Every Negative has a Positive

Negative: I couldn’t get a single book on audio this semester.

Positive: I spent Thursday and Friday ready out loud to myself in funny accidents to get through the pages.

Negative: I should have than work on the video and the paper, but I was not able to focus on it after all the reading.

Positive: I was inspired to work on my book which has a deadline coming up. So, I got lost in this story and the words.  Relived a few life lessons and before I knew it was 1 am.

Negative: My youngest, who is a night owl.  Requested an hour of TV and in my bed at 1AM. I explained to him that I am going to fall asleep and that he is too big to sleep in my bed.

Positive: I could snuggle with him and after 30 minutes before telling him that I couldn’t keep my eyes open.  He agreed to end the movie if I will tuck him in.

Saturday was just one of those days and was not nearly as productive as it should have been, it was full of interruptions.  There are several reasons as to why this weekend was going to be full of changes.

Negative: The older teenager was going to be here and his plans change from hour to hour. Consisting of mom take me here, mom pick me up there. This is not unusual for a teenager, but I was trying to write a fucking paper.

Positive: He re-met and a friend of mine, and for the first time since the divorce he said. “I like him, he seems chill”

I reminded my oldest that this man and I are just friends, and that I have too much on plate to date.  This idea of me letting people met my children is hard for me, even if they are friends.  The fact that he liked someone even if it was a friend was huge because he doesn’t like anyone new.

Negative: Unexpected visitors:

Positive: My wonderful supportive mom stops by and for the most didn’t interrupt me directly.  She drove with me to drop the boys off and even stayed late to watch a movie with them, while working on my paper.

Negative: I don’t like going to the grocery store. It feels like a waste. I understand that we need food to survive, but it mostly feels expensive. It used to give me a panic attack. Now it’s just annoying with the time and the crowds.

Positive: I got to go grocery and my mom made this trip more pleasant. Plus, the kids brought in and put away all the groceries away for me.

Sunday had just as many distractions, but there are ways a better way to look at the situations and find the best part of it.

Overwhelmed

Well, I feel overwhelmed and I want to have sex, but I am taking a break from that. I want to forget that I feel like my life is spinning out of control.  The reality is that it’s not out of control, it’s just finding a new balance. My fears kick in, “can I read the material fast enough and I will be able to maintain the schedule.”  yet I always find my way.

I am a 36 year old dyslexic who knows all the coping skills with a 4.0 GPA and yet there are moments that I feel like the 12 year old girl so afraid to read out loud.

It’s only 10 weeks

“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.

Blending my worlds

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

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!

Weekends don’t go as planned.

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.

 

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.