Art & Emotional Expression: the good, the bad and the WTF

Emotional expression in art is inevitable, whether the artist likes it, or not.

It’s been an admin sort of week here at MKPG Art.  I finally got taxes dealt with.  I organized all of my to do’s for my June art show in Bend, Oregon.  I got all the things from my trip unpacked and put away back in the studio.  I social media’d my little heart out about my artwork’s appearance on HGTV.

 

What’s missing from this picture?  Art creation.  My studio process has been annoyingly “stuck”.  I made some progress with two little 8x10 paintings only to get frustrated and cover them both completely with black paint.  I sanded back some of the dark paint and allowed the bright colors underneath to peak through (see above).  There is something there. I’m just not sure what it is and/or if I like it.

 

All I know is that I’m tempted by building supplies like joint compound right now and I’m a bit worried that I will end up with a bunch of paintings that weight a million pounds and look like they’ve been pried from a falling down piece of architecture…but that also kind of excites me.  I’m choosing to follow my art mantra which is “when in doubt, DO!” and so I am looking forward to heading into the studio this afternoon with the goal of dying and texturizing joint compound to slather all over these two pieces.  I may need a pick ax afterwards…but honestly, that kind of sounds fun as well.

 

I feel like I’ve said “it’s been hard to get into a groove this year” about a hundred times, but damn…it’s been hard to get into a groove this year!   I think that part of the problem is that for the first time, I feel as though I’m stuck working on a series of paintings because of a deadline.  If there is one thing I know about myself, it’s that being forced to complete something is a terrific way to get me to not want to do it. 

 

And what’s up with that?  Is that just a stubborn, independent person’s problem?  I feel like I’m the kind of person that will get stupid excited for something, until someone tells me that I HAVE to do it.  Then I just want to move onto the next thing.  I’ve not had that creep up in a series of paintings though, until now.

 

What is it about this series that has me feeling so bogged down?  For one, I suspect the difficult subject matter has something to do with it.  I’ve been focused on my past sexual trauma and it has been thrust into the spotlight once again this month, for various reasons, one being that April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month.  Look, I’m glad to be talking about the subject matter and it has helped me in processing difficult shyte.  However, I’d like to find a balance between expressing what has been locked up for years, and wanting to detach and move on.

 

There are a few challenges surrounding this for me.  For one, I like talking about it…until I can’t stand it anymore.  Honestly, I am grateful for this conversation and honored that I have become a voice within it.  Every time I hear from someone who thanks me for my raw honesty, tells me that they now know they aren’t alone, and connects the dots between past trauma and current emotional issues, I feel as though I have created positive change.  OMG THAT’S AWESOME.

 

However, I do occasionally find myself wanting to run and hide in the bathroom with the door locked and all the water running so no one can hear me curse and cry. Usually this happens after hearing from trolls, (I know there is nothing I can do about those nasty people.) but this has also been happening after particularly hard truths are expressed by others. More than once, people have said that the things they are telling me have never been said out loud before.  That’s amazing, yet terrifying.  I find myself in a place of “authority” on the matter and for that I feel humbled, burdened, grateful and like I want to throw up. 

 

I say this not to make those who have spoken their own truths to me feel bad.  That’s not it at all.  I guess it’s just important to me that the entire picture is seen.  Just because I’ve opened up about this in a public way doesn’t mean that I’m not still highly effected by it.  I still cry.  Not daily anymore as I was last Fall, but multiple times a week.  I think it’s because I’m still raw and maybe it’s difficult to heal entirely while still taking in the pain of others that's similar to my own.

 

Perhaps that’s why this series of paintings is difficult and my instinct is to literally burry it under construction materials.  I should experiment with my art and yet, I’m terrified by the metaphor.  Am I just finding new ways to burry my old pain?  Am I wanting to put it back now that it’s out in the open?  Does part of me wish I had never opened this Pandora’s box? 

 

I am finally doing what, as an artist, I've been striving to do: connecting my creations with my emotions.  I am expressing what has been hiding deep within me through words (easier) and images (waaaaaay more challenging).  Why is one so much easier than the other?  Maybe it’s because within essays, I can hide behind snarky sarcasm and self-deprecation and within the abstract painting, there is nowhere for me to hide.  What comes out, comes out, and frankly, it’s not always easy for me to look at. 

 

Truth be told, I kind of like what’s happening in the black paintings.  I like that the bright colors are popping through, almost in revolt.  Like it’s a “can’t hold me down!” kind of moment. But the colors also look as though they are trying not to be re-hidden.  They are struggling to stay bright and present.  They are nearly drowning in the darkness.  Both are perfect descriptions of how I feel and I can’t hide from that nor can I say that one is more powerful than the other. 

 

I know one thing, when weeding the yard looks more fun to me than painting, I’m either on the wrong path with what I’m working on, or absolutely spot on the right path of something that needs further (yet scary) discovery.  Oy…I think I just have to press on and get through this period.  Hopefully something powerful comes from it as I would like this to resolve with a bang rather than a whimper.  Frankly, the whimpering is a bit out of control these days and I’m realizing how scared I am.

 

I hate admitting that I’m scared.  I would like to think that freedom from my denial means that I’m all fixed now, but that’s not the truth.  I live in various forms of fear splattered with blood, sweat, tears and unpredictable yet incredibly empowering brave moments.  I believe that those moments are happening with more frequency, but when I’m in fear, they're hard to see. All I see is weakness and I find that dang annoying.  Today, I’m going to choose a different reaction to feeling weak.  Rather than hiding under black paint, blankets and Law & Order, I’m going to approach it head on…with joint compound…and a freakin’ pick axe.

 

 

I am an artist and writer, living in Talent, Oregon with my husband and daughter. I play in the ocean to stay strong and inspired, and I often visit my hometown of New Orleans, where the rhythm of my heartbeat is renewed. Follow me on Facebook and Instagram where I post stuff sometimes.  To hear from me more regularly, join me on this crazy, beautiful Artventure.

 

 

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I’m a White Woman, raised in a Black City & I still have Racism within me.

White Lady Learning: Understanding My Latent Racism.

A big thanks to the Elephant Journal for accepting me as a contributor, and for moving my first piece with them, I'm a White Woman, Raised in a Black City & I Still Have Racism within Me, to their magazine section.

When I wrote this, it was for me. Then I shared it with my Black friends. They think it’s important and should be shared to a greater audience. This is for them.

Click here to read the essay in it's entirety.  

I am an artist and writer, living in Talent, Oregon with my husband and daughter. My creativity enables me to speak my truth and live a joyous and peaceful life. I play in the ocean to stay strong and inspired, and I often visit my hometown of New Orleans, where the rhythm of my heartbeat is renewed. Follow me on Facebook and Instagram where I post stuff sometimes.  To hear from me more regularly, join me on this Crazy, Beautiful Artventure.  

Anti-Anxiety Poetry: The Chase

Slow and steady poetry from an anti-anxiety artist. It's time to stop running from myself.

The Chase


It wasn’t until I stopped running

that I realized I had forgotten why I started.

Short of breath and with muscle fatigue, 

I stop. 

I listen.

I decide to walk.

Before, the roaring wind had made hearing impossible.

The focus on where my steps were landing was polarizing.

I saw nothing else.

Just one foot landing in front of the other, over and over.

Must be progress.

But is it?

The walk slows even more.

I am now still.

I hear birds, leaves rustling, a car horn.

In the distance, way beyond the twelve inches that my foot occupies,

I see how far my journey is. 

I run from fear.

But if it is born within me, I will run forever. 

I offer another option.

Stop. And wait to see what happens next.

 

Do you know what you're running from or why you're even running?  In the comments, tell me one of your worst fears.  Mine is a fear failure.  And I'm deciding to leave it behind now.

 

The painting at top is Seeing Through 2, 8"x10", Acrylic & Paper on Canvas, framed in a silver natural wood floater frame.  From my Lovely Mess series.  We can see through the chaos and find peace whenever we choose.  It is waiting for us. For more details and purchase info, CLICK HERE.

  

I am an anti-anxiety artist and writer, living in Talent, Oregon with my husband and daughter. I use creativity to break through anxiety paralysis, I play in the ocean to stay strong and inspired, and I often visit my hometown of New Orleans, where the rhythm of my heartbeat is renewed. Follow me on Facebook and Instagram where I post stuff sometimes.  To hear from me more regularly, join me on this Crazy, Beautiful Artventure.  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How Fear Eats Our "What Ifs" for Breakfast

During uncertain times, it can be easy to feed into our fear. 

 

A cat moved in the bush that I had just walked by and it completely startled me.  I almost dropped the toothpaste and felt a jolt of electric panic strike my body.  I tripped on my own foot and an intense surge of anxiety ran from my stomach up to my chest and back again.  

I think it’s official.  I’m scared.

I had been cruisin’ through this whole pandemic isolation thing just fine, until things started loosening up.  Now, I’m terrified, but the funny thing is that it’s a physical terror that seems to be rooted all the way in my bones.

Logically, I know I’m fine, my family is fine and we have been doing well with isolation, hand washing, cleanliness, etc.  But my anxiety doesn’t seem to care, and now that the freedom boundaries are being pushed, my fear is trying hard to take over.

It’s showing up places where I’m normally fine…like on my daily walk when a damn cat scared the crap out of me by simply moving.  I’m having trouble making decisions, and I when I finally do make one, I obsess over if that was actually the right decision to have made. 

I’m so tired of my fear right now.  It’s like having another person in the room with me at all times, making me doubt my every move.  And when I say “every move”, I mean EVERY MOVE. 

I question the Netflix show I’m watching.  Deciding whether or not to eat a sugary treat is filled with terror and then fear gives me more shit even after I eat the damn treat. 

Should I surf?  Should I not? Should I hang out at the beach?  Should I be scared my kid is hanging with her friends? Am I washing my hair too much?  Blah blah blah blah blah.  It’s never ending.

 

I know I’m a capable person, but this fear thing, it seems to always have its claws in my shoulder, forever holding me back.

 

And it’s fucking exhausting.  It makes me feel like I’m broken.  I am forever jealous of people who are sure of themselves.  Why can’t I seem to believe in myself and my decisions.  I know I’m a capable person, but this fear thing, it seems to always have its claws in my shoulder, forever holding me back.

I feel like I’m in my own way most of the time.  I think that one reason I was feeling just fine when our county was being asked to stay home, is because the amount of decisions to be made was forcibly reduced.  All of a sudden, there were way less options.

Now we’re in a weird kind of limbo, waiting for more freedom, or for it to be taken away again…. We’ll see which way it goes.  And you know what causes my fear to blow up?  Uncertainty.  There are too many “what ifs” right now, and my anxiety loves a good “what if” party.  The fun never stops.

I feel like I’m driving my family crazy because if I had my way, I be just fine isolating for the foreseeable future.  I don’t even need an end date.  I work from home.  I love cooking food for my family.  I now know that I love freezing food so we always have something for dinner out of the freezer.

I built a veggie garden.  I finished my back yard, and I now absolutely enjoy doing my computer work outside on the patio.  My work has changed with all the other changes happening, and it’s fun to see where that’s all going. 

But I worry.  I worry about my friends and family who are chomping at the bit for things to “go back to normal” (whatever the hell that is). My parents are diligently isolating and disinfecting everything that comes into the house.  I worry that the steps they are taking don’t matter if all of us aren’t taking the same steps.

 

 I’m scared that the life we have all worked so hard to build is crumbling away.

 

And FINE. I’ll admit it.  I worry about getting sick.  I worry about anyone I know getting sick.  I’m petrified that I could be actually walking around without any symptoms, infecting others.  I’m scared that my art biz won’t survive this.  I’m scared that the life we have all worked so hard to build is crumbling away.

I’m sick over the fact that my daughter has decided to not go to college in the Fall.  Not because I want her to go, but because I know that she REALLY wanted to go, but she doesn’t want to risk having to move out of the dorms in October because of a outbreak of Covid-19.

I’m sad that she’s missing her high school graduation and I’m finally ready to admit, that I’m also extremely sad that I’m missing her high school graduation.  She’s my only kiddo.  That was my only chance to see that.  I cried when I returned her text books and picked up her cap and gown, which we’re still not sure that she’ll get a chance to wear.

 

I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.

 

I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.  Everyone I know seems to have different opinions on how we should be responding right now.  Very few agree on all points.  It makes me question myself more, even though I feel strongly and surely about what I believe.  What if I’m the one that’s wrong?  What if, what if, what if….

My husband keeps saying that we have to live our lives.  Yes, I agree…and no I fucking don’t.  Are we so singular that we have to keep living our lives, or is it ok at times, to take a pause for the greater good? 

I’m scared that I have had a more peaceful time than I’ve had in years, just by staying home.  What if home is where I prefer being?  Would me wanting to simply be home more effect my relationships?

Aw crap.  There are a lot of questions in this blog post.  Sorry, but that’s all I have to offer this week. 

But maybe you could help me.  In the comments, I’d love to know, when you feel fear starting to take over, what’s one thing you do to keep it at bay? 

I’m going to go walk to visit my friend’s horse today and try to do a few sketches.  Don’t worry, I won’t be touching it as horses scare me…are you surprised?

 

The painting at top is Psychedelic Sea Stars, 8"x10", Acrylic on Canvas, framed in a black natural wood floater frame.  My surfboard collection makes me happy and reminds me to go with the flow and ride the wave that's in front of me.  For more details and purchase info, CLICK HERE.

 

 

I am an anti-anxiety artist and writer, living in Talent, Oregon with my husband and daughter. I use creativity to break through anxiety paralysis, I play in the ocean to stay strong and inspired, and I often visit my hometown of New Orleans, where the rhythm of my heartbeat is renewed. Follow me on Facebook and Instagram where I post stuff sometimes.  To hear from me more regularly, join me on this Crazy, Beautiful Artventure.  

 

 

How Not to Punch Friends Who Think the Pandemic is a Conspiracy

Mask or no mask?  Social distancing or hugs.  To vaccinate or not. If we thought we were a culture divided before, now we have more differences to add to the list.

 

Are you one who is listening to the recommendations of the scientific community, or are you following your own guidelines?  For me, I’ve been pretty good about doing what is being suggested. 

One of the biggest challenges for me during all of this uncertainty, is feeling how I feel about how we should be acting within our communities, while having to deal with the fact that not all of my family and friends feel the same way.  In fact, I seem to be in the minority. 

Now, I could totally spend my time this week ranting about why I think my point of view is the right one, but to be honest, that does absolutely zero good.  I think in all of the posts I made on social media encouraging others (especially surfers) to stay home, I made one couple change their weekend plans. (Thank you, Alice.)

Of course, that was back in March, and now it’s May.  Things have changed.  But exactly how much they’ve changed, and what is looming around the corner is yet to be known.  One thing we all seem to be able to agree on is that we don’t know what will happen next.  Only time will tell. 

 

We have to learn how to live (sometimes in the literal sense) with those who feel differently than we do.

 

But while we’re waiting, it seems to me that we have to learn how to live (sometimes in the literal sense) with those who feel differently than we do.  So instead of ranting and raving, let’s talk about two things that are infinitely more helpful: Acceptance & Flexibility. 

My daughter got hired at a pizza joint two days before the school closure happened.  Within 48 hours, she lost her senior year of high school, and the new job was questionable…accept that it wasn’t. 

When the pizza guy discovered that my kiddo was wanting to work, he was ready to schedule her.  That was at the beginning of April, right when we were being told that, “the next two weeks are going to be pivotal”.

She came to me wanting to work.  I asked her to please wait the 2 weeks, kind of hoping that she would lose interest.  No such luck.  At the end of those 2 weeks, she asked to start work again.  I was against it. 

Problem was my husband supported it and my daughter obviously wanted to do it.  I called her Dad down in New Orleans for back up.  Certainly, he would support my position as he lives in a hot spot, but nope, he supported it too. 

Totally outnumbered, I had a decision to make.  I could dig my heals in, pitch a fit, stand my ground, and insist that she didn’t work.  I could then deal with the aftermath of anger, disappointment, and depression that living in isolation was causing, especially for the teenagers.  Or, I could compromise.

 

Anxiety plus pandemic, mix in a little bit of OCD “clean genes”, and the fact that I trust my scientific leaders and want to follow their guidelines…well…I live pretty frustrated. 

 

Oy…not an easy compromise for me.  We made a deal.  While the pizza joint was requiring employees to wear gloves, masks were optional.  My deal was that masks are not optional for her.  She has to wear one.  We also created a checklist of things to do when she gets home from a shift.  Her close and mask go right in the washer. Shower immediately. Wipe down doorknobs and whatever she touched on her way in...

She wasn’t thrilled (mostly about the mask), but agreed.  That was about a month ago.  Now the restaurant is requiring all employees to wear masks (thank goodness), so she doesn’t feel so singled out anymore, and she loves the job.  She has been working her booty off and looks forward to her shifts. 

All better, right?  Not quite.  I still have to live with being uncomfortable about it all.  Now I’ll admit (and you know) that I have an anxiety issue.  Anxiety plus pandemic, mix in a little bit of OCD “clean genes”, and the fact that I trust my scientific leaders and want to follow their guidelines…well…I live pretty frustrated. 

 

All I can do is to continue to speak my truth, respect that their truths are different than my own, and be flexible.

 

And that brings me to my point.  I can’t help feeling frustrated.  I can’t help that I feel disappointment in that many of my friends and family are making poor decisions (as I see it).  I can’t help that at the root of these poor decisions, I see selfishness.  It makes me sad. 

But there’s how I feel, and there’s how they feel.  All I can do is to continue to speak my truth, respect that their truths are different than my own, and be flexible.  I also ask that they be flexible and respect how I feel, and they do.  

We are all trying our best to stay true to ourselves and supportive of our loved ones. I think that this may be one of the big lessons of the pandemic.  That we can feel differently and yet still be one community.  But it does require some give and take on both parts.

I had to call a friend out yesterday because I witnessed him give another friend a hug and then encroach on my space to get an elbow bump.  Aren’t elbow bumps like so 2 months ago?  I got pretty turned off and retreated to my own space.  He sent me an email saying he hoped he didn’t bum me out with his encroachment.  I replied honestly that he did and I explained why in detail. I also told him I loved him dearly.

I think the best strategy right now is to keep on stating how we feel and then accept the fact that we may get a statement back that is the complete opposite.  Because really, if we zoom the lens out, this is definitely not the first thing that we have disagreed about. 

 

Don’t react.  Respond. I'm working on it.

 

I will admit that it was easier before when most controversial topics paralleled one’s political lines, and we as people seem to congregate with those who have the same views as our own. But that doesn’t seem to be the case with the pandemic. 

It’s a real mixed bag, and we either have to be ok with that, or live in a state of anxiety and frustration, and that will do nothing but lead to massive amounts of resentment.  I really don’t want that to happen. 

For me, I have to stop before I react with a bunch of yelling word vomit that begins with, “What the fuck is wrong with you!?!?”  I sit for a minute and think about how I feel, and how the other person feels, and how I can best respond to what’s happening.  Don’t react.  Respond.  I’m working on it. 

So, don't punch your friends who think differently than you do.  For one, you would have to touch them for that!  Instead, practice patience and openness...and wear your own mask and wash your own hands as much as you want.

I’d like to know from you, how you’re dealing with your loved ones having a different perspective from your own.  Gracefully?  Not so gracefully?  It’s all ok.  We have to start somewhere. 

 

In the comments below tell me if you’ve been reacting, or responding to those with different views from your own.  

 

As always, I believe at the root of everything is love.  I wouldn’t be so worried if I didn’t have so many damn people in my life that I love.  I want us all to be safe and respected, and at the end of it all, I want us all to still be friends. 

 

 

The painting at top is Soaring Heart 10, 6”x6”, Acrylic & Paper on Canvas.  
Pelicans soar just inches from the water, in long single file lines.  Each one using the energy from the ocean waves and the bird in front of them, to effortlessly fly without even having to beat their wings.  We must work together and respect the fact that we have the ability to lift each other up simply with our own energy.  Be kind to one another.  For purchase information CLICK HERE.

 

I am an anti-anxiety artist and writer, living in Talent, Oregon with my husband and daughter. I use creativity to break through anxiety paralysis, I play in the ocean to stay strong and inspired, and I often visit my hometown of New Orleans, where the rhythm of my heartbeat is renewed. Follow me on Facebook and Instagram where I post stuff sometimes.  To hear from me more regularly, join me on this Crazy, Beautiful Artventure.  

Pandemic Life: Finding Excitement in the Little Things

Outdoor visits with friends.  Reduced house wipe downs.   Hair washing every other day.  These are some of my new favorite things.  It’s amazing what we can get excited about these days.

 

Today I am filled with gratitude.  Part of that has to do with a conversation I had yesterday with my dear friend, Tamiko, who lives in Boston.  She aptly described the situation in Boston as “a shit show”.  No one wearing masks or practicing distancing. Crowds of people are walking on the river without a care in the world. Grocery stores have never quite been restocked since the beginning, and now there are restrictions on meat.

Last week, I talked about learning new things about myself during this isolated period of time.  Tamiko said, for the first time ever, she could see herself living in a smaller more rural community.  One with less people that is surrounded by farms. I get it.

Each day, I find new reasons to be happy to live where I live.  Because of how isolated we are, in general, the effects from the pandemic are “lighter” than in say, a place like Boston.  That is something to be grateful for, right there. 

But this week, I’d like to talk about how humorous I find the things that we get excited for, when we are living more boring and restrictive lives.  A few days ago, I had a friend over for an outdoor BYOE coffee date (Bring Your Own Everything).  Oh, to have company come!  You’d think I was getting ready for the first guest I’d ever had in my life. 

Yesterday, when my daughter came home from work she asked me, with exhaustion in her eyes, if she still had to wash her hair after every shift.  We decided that, at this point, every other shift would be ok.  She left the room fist pumping saying, “And we’re easing, and we’re easing…”  I’ve never seen her so happy about something so…well…uninteresting.

But that’s the world we live in right now.  We are lucky to be where we are.  If we lived in New York or Boston, there’s no way she would even be working right now.  

 

Ah the adaptations of the quarantine.

 

Last night, she went over to her friend’s house where they recently built a new outdoor space to hang out in.  Ah the adaptations of the quarantine.  She left the house with the same look in her eyes that I last remember seeing when she got her driver’s license, and was pulling out solo for the first time.  

I have also spent time on my outdoor spaces, and I’ve been hanging out there a lot.  It’s like discovering a new room in your house.  There is just so much “newness” right now.  Each time I get frustrated about not being able to do something, I think of something we’ve implemented that we’ve never done before.

For example, I have a projector that I use for art projects.  Now I’m thinking that outdoor movies sound like a great idea!  Just hang a sheet and put out some socially distanced blankets and chairs.  

 

I can’t wait to see what’s lifted next or what new activities we can engage with.

 

I can’t wait to see what’s lifted next or what new activities we can engage with.  I’ve never gardened much before.  In fact, I always though gardening was kind of a bore.  Well, you should see my backyard.  It’s so pretty now!  I can’t believe it took a pandemic for me to finish it.

In a way, we’re getting to know ourselves all over again.  I mean, we live our lives in the manner that we do in part because of how the outside world dictates we do things.  I’ve never really thought about that before, but now, it’s hard not to see.  And the interesting part is that we’re watching this “new normal” grow right before our eyes.  

Maybe we’ll get drive through movie theaters back.  Maybe we’ll be seeing the musicians we love continue on in more intimate ways, as they share acoustic sets from their living rooms.  Maybe we’ll learn how to comfortably sit still for longer periods of time.  

It’s hard to know, but what I do know is that I never thought I’d see a day when my kiddo was totally stoked because she can now wash her hair less.  I also recognize this feeling of anticipation in my belly.  It’s one I’m familiar with because it is one of my anxiety symptoms. 

 

I’m working on feeling excitement about the anticipation instead of anxiety.

 

However, after being just fine and (mostly) stress free from simply hanging at home, I’m working on feeling excitement about the anticipation, instead of allowing it to fill me with worry.  It’s harder for me to worry about the future when I don’t know what it looks like (ain’t that a life lesson…we always never know what it’s going to look like...).  Don’t get me wrong, I can find stuff to worry about, but what’s the point right now.

All my worries are on the “what if” train anyway.  The only place that train is going is to anxiety central.  I don’t think I’ll get on it.  Instead, I’ll keep coming up with the pearls of this situation and feeling excitement for our new world.   So, pump those fists.  There is light in sight.

In the comments below, tell me one thing you got excited about this week.

 

The image at top is Sea Plants 1, 12”x312”, Acrylic, Paper, and Water Color Crayon on Birch Board, natural wood floater frame included. Take a good look, then close your eyes. Can you remember what it feels like to float on the surface of the water? Sea plants drift back and forth with the current and catch the sun in reflections of the water.  The ocean sway that remains calms my anxious heart.  For more information and to purchase, CLICK HERE.

 

I am an anti-anxiety artist and writer, living in Talent, Oregon with my husband and daughter. I use creativity to break through anxiety paralysis, I play in the ocean to stay strong and inspired, and I often visit my hometown of New Orleans, where the rhythm of my heartbeat is renewed. Follow me on Facebook and Instagram where I post stuff sometimes.  To hear from me more regularly, join me on this Crazy, Beautiful Artventure.  

How the Easing of Restrictions is Causing My Anxiety to Surge

One minute I’m in my kitchen just cooking away.  The next, I’m doubled over, yelling into my hands, trying to expel the anxiety that has collected in my chest. (Don’t worry…I washed my hands afterwards.)

 

Do you know what it’s like to feel absolutely fine one second, and the next, feel like you are exploding out of your skin with every emotion in the book?  Welcome to my Monday afternoon. 

I have been doing so good.  I have been holding myself together and (should I even say it?) have actually found some pleasure in the simplicity that isolation has brought.  I haven’t had to question what to do next within my day to day.  I’ve been cooking, cleaning, working, building a garden, tending to my yard, making art, and taking care of my family.  Life is full.

 

Monotony has its perks.

 

As much as I long to make it to the beach to surf, I must admit that not having to prepare for long weekends, and instead, spending those weekends tending to my home and family have felt, in a way, rather liberating.  There’s no juggling of schedules.  There’s no cramming two days of work into one so I can surf when the swell calls.  Everything has just slowed down.  The clearness of the days is bright.  Monotony has its perks. 

Then, over the past couple of days, it seems that things are beginning to ease up a bit.  In some states, beaches are opening and non-essential businesses are being given the green light.  Good news right?  Well…not for my anxiety.  Yesterday was my first true attack since this shit started. 

 

All of a sudden, tears exploded from my eyes and the sound that escaped my throat was something that can only be compared to terror mixed with extreme dread. 

 

I was in my kitchen making banana bread for my Mom and salads for the week, when it hit.  All of a sudden, tears exploded from my eyes and the sound that escaped my throat was something that can only be compared to terror mixed with extreme dread. 

All of the windows and doors in my house were open, and I hope I didn’t scare anyone walking by, but it could not be contained.  It was fast and furious.  I went from fine one second, to standing up crying, to doubled over yelling within two seconds.  And before I knew it, it was over.

When it happened, I managed to notice a few things.  One is that in my head, for the first time during an acute anxiety attack like this one, my brain activity went from a million topics at once to one: “It’s ok, Girl.  This will pass.  Don’t hold it in.  Let it out and let it out good.”  That’s about when the howling started.

I also noticed that it was one of the first times since we have been self-isolating, that I was home completely alone for an extended period of time.  Being alone gave me the freedom to let it out as it needed to come out.  I didn’t have to go run a shower and cry all quiet.  I could let it rip and man, did it ever.  Short, but intense.

 

I realize that the easing up of restrictions, and the invitations that followed, actually created more stress and anxiety than staying home has.

 

I realize that the easing up of restrictions, and the invitations that followed, actually created more stress and anxiety than staying home has.  Within two days, I had been invited to Costa Rica (for June) and found a loop hole regarding going to the coast to surf.  Normally I would be shouting with excitement about these two opportunities.  But not right now.

Right now, I’m understanding that the easing up of the lock down, and the options that are coming with that easing, is what caused my anxiety attack.  Not the lock down itself, but the possibility of being freed.  I have to admit that I may not be ready to be completely free.

 

I may not be ready to be completely free.

 

I guess this is where we are all going to have to make our own individual decisions based on our comfort level, and we should all feel completely ok with doing what feels best for us as individuals.  Members of our own families may feel differently, and that’s ok. 

This is going to be a practice in flexibility, tolerance, and understanding.  For me, I’m quite alright hanging around the house for another couple of weeks.  What I don’t want to be is part the reason for a resurgence of cases that spikes our now official state wide flattened Covid19 curve.  I want nothin' to do with that.  

I have finally gotten into a groove with work.  I’m exercising every day.  I’m meditating most mornings.  I’m making new art.  My backyard is finally completely finished with the addition of a raised vegetable garden.  In a way, I don’t want to go back to the way it was before.  The complexities of my pre-covid life was stressful.

 

I have to let this new normal bloom.

 

Things have changed for me, as it has for all of us.  But I find that I’m really quite ok with the changes.  I have to let this new normal bloom.  No resistance.  Spring is here in the Rogue valley.  It has been absolutely stunning. 

I have felt blessed during this time.  To be where we are.  To have the jobs that we do.  To be stuck in a house with people that I love and want to spend time with. I continue to focus on the silver linings and I don’t have any sort of grip on my past life, except that I really want to go surfing again soon.  Every day, more and more people feel safe doing so.  I’m waiting until I do too.

How are you feeling about easing out of this mess?  Scared?  Antsy?  Impatient? Excited? In the comments, give me one word that describes how the idea of no longer self-isolating makes your feel. 

  

The image at top is Heart Flower 7, 6”x6”, Acrylic and Paper Hearts on Canvas.  Just as Spring has sprung, we must let this new normal bloom. These heart flowers are a wonderful Mother’s Day gift.  Click here to purchase a one-of-a-kind Heart Flower painting for Mom by CLICKING HERE. I'll even write a hand-written Mother's Day card from you.

 

 

I am an artist and writer, living in Talent, Oregon with my husband and daughter. I use creativity to break through anxiety paralysis, I play in the ocean to stay strong and inspired, and I often visit my hometown of New Orleans, where the rhythm of my heartbeat is renewed. Follow me on Facebook and Instagram where I post stuff sometimes.  To hear from me more regularly, join me on this Crazy, Beautiful Artventure.