It’s only 10 weeks

by artmuse12

“It’s only 10 weeks,” the phrase that I keep repeating to myself as I start my third term at Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD) this week. It’s 10 weeks two classes, which equates to an additional 40 hours a week on top of my full-time job, my children, and my book. “Lean into it,” is the other phrase that rings loudly. The extra class mean I can complete the degree a term sooner.

However, my day job can be mentally taxing, and there are days I just want to melt on the couch after work. Let alone do all the responsible parenting things.  My boys are great with their encouragement and even reassure me occasionally that I am not being selfish that I am showing them how to follow their passion.

Except as classes start, I’m suddenly filled with fear of time management and mom guilt. It’s only 10 weeks, right. 400 hours….

The clock is ticking, Friday is the deadline to drop a class and I stand on the edge, leaning, armed with coffee and my cape.

Not Sorry

by artmuse12

I have never been a hateful person. I own my actions good or bad. I understand that what I post is not for the everyone regardless these are my internal thought and experiences told from solely my from the point of view either at the moment or upon reflecting. In the past, I haven’t loved with an open heart, but with a guard one and be vulnerable was not an option. As I am finding the internal balance that is changing, there is something beautiful in exposing that side of myself.

I know that somewhere there is another person who is experiencing things in a similar fashion and my goal is to help them realize they are not alone.

Release and Reset

by artmuse12

When I sat down to write a post to accompany this painting this is what came out. It is not what had originally intended, but I suppose it is part of the release.  It’s raw and vulnerable, which is not a side of myself I normally share.

20170301_212210 - Copy

Dear Lover,

When we met, you were exactly what I was looking for… I didn’t want a relationship. I wanted someone who would fuck. Sex was my drug. My way to avoid. It was my way to forget the real world and we did it well. You had woken up things inside me that hadn’t existed in my marriage.

Two months into this thing that we were doing you told me you loved me. I was scared and tried to joke it off.  That night we enter the veil and the sex was euphoric.  Except, I was not ready for love and didn’t want to be loved. I didn’t deserve it.  I wanted to be fucked.

We took a break during the fifth month, but by month six we were back to fucking.  In month Seven, I knew she was more than your roommate, and I let you avoid the question because I enjoyed this veil. It meant I didn’t have to be fully invested. During the end of month eight I was seeking someone new, because after all I knew this would end. By month ten, I confirmed that she was your girlfriend and ended with you.  I told myself it was some sort of moral issue.  Until you would call and we would fuck again. I liked this veil the outside world didn’t exist there.

Your drunk love was impressive, but I knew it wasn’t real love. I started actively trying to start another relationship. You would pop in and out. Sometimes I would tell you to go away and put off your confusions of love. Others I would cave and fuck you for hours getting lost in the euphoria.

Month 14, I had tried to sleep with someone new but sexually he and I didn’t fit; it didn’t work; and it wasn’t you. I denied to myself that my heart was confused because none of this made sense. During months, fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen, I still tried to replace you. I met farm boy and lawn care guy both fun for various reasons. I tried a little harder with Farm boy. His sex drive was closer to mine, but again, it didn’t work. It wasn’t you and after all you were still popping in and out. By month, twenty-two we were back in full swing.

At twenty -eight, I wanted more than sex and ended again with you. I wasn’t ready to move in and you were. I wanted to date and you had to figure what she was to you. I understood that you loved both of us after all you start seeing both of us at the same time.  When I told you we had to be done and we fought. I believed it was over.

Except in month thirty, you were back again professing your love. You want it all, you said, you loved me, and you were moving out.  You asked to move in and I again said no. Responding with we needed to try dating.  I knew we fucked well. The veil was the place that we worked. We didn’t know if we work anywhere else. I wasn’t a new divorcee anymore. I was on my path and this thing wasn’t going to change that.

In months thirty-one and thirty-two I would remind you of what you had said and asked for a when. You would tell me your fears and your secrets and I just accepted them.  During month thirty-two, I really did know we were never going to be more than the sex. Yet we still played this game both knowing it was over, but still pulled and not sure how to quit.

In month thirty-three… you had been caught… we had been caught

The text message DENY IT ALL – hit me like a ton of bricks.

I don’t when, exactly, I had fallen for your drunk love. I thought my heart was protected from it by the logic of this sexual connection. Somehow, your words had seeped into my heart and it didn’t make sense.

This thought of denying it all torn me apart. I wanted to protect you, but if I had denied it, if I didn’t confess my truth, it would have meant it was never real.

I cried because I didn’t want to love you, but I did. I can’t even tell when it must have happened, but it did.  When you showed in what would have been month thirty-four, I caved and I knew I would, I was hurting and the veil was my escape. You asked me to hate you. I told you I wanted to and I was trying to.

You rambled your drunk words. I loved your dick and you loved my pussy. Yes, it was love, but not love with balance. We had let this go of this sexual love. You love hard and drinker harder because it scares you. We don’t make sense in the real world and we only worked inside the veil that we had created where no one else was allowed. Except, the veil has been broken and I’m finally ready for the more.

I will find love that balances my mind, my heart, and my sexual desires. Our sexual love worked, but it only when there was honesty and trust.

I always saw you for who you were and fall in love you anyway. I know my hurt will fade and I will love again. I thank you for all that you helped awaken within me. It was an experience that I will carry with me always. So live well and keep loving.

Wishing you balance,

The Artist

The Debris

by artmuse12

There’s nothing better than spending your lunch hour on your roof soaking up some sun. I have longed for the warmth of nature.  I climbed out my window onto my porch roof and removed the debris of what was him, the sticks, so many sticks, a rotting pepper, a bottle of bug spray, and a phone book all things that he threw at my window in the middle of the night to wake me up. Now the only physical evidence of him that remains are few pieces of broken glass from the window, he broke last year and an unopened Christmas present.  I knew all along that eventually I would have to let him go. I also knew that in order to honor myself, I would have to tell the truth, even though he asked me to deny it all.

I know that my apologies will never repair the pain that was cause in the end. This wasn’t the ending that I want yet it’s the ending that I knew would come.

Sitting here in the sun, I find comfort in the release it all. No matter how hard I fought his lies, a part of me wanted them to be true.   I’m really ready for more and to letting go of him was the biggest step.

I will post those unpublished drafts of this process. The moments of deliberation the contemplation, but for now I’m cleaning up the debris. He was always meant to be a lesson.

Blending my worlds

by artmuse12

I haven’t posted in a while. I have been torn between three worlds.

The first being my current job which I love, but I take on more of a personal investment than perhaps is necessary. However, it’s the work ethic I was taught and wouldn’t change.

The second is my art the fact the I want to focus on school and my art work. I want to eat, breath, and sleep art. I want to get lost in that world or better yet make this my only world.

The third is motherhood and the internalized fear that I am somehow failing them.

These worlds should blend like the tints and tones of a painting, but the instead they are like complementary colors fighting for attention.

This feeling of be cut into thirds gets the better of me somedays, which results in self-doubt and procrastination.

Glimpse of my past

by artmuse12

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

by artmuse12

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

by artmuse12

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!

Ready for the Pieces

by artmuse12

Dating at 35 with a pretty clear head of what I want in a partnership has been challenging. Partly because I started before I was ready. Before I did the real work. I got attached to men that were emotionally and sometimes physically unavailable. This is my pattern, my mirror because the truth is/was I am emotionally unavailable. My emotional, physical, and mental needs are out of wack.

It has been a series of mix signals, vagueness, and men afraid of hurting my feelings, ghosting, or just keeping me as a possibility. Seriously, a TIP for men and women, stop fucking playing games, it is unnecessary. If you are not interested, just say it. Yes, there will be hurt feelings, but it hurts a lot less the not knowing and for fuck sake if you don’t know say that too. The truth can be hard to hear, but is better for both to be on the same page.

Communication!!! I’m not sure why we are so fucking afraid of this action.

Life is messy and everyone is on their own path and at different stages of the game. For I while I thought that maybe this was payback, karma for something I had done to someone else. After several bad dates, I agreed to give Mr.X a shot. We had been connecting. The date was decent but we were not in the same place. I was still shut out and while he kissed me good night I shut down, completely. I look him in the eyes and said “I don’t feel this. I know you want to be loved and I can’t give you that.” I didn’t want to waste his time and he had done nothing wrong. He accepted that and we have remained friends and not Facebook friends, but actually friends. After that, I shut down for a while convinced myself I wasn’t ready. I did have some things I still had to work on.

One still is, ending it with fuck boy, it’s a temptation, but one I should give it up. It’s time, time for my mind, my vagina, and most importantly my heart to match.

I met Mr. X over the weekend, I was reluctant at first, but decide it’s time to focus on the moment. This was marvelous and short lived.

Here’s what I learned:

I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed intimacy. The touch of a man and looking into somebody’s eyes as you both try to figure it all out. It’s rare that a man can make me live in the moment and keep my mind from racing with a million scenarios of why it won’t work. Although, I tried. The intimate touches are different than fucking. Sexual attraction is easy. It’s going beyond that. It’s about open up my heart that is so difficult. When he asked me to dance and he touched me, I didn’t shut down. Through the course of the next few days I thought “I can open up, be vulnerable and accept the possibility of love”

I was reminded what it’s like to kiss somebody you like. To think I can get on this ride. I can test the waters. I can be open and comfortable to feel that a sensual touch. I let down my guard and listened to his heartbeat under your ear. I felt safe at that moment. I realized how much I actually missed by being so guarded. I also realize that there are men out there that can be in touch with their needs and can be honest about where they are at.

It was brief and I was upset over that brief encounter ending because I realized I what I been missing. I’m a little scared, but I am ready to be more open.

I want a partner! I don’t want a boyfriend or I don’t want a husband. I want somebody who will share in my excitement, my sorrows, my life experiences and I want to share theirs. I may not be ready to share my whole world with anyone just yet. However, I ready to share pieces at first. I know when the right person comes along I will be able to share my whole world.

For now I am ready start with pieces, and the process might be messy, but it might just turn out beautiful at the same time. It’s a whirlwind of emotions that are magnificent. I miss being vulnerable and letting people in. I’m not saying I don’t still have stuff that I’m working on and dealing with it, personal goals that I’ve set for myself, but I’m ready to be in the moment and not over think the next step.

Weekends don’t go as planned.

by artmuse12

Baseball season has come to an end. This meant I was going to spend my kid free weekend playing catch up. It amazes me how behind three or four games a week can put you.

The list was made:

  • Paint
  • Go out for drinks with a new friend (Friday)
  • Laundry
  • Dishes
  • Pick up house
  • Weed gardens
  • Mow lawn
  • Pay bills.
  • Work on graduate school portfolio.
  • Family day Sunday night and Monday

Good thing I’m flexible.  I didn’t accomplish most of these things. I took an unexpected me weekend. I meet a man this week that is totally into me and wanted to spend time with me getting to know me.  This should be a great thing right?!?!

I should have been really excited and, for the most part I was.

We met up and hit it off. We talked and by the end of the night there was this kiss. That made me feel like I could crack open up the window to my heart.

The topic of public displays of affection came up. I am this girl with the right person, but it takes time. I spent many of my early years and a fourteen year marriage being the “prize.” The “pretty girl” on some fucktard’s arm.   I didn’t appreciate it then and will not be that girl ever again. I am too fucking smart and sparkly for that type of relationship.   So yes, I am guarded! I don’t want to be touched to in order to make another person jealous, man or woman. I’m a free spirit, and jealously is an ugly feeling.

I want to be touched because he can’t imagine touching someone else. I want a kiss in the middle of the party because the moment was right.  We spent both Friday and Saturday together with inmate conversation and touching.

He wants to give it his all, but has the fog and I am guarded and holding back. Why?

He is very much going through the reality that his marriage has ended. He has to decide if he can let go of the love he still holds for her.

I will and do not play second fiddle.

I have been this girl a couple of times in my recent dating experiences. I become their friend, listen and give them advice on the whatever the situation is, I tell them that I will not judge them and to follow their hearts. This leaves me in this no man’s land, usually the friendship fades as they wander back to their ex and I’m left with my heart a little bruised.