I am…

I made this in art class on Sunday afternoon.  It’s made up of 15 cards, each one with something I’m claiming for myself.

Each one with something I intellectually know to be true, but my subconscious still won’t let me feel in my gut.

Parts of my subconscious are still 7 years old.

Damaged and broken.

Rubble underneath my dad’s empty footprints.

I thought I was healed.

I thought this was over.

It may never be over.

But things can still change.

I won’t let the lies I told my 7-year-old mind hold me back anymore.

I strung all 15 pieces together and hung them between the two mirrors on my bathroom wall where I will see them every day.

Words are powerful.

Especially the words we tell ourselves.

These are good words.

These are true.

Thank you.

Well, I came home today, weighed myself to find that I’ve gained 5 pounds in the last 2 weeks, and due to a mutual friend, found out that a guy I dated a few years ago is now married and just had a BABY.

BLARGH.

The guy turned out to be a jerk after a few dates and I certainly didn’t want to have his baby, but when I saw the photos of him, his wife, and his new baby at the hospital, I realized that the picture I was looking at was a picture that he’ll look at forever as the start of his family.

I want a family too.

After 20 minutes of moping around feeling sorry for myself and then another 5 minutes spent beating myself up for feeling sorry for myself, I went back to Facebook (glutton for punishment that I am) and saw this quote on the Stratejoy Facebook page.

Then I went to my profile page and the cover photo on my page is one I took at the World Domination Summit trip to Portland this summer.  It’s just a sign from a store front window, but to me it was a direct message:

And just like that, I snapped out of my pity party and realized (again) how many experiences have truly shaped my life these past few years that have reminded me of who I am.  And WDS in Portland was one of them.

So to Portland, Chris Guillebeau and the World Domination Summit team, Molly Mahar and Stratejoy, Pam Slim, my family and friends, and to every good, bad, crazy, boring, broken-hearted, expensive, challenging, unnecessary, painful, adorable, and joyous event that has happened around me and to me over the past few years…. I say THANK YOU.

Thank you for reminding me that I’m exactly who I am and reiterating that I’m a lovable, clever, creative, kind, and open person.

Thank you for reminding me that I’m not the only one out here who wants more than the status quo and that so many of you are living your dreams and helping others live theirs.

Thank you Asha Tyson for the quote.

Thank you for each and every time I’ve felt different, even when I wished I could get by unnoticed within the group.

Thank you to my brother, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather (who are/were all self-employed) for reminding me that the apple doesn’t fall far from the family tree.

Thank you for reminding me that I don’t just want a husband, I want the sexiest best friend I could ever imagine and it’ll be worth the wait to find him.

Thank you for reminding me that I’m fun to be around and I remind people that it’s okay to be play and be silly.

Thank you to Open Studio Project for reminding me that art is a safe place to explore and for providing the nudge I needed to start each week with a quiet, clarifying day of art making and introspection.

Thank you for my adorable nephew Soren and my other faux nieces and nephews who love me and let me play with them.

Thank you to my mom, brother, Maggie, Pet, Maria, Erika, Sarah, Justin, Carey, Kylee, and so many others who know me and love me exactly as I am, without exception.

Thank you for reminding me to imagine.

Thank you for reminding me to dream.

Thank you.

Love,

Jackie

P.S. Feel free to smack me in the head next time I start setting up appetizers for my next pity party…

2012!

It’s official.  2012 has arrived.  I had a play date with the new year baby last night and he told me so.

He’s not subtle.

Last year, as I reflected on the previous 12 months, I chose two words that I wanted to embody in 2011: freedom and self-acceptance.  While I can’t say that I feel entirely un-trapped, I do feel like I have more options than I used to.  I have also been much kinder to myself in 2011 than I have been in years past.  I still struggle with perfectionism and judging myself as not being as tidy as I “should” be, etc, but all-in-all, I’ve become more aware of the positive aspects of myself that make me ME.  In the past I’ve assumed that anything that was intuitive to me (art, photography, making people laugh, etc.) were just easy things that everyone could do well.  This year in particular I’ve sat back and am finally starting to acknowledge the talents and skills that make me unique and exceptional, which has been a powerful experience.

2011 was a year of new beginnings.

I started what has become a year-long art program with Open Studio Project in Evanston.  It’s such a special place because everyone is valued and accepted as they are – no judgements, no conditions, and especially no comments.  Art for art’s sake.  Art for clarity.  Art for whatever ails you.  Individuals coming together to form a unique community of curiosity, vulnerability, and play.

2011 was a year of Art (note the capital A)

I sold four original paintings this year.  FOUR.  Not only was this financially and creatively encouraging, it also provided me with the cash flow to buy a DSLR camera to bring my incessant picture taking back up to snuff (iPhone photos don’t do much outside of Facebook)!  It’s been fun learning what all the bells and whistles do on my new baby, but more than that, it’s allowing me to create even when I don’t have time to pull out my paints and make a mess.  Now I can take photos on my way to work and it helps balance out my day by ensuring I get my art fix in every day.

2011 was a year of counting my blessings.

So many friends have had a rough, rough, rough year with parents who have had sudden, fatal, illnesses, sick children who may never be able to sit up or speak, break ups, divorce, etc.  I would like to be married and have children one day in the near future and I don’t currently have that.  However, I am so thankful that for the most part my family and friends are happy and healthy… and HILARIOUS.

I’m so lucky to be able to laugh and be silly and honest with the people closest to me and, with every day that goes by, I realize just how rare that is.

2011 was a year of learning how to care less about other people’s opinions of me.

I work in a job that doesn’t satisfy 95% of who I am.  I work for me people who don’t understand 95% of who I am.  Yet I was torturing myself by trying to anticipate their perceptions of who I am and adjust according to an assumed level of appropriateness that always turned out to be wrong.  I wish I could say that I’ve let go of the tap-dancing completely, but I can say that I’m getting better at being myself at work, consequences (and there are consequences) be damned.  It’s made it easier and less exhausting to spend so much of my time there while I continue to refine Plan B (and Plan C….. and Plan D……).

Now on to 2012…

2012 is the year to play.

2012 is the year to create.

2012 is the year to rest.

2012 is the year to heal.

2012 is the year to enjoy.

2012 is the year to thrive.

And to accomplish the above, my goals for 2012 are to simplify and to remove the distractions that could otherwise keep me from seeing/feeling love, freedom, and possibility.

Alright 2012, let’s do this.

Gotta trust my intuition

I’ve been missing my Open Studio Project classes (I’ve ditched the last two to work on my commission project due later this week) and just found this fabulous blog Dirty Footprints Studio which has inspired me to paint freely, much like OSP does. With all of the painting associated with my commissions that I’ve been working on, I haven’t done any random, playful, intuitive painting.  Last night, I gave myself a night off from the big project to relax and play.

This sad little lady is what came out.

I can only take partial credit for her because it’s so far from my usual style that I forget that I made her when I look at her sometimes.  I have to remind myself that she came out of my paint brush.

I don’t necessarily think she represents me, but maybe she’s a part of me, deep inside.  Maybe she is the one I’m protecting when I put everything else on hold to take care of myself when I need to.

I didn’t feel sad when I was painting her.  And actually, for a while she had a little eye patch as I considered making her a pirate.  But she wasn’t supposed to be a pirate.  She was supposed to be exactly what she is.  But after I painted her and saw that she was sad, it made me wonder if I was more sad than I was allowing myself to know.

Regardless of how much of her I might see in myself or vice versa, I do know that things are looking up.  The end of the last two years of my funk is winding down and there are good things on the horizon.

Doubt + Art = Hope

I was reading Sabrina Ward Harrison’s amazing mixed media/self-discovery book Spilling Open on the train and words on one page jumped out at me:

“When did I start doubting myself?”

It only took me a few seconds to think of my answer (25 years and a few seconds, that is).

The moment I began doubting myself was the day my dad left.

It might seem obvious from the outside – actually it sounds obvious to me now too, but when I think of my dad leaving, I think about the hurt and pain and broken trust – I never thought about it also marking the day my self-esteem took a major blow.

That was when it happened. I remember the exact moment.

He came into my bedroom, knelt down in front of me and told me he was going to go live at my grandpa’s house for 2 weeks.

I didn’t understand it and it left me stunned and confused. I was his little princess – daddy’s girl to the core. My 7-year-old mind didn’t even realize that this was even a possibility.

I burst into tears and ran into his arms and he held me and we cried. And that was the last day I felt the full love of my father. After that he consistently chose other things and people over me and put conditions on everything (“you have to get to know this woman I left your mother for if you want to see me because she is a big part of my life now.”). I would doubt myself more and more over the next 25 years as he continued to reject me in new and familiar ways over and over again.

I knew he didn’t leave because of me and that it wasn’t my fault. But I also knew (consciously or not) that I wasn’t enough of a reason for him to stay with us either. That thought has impacted my self-esteem, confidence, and sense of worthiness in immeasurable ways over the last 25 years and I’m finally seeing how deep and wide the impact has been.

Rationally, I now realize that his leaving says more about him than me, but emotionally, I’m still the 7, 12, 16, 20, 25, and 32-year-old girl wondering why her father doesn’t love her enough to try harder. To take an honest look at himself and see the truth. To sacrifice and for him to endure some pain to spare mine. I guess realizing that this is how and why I feel this way is progress, but I think I’ll always feel this way to a certain extent. I will always want my dad to love me and wonder why he doesn’t love me with the completely self-less, fierce, momma-bear love than my mom has used to protect and care for me for all these years.

It’s because of my mom’s strong love for me that I am able to love and care for and try to protect the people I love. And while her love builds me up and gives me strength and allows me to be vulnerable, the damage my dad has done still scratches and tears at my self-worth. It’s a constant battle of doubt vs. truth every day, not a one-time choice.

Knowing the root of where this comes from helps me decide that I am lovable but it’s still hard for me to believe it a lot of the time. I know that I’m loved by my family and friends. But what about men? What if no one I love loves me back? What if i purposely pick men with deal breakers so if it doesn’t work, I can tell myself that they had deal breakers anyway, or that its me who ends up rejecting them.

I know I’m not the only one who doubts herself or feels unworthy sometimes.  I think all of us feel this way on some level, about different things, for different reasons.  I wish we all fully felt the love that IS around us and that the love that is here could drown out the sadness of the failed love we’ve experienced.  Why are our hearts so broken?

Even though I am working through my fears and insecurities, it breaks my heart to see how it has held (and continues to hold) me back… and I’m no longer willing to let it.

There is so much hope and love around all of us, waiting to be tapped.

I’ve tapped a bit of it through art making and I want more.

Art is healing me and I’m going to figure out how and why it works so I can figure out how to help others heal themselves along the way.

Lookout world.

Sometimes I surge with power, sometimes I just want to go home

I’ve been playing around with Teesha Moore’s art journaling style for the past couple weeks and all I can tell you is that she makes it look easy.  Combining so much visual activity into one 8″x10″ page without ending up with a heck of a mess is NOT easy.  My first page was an absolute disaster.  But I’m working to find the balance and placement that makes sense to me.  Some pages get better (more pleasing to look at), some get worse.  Regardless, it’s been fun to get messy and random and use words and quotes that are meaningful to me.  This quote is from Sabrina Ward Harrison, another fantastic art journalista.

It’s a fabulous distraction from real life right now, as I enter my busy season at work.  Some might call it denial, but I prefer “creative distraction”.

Have a great weekend!

p.s.  I’ve also been learning that not all markers, paint markers, paints, and pastels are created equal.  Holy moly.  Some markers won’t write over some paints and some paints won’t go over some markers.  I still love Pitt Pens and Copic markers, but daaaaaaang if they don’t suck the life out of a perfectly good oil-paint marker.  For example, the white in the collage here is actually split between a white Sharpie Paint marker (the water bufallo hat, her eyes, jewelry, and the circles on the border) and a White-Out pen (the lettering of the quote).  So, naturally, I had to order $150 of various pens, paint pens, and markers to play with…

 

One down, four to go – Year 1 of my countdown to self-employment

Exactly one year ago today, I decided to give myself a self-employment deadline of July 4, 2015 – 5 years from that day.  One year later, I’m certainly not self sufficient, but I have earned money for my art and I’ve taken significant steps in the right direction, including:

• Made prints of my paintings and sold some of them!
• Started introducing myself as an artist, rather than with my day job (this sounds silly, but it was a HUGE shift in my mindset and my confidence)
• Finished a few paintings (Erika 1, Erika 2, Greg, Make yourself proud…. and probably others I’m forgetting)
• Designed my Mighty Panda business cards
• Designed new Mighty Panda postcards
• Designed Mighty Panda calendars (and sold 20!)
• Had a little gallery show at Starbucks
• Built my art website
• Started classes at the Open Studio Project and it’s helped me remember to play with my art, take more risks, and be gentle with my evaluation of my work
• Donated a print to a silent auction to send children from Lydia Home to camp – and it got a bunch of bids and sold for more than face value!
• Attended the World Domination Summit in Portland and met other people who understood where I am and where I want to go because they were either heading the same place or where already there!
• Got commissioned to paint FOUR paintings this summer!
• Potential commission for the fall/winter too!

I’m still struggling to prioritize my art over being social, tired, hungry, but I’m getting better at letting go of my guilt when I cancel plans that I can do without or decide to blow off my art/laundry/etc. in favor of being in the pool with the Puerto Rican side of my family all weekend.  That’s progress, right?

Overall, I’m learning to listen to myself more and trust what I’m feeling.  It turns out that I don’t need a reason to stay home, go out, be late, sleep in, or be non-committal and last-minute.  It’s part of who I am and I’m tired of fighting against myself.  Spending 8-12 hours a day feeling inauthentic at my day job has helped me lose my patience with trying to change things about my non-work self that might meet the preference of others.  Guess what?  That’s no longer a good enough reason for me to get up before noon on the weekend.  It’s no longer a good enough reason to commit to plans that I already know I don’t have time for.  It’s no longer a good enough reason to keep plans that I had intended to go to, when I’m feeling particularly creative and need to tap my creative juices while they are flowing instead.  I need to take care of myself too.

I love my friends and family and want to see them all the time.  I want to be involved in everything they are involved in and in a perfect world, I would get to do everything and be everything to everyone and still have time and energy to take care of myself.  Unfortunately, this is not a perfect world and sometimes I feel like I barely have enough time to breathe, let alone squeeze in a lunch or a movie or a bbq or whatever.
I struggle with feeling impatient and overwhelmed by how far away I feel from where I am and where I want to be, but it’s great to have this marker in time to look back and realize how many steps I’ve taken in the right direction.

I started the word collage above this afternoon and finished it an hour ago.  I had intended to write my accomplishments around the photo of the girl, but it quickly turned into a collection of words I want to define the next year(s) of my life.

So far so good.