Love Is Magic and that’s what I want.

Through the things we don’t want we discover the things we do want.

I have loved and lost; confused love with lust. I’ve made sacrifices because I was lonely, scared, or didn’t believe I deserved the same kind of love I am capable of giving.

I want the next man who thinks he loves, to stop and think before those words are said. I want to know if you love yourself first.

Because you have to love yourself before you can let someone love you; before you can love someone.

I want your action to show me that you love me not words. Anyone can say I love you, but it’s the feeling, the energy, and the connection behind them.

Love is sorrow and bliss wrapped up in life experiences.

It’s being present the moments.

It’s laying in the grass looking at the sky.

It’s laughing and crying over the dinner that was burned.

It’s the flowers from the ditch.

It’s the feel your hand on the small of my back.

It’s my finger gently tracing the shape of your body.

It’s the sound of your breath as I fall asleep next to you.

It’s dancing in the raining.

It’s holding each other when explained or unexplained sorrows enters our world.

It’s feeling calm and peaceful while simply sitting on the couch.

It’s laughter, smiles, tears, and sighs.

It’s knowing that sometimes we have to put ourselves first.

Yes, I want to be the Center of Your World and you to be the center of mine while still being individual people.

Love should be easy and warm.  I want to fall in love with a man that is my best friend who I can tell my deepest, darkest secrets and show him the magical galaxy that’s hidden deep inside my soul. Someone who knows that sometimes as a creative spirit, I have to go deep in that rabbit hole, but also knows exactly when helping me come out of it.

And I will do the same for them.

Love Is Magic and that’s what I want.

The last letter to him

May 10th, six days after he had shown up and feed me the same story, he called and yelled at me for about a post that had nothing to do with him. He told me that she was upset, but with no regard for what his drunk behavior does to my psyche. Below was my response because I didn’t get a chance before he hung up.

We have a pattern and I have tried to break it. All I’ve wanted in the last six months was for him to keep one promise to pay back the money he owed me for one of the many secrets I helped him keep.  I wanted it to be the one thing that he hadn’t lied to me about.

At 2am this morning, he showed up drunk in his usual fashion, singing the same song full of I love you’s and let’s fuck. I stood my ground and logic won over loneliness.

Perhaps it was the healing of a very old relationship that reminded me of the kind of love I wanted. And it’s not this because I deserve better and truthfully so does she.

May 10, 2017 – sent via text

Things I don’t publish, post about and haven’t ever told anybody… Just so you know. 

 

The night I was confronted with this situation.  I ran away from, only to get home to puke in my drive way and cried until my whole body hurt. I didn’t have anyone to lean for support. My friends told me I was an idiot if I believed you. Yes, I told her because I needed it to be over one way or another. That night and for several nights after I cried myself sick and then to sleep on the floor by my window. I couldn’t sleep on that mattress that smell like you. I wanted you to choose me because that would have made it real.

 

But could you ever be faithful?

 

I have cried until it hurts and scream at the universe. The feelings come in waves and it feels like I am drowning. Our experience touched me on a soul level that truly doesn’t have a term and I can’t put into words. I painted and wrote about us because I wanted to understand how we were so sexual connected. 

 

I want to feel that feeling all of the time. The “feeling” is associated with you for now, but with time it will fade into a fond memory. We don’t know if we would work in the real world because we never tried. 

 

You drink too much and I’m a smoke too much. We both like our freedoms. 

 

But in the end, I want a man who only desires me, who works hard and is devoted to my mind, my heart, and my body. As I will be with him. I want to live in bliss and sorrow as a team.

 

I don’t know what you really want. However, I am sure you know your action prove that you want to be where you are. I am hurt, but I will survive. I will grow, learn, and love again.

 

However, I have to write and paint because it’s who I am, part of the person you once said you loved. So you shouldn’t try to take that part of me away.  I know that you have asked me to hate you, but that’s not who I am either. I did want you to hurt, to be in pain and suffer like I was, but not permanently because I’ve seen a part of your soul that you don’t share with many people. That’s the part of you that I want you to nourish and grow.  You have to love yourself though before you can truly let anyone love you back. 

 

I know I shouldn’t send this, but you ask me not post. I write and paint for me and I share it because I work through so much alone that at least when I post it I feel heard and can release it. Too often in this world we don’t feel heard, because as people we listen to respond, and never hear the words that are being said. 

Creativity and Sex

I was staring at this canvas that needed to be toned yellow in preparation for this painting on self-touch. Its whiteness mocks me.  I have been sitting on this idea, minimally sketching about it. I have been so lost with school. That I forgot to paint. I forgot the thing that makes sense to me. The NEED to create. I have been reading about why artists have made art. How to stop and really see?  What is considered art?  I have been introduced to feminist artists, which I might be more like then I thought.

I have abstained from sex and men kind of in general.

I had a mean girl’s night.

I have masturbated.

I have read blogs and found people who I can discuss sexuality and creativity with. They seem to understand that these two parts are connected.   They get how these two are so intertwined.

There was a point where I couldn’t focus. I wanted to quit, to give up. I wanted to have sex to clear the chaos that was running through my brain. I want to get lost in something that made me feel amazing.  I even trolled my phone for about twenty minutes for someone to call or text. I couldn’t do it. I finally felt like my heart and vagina have found some common ground.

I was stressed and I want to touch a man. I wanted to feel his warmth, feel his body, his touch and his smell. I wanted to exchange energy and body fluids. I wanted to connect to someone new in real life and not online, not in a text, but letting someone new in scares the fucking shit out of me.

Instead of texting…

Instead of calling…

Instead of letting someone new in…

Right here in this studio, where I had wept over school and life. I laid out a blanket. I turned off the light. The room glowed from the candles that were lit in the window ledges and on the desk. I turned on the sounds of crystal bowls. I laid on the floor, stared at the sketches of my vagina on the wall. There are a few with my fingers, one with a dildo, one that’s a close-up of my clitoris.

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I took a deep breath, little coconut oil and began to message around my vagina, I rubbed my labia in between my thumb and index finger. First, the right and the left. I grabbed my thigh and moved my hand up to my breasts and pulled  my nipples. I grabbed my crystal wand, it was so cold on my skin. I lightly moved it crossed my clit and back again. It felt so smooth and gave me a tingling sensation.

I moaned aloud as I slid this cold hard wand inside of me. I widened my hips and my knees bent pointing outward while the bottoms of my feet came together to make a triangle. I paced my breaths with the in and out motions of my wand that I controlled with my left hand, while I continued to rub my clit with my right index and middle fingers. I arched my back and separated my feet. I pushed the wand out while I orgasmed loudly, staring at the shadows on the ceiling and with tears in my eyes. I lay for a while to catch my breath and to feel my pussy pulsate.

The was an act of self love not a sin to be ashamed of, this is the reason this painting should be painted.

I got dressed and turned on the light and put yellow paint on the pallet. I opened my google music app and selected my paint playlist.  MGK’s, “At my best” played as I made the first circular stroke.

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Glimpse of my past

Below is my thoughts I wrote, but never published in response to an article I had read. I tried to find the article again to share it, but I was unable to. July marks several big events in my life.

This was written a week before I signed my divorce papers.

OCTOBER 2o14:

I read this article because of the title. I understand how hard it is when you realize that you and your spouse are no longer as in love as you were in the beginning of a marriage. She made some valid points, being a woman today contains so many pressures. We have to prove that you can not only provide financial support and run the household,  but also be devoted mothers to our children.  She made changes to be less stressed, and seemingly has a spouse that responded to her changes. The reality is that only works when both people are willing to make changes and work together on the relationship.

The hardest part of my marriage truthfully, was when I realized how depressed he was. Sadly, I had given up talking  about it because it would just turn into a fight, it wasn’t until the boys started noticing things. He did go get help and it was an improvement, but also understood that there was more that could have been done.

He had made many efforts with the kids. I watched for years as he suffered silently because he could no longer let me in and I in turn I had shut him out.  I felt like I was watching our marriage slowly destroy the people we were and the people we had become.

I knew that the relationship that he had with his family was strained because of our marriage. He didn’t want to choose and he shouldn’t have had to. I knew that I could not deal with his family’s over involvement  and constant criticism of the person I was. My husband was stuck with agreeing with them or defending me. He tried for years to smooth this over, by avoiding it or by fighting with me and/or them.

I could no longer watch this conflict destroy him. He physically looked sick, his skin was pale, he always seem tired and quick tempered. I knew this was something that after fourteen years had never gotten better and never would. I had tried to repair and pretend it was all okay.  I finally made the choice and asked him to move out.

After only a few short weeks, I saw life in him again. He had color again, he looked healthy and happy. He seemed to have a new zest for life that I hadn’t seen in years. He was spending time with people that he had distanced himself from over the years. I don’t know for sure if that was him, me, or just life, but he no longer seemed lost.  The boys also talk about the things they do with their dad, and that he seems better than before.

Through this whole process I struggled with whether or not this is what I wanted. I was scared. I had no job when he moved out and I didn’t know how I was going to financially support myself or our boys.  I knew that I couldn’t let that fear continue to be the driving force that kept us married. I didn’t want him to hate me and I didn’t want to hate him. I also really wanted my friend back. Once I was able to get a job, which I love, I was able to look at our marriage with clearer eyes.  Seeing him physically looking healthier I know that we made the right decision. He needs his family and I knew that they would never truly respect, love, or make me a part of their family.  Although I knew I was no longer in love with him, I still loved him as a person and as the father of my children. I gave up my marriage to save the person I had been in love with for years.  His well-being was more important than us being married. 

Dear Fuckboy

I thought I would have more of a epic feeling when I let you go. I knew when I met you that there would be an ending to this chapter. Ha-Ha, I really didn’t think you would have a chapter but you most certainly do.  We manage to keep the lines clear for the most part. There were moments when the lines were blurry, usually in the euphoria of mind blowing sex.

However, everytime we came back to this reality, the truth was we are not on the same vibrational level. I also know we have attempted to end this several times, but we still keep falling back into this pattern. I have told you I am ready for more  and that you are not the one.  I want someone who will connect to my mind, my heart and my soul. You are not this man.

I used you to make the hurtful emotions I was dealing with to go away. I wanted you to bring me to that euphoric state. But I’m also aware that it was time to deal with the hurt and to not go numb or replace it.  I no longer need to be afraid to let down my guard, so instead of texting “let’s fuck”, I texted “let’s end this for real”

You didn’t put up a fight you responded “do what you want”

However, when you came to my house at 12:30 AM and woke me up, not by a phone call or a text, but my throwing shit at my bedroom window like a teenage trapped inside a 40 year old man’s body. This was a violation of a clear line drawn out previously that you are not allowed here when my kids are home!

You seemed shocked when I opened the door not with a smile, but a baseball bat. I remind you that I had told you I was done. I reminded you that my children were home.

We didn’t fight there was not yelling. You were drunk, trying to convince me that I am the one and we should run away together. I lightened the grip on my bat. When tried to kiss me and I turned my head, you looked so hurt and when you went in for a second kiss and I gave in.

I felt nothing! I was no longer connecte; I had released myself!

The bat still in my right hand, hanging by my side. I look at you and said I release you too!  I am done, don’t come back, go give yourself to some who needs you.

I left you standing there on my porch. I went inside, locked the door behind me, turn off the porch light and went to bed peacefully.

Good bye fuckboy you have served your purpose!

Exposed

I thought I would share a little bit as to why I decided to take my art mobile. Two years ago during the process of my divorce I was forced with the decision of keeping my studio or moving it home. I couldn’t afford to art supplies and my studio. I elected to move my studio home in the spring of 2015. I was painting more at home anyways. It was easier on the kids for me to be right here verses 10 minutes away at my studio. It also relieved a little bit of financial stress.

As I started painting at home and winter set in I had to move into the house from the garage. It became a challenge. The house whispers of all the unfinished tasks and I couldn’t disappear into the painting.

It was winter I’m a smoker so I picked a bar that had a heated smoking patio and I drew, sketched and plugged in.  I had been blocked for months. Some people would talk to me and some people wouldn’t. It depended on my mood whether or not it bothered me. The more comfortable I got, I started bring in smaller canvas sheets to paint on.

This week, I have permission to take a 24 X 48 canvas and my easel to a local bar and paint on their patio. This is  exciting to find new place to create!

I’ve been accused of doing this for attention.  Most of the time I don’t even realize who’s there. I disappear into the painting and focusing on what I’m trying to portray.

I also think that this exposes the process of making art.  The old question of “what is art?” I know for some artists it’s really not about the end product; it’s about the process; it’s about the things that they are emotionally or mentally trying to answer through their art.  Yes, I want the outcome to be appreciated. But really it’s about me, my process, what I’m seeing, and what I’m questioning.   If the viewer does loved it great and if they don’t maybe the will have more appreciation for the process. People get to see me, an artist, create my passion and it gives them this understanding for art in general.

I’m not afraid of the exposure. I’m not afraid of the critiques.  I’m not afraid of the comments.  It allows me to expose this whole process to groups of people that might not otherwise go to a museum or gallery to given an understanding about art.

For me being in a public place allows be experince my subject matter “people.”  I feel it’s important for me to be around people. Their energy,their laughter, and their buzz. Being a painter, can sometimes is lonely and you just need to be able to experience the outside world.

So if I’m comfortable with having a drink and painting my ass off while I do it, why not!

Brain vs. Vagina

I figure for my first post I would dive right in and give you a real glimpse of my thoughts.

I feel that more women actually have this internal argument than they are willing to admit. After my divorce, this was pretty much a no brainer. I wanted sex! You know the kind I am talking about hot, dirty, sweaty pig sex.

Oh man, did I find it!

Wow, I had forgotten how much fun sex could be when you don’t have the relationship crap attached to it.

After a few months, my brain started asking questions about this man that made my vagina so happy. Yes, he was good with his tongue, his fingers, and his dick. However, we had no other real connection.

My friends have labeled him as the “Fuck boy.” This on again off again sexual relationship has lasted longer than either of us expected and not because we belong together but because we can equally meet each other’s sexual needs.

This works because I am honest with him about my feelings. I have made it very clear that this works because we are not committed to each other. I am not saying we don’t get mad at each other. There are times when we can’t meet up because real life gets in the way. The key here is HONESTY. I know that’s a scary word, but it really is the best practice.

We have taken breaks because of emotions. About six months ago I took a step back from “Fuck boy” because I was reevaluating what I wanted. I dated a few men, but most could not handle my brutal truth. Yes, it’s very direct and can be intimidating.

I was on this date with this guy. I had a great connection with the exception of his humor as the night went on became very childish. At the end of the night, he came in for a nightcap. My brain was having this freak out session because I was not that into this guy, but my vagina was having a moment of it’s a man with a dick lets see if it works.

Then, it hit me, I was horny. I had not been laid in a while. Trying that whole let’s not have sex thing until all the connections meet. I sent this man home told him that I was not going to sleep with him. I enjoy are dated, but it didn’t go any further than that.

After multiple internal arguments, I caved and gave into my sexual urges. Queue Fuck boy. This was another one of the honest conversations. Rules and guidelines, we are both free to see other people.

No, the sex isn’t as often as it was, but it’s still just as satisfying as before. It’s a release of the stress of life and allows me to make better decisions when I evaluating who I want to give my time, my heart, and my energy too.

Brain knows that it’s time to find a stimulating relationship that hits all of my needs mental, emotionally, and sexually. But in the meantime, when rubbing it out isn’t enough, I know fuck boy will get the job done.