What I Accomplished

Ok, so I finally got up the nerve to take a few minutes and work.  One painting (the yellow) is a mixed-media that I am not sure is finished  yet.  The second is just an abstract of the overall gray of my feelings mixed with reds of frustration and blues of sadness and greens of inspiration.  At least I got something done.

The Struggle

This blog was originally supposed to be a journal of my struggle to regain my artistic side.  It has turned into a jumble of other kinds of posts, but today, I will speak on my struggle.   I have paints, canvasses, brushes, mixed-media supplies, beads, jewelry tools, oil pastels, sketch books, pencils, colored pencils, and watercolors.  I even have inspiration, which I jot down dutifully when it strikes in my iPhone notes section.  What I lack, is motivation.  I simply can't get myself to pick up a brush, a pencil, some wire for jewelry.  I have painted 3 paintings, but they were all done in March and April and since then, nothing.  I find myself staring blankly at the TV instead, or mindlessly looking out the window, or doing mundane housework.  I just feel....guilty about taking the time for myself to work on something I love.  It's the same with writing, my novel is 3/4 of the way done, which is great, but the only reason that gets done is that writing is one of my major forms of therapy.  I journal a lot and the writing is something that comes easily, naturally, where as the art---it's more of  a process.  I never know what the final outcome will be and I never know if I'll be happy with it.  I feel like it's so unworthy of people's attention, that it's insignificant and unimportant.  The thing is, when I actually do it, it feels good.  I feel alive and awake and inspired and connected.  I feel my emotions coming through the brush strokes and I feel that the image on the canvas can speak.  I just put my toddler down for a nap.  I have one painting, a mixed media, that needs finishing.  I'm nervous, I'm anxious, and I'm scared to go and pick it up.  But I'm going to try.

An Open Letter to the LGBT Community from a Carolina Girl...

An Open Letter to the LGBT Community from a Carolina Girl...

I am sorry.  I have to admit that when I first heard about the "Bathroom Bill" I got scared.  I was willing to accept it, but I had my reservations.  I have five kids, three of whom use public bathrooms on their own most of the time.  What if some maniac dressed up like a woman and went into the bathroom and accosted my daughter?  It wasn't the transgender population I was worried about, but those "millions of maniacs" that might take advantage.  I didn't think.  I got suckered into the scare tactics.  I didn't do my research and find out that in many other states and counties that have passed bills supporting the transgender community and their right to use the bathroom that aligns with their gender choice, there have been NO reported cases of any degenerates using the bathroom to accomplish evil deeds.  As for my children, it is my responsibility to parent them.  Maybe I shouldn't let them use the bathroom alone at all.  You never do know who will be in there and it's my job to put their safety first and accompany them.  I wasn't considering how dangerous it could be for YOU, the transexual or transgender individual, to use the bathroom.  To walk into a restroom looking like the opposite sex.  YOUR safety is an issue and I apologize for not seeing that initially.  I am ashamed of what North Carolina has done.  Most of the people I meet here are open minded, caring, compassionate people.  I think that this bill was a knee-jerk reaction that wasn't thought out.  I hope it gets repealed.  Please know that, now and in the future, I will stand with you.  I'll even save you a place in the bathroom line.  

Just another day...

In my quest for creative freedom, I thought it might be helpful to share just what I'm up against.  Let's start with Tuesday night.  Cue 1 a.m. wake up of the 3 year old, with full on tantrum screaming in a night terror that lasted 20 minutes.  During this time, I have to hold him in full restraint from behind so that he does not bite and scratch the crap out of me.  I finally get him to bed when the toddler wakes up.  He had his vaccinations on Wednesday morning, so of course, he is going to wake up screaming with slight fever and extreme crankiness.  Around 5 a.m. I get them both back to bed.  Climb into bed myself.  Cue 6 a.m. wake up of my daughter who is getting ready for school.  Off she goes by 6:30.  I head back to bed for 2 hours while my mother-in-law (who I am grateful to for sleeping over) gets up with the babies.
Our new sitter starts today so that I can attend my writing group.  At writing group I am literally slurring my speech and feel like I am going to fall asleep in my latte.  Fight my way through, share some writing, give some feedback, and then I'm heading back to the house to relieve the sitter.  Toddler refused to nap for her, so I put him down for a shortened nap because I have to leave an hour after I get home to pick up my teenager from school early so that he can babysit so that I can take my daughter to a doctor's appointment.  A three year old who insists on running through the office jumping on chairs and a toddler who screams the entire time are my joy as I try to dismiss my eldest from school.  I leave, spewing apologies to the office staff, when my three year old tantrums in the foyer because the door with the handicapped button has already been pushed and we have to wait for it to close so that he can push the button himself.
Home again to get my teen settled with the babies, pound down 2 mugs of coffee and a 5 hour energy because I can't keep my eyes open, then off to the doctor with my daughter.  Nothing major wrong, just a slight virus, but she should stay home for the next day.
Wednesday night, bedtime.  Toddler goes down without a problem, but my threenager is repeatedly getting out of bed.  Trying to stick to the recommended system of walking him back to his bed, but have done it so much, I've already walked 1/2 mile in my own house, so I lay down with him until he falls asleep.  Quick bath because I deserve one and I haven't showered in two days, then off to bed.
Cue 2 a.m.  and I hear banging.  Said threenager is up, has turned on all the lights, and is cleaning his room and losing his shit because he can't make his bed "just right".  Convince him to come to my room to sleep, he brings with him a blanket and his now stripped off pajamas.  They must remain in a ball in between he and I in the bed and I mustn't touch them in anyway.  Try to fall asleep on 1/4 of a mattress and no pillow.
Next morning, doctor's appointment for me.  Waiting for the sitter, I happen to glance at Facebook and see I have a message.  She isn't going to make it, her daughter is sick.  It is now 25 minutes before my appointment that takes 20 minutes to get to.  Throw a diaper bag together, put jackets over the toddler and threenager's jammies, and put them in the car.  Last minute, remember to put stroller in the car.  Forgot the diaper bag.
Get to the doctor's office and it is literally the size of a closet.  No room for a stroller, though I jam it through the door anyway.  Cue toddler screaming that he wants out of the stroller.  Try to distract him with YouTube videos of trains.  9:15 appointment.  Get seen at 9:45.
Nurses insist on taking the babies and my daughter out of the room "so the doctor can concentrate".  I can hear them screaming down the hall the whole time.  Finish with the doctor, nurses bring the babies back.  My toddler is literally climbing up one woman as she tries to hold him, like trying to hold a feral cat.  I apologize profusely.  They feign understanding, but I can see "get the fuck out" in their eyes.
Driving home, my head is pounding and I am holding the steering wheel so tight my right hand goes numb.  Trying to practice my yoga breathing, but all I can think of for a mantra is "fuck".  Try to go Seinfeld with it and "serenity now" my way through.
Toddler falls asleep on the way home.  He's down for a nap now, and though I have told them repeatedly to stay downstairs, my threenager and daughter are having belly races down the stairs.  It's only a matter of time before they wake him up.  I've accomplished nothing today, save this blog, which I am writing so that I don't go insane.  I daydream of time management skills and setting boundaries as I down another cup of coffee.