i am the sad one
i am the one
my pain is invisible
i am the one
…but when the little voices
“don’t give up”
i may be sad
…but i don’t
so if i were to start an art journal memoir…this would be the first page.
it is difficult
to walk past an inkstain
without seeing its
the voices came
& whispered to me
you are not this person
twelve years of anger
a lifetime of anger
you are not this person
it is time to heal
it is time to heal
i recently learned about clairaudience. as soon as i read the description, i was like, “well, i have that.” imaginary friends, talking to one’s self, hearing voices, channeling advice, craving sound, hearing messages in songs…. i do all that.
so now i am trying to listen better.
last night–when i was trying to fall asleep–the voices came, & i was told that it is time to heal.
today is an anti-versary for me. 1997…so what is that? 20 years. 20 years ago, all in one day, i was molested & my dog got hit by a car and died. i have felt the weight of it every year since. i was in a terrible relationship. my life was a mess. i tried to straighten out the mess, but i kept going right back to it. the abuse. the neglect. the anger & hurt.
now it’s time to heal.
it’s time to rewrite what today means to me.
today is the day i choose to start healing.
today is the day i choose to let go of the anger & hurt.
to embrace the beautiful in me & let go of the ugly that keeps me company while holding me back.
time to embrace my role as a mom.
time to celebrate who i am as an artist.
time to see what a healthy relationship looks like.
time to heal.
longest title yet for one of my inks.
this drawing made me think of my anxiety…it made me think of all the stuff going on in my head all of the time…especially at night, laying in bed.
i don’t mind the little voices too much. not the constructive ones anyway. the destructive ones can fuck the fuck off. you know, the ones who blather on and on about how you should have said this instead of this and now everyone thinks you are a great big idiot? i am learning to tune them out…except of course when i most need to tune them out….
the constructive little voices…the ones obsessively trying to figure out how to save the world…how to be the best mom ever…how to finish a piece of art…how to start a short story…what project to tackle next…how to deal with this problem, or that one. those voices rock. it’s like i’m doing the prep work while i’m laying in bed. i work it all out and then i’m ready to go.
those little voices convinced me, after reading a carrie fisher memoir followed by a carrie fisher novel (the two overlapping quite a bit) i realized, i should be writing my memoir…as fiction…or creative non-fiction…or in long hand! with illustrations! and i can publish it as zines!
alas, the destructive little voices were stressing about yesterday’s post and telling me it was pretty fucking dumb & unhelpful…then the constructive little voices started suggesting follow-up blog posts on sustainable living–talking about all the things i do every day. i mean, if i want to be a trend-setter, i do have to start sharing more my awesome trends in sustainable living…(okay, awesome to me, the destructive little voices are going to have a hay day with that.)
or i can turn it into a zine too–with illustrations!!
okay. i just had a cup of coffee. i haven’t had one in days because one of two appliances i own–my coffee grinder–broke.
but today i realized that my other appliance–the blender–is actually just a giant coffee grinder!! another step in sustainability–no specialized appliances!
but i do need to get a mortar & pestle for grinding spices…or make one.
you know how some things stick with you?
i don’t know if i read it in just one book. or if it was a re-occurring theme in books about the noble poor, but the summation in describing said poor kids:
they clothes were worn, but clean.
as if by keeping them clean, their mother somehow made up for the sin of being poor.
& for some reason this seems to echo in my mind decades after i would have first read it.
now, with four poor kids of my own.
when we go out, which isn’t too often because we are homeschooling homebodies. even my extrovert prefers being at home–he just requests that i bring people to him.
so we don’t go out too often
but when we do, as soon as we get somewhere, i notice what my kids must look like to others.
we shop second-hand (even if i did have money we would still shop second-hand) and i let my kids dress themselves. i let them choose their style. i let them choose how long or short they have their hair. i encourage them to be individuals. sometimes misha only wears princess dresses when we go out…sometimes she wears star wars pjs.
i like this about them.
but then there is the public eye. which might not even be a legitimate thing. it might just be a filter i have created to judge myself by…and now to judge my mothering skills via how my children appear in the public eye.
if you understand that at all?
i have a little voice saying to me, “your kids look pretty damn scruffy.” and i have to silence it. i have to silence it by remembering who i am and what is important to me.
don’t blame them; their mama is an artist & very distracted.
don’t blame them; their mama believes in low-impact living & does not buy extra cleaning/stain-removing product…and even before that:
don’t blame them; their mother is a terrible laundress.
don’t blame them; their mama feeds them real food that is messy–not packaged neatly & individually.
don’t blame them; their mama encourages them to play like children, to get messy.
don’t blame them; their mama has them do chores that involve the outdoors & dirt.
don’t blame them; their mama believes that there are more important things in life than making sure you put on a good appearance for the public eye.
more important things to spend your time doing than worrying if you are clean or not.
art! gardening! pets! livestock! exploration! adventure! cooking! baking! mucking about!
we do a lot of messy things around here.
okay…so i just had to get that out of my head because it was rattling around in there all morning. it has probably been percolating for weeks if not years…now it is out.
exorcism complete…now i can get some art done.
i used a grey tone paper. i’m not sure if i’m working it. maybe a white ink stain on grey paper would work better? i will try that next. i think it is successful for what i was going for. in the end. i liked using the white ink even though i was kind of coating it on to try to get a porcelain effect. i thought about doing more white–but again–i think it might work better to just do a white ink stain on the grey paper.
also, i keep using sketch paper for these very inky very watery pictures. i’m not sure it is a good idea, but i kind of like abusing the paper. letting that influence the drawing.
i usually work with all of my favorite inkings hanging around my desk on a clothes line. however, i started to notice they were getting corrupted by dust & sunshine. so i took them down. i still have my kids’ art hanging around me, but i feel lonely without the little voices of my drawings to keep me company.
speaking of little voices. here is a fun fact about me. like a lot of rational grown ups, i have a healthy fear of dolls. when i was a kid, i didn’t like dolls. you know, in daylight they aren’t so bad. but night always comes. i got so many dolls & stuffed animals as a kid that i freaked out. i thought they would notice if i wasn’t giving them equal attention, and that they would rise up against me.
so i locked them all in the closet.
again, the blessing & the curse of an over-active imagination. without it i probably couldn’t do these inkings, but fuck it can be a nightmare.
so this is the 6th day of january, and i have done five ink drawings. not bad. especially since i have to do them while minions run crazy around me. bumping & jostling. getting mad at me for not paying enough attention to them because i am doing art (my fifth child)…turns out, i can’t just lock the minions in a closet. it’s frowned upon, evidently. so much for giving dolls to little girls to teach them to be good moms…ha!