A Conversation with Me, Myself, and I (no, really)

What do I need to be healthy today?

This is the question I found myself asking.

It's a question I think I would do well to ask myself every day.

It's a question that has an answer that can and will change.

The question I'm usually asking goes a little something like:

"What would make me feel happy?"

or

"What do I want to do today?"

Want.  Happy.       

or

Need.  Healthy.

I get to choose these things for myself every single day.

Want is something that is always with us.  Was it always?  I mean really?  Like it is today?

Happy is something that feels pretty great, but is illusory to being caught.  It's more of an effect isn't it?  Like, if you set your sights on it alone, it usually doesn't quite work out, right?

It's not that I don't think "want" and "happy" have their place.  I just sometimes find myself overindulging them.

And I think if I would just stop the self-defeating litany that tends to pop into my head when I do, I'd be just fine.

I am just fine.  Yeah.  There we go.  That's better.  It feeeeeeels better, doesn't it?

I need to climb out of this self-constricting box I've created this week this month today.

Like I literally feel like my body just wants to ball in on itself.

I neeeeed expansiveness.

Ahhh.  There it is.  I just had to dig a little.  So how do I get that?

Oddly enough, I feel that the answer is, in its own right, restriction.  Ha!

But not of myself.  Of my choices.  Of my habits.

And that's ok.  It took me long enough to get here.  Ohp.  Did you hear that?

It's that voice again.  It won't let me have this one tiny victory.

No wait, 

I won't let me have this one tiny victory.  Not without some ridicule, it seems.

Apparently I feel the need to bring me down to size.

Isn't it just crazy?!  I mean, I know that that voice is self-defeating!   I know that it isn't going to actually kick my butt into gear like I want it to.

And still I cling to it when I don't trust myself.  And why don't I trust myself?!

Well, duh!  I must have made some bad decisions to get myself back to crazy town, right?

So I must need to beat the crap out of myself to make myself do what is best for me, right?

Le sigh.

I guess all I can really do when I get to this point is just accept it for what it is, yeah?

I mean, I can keep doing ^this ^,

or I can say

"Hold up.  It's ok.  Yeah you said those things to yourself.  Yeah you did those things that aren't really in your best interest.  And it's ok.  You feel like crap?  Yep!  Did you ignore the sign posts-you know, the ones you saw when you first started feeling like crap?  Yep!  Ok!  Now you know."

Doesn't that sound so much nicer?  Doesn't that sound like something you'd say to a friend?

Yeah.  So that's where I am today.

So I'm off to drink more lemon water instead of coffee.  And I'm off to eat apples and pecans instead of handfuls of chocolate chips (yeah you heard me).

And if I play my cards right, I might just get in bed at a decent hour tonight.

Oh sweet restrictions, can ya help a sista out?*

*Neck swivel is included.  You're welcome.

Cornball Genetics

Mark's Granddad passed away this week, and maybe that's why I'm thinking about family and their role in our lives.

I often joke that being a cornball is in my genetics.  I feel like it's true because my dad's one, but he didn't have a big part in raising me.  So it seems more probable that being a cornball was just passed down-haha!

I remember when it hit me.  It was when we made that trip to Texas to see him.

Flora, me, and Lee

(March 2014)

Flora was about 7 months old, and I hadn't visited him there in Texas since I was a teenager.

I'm convinced he doesn't go anywhere without 

that bluetooth in his ear-haha!

There were things I was able to see then, that I couldn't have really seen when I was younger.  Not so much because those things weren't there, but because I was somewhere totally different that time around.

I wasn't told the dad who raised me wasn't my biological father until I was 9.  And when it happened, that dad is the one who told me.

Turns out he'd been scared for some time that someone in my family was going to tell me.  Most likely because the probability of them telling it to me out of spite instead of love was pretty high.

I saw that dad as a hero for most of my life, and I dare say it stemmed from that moment; and I still feel thankful that he kept us away from what would probably have been a much worse fate.

Me with my dad and younger sister, 

Christmas 2017

When my maternal grandparents passed within months of each other, my dad knew what existence would be like for my sister and me if we lived with my mom's family.

My mother was/is barely capable of caring for herself, so there'd be no way we'd live with her.

The next in line would be one of her sisters, I'm sure, but they were both jealous and spiteful that Nanny and Pawpaw had spent more time taking care of us than they had their kids (due largely to the fact that my mom was much more incapable than them of doing so, of course).

The Christmas following my grandparents's deaths they came bearing many gifts (my dad says they were just trying to outdo one another) and a handwritten eviction notice.  (We were all still staying in the trailer where my grandparents had lived, per my grandmother's request).

They didn't want us in there anymore.  Some of them never had wanted us in there in the first place...

So we moved out.  They even helped.

My dad kissed butt until he finally got custody of us (mine being the hardest since I wasn't biologically his), then we never looked back.

It was sometime around then when I first met my biological father.  

I was just going into third grade.  

I was too busy feeling kind of shy and weird to really pay a lot of attention to that visit.  I remember him eating healthy.  I remember pretending to be asleep when he left.

He would later tell me he had come to check things out; to make sure he felt good about my living situation.  Because if he didn't, he was planning to have me come live with him.  In Texas.

After that, he sent all three of us gifts for every major Holiday- my dad and sister included- if that tells you anything about the person he is.

He would call and talk to my dad and me- with me mostly deflecting with silly hyena impressions (I was really into The Lion King). 

When I was a teenager he drove all the way to Alabama and took both my little sister and me to have Thanksgiving with him and his wife, Gloria's, family.  

It's kind of funny, because I think of Gloria as the type of mom I would have liked to have.  

Miss Gloria giving baby Flora sweet kisses.

She is so nurturing and very supportive.  She is the kind that loves with her whole heart.  I sometimes wonder that it was really her that encouraged my dad to reach out to me.  In fact, I'm positive it was.  

That early morning we set out to come home.  

(Hence all the pajama-wearing going on here.)

If it wasn't for this amazing, nurturing, compassionate woman, who knows if my dad and I would have ever talked and/or met?

It took me until I was older to see that I was really appreciative to have him make up a portion of my DNA.  

It was during a time when things felt really unstable, family-wise.  

He felt stable.  And I clung to him from all the way over in Alabama the best way I could.  I called.  A lot.  I cried.  A lot.  I vented.  A lot.

I was so happy that there was this one "not-fucked-up" person in my life.  It was just how I felt then.

It's neat having a life where I can refer to someone as "my other dad."

It's neat knowing they both played really huge roles in getting me through some of my hardest times.

Maybe that's why in Biology 101 it would piss me off to have to choose between Nature vs Nurture.  

I said both.  "That's a blanket answer" is what I got.  

But I kinda felt like choosing was a bit more generic.

I mean, I think it is pretty obvious that every single person is made up of 

endless

moments 

and cells. 

We are all a mixture of whatever experiences we've had being tempered by our genetic coding.

At least, I could see that we are all infinite blends of nature AND nurture.

And I still feel that way.

You know, the cornball thing wasn't the first time it washed over me;

-this thing- 

....that DNA is far-reaching. 

It was this one time, as a teenager, talking to him on the phone.  I discovered we both didn't just like books, but we liked the same kind!

I remember remarking on it a good bit back then.  I suppose I still do.  That it was funny because I had always figured the things people were into were only influenced by what went on around them.

Now the world had expanded to hold the fact that my interests could be genetic(ish).

I have always been drawn to things that make my world feel expanded.  

So has he.

Well, class, that'll be all for today's history lesson-haha!  

So, think on the complex being that you (and all the rest of us) are.

Until next time....

Ask Yourself Why, and Proceed Forward

Shooting from the hip today.  Not sure which way this will go.

I've had tiny sparks here and there this week.  Moments of "Ah, I could write about that."

But truly, there is no overarching theme.

I considered writing about my anxiety crash on Sunday (brought on by too many late nights video-gaming).

I've thought some about energy.

Like I've pondered over how I am pretty sure I believe it's a real deal thing when it comes to people being successful.

Not the sleazy kind of successful, where you climb the ladder no matter how many people you have to step on.  The kind where someone is legit passionate about what they do and they come to be known as the best.

Ok, this is sparking something.  Let's go with this.

So I think that success comes in many boxes and is shaped by the person who is having the experience.

I think when we think of success as only having lots of money or having accomplished big things, we are really reducing our own inner world and all the possible outcomes we could have.

I think, to really become what it is that will make you a success, you need to focus on doing what sparks you, but not the outcome.

I think when you focus on the outcome, you actually diminish the spark.

I think I feel this way because I've done this and I've seen how things change when I shifted my thought process.

If you know me, you know that one of my preferred methods of creating is through collage.

It, at least, is the most meaningful in that it really does feel like I'm putting myself into a thing that I am creating.

A piece of a piece.  This is one of my favorites.  
It's called Transmute.  

This piece came together in under 20 minutes.
(I believe because it was that ready to be born!)

It feels so much like each piece of art is a reflection of a piece of who I am- more specifically, a piece of who I was at the moment of creating it.

I even titled my recent art show "Autobiographica" because it really feels like I am telling a story about myself with these pieces.

When I first started this round of collaging (I've been doing this on and off since I was a teenager), it was very intentionally a practice in following my intuition.

I had felt for some time that there is a small, inner voice that, if we can just learn to listen to, can guide us best in life.

Well, this was a way of starting that practice.  Very non-committal.  And I was revisiting something I had once loved doing.

I decided I'd find one piece that stuck out to me, and base everything else off of that.  It was an amazing feeling!

It felt like some kind of therapy.  It still does!

Then this thought kicked in: "Ooh!  Maybe I could do this for a living.  Maybe this is how I could make money."

Shortly after I made a few muddled pieces.  Or, at least, that's how they feel to me.  And I know it is because my motive wasn't pure anymore.

Now, I didn't really start making pieces with the intention of quitting my job, but it was as if this new pressure had been applied to what was once only pleasure.

Finally I let go of it.  I found a happy balance.  I realized that just because you love doing something, it doesn't have to become your day job.

In fact, sometimes, for that reason alone, it SHOULDN'T!  Haha!

So I kept creating and enjoying it for the process it was.

Finally (and I really do believe it's because I took that pressure off of the art form) I decided I was ready to try to sell some prints on Etsy.

I contacted a friend who works in print making (amongst many other amazing talents) and asked if I could give her my pieces to scan into the digital world.

Well, I met her in town around Christmas, and in February she asked if I wanted to participate in a Birmingham-based event called Art Crawl with her.

This opened up my whole world!  I have yet to get my prints onto Etsy, yet this event was life changing for me.

I went to this event with no expectations, and I actually sold almost everything!

And even more rewarding was being able to talk with people about my pieces- telling them my thoughts and process, and also having them tell me their thoughts.

The best is when someone tells you how one of your pieces makes them feel, or when their interpretation isn't what you put on paper- because it just expands the reality of the piece!

It took me a while to get over feeling egotistical for enjoying what I created.  I mean, really, it's very vulnerable to admit you like your own work if you are worried that others might not.

It was like I thought "What if I take it seriously, and they don't?  Then I can be laughed at, right?"

But something about leaving behind the whole "This art form could provide for me" mindset freed me of that.

Because, then, what did I have to lose?  I am the only approval I really need if this is just for me.

And if it ripples outward and has an effect in the world-awesome!

But it can't be my primary goal.  Not if I'm going to maintain my purity of process.

After the Art Crawl, I was invited for a radio interview (A RADIO INTERVIEW!!!!!)

That felt really huge for me.  Then I was invited to bring my pieces to a fundraiser event.

THEN I was asked if a year would be enough time to get a gallery show ready at my local museum!

Before you start thinking I'm tooting my own horn here, I say all of this because I really don't think all of these things would have happened if my energy had continued to be focused on the outcome.

I mean, a lot of people out there who are the best at what they do-it has become obvious to me that they really and truly have a passion to do it!  That they follow that thing that makes them spark!

And it gives a whole new dimension to those people I can feel embarrassed for.

You know what I mean.

Like when you watch someone perform a song, a dance, or make a piece of art and you just feel embarrassed for them (which, let's just be honest, I think is just us putting ourselves in their shoes and feeling embarrassed for ourselves.)

Now I think it may be possible that that feeling comes from sensing something disingenuous about the whole thing.

I mean, how many of us walk around, day to day, with expectations of ourselves that don't really meet our true identities?

Maybe it's because we want to be a certain image so bad that we force it into being.

Maybe it's because we have been severely misguided.

Maybe we're just trying on different hats until we find the one that fits.

Hell, I've tried on a shit ton of hats.  I still try them on.....

I think more than anything, my thoughts on this subject are stimulating me because it makes me take off labels like "good" and "bad" from these experiences- you know, being embarrassed or being successful.

When you take those labels away, everything e x p a n d s.  And then there is just so much more that can be learned from them!

Each experience we have is just that- an experience.  It can make us feel a number of different ways.

Those feelings, I believe, are part of our intuition.  They are indicators for our path forward.

Something makes you uncomfortable?  Cool, it means don't go in that direction.

Something makes you feel a ZING!  Great!  Follow that!

Just don't get stuck labeling those things as only good or bad.  Ask yourself why, and proceed forward.

High on Ideas, Deep on Explanation

This week I have been high on ideas!

A new collage idea has been rolling around in my head for over a week now, so all sorts of things keep sparking my imagination.

I was fortunate enough to have a friend give me some magazines ( aka collage fodder) this weekend, and it was exactly what I needed!

And just like that, with a simple spark, I'm in an active state of repose.  Ok, maybe that's an oxymoron.  Let me explain:

I just wanna cut!  CUT CUT CUT!

Seriously.  I have literally been so excited about cutting stuff out for new collage material!

It's kind of like how you can't wait to get home and sit down with a good book.

Or maybe like, when you are so ready, to just get in your pajamas and binge watch that new show you found.

See, an idea had already, very gently, floated past me not that long ago, that maybe I'd like to restock my bags.*

*For context here:  I have an old suit case full of ziplock baggies as a system for categorizing my cut-outs.

Lately I've had so much good material just pop up in what I'm already reading or thumbing through, that I've only been cutting things out when I'm actively working on a new piece.

It's been more about images sparking ideas, not so much the specific ideas wanting to find images to bring them forth (with both being guided ways in which I work these days).

And now I've flipped.  All of my creative energy, instead of jumping right into making, wants to nest.

And I am sooo ok with that!

It's interesting, isn't it?  How returning to something familiar can still be exciting.

I guess right now cutting is kind of what crocheting can be for me at times. Sitting still, but still working towards something

It's like I've been away, excitedly visiting new places, and now I'm landing home with a warm cozy chai latte.

And I can just indulge in it until my hands say "create" again.

And as silly or simple as it may seem, it's a whole different level of comfort knowing I'm ok with this.

I mean, there was a time when all I did was collect materials and cut.  It was like I was addicted to what was predictable and was avoiding the end result of actually creating something.

I'm talking about years.

In fact, I splurged so hard on just cutting, that when I began this go 'round with collaging,

I started with cleaning out my suit case.

There were so many pieces in there that I was just like "And why would I ever want to use this?"  Haha!

So I guess cutting, at that point, was very un-directed.

And yet,

even with that part of me that tends to look back at that era as me just wasting my own time,

I can still see where it served its purpose.

And so there is this whole different level of excitement in just letting myself roll with this. 

In trusting myself that when I'm ready to come back, I will.

So yeah.

Ha!

Well, I really didn't think things would get deep this go 'round, but there ya have it.

So with that, I want to leave you to go laugh your asses off at this video:

 Erykah Badu rating things. (Seriously. I didn't know she was this funny.)