I mentioned that one day I would emerge from the dark fog of my head and post something uplifting - something different. Then I got terrified that perhaps I was the kind of person who lives their life in a permanent state of moderate dissatisfaction. The professionals might refer to me as "depressed". I thought, "Ugh. I'm that complete bore who complains about shit endlessly and never digs herself out of her own misery."
Well, it's taken me a couple of weeks to work with these thoughts and I have successfully shoveled away a fair amount of crap in my head. This is all due to the fact that my children are all in school and there are moments where I can think. Just plain think about what is next, where I want to head, what fulfills me... it's allowed me to be relatively happy for a change. Two couples therapy sessions shed some optimistic light into my world. And I started going to the print shop more... took some refresher courses and am now hooked into the world of etching. There's nothing like working with hazardous chemicals while making art - I swear it's a sick rush. I mean, acid eating metal? Wearing a dust mask? Bottles of varnish and ink with skulls and poison symbols on them? Total adoration. (We are all trying very hard to print our works in the least toxic ways... I swear.)
During my hours in the studio, Penny is either at her new daycare or at a little morning "preschool". The separations have been really really rough for her. She's a totally attached munchkin and has spent most of her waking hours with me exclusively. The guilt of leaving her to indulge myself in my "potential career" is painful. Dropping Penny off with someone else to care for her while I go make art (without a salary to speak of) makes me feel like I'm headed to the local salon for a pedicure while my child suffers with a stranger. In this emotional process however, I can see just how ridiculously important it is to love what you do for a living. That's the message I am choosing to send my girls as they grow up - and I'm sure I'm going to hear it from them when they are 18 (and 30) and remind me of all that I didn't do to enrich their lives - choose what makes you happy. Simple shit.
Aw, this isn't to say I hit the easy road and my life is smooth from this point on. Myles and I continue to struggle. I feel like I work overtime trying to fix "us" - yet I'm finally done with attempting to fix him! (As far as I'm concerned he needs to take responsibility for his own adult garbage. He seems permanently dissatisfied with lots of things, but I'm going to try to ignore that for a little while longer. And if it persists beyond his residency, then I will re-assess.)
Phew. I must say it's great to write shit down again. Good to be back...
On a funny note - a few weeks ago I was telling Ruby that it wasn't a great idea to put her hands down her pants... and she replied, "Why not? Daddy puts his hands down his pants all the time."