If I were smarter, I'd remember that I have this dang blog to write down the Ah Ha moments of the last year! But I'm not. I've absorbed a lot of lessons over the last year. I hope to remember them when the situations come around again. As they will.
Still, I'm in a very good place. I realized this week that I really cannot record my dreams. Just remembering them is very disturbing to me. The details are way too time consuming to record. The emotions are often very unpleasant. I often am not even me in them. Think I will go back to just accepting that my brain is processing things it needs to, and leave my consciousness out of it. Denial is not always an enemy.
I have a powerful need to produce things. Creative things. I am loving Pinterest. Very inspiring. However, my space is still very cluttered. My daughter has left but the mess remains....
I will try to remember this place.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Time keeps on rolling .... my goodness.
So, I didn't even post about getting thyroid cancer. Isn't that funny that it wasn't one of those issues I cared to write about. The things that were important were the blessings I got from it. And the art ideas. Mary, the REAL artist, told me she wanted to do an ART day with me! Oh! I started wracking my brain... what could I do!? I didn't have enough talent and no ideas. 2 weeks of going back and forth. I was thinking of an idea for a headboard, but nothing was coming to me. Suddenly, the dam burst. The ideas came so fast and furious. I had to start writing them down. And this isn't as convenient as the tablet I have in my purse. I still can't get them all done but at least I have started. I wanted to see if I could incorporate fabric into mosaic's. As it turned out, when I wrapped little wood blocks in fabric, it looked quilted instead of like a mosaic. So, I did a few "quilts". Ones that I would have liked to have done if I could have made myself sit at the sewing machine. (it still intimidates me.) I did the one that was the experiment. Got the question... what about faux applique? Turns out that worked too. I did a block of Ai's on the Affairs of the Heart. Looked good. I did a dragon, but still haven't glued it down yet. It is on my list. Then came the cancer. (the rat bastid.) So, I just glued things to wood until that was dealt with. When I put it together, it was gorgeous to me. Fun. I put in lots of goodies. Then had to see if I could do it again. Yup. Different. Then again. This time, I inked the edges to see if that would make it look more like tiles. It did. Then the snails trail pattern. Next is a bargello. I've got a notebook full of ideas. I love life. How friggin' fun is this, anyway!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
OH MY GOD!!! Is it really YOU!?
Can it be that simple, Lord? I am awake at 4:40 in the morning, thinking I am finally learning to hear You. And if it is so, it is frightfully simple. I told Mary to ask the question out loud and the first voice, the clear one would be the answer. Before we start to argue and vacillate. So, I got up and forced myself to speak out loud to You. And I think it really is You! I asked, How do I get my ego out of the way so I can hear you.... and this is the answer I got. From someones Facebook entry... Only crystal clear questions yield transparent answers. LOL God is a smartass. Well, that makes sense to me! If God is everything, and nothing and the stuff between, then he is also me.
\How funny. I finally, at least for the moment, believe God is actually talking to me, in me, hearing me, and I ask him "Can I just rest in You for a moment?" I can finally, at least for the moment, ask Him ANYTHING! And I just want to feel his presence as I go back to sleep. I love you, God. Help me be Your girl. Day in and day out. In all ways, always.
\How funny. I finally, at least for the moment, believe God is actually talking to me, in me, hearing me, and I ask him "Can I just rest in You for a moment?" I can finally, at least for the moment, ask Him ANYTHING! And I just want to feel his presence as I go back to sleep. I love you, God. Help me be Your girl. Day in and day out. In all ways, always.
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Fragments have puddled and rolled into a blob!!!!
Just like on the Terminator!! I had healing from defining it. Can't make myself revisit it, but not in a bad way. It just doesn't seem relevant anymore. So, I'm moving on. I didn't really think about it until I spoke to my daughter Jaime about some things that keep coming up for her. It was then that I remembered that I had no flash backs to my "ick" since defining the fragments. So, I suggested the technique to her. When we were younger, and there was pain, we would play a game. How big is the pain, I would ask her. What size box would it fit in? What color is it? Texture? And pretty soon, the pain would be gone. That seems to be what happened with me. I don't expect to ever do the project called Fragments. It remains extremely valuable to me. Now, I'm playing with finding ways to incorporate fabric with mosaic's. My first project was so fun. It's framing a frog for Jaime. The frog was from Hobby Lobby. The rest is painted board, decoupage, fabric decoupaged onto tiles, some polymer clay tears. I'm also trying out a series of tiny canvases to test out different ideas. I will grout the tiny "gold bits" in a couple of days. I've got a purple canvas ready to go.
Monday, October 26, 2009
I got the idea for this after talking to Carol R at the International Quilt Festival. She was telling me about the “inchies”:that a lady was doing. We liked the idea of larger, slightly. 2” or so. And I loved the idea of a journal quilt. Or charms. After talking to Kamie, and hearing her idea’s for a charm quilt, where I documented the state I was born in and the high school etc., I knew charm wasn’t quite the right word. This was from Friday last. October 16, 2009. It will be interesting to see how long this goes on.
Ok, so I’m going to call them fragments, instead of charms. I don’t like the charm idea as much. It obviously is misleading.
First, I have the Truth Lie. Or the Look me in the Eye Lie. That was the first time I recall ever doing it. I had been caught under the blanket in back of the garage with a boy. My grandma and my sister were there laughing and pointing and I helped him get away unseen. My family was giving me hell, teasing me. Mom finally said, “look me in the eye and tell me you weren’t under the blanket with Scott Smith.” I looked her dead in the eye and said, “I was not under the blanket with Scott Smith.” I never heard another word about it. It was the absolute truth. It was also a big fat lie. I had been under the blanket with Tim Smith. This is the beginning of dancing with the truth, that I actually still do to this day.
The Red High Heel in the Big Brown Box. That is for Tammy. Tammy died on my watch. I handled that one all by myself. It honestly never in my life occurred to me that I didn’t have to go solo on stuff. Mom came in and told me that she had died. And that was the last time we discussed it, really. Many years later, she said she didn’t know I was having a hard time dealing with it. I never showed it.
Next, I think… The Purple Lie. This one, has levels of awareness. I loved the color purple. I came home from Camp Michiluca to find mom had painted my dresser, trunk, and some other honking big piece purple. Like, the color of a grape marker. I was horrified. It was awful. But mom was so pleased to surprise me. I said I loved it. Had to live with it for many years. Hated purple until I started learning to sew. Majorly hated purple. So, in a kindness to my mother, I hurt myself and was lying for ages. I think I’ll do this fragment in a color that I like, because I just can’t stand the thought of doing it the way it really looked. Lol
The Crying Girl. This one started out being Ann M. I hurt her, and myself by not fixing it. It was a serious shaper of my life. If I thought that I was leaving a mark like that on someone, my brain just beats me to death with nagging until I amend it. So, who is crying? Ann or me? Could be either one of us.
Contemplating the general Boob Thing. Although, since I’v apparently named it, I probably intend to do one. This is the marks left by having boobs and the men who chased me. I couldn’t walk down the street without 6 guys honking or screaming nonsense out the window driving by. And I was 12. I had many men try to convince me that I was really older than I said I was.
The Forest Park. This one is harder. I was 14. Can I just say I was nearly raped by a guy named David S
and I didn’t want to go with him in the first place? I wished I had a safe place to live. I wished I had smaller boobs so these guys would just leave me alone. I wished I didn’t have to do this by myself. But I never asked for help. Not once. Because I was mature.
It recently occurred that I need one for general isolation. With the Tammy thing, or with the near rape in Forest Park. And everything else. I was “mature”. I was described as mature all my life. It allowed me to take more and more responsibility. I could watch the kids, I could deal with my own tragedies and obstacles. How does this look? The word that makes me cry is Abandonment.
Can’t remember much about High School. One of the things that I can remember are the drug thing. I went straight to chemicals because I always heard that Pot was a gateway drug. I didn’t want to be an addict. Pot was the last thing I tried. The Reverse Gate.
The Consequences Seems Extreme. That’s the hair cut from hell as punishment for drinking for the first time. We got caught because Eddie couldn’t hold his beer. His mom came to tell on us. Mom didn’t do well when she felt she was being judged by others. Mostly she was embarrassed because we were with others. I think. She made Dad take me out and explain the Consequences. He had tears in his eyes. He took me to the hair dressers. It was a school, and she asked me if I wanted it cut dry or wet. Stupid question, really. I didn’t know. She cut it dry. It was horrible. Agnes L. fixed it for me, but I wore it like that for weeks. Mostly for spite. And I drank as often as I could ‘til I could do it legal, and it lost its allure.
Went Home and Married J. Also complicated. I loved him. He was the only guy I ever wanted
to talk every day.. Not to mention the sex. :D However, I did a fortune telling thing and the question was “Does the One I love, love me?” The answer was “Yes, because he’s blind to your faults.” He married someone apparently strong and independent and ended up being weak and frightened. I’m getting tired of my life.
I Became Agoraphobic. This needs a mention. I actually like that as a title. It was panic attacks that kept me immobilized. Turned me into a wimpy dependent woman, when I kept the illusion of being strong and independent. It was horrible. And because I always handled my own stuff, never ever thought about getting help. Mom actually gave me the clue to that one.
Seems like it should get more fanfair here. The birth of my beautiful son. It behooves me to be honest about these steps in my journey. So, It’s Complicated. While I loved him unconditionally, it was also a chain locking me into a life I was finding unbearable. It was my responsibility, you understand. I knew about responsibility.
Enough is Enough. That was with my marriage in tatters, I decided to go to where my family was, which h
happened to be Texas at this time. I knew I would have to pretend to be strong, because that was the way I rolled when they all knew me. Pretending seemed a good first step. I’d get strong for real, later. My husband went with me.
Interesting Development…Turns out I was pregnant. Didn’t know it. I just dealt with it. She was beautiful. I can do this.
Walking Thru My Fears. This was a very long process. Learning to breathe, learning to drive, learning to expand my comfort zones. Going to school, going to work. Having a life.
Discovering That I Think Women Rock. This was a huge epiphany. I was listening to my mom sympathizing with this goober, Lloyd. who was whining to her about how horrible his wife is. I remember thinking, EWWW. What a pig. Who talks like that about his wife to a stranger? And I realized that while I grew up with the idea that “women will stab you in the back” and “men make better friends”…. my experience told me something else all together! I liked women!
Realizing Men Are Pigs. The pendulum had to swing the other direction. Don’t worry. This didn’t last forever.
Finding God. This was thru Emmaus. This was a long journey as well. Back and forth. But luckily, I was able to keep my relationship with Him, even though I was all over the map.
Turns out I was supposed to be a Massage Therapist. Really. God took me there. There is absolutely not doubt. Ask me. I’ll tell you all about it.
Things are getting heavy. I mean really. I think I am numb. I Am Having Trouble Holding Up The World. At least the world that I am in charge of. Maybe numb is wrong. Maybe it’s shock.
Enter, Devil Woman. Ok, her name is Sonya and she’s not really the devil, but she made me cry. OK, maybe it wasn’t really her making me cry. It might have been … well, I heard it put this way… If you want to feel better, take a pill. If you want to get right, face the truth. She showed me my truth. Dammit.
Reparenting. What a Gift! Jaime let me re-parent her. Her low self esteem was something I should have been addressing as her mom while I was busy holding myself together earlier. I wonder where she will end up as she learns the lesson’s I am just now getting, while she’s still in her 20’s? My son is not having any part of it. :D
Well, If It Walks Like A Duck… I resisted the idea that I could be an artist. Claimed to be a craftswoman, because I followed patterns. It seemed wrong to claim artist. Artists did amazing things. My stuff is personal. But, I am an artist. This is my own creation. My life. An artist's life journey.
Ok, so I’m going to call them fragments, instead of charms. I don’t like the charm idea as much. It obviously is misleading.
First, I have the Truth Lie. Or the Look me in the Eye Lie. That was the first time I recall ever doing it. I had been caught under the blanket in back of the garage with a boy. My grandma and my sister were there laughing and pointing and I helped him get away unseen. My family was giving me hell, teasing me. Mom finally said, “look me in the eye and tell me you weren’t under the blanket with Scott Smith.” I looked her dead in the eye and said, “I was not under the blanket with Scott Smith.” I never heard another word about it. It was the absolute truth. It was also a big fat lie. I had been under the blanket with Tim Smith. This is the beginning of dancing with the truth, that I actually still do to this day.
The Red High Heel in the Big Brown Box. That is for Tammy. Tammy died on my watch. I handled that one all by myself. It honestly never in my life occurred to me that I didn’t have to go solo on stuff. Mom came in and told me that she had died. And that was the last time we discussed it, really. Many years later, she said she didn’t know I was having a hard time dealing with it. I never showed it.
Next, I think… The Purple Lie. This one, has levels of awareness. I loved the color purple. I came home from Camp Michiluca to find mom had painted my dresser, trunk, and some other honking big piece purple. Like, the color of a grape marker. I was horrified. It was awful. But mom was so pleased to surprise me. I said I loved it. Had to live with it for many years. Hated purple until I started learning to sew. Majorly hated purple. So, in a kindness to my mother, I hurt myself and was lying for ages. I think I’ll do this fragment in a color that I like, because I just can’t stand the thought of doing it the way it really looked. Lol
The Crying Girl. This one started out being Ann M. I hurt her, and myself by not fixing it. It was a serious shaper of my life. If I thought that I was leaving a mark like that on someone, my brain just beats me to death with nagging until I amend it. So, who is crying? Ann or me? Could be either one of us.
Contemplating the general Boob Thing. Although, since I’v apparently named it, I probably intend to do one. This is the marks left by having boobs and the men who chased me. I couldn’t walk down the street without 6 guys honking or screaming nonsense out the window driving by. And I was 12. I had many men try to convince me that I was really older than I said I was.
The Forest Park. This one is harder. I was 14. Can I just say I was nearly raped by a guy named David S
and I didn’t want to go with him in the first place? I wished I had a safe place to live. I wished I had smaller boobs so these guys would just leave me alone. I wished I didn’t have to do this by myself. But I never asked for help. Not once. Because I was mature.
It recently occurred that I need one for general isolation. With the Tammy thing, or with the near rape in Forest Park. And everything else. I was “mature”. I was described as mature all my life. It allowed me to take more and more responsibility. I could watch the kids, I could deal with my own tragedies and obstacles. How does this look? The word that makes me cry is Abandonment.
Can’t remember much about High School. One of the things that I can remember are the drug thing. I went straight to chemicals because I always heard that Pot was a gateway drug. I didn’t want to be an addict. Pot was the last thing I tried. The Reverse Gate.
The Consequences Seems Extreme. That’s the hair cut from hell as punishment for drinking for the first time. We got caught because Eddie couldn’t hold his beer. His mom came to tell on us. Mom didn’t do well when she felt she was being judged by others. Mostly she was embarrassed because we were with others. I think. She made Dad take me out and explain the Consequences. He had tears in his eyes. He took me to the hair dressers. It was a school, and she asked me if I wanted it cut dry or wet. Stupid question, really. I didn’t know. She cut it dry. It was horrible. Agnes L. fixed it for me, but I wore it like that for weeks. Mostly for spite. And I drank as often as I could ‘til I could do it legal, and it lost its allure.
Went Home and Married J. Also complicated. I loved him. He was the only guy I ever wanted
to talk every day.. Not to mention the sex. :D However, I did a fortune telling thing and the question was “Does the One I love, love me?” The answer was “Yes, because he’s blind to your faults.” He married someone apparently strong and independent and ended up being weak and frightened. I’m getting tired of my life.
I Became Agoraphobic. This needs a mention. I actually like that as a title. It was panic attacks that kept me immobilized. Turned me into a wimpy dependent woman, when I kept the illusion of being strong and independent. It was horrible. And because I always handled my own stuff, never ever thought about getting help. Mom actually gave me the clue to that one.
Seems like it should get more fanfair here. The birth of my beautiful son. It behooves me to be honest about these steps in my journey. So, It’s Complicated. While I loved him unconditionally, it was also a chain locking me into a life I was finding unbearable. It was my responsibility, you understand. I knew about responsibility.
Enough is Enough. That was with my marriage in tatters, I decided to go to where my family was, which h
happened to be Texas at this time. I knew I would have to pretend to be strong, because that was the way I rolled when they all knew me. Pretending seemed a good first step. I’d get strong for real, later. My husband went with me.
Interesting Development…Turns out I was pregnant. Didn’t know it. I just dealt with it. She was beautiful. I can do this.
Walking Thru My Fears. This was a very long process. Learning to breathe, learning to drive, learning to expand my comfort zones. Going to school, going to work. Having a life.
Discovering That I Think Women Rock. This was a huge epiphany. I was listening to my mom sympathizing with this goober, Lloyd. who was whining to her about how horrible his wife is. I remember thinking, EWWW. What a pig. Who talks like that about his wife to a stranger? And I realized that while I grew up with the idea that “women will stab you in the back” and “men make better friends”…. my experience told me something else all together! I liked women!
Realizing Men Are Pigs. The pendulum had to swing the other direction. Don’t worry. This didn’t last forever.
Finding God. This was thru Emmaus. This was a long journey as well. Back and forth. But luckily, I was able to keep my relationship with Him, even though I was all over the map.
Turns out I was supposed to be a Massage Therapist. Really. God took me there. There is absolutely not doubt. Ask me. I’ll tell you all about it.
Things are getting heavy. I mean really. I think I am numb. I Am Having Trouble Holding Up The World. At least the world that I am in charge of. Maybe numb is wrong. Maybe it’s shock.
Enter, Devil Woman. Ok, her name is Sonya and she’s not really the devil, but she made me cry. OK, maybe it wasn’t really her making me cry. It might have been … well, I heard it put this way… If you want to feel better, take a pill. If you want to get right, face the truth. She showed me my truth. Dammit.
Reparenting. What a Gift! Jaime let me re-parent her. Her low self esteem was something I should have been addressing as her mom while I was busy holding myself together earlier. I wonder where she will end up as she learns the lesson’s I am just now getting, while she’s still in her 20’s? My son is not having any part of it. :D
Well, If It Walks Like A Duck… I resisted the idea that I could be an artist. Claimed to be a craftswoman, because I followed patterns. It seemed wrong to claim artist. Artists did amazing things. My stuff is personal. But, I am an artist. This is my own creation. My life. An artist's life journey.
The Journey begins...
Went to Houston Quilt Festival and had a Wonderful time!!! On level after level. First, classes in mixed media! I loved them. Was thrilled to learn that I could paint a bird that you could tell was a bird, and ditto for the sunflower. Can't think why I'd ordinarily paint those things, but it was still a kick. Enjoyed the company of friends and the time away itself! That makes two. Was also excited to learn that I was physically fit enough to navigate the walking and steps. Thanks to my trainer. And how smart (lucky) was I to start in Sept. That is three things. Also learned that I wasn't nervous or afraid or anxious about being on my own. That, from a recovered Agoraphobic, is momentous. I went to classes that were in places I didn't know. Went off on my own over and over. Maybe having cell phones is enough to reduce the stress? Don't know. Didn't have any stress. I got as ready as I could, then just did it. That was a very big four things. These aren't in order, because this hops over to the conversation I had with Brenda, explaining my new eating strategies. One of them being that retreats and vacations are free. I can eat whatever I want to. Well, I got home on Sunday, and Wednesday I realized that while I could eat anything I wanted, I still ate vegetables and fruit. And my cheat was ONE cookie from Starbucks. And after dinner, I may have had ONE cinnamon coffee cake from Starbucks. One or two treats a day. I thought I was really indulging. Wasn't til Wed. that I realized I have as much at home with my dessert. Weird. Possibly wonderful, though. What am I up to? Five! And then this one... Carol and I were talking about how intriguing it was to make tiny blocks. She had seen one inch square, and we thought that 2 would be better for us. Maybe a bit larger. I thought that would make a neat way to make a journal.... well. What would that even involve? How many squares? What particularly would be eventful enough to merit a square? That makes six. Next, is the Journey of Fragments, the written portion.
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