuted 45 miles to work daily, and often times would find myself at work not remembering how I got there, even though I had driven myself. It took great effort to make easy decisions, like which cereal to buy for breakfast. I was on auto pilot.

I was able to dress myself, bath myself and eat, but I was not there for it.

I stopped expressing emotions; I didn’t laugh, get angry or cry. I was a shell, it was me to all appearances, but no one was home.

“The stork has been visiting- 2007

I visited her at the hospital, and cried on the way there. Mourning as I drove closer and closer...
The night I received her call, I dozed off with my arms wrapped around my invisible baby...wanting so badly to wake from this horrible dream I am in.

I felt like Dumbo's mama watching all the other mothers receive their babies.

I have not slept well and had a panic attack in the shower this morning...feeling as though I would faint. I fought the collapse, because I didn't want to frighten my husband in the early hour.

Sadly, it would have been very easy to surrender to the dark.”  Text from BARREN: life on infertile soil

As my bruises healed I was left with the stark reality of having no external symbols of my pain, my heartbreak, my existence.

How would anyone know what was happening…

NIAW 2013

Here is the start of a week, we all are too familiar with.

Let the headgames begin!

 

 

Note to self...

The front of the postcard, charming, no?!

So I was in the garage today, making room for furniture that is bound to arrive by this weekend.

It is the only place that it will fit.

Furniture that is no doubt beautiful and old and too big to fit in our tiny home.

BUT I am still holding a candle for a "forever home" that will fit the chest and the dresser.

 

I was moving things, building a pile of items that will be picked up by the local thrift store this week before they unload more things into the tiny garage that we then get to deal with down the road.

Anyhooo... I was moving stuff and unearthed a box of old photos.

Among the treasures I exhumed was a postcard I sent myself.

Yep, I am that person....I send myself a postcard the last day of the journey telling myself how I was feeling at that moment or what I had learned.

It arrives days after me, and usually just as the "paradise is fading from my memory" and I am getting back to reality moment.

 

This postcard was sent to me, by me in 1997

I had gone (escaped)* to Europe for a few weeks, to find out how damaged I was.

The Barren and I were about 5years into our relationship and he was ready to settle down and I was flipping out....so I ran away to listen to my heart and get a little space....well a lot of space.

He endorsed this, and waited for me to figure shit out...it was really only a short period of time but enough to put things in line, ya know?! 

*Running away sounds to romantic, but really it was me on a $20 a day budget for food and housing and I was eating a lot of candy bars and staying in hostels that fed you breakfast so I could pocket bread or cereal for dinner.

Anyways.....

 

I read this postcard again today with a smile on my face.

This is what it says:

Well- here I am and there you are- two way different places-but still one person. You can depend on yourself- and know how long and short time can be, hours, days, months. Feet are tired, ankles sore- emotionally exhausted. but-in a sense a bit afraid of getting into a groove-becoming set in my ways again. Remember movement-simple movement. walking barefoot-walking the dog-motion is what you need and know that returning can be just as good as coming- the swing is in your heart- you have the ability to come and go and don't let that be taken away.Continue to say what you feel. Be aware of what you need and tell him- don't back down as you wouldn't want him to do.and make art-your soul needs it. Send slides-invest in yourself and enjoy time. Don't wait for it to pass (as I am doing now) be loving-take another chance and give it. Know that you are a strong-confident woman-keep that damn smirk on your face. Keep them wondering.



I am so glad I sent myself this card....it is like a pocket mantra.



The Phonecall

I miss these phones,
you could slam them against things and make dents

 

I was reaching out to a couple people I know in an effort to help a fellow friend make a couple connections for possible job opportunities.

It is WAY out of my nature to ask or refer to myself as a bridge for someone to get something.

I guess I don't feel like I hold that level of importance or something.

you know like, I know someone, and they work at this place and a third person I know wants to work at said place and so I introduce them so they can chat or make that connection.

I just wanted to do whatever I could to help this awesome friend, so I got over it for the morning.

 

Well, one of the calls back, with a more then happy to help person, came from someone I have only really casually spoken to over the years. She is CRAZY smart, you know, speaks 5 languages fluently and has 245thousand extra letters after her name from degrees she has collected over time.

She is about to be 35yrs old, and is very involved in her career.

She got married a couple of years ago to a friend of The Barren.

 

When we were chatting about the easiest and best way to get my friend and her to contact one another she got kind of quiet.

I asked if she had more travel plans in line for the year.

She said those heartbreaking words

" I don't know if this is the right time to say this but...."

She then told me that she threw out her BCP when she got engaged and after three years found out that she has PCOS.

I was bathed in a calm, a heartbreaking calm

 

I told her I was so sorry, and how heartbreaking it is.

She then began to talk about everything; and I began to listen with a heavy heart.

She told me how people are relentlessly asking her when she is going to start a family and that it kills her a little each time.

"it is in gods hands" is her normal response,

she said for her it gets them to stop asking and that it conveys that she is wanting children and is not a child hater or shunning the idea/hope.

(seriously, isn't it amazing that people jump to the idea that we don't like kids because we don't have them....ughhhhh)

She mentioned how she feels like she is letting her family down, her brother is gay and she is the families only hope for grandchildren and that she is letting them down.

I said the words that I work to believe everyday:

" This is not your fault, you didn't do this"

I then tried to assure her that she would find the right choices for herself.

I told her that she and her hubby would find their path, and that maybe she could mention it to her family too, that she was struggling...and needed some extra love and compassion.

She mentioned that her husband said to her

"that if she took better care of herself this wouldn't have happened."

He told her "you should call The Barreness and The Barren, they know about what you are going through"

(notice the lack of engagement from hubby, it is all her, not him)

I felt like my friends did, wanting to find a cast iron pan and lop him upside his head.

instead...

I repeated the mantra:

This is not your fault, you did not do this

I told her that it was important to remember it when things got dark

 

She said she was offered a job out of the US and was considering it. She said she needed to find a new path, a new purpose, a new reason for being who she was.

It broke my heart a little more

but I completely understood.

I mentioned that this process is a lifelong one, some days are good and some are bad.

I gave her an exercise my therapist gave me and she said she would try it.

When the call was over she thanked me and I told her I believed in her and her choices that were right for her, she needed to make those paramount.

 

After hanging up the phone, The Barren who overheard the whole call said:

" are you OK, that was a lot for you"

I said: " We are the infertility hotline, we can answer all questions.

Our phones are open 24/7"

 

I got up, pulled two sticks of butter out of the fridge and made cookies.

It was a lot



Moving Forward...

image via pinterest

 

So as another week passes I feel fortified!

I got me one FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC

badass girl friends!

 

This last weekends family gathering was so low on drama, it was shocking.

(thank you for your kind words and thoughts)

 

The Barren and I both were still a bit guarded,

and watching our niece and nephew play with the other young duo that was there was heartbreaking, but also enjoyable as we had no responsibilities other than giving hugs and kind words.

 

The Barren feeding the in house bunnies and piggies

 

We were often quiet, and although there was a lot of talking, a lot of it was about other people, other adventures and other events. It was refreshing.

We posed for the "awkward family photo" and the few pics I have seen so far, reflect the level of comfort everyone was feeling from wearing matching outfits.

No attacks, no drama for me, no drama for The Barren

ahhhhhh

 

We returned home and I spoke with girlfriends and unloaded my heart.

Every dear wonderful friend I spoke to was angry and wanted to hit them( SIL and MIL)

 upside the head with a cast iron pan.

It made me feel so loved and protected and cared for

in a really primal way.

I know that the ladies I have worked so hard to have in my life are dear wonderful companions.

I feel like the luckiest lady on earth for it.

 

Now, now I am diving back into the studio...it is where I am happiest.

It is safe and free and smells right

 

Plus, I need to reinforce those plates of armour

My aforementioned mother-in-law will be visiting very soon.

next week I am told.

So that distance I thought I had is not the case....The Barren promises to stay near this time.

I think mostly to make sure I don't pick up any pans

 



1,2,3...

image via etsy

 

 

All the clothes are packed, the xanax is packed, a pair of cozy PJ's are packed.

I am about to dive into another weekend of family.

 

This one has the airs of mellow, all appearances point to it.

Wine, a private room, no real plans aside from meals together

and the aforementioned family photo.

All the children that will be attending have preplanned activities, that do not involve us.

 

I am a little gun shy, but call me gullible, I think this one will be far better then last

or what we refer to as "Hell Weekend"

 

thank you all for your kind words about my last posts...I felt so much better after reading them.

xoxo

 



Still processing

 

I am still filtering through the anger and hurt that my family bombarded me with.

The lingering residue that I have made bad decisions is what I am trying to scrub off.

 

Some choice sentences that I am working on letting go of are:

 

We are so greatly disappointed.

 

You can use my uterus

(a loving gesture, but when offered after almost 10years and from behind a glass of wine.

 It is hard to not see it as really a selfish plea)

• " You should be sympathetic to your friend, she must feel so guilty for being able to get pregnant so easily. Especially when you couldn't, I mean that must have really hurt her"

• "you can have my kid"

My response: there is a joke saying, if you keep offering me your kid I will show up at your door with a lawyer and adoption papers.

" I am serious, I would consider it"

(ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!)

• "Even though you are not a "fill in religious preference" like me, I know you are still a good person"
 
• "If you can get past a baby not looking like you, the adoption process is really fast and easy. You shouldn't close that door so quickly."
 
• "More grandchilden is always better"
 
• "Why don't you just have some more surgery and remove your problems and then use IVF and try again. The Barren probably wants that and is just afraid to tell you."
 
********

I remember saying at least four times,

"After 8 years and 3 miscarriages, we decided to stop the heartbreak. Adoption never fit our dream of parenthood or our belief system. Becoming parents was never about just "getting a child"

this was met by blank stares and "easy fixes"

I realize that a lot of what they were saying was really them grieving, their losses in this scenario.

I also realize that they made me feel horrible and like it was all my fault, which it is not.

 

I am very glad it will be a long time before I need to sit in the room with these ladies again.

They have a lot of issues to work out.

 

 

 

 

 



Currently Processing....

I was sitting alone on the porch of a rented home, listening to the rain, focusing on the person we were gathered to celebrate.

She died last October of rare form of lung cancer, never smoked a day in her life...

and would have been 47 years old this day.

My step Mother in law comes up and sits down in the chair next to mine. My SIL follows her and leans against a handrail on the porch facing me.

 

" The Barrens' father and I have kept quiet about how so disappointed we are that you and the Barren didn't adopt. You know we think you would be AMAZING parents....it is just too bad. You know you still can. I have a friend that runs an agency in San Francisco"

 

I turn to my SIL (The Barrens sister) who has now consumed over a bottle of cheap wine, her lips and teeth are stained purple. She begins to sob: " Have you two ever thought of having someone else carry your baby? It was so easy for me, I feel so badly that it was so easy for me and so hard for you"

 

I took a xanax after we got back to the hotel, it felt like I had been punched over and over again.

That damn Barreness snuck into the party and used others as her puppets

 

Choo Choo....

While laying in the dark last night, having a small panic attack.

The Barren and I were going over the myriad of family events

we are attending these next two weeks.

We are attending a HUGE family dinner tonight where I see one of my SIL, the one who NEVER responds to gifts, or gestures for her children.

I am working on releasing that anger/hurt

 

Then this weekend we attend what would have been the birthday for The Barrens cousin, she passed away in November from a rare form of lung cancer. She never smoked a day in her life.

The celebration site is located about 10hours from our home, so it requires us driving all day, to spend a day and then drive home so we can be back to work on Monday.

 

Then another birthday weekend celebration that has us driving to another location, a ranch for a weekend, where we celebrate my aunts 70th birthday.

It is more like being sequestered, as we are required to stay, eat with and partake in all pre-planned activities. We are only given cryptic clues as to what clothes we are required to bring,

and what we will be doing.

Fun for some, but based on our history...it is a mixed bag.

Past family events have been mildly OK, with healthy dashes of bullying you into doing things you'd prefer not to and berating comments about your food preferences or lifestyle choices.

So a typical family vacation.

For reference, the last time the family did this, we now all refer to the weekend as "Hell Weekend"

 

The ranch has horses, and although I would like to ride, I broke my butt a week and a half ago falling on the roller rink...

really, I think I cracked my tailbone, I have all the signs according to Dr. Google.

So I foresee a small battle on this one, like buck up and stop whining and just get on the horse.

 



There is a family photo involved too, as the clothing list requires we all bring a white shirt and a pair of levis (jeans).

The Barren and I were laughing at this because neither of us has a plain white shirt!

I was telling him how it made me anxious to think of a huge family picture,

but then I calmed myself by thinking, well at least they are not using it on the side of a bus or something.

So, my level of embarrassment can be controlled in a way.

 

Then in reflection of this photo I said to him, "hey we are the like the caboose at the end of the train."

Maybe we should make shirts, or refer to ourselves all weekend as Mr and Mrs Caboose.

The end of the line!

Awkward Silence

image via tumblr

 

So I had coffee with my friend.

She is the one that I/we are working with on rebuilding

the great break from years of broken fixes.

I have been making GREAT efforts to make sure I am always keeping in touch

or suggesting we have a weekend meet and catchup

It has been several weekends since we've been able to meet.

All these past weekends I have either sent a text or seen her and mentioned what a crazy full time this was or how we should figure a good time to meet.

We finally had a chance so we took it this morning.

In all honesty I am still a little gun shy, I always suggest we meet at the corner coffee shop and it allows for a fixed amount of time to sit and chat...in a public place.

I know now, that I should focus the conversation on her for the first half, or two thirds and smile a lot

I love hearing what is happening with her children and so I try and constantly take mental notes.

As she seems to round the corner of shared events, I shift some of the conversation to myself...sort of.

I can really only share some stuff.

I have found it works best when I don't share how I feel about my body...

or my deep sadness of my SIL being pregnant again

or my extreme happiness about how I don't have my days TOTALLY monopolized by another persons schedule.

or how I am kind of hung over cause the Barren and I were out drinking all night

haha

I can talk about my art, a little about my family, and what we are doing this coming week.

I have found that she tenses up when I mention other friends,

so I don't talk about them or name them.

It sounds really restrictive, but in a way it is very controlled.

As I age I have found there are friends and there are FRIENDS and sometimes we grow apart and change in ways that distance ourselves and then over time we can grow back towards one another.

 

But then there are silences in our conversations.

...and in my mind I am thinking

wow, my life is very different from yours and I can't relate.

It is a strange flip.

 

Meditations



I love to listen to Mahalia Jackson on Sunday, especially in the studio.

She makes me feel weepy and empowered,

strange combo but those are the closest words I can use to describe the way she moves me.

I feel like I can accomplish things and succeed.

 

I am still on a printing frenzy, I am taking it as a sign that I am working things out...in some way

I am very superstitious as you know, so I hesitate admitting this.

 

I am relaxing my timeline and expectations more and so far it seems to be working.

I wish you a happy Sunday, and hope sometime today you can find some peace with yourself

A smile, and a surprise

Let Mahalia sing into you...so sweet and inspiring

 

Trying this and that

Me: What cha doing today mom?

Mom: I am just going to piddle around the house.

Me: Um, Mom do you know what piddle means? It means pee...

Mom: ha, No I am not doing that, I am just finding things to do around here.

Me: OK, I just wanted to clarify.

 

I am trying some advice on for size to see how it feels.

In my effort to be a better me, find my way in this crazy world and try and not let shit get to me.

Like, this last week. My SIL is looking really preggers now, plus she is a bit moody-tudy too.

 

Every time I sit and talk with other Artists and creatives I always ask how their day is framed.

It is a way to see how the day starts and the creative process creeps in.

Some have very structured schedules:

between 8 and 9 I do this,9 and noon that, etc...

Some start with house errands, or a list of deadlines...

Interesting enough, almost everyone I have spoken to that works from a home studio says

"I take the dogs for a walk and my day forms there"

Well, I don't have dogs, and I can fairly certainly tell you my cats are not big motivators for extreme walking...

"hey you, lady, come feed me so I can settle into a nap"

 

 

So this morning after feeding the cats and making sure their lives were attended to,

I went for a walk.

Just until I broke a sweat, and then I would head home.

(small steps, but with purpose)

I was out for about half an hour

 

 

I didn't get a lot of thinking done, just some ooh look at that shadow...it cleared my head for sure!

I am going to try it again

maybe incorporate it into my daily morning routine...

it will keep me away from morning news and over time I am sure it will kick start the

list/organizer thing in my head.

 

On my way home I swung by the local small coffee shop for a bagel

$2.25: for a bagel, un-toasted in a bag, no cream cheese

I am still figuring out her price matrix for that one...but I was able to snap-up the last "power bagel"

well, I think she only buys two...so I was lucky today.

 

I am currently printing...I am thankful for that.

 

Friday

 

It is Friday!

I met with a local painter yesterday...it is on my list of things to shake up!

 

Step two:

Get out and socialize, step out of your comfort zone

I know the painter I met with, in a casual sort of way.
You know when you are familiar with someone because you frequent their stall at farmers market, say hello and how do you do. The person you always seem to get at the coffee shop.
You know them but haven't had a meal with them kind of know.

She is someone like that.
She is amazingly talented, about 13yr my junior and making it as an artist and designer.
In all fairness she also knows me about as well too.
We are far more familiar with each others work then each other.

We agreed to meet at a coffeeshop in the town between my home and work...she told me the name,
 I knew the place and agreed.
I arrived a little early because I wanted to seem cool and relaxed by the time she arrived, and so I ordered a chai, opened my current list book (book I am making to-do lists in) and relaxed.

Taking in the scene:
Be cool, you are cool enough to be here
Boy, there are a lot of yoga people here, everyone looks like models
I don't feel so cool right now
That table is talking codes and meta links, I kind of know what they are saying
Hummm that one looks like Justin Timber...
ohh I know this song, I like this album.
OK I am cool enough again
I feel like I am looking for a blind date, looking up at everyone that enters this place...
focus on your list
Sipping chai...mmmm
Wow there are a lot of laptops in here
Ohhh check out that guys mood medallion, it is huge but not overly sooo
I should try their chocolate chai next time....
What time is it?
*
Then the text came :  looking forward to meeting with you today
I texted back I was waiting for her.
She said I am here where are you?
I, it turns out, was at the wrong coffee shop.
I was at the original location, she was at the newest.
I blew it!
I told her I would be there in a moment.
I gulped the top third of my chai, leaving the rest to be thrown down the drain and
my calm eroded as I walk/ran to the car three blocks away and drove to the correct location.
By the time I arrived, I was a half hour late!
ugh
Comfort zone shattered- check

I am never that late person, but today I was.
She was gracious and we ended up talking for an hour and a half.
I got to learn about her process and her other businesses, she has two others besides her painting.
It is funny to hear highly productive people say how they wish they were more organized or better at scheduling. We talked about personal goals, exchanged website inspiration and simply shared some time. We giggled with guilt at how unusual it feels to meet someone in the morning at a coffee shop, on a studio day and wondered if it fed the stereotype of what people think artists do all day.
We both then commiserated on how much work we actually do to get our work seen.
She had multiple client meetings so we visited as long as we could.
It was a good morning, didn't start out as calm as I had hoped but it ended that way.
I also know a little more about her making our next chat that much easier.

Things learned:
Triple check addresses of agreed meeting places
Be kind to yourself when things go wackadoodle, it isn't always bad
Try a chocolate chai, if you are gonna spend $5 on a drink make it a splurge
You are doing just fine...keep on keeping on




Meanwhile...

I spent several days last week in the studio....after the monumental amount of rejections this year, I hatched a new plan/battle-cry to sit down, focus and not look up until I had blown the dust out of the corners and was making things again.

It didn't matter what I was making, as long as I was making!

I have let go of the list of goals for this year, and have started a new list.

Clearly, my first ideas were not right, so I am off to allow the correct ones to present themselves.

 

 

Step one:

I signed up for a figure drawing open studio class.

It is a two hour period, that I have access to a model, and can just sit and draw.

No teacher telling me if this or that is right or wrong.

Just me in a mind space of drawing and no judgement.

A gift of time to do or not do whatever comes to me.

 

I have been in figure drawing classes since I was in high school. A couple friends and I had special permission to leave school to take college drawing classes and then return to school for the rest of our classes. It was a great introduction to the freedom outside the high school walls and we felt far more mature than our classmates. After all we got to sit and draw naked people for credit.

Before heading into the lab, I texted a friend that I took classes with back in the day, telling her I was anxious about drawing...she sent back a text

" just like the ol' days, watch out for the crazy penises"

 

Let me explain:

When I had taken my first class, I had not seen a man naked up close before.

I was 16 or so and although my BF was adorable and ready to strip at a moments notice we never got

completely naked with each other.

Ahh the mechanics of high school love

 

So in one of the first classes, a male model sat down in front of me,

spread eagle and posed for an hour.

Some would say he was simply sitting....I think he was showing off.

 

I was taken aback and was acting as cool as I could.

Sharpening my pencil, looking for the right charcoal...looking at lines of the body...

but I could hear my friends giggle behind me and we were all trying our best to be

mellow and all copacetic with the scene, you know...

 OWN the fact that we were there for a reason and a purpose.

 

Well I drew, and as I got to his crotch his penis moved.

Not huge amounts like a sword battle, more like it rolled this way and then when I came back to that part of the drawing it had moved another bit...so I erased the first position and re-drew...well this went on for another half and hour.

Needless to say, by the end of the pose, it looked like something exploded in his crotch.

my poor drawing.

My instructor just smirked and said nothing.

I was mortified and vowed to never sit that close again...I never have.

Needless to say, that day created a reputation for myself amongst my peers and NOW we all joke about the penis with  the mind of its own.

 

I have a million figure drawing stories...that one just mostly set the bar for the next 25years

 

The figure model at my most recent class; she works at my local grocery store and spent a good portion of the time chatting while posing.

She had been stacking apples all day.