did you have a home?
a home with a mom and a dad?
did they love you?
i bet many can reply yes to that question.
I think as my parents first born that i will always have the newness and novelty of those early years
but when life got real.
they both checked out of the love equation.
i was 5.
I never should have had you kids he once said.
additional and not so loving commentary echo within my emotional brain.
i had my reckoning with ideas of him in the late 90’s
she said, you love your father.
i thought surely i can find the loving moments.
i had been telling the stories of the bad times.
she said, remember the love and hold onto that — that’s what is best to heal from.
i did that.
sometimes though …
a trigger like fathers day or something else might get to me.
and then i go there. i go to the he doesn’t love me place.
and feel like a shit.
this is ALL on my mind right now because this week was a transition week for me.
making work space here i stumbled upon this book.
wait, let me step back ….
the ebb and flow of an artists life is that you build an emotional momentum to the launch of an exhibit. and then it ends. your heart and soul becomes yesterday’s news. when one creative door closes another opens. yet there is always this feeling. oh, it’s over now. kerplunk. anti-climactic.
the “bottom fell out” feeling doesn’t last, but that always there part is something you have to get to the other side of. i am good at it. it’s the nature of what i do
a year ago my art life had a transition. i reached a point of feeling almost buried alive in art work. i shifted direction to a learning phase and got excited. i began stitching.
metaphorically the zag and zig was a lot like me – i was piecing myself together again.
i like the way it feels to stitch this way. the way i feel knowing i could be less broken somehow. scarred but together vs in pieces lying on the floor
the last few days i cleared/rearranged two surfaces. making room for two shows that were coming down. one rather large show. AND i was making what’s next decisions
ideas. so many ideas.
is that what clean dishes and a making a bed are for?
a putting of things in their place?? a sense of order?
a clearing of the mind?
as I mentioned before – i found this book.
it’s something that made the shelf of my now small collection
but a book that i’d not entirely read.
I am in this book. as a subject. ME!
the chapter i am in is titled. shame. the hole in wholeness.
the book is about passion.
i was interviewed at the age of 53. 2013
those are the early years of my work here at AN.
my self love work.
the book is 466 pages long and rather heady.
to me, heady means over my head cerebral. the sortof book that would take me a lifetime to relate to and understand all of it’s bibliography. a smarty pants read.
to the authors admirable merit. he brings history, art, science, psychology and philosophy into the context of it’s chapters.
the chapter that has me in it, was one of many he interviewed who rediscovered or reignited passion in their lives.
i sat with this chapter again. and took some notes, and those thoughts are on my mind.
i have to consider that i did not assimilate my part of the book to it’s entirety.
i never read the whole thing.
by the time i bought it.
i was losing my home
there was that space of time gone by called mr cowboy.
am i really a passionate being?
he writes, passion is our eagerness for union. life altering and unorthodox explorations of the holes in our soul.
he said i had something called dysmorphia or an unhealthy preoccupation with body flaws. i am not sure how obsessed i was with what was wrong with my body.
i did find that the looking through a camera lens offered a different perspective. my personal perspective didn’t see the same beauty.
going back into some of my personal history. anything that had to do with my personal sexuality, was always put in it’s place.
he described it as toxic shame. our very being is toxic at it’s core. it’s wrong. we are fundamentally flawed. this cripples our ability to affirm ourselves.
this limits our ability to engage with another intimately. we fear that in doing so — the other may see our flaws.
i akin this thought now with aging. when you get to this part of your life. the emotional deck of cards is stacked against you. there are just too many to lay out on the table.
i wear my life on my sleeve. faults and all. i guess i feel weary of trying to make sense of it all.
shame he says, makes us cringe. shame leaves footprints on our lives.
if you take the above back to my childhood words like criticism, contempt, abuse, neglect ridicule, hostility, public humiliation, emotional rigidity were mentioned. all stem from shame.
he felt i came to terms with my shame by self-portraiture
i said, the camera is much more confident than I am
i asked, where have “I” been all my life?
further i shared, I strive in my life to be cherished.
my personal million dollar statement.
isn’t it weird to read the words you have said with others thoughts and impressions wrapped around them ?
my entire self preserving methodology is to garner attention to find cherish for myself.
to reassure the myself, i and me in the equation.
i said, self esteem isn’t necessarily an inside job. it can get a serious boost from external validation.
there were times during my blog years here were i felt brazen, bold and proud.
i had surpassed shame.
I did that with the help of all of you!!
Without the audience here, my strength in self would have lost its way.
One other layer to all of the above. this was not part of the book. more so i think of part of what keeps me sane …is social phobia, agoraphobic or introversion
i think at many levels i’ve had socially awkward going for me my entire life.
i could make a very good list about all of that.
its not just recent times and trauma that make covet safety from my home.
it’s the way i am.
it protects me.
image 4 skin wattle. what a word. wtf.