tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43803574471523768702024-03-13T08:44:34.083-07:00breakfast joneslibbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.comBlogger625125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-79844565910461865572019-09-17T20:26:00.000-07:002019-09-17T20:26:05.111-07:00moving forward<div style="text-align: center;">
I keep meaning to write more about what's going on right now, but the truth is that it's a lot to keep up with. I'm saying my goodbyes in so many ways, in so many corners, to so many faces and special places. As a whole, it has been bittersweet, and it has provided me with a catharsis that is so necessary for healing. This whole experience. I feel grateful for so much of it, despite the sting of grief on my shoulders. It kinda makes the goodbyes a little more meaningful in their own way. It has been one heck of a wild ride. 2 weeks until moving day.</div>
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On the 15th, it was the 3 month mark since Breakfast passed away. I don't know why I felt the need to do so, but I took his ashes for a walk; to begin the process of letting some of them go. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to do it, because of how much it hurt to think of parting with him again, but it actually didn't feel that way at all when I got there. I don't look at Breakfast's ashes as 'him.' They're just what is left of him in the physical world. A little bag of ash and bone. Amazing to think what they used to be. It's hard to accept the end. Instead, I keep a memory box, that I stamped with a leaf, which I collected from one of our many adventures. Inside, is his leash and the ball he last chased, and I'll probably throw his crusty cheeseburger in there too. Those things mean more to me (and to him) than a plastic bag of pieces. My beautiful boy, I miss him so damn much it hurts. Deep breaths. I knew I was ready to get out there and try. </div>
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I started with our first comfort spot, under a tree, next to a school, in our first neighbourhood when we first moved here. We would go there every day, every summer, for some familiarity, to feel at home. It was our spot. We've have a number of special spots like this in the city, but this was our first. So, I took a deep breath, said some words to the sky above me, and I sprinkled some ash at the base of 'our tree.' I cried a little bit, but it really wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. It just felt more like a tribute. A sprinkle here, more deep breaths, and a silent farewell to some sweet moments that once existed between us. I heard some great words about grief recently that have helped me cope. "We don't move on, we move forward." That's absolutely what's happening. </div>
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Upon reflection, I've felt like a goldfish in this city. Floating in a bowl, feeling like an outsider, not quite fitting in with the current. I have my own little community within my fish bowl, but not much expands outside of that. I know the ladies who work at the post office, the man who pushes the carts at the grocery store, the vendors at the markets (free fruit!), nods from my neighbours, high fives from the kids on my block, all the way down to the sweet good mornings from the lady who cleans my building. I don't have many tight relationships like I do back home (where I'm heading, temporarily, to calibrate.) I have family there, lifelong friendships, my own roots, people I can be myself with; without an agenda or the need to entertain, or explain. Here, I'd say I have a million acquaintances (that I made on my very own), but no matter how many sweet hellos and connections I make on my daily commutes; loneliness exists. I need my backup to get me back on my feet. I need my roots to remind me who I am, who I've always been. Connection is a big deal to our emotional health, and while I'm glad to see how many people I've gotten to know in my time here, you really can't grow in a fish bowl.</div>
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The beauty in all of it, is that it took an incredible loss for me to stop in my tracks and realize something needed to change in a big way. Ever since I got back from the west coast, in 2015, it just hasn't been the same. I didn't realize what my heart needed until I was provided the opportunity to see it for myself, and I'm so grateful that Breakfast was a part of that process. I think he'd be pretty happy to know I've put my dreams in a place that I can aim and reach for. I have never done that before. So, it's a happy feeling, to know I don't have to pretend I'm okay where I am, because I'm not. Like a pair of old pants (metaphors work for me) the comfort has been sweet, but I've worn the shit out of them, and they don't fit anymore. As my dear friend Marc put it so well today, when I shared this accurate metaphor, he said, it's like there's a hole in the crotch that can't be hidden. These old pants can be retired for a new pair that'll fit me in the right places. Nature is calling me home. The ocean, the trees, the peace and quiet, the slower pace and presence, those sweet and beautiful corners that connect me to the earth. That's the stuff I need. That's the life I want.</div>
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It'll take some time to sort out how or when I get back to the coast, but I'm getting little nudges from the universe that my wishes are being acknowledged. I had an interview come my way, from that direction, and the timing is pretty comical. I have 2 weeks before I move out, back to Winnipeg. What if... What if.. What if I have to turn around and come all the way back? It would be pretty funny... but not. But totally. That is a lot of driving! I admit, I don't mind an extended road trip. I've been on plenty, and I always find them to be an emotional journey on their own. I'm looking forward to it, no matter the direction. The soundtrack, whatever it may be, will be fun to sing along to. </div>
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If I don't get the job, that's fine. I'm just glad I got to see that there are opportunities in the direction I want to go in. This interview was a surprise to me, in so many ways. I didn't feel insecure at all. I felt at ease, I felt a certain confidence I didn't know I had. It made me acknowledge the work I've done, when I've so often felt like it has never been enough. A lot of my job as a freelance artist has pushed me into a deep dark corner, and that's a new post all on its own. I might go there, I might not. All I know is that my position as a business runner, on the internet, on my own (without legal protection) has been horribly damaging for my stability, my state of mind, and my concept of personal value. I'm ready to close that door, very hard. Just, where do I land? It'll be interesting to see. The surprise of the unknown is kind of fun in itself. I'm just glad I had the chance to speak my truth out loud, that I'm damn good at what I do. And mean it.</div>
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And so, with all of this loss and heartache, gratitude, release, realization, depression, anxiety, LIFE! I'm being provided with endless opportunities in front of me. Not to mention, I don't feel so alone anymore, in that fish bowl of personal limitations. I have so much support from so many people around me, who want me to succeed and be my best (and to wear a pair of pants to strut in.) The instant I picked up the phone to tell my parents "I'm not okay," I was provided with open arms to take me back without any questions asked. I'm not a failure for asking for help, I'm not weak for needing it, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. We all need someone to lean on when the world gets too heavy for us to handle. I feel so supported and loved, it's quite overwhelming. It brings tears to my eyes in a different way. There's a lot of crying going on in my world these days, but it's cleansing. It's necessary. It's time.</div>
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As I picked myself up, I continued on from our tree, and into the field where Breakfast last played. I sprinkled some more ashes in front of me and acknowledged the present. How on earth did we land here? I knew this point in time had to come one day, but wow, is it ever profound to be standing in it. I took another deep breath, remembering all of our special times here. When I was ready, I let it out into the open, to acknowledge for myself, and for him to hear if he's out there,<i> I'll be leaving soon.</i> I thought it would feel different to hear it for myself, but it actually felt good. It feels right, yet it feels so strange to be leaving without him. And while his memory remains in every little corner of this city, I know he is most certainly coming along for the ride, in spirit. How I wish he was here for real, but that's life/death as she goes. One more deep breath, I whispered one more time, "thank you, for being mine." <br /><br />And now... we can move forward. </div>
libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-28108070011613082532019-08-04T21:52:00.000-07:002019-08-04T22:01:31.609-07:00My Birdie<br />
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I have one heck of a guy sitting in front of me, helping me through the most difficult grief I've felt in a long time. I feel he deserves a proper intro, though it's sometimes difficult to recap the past 8 months without drifting into Breakfast territory. There are things between us that take me back in time, while of course this is an entirely new experience. I laugh, I sigh, I sometimes cry, we carry on. He sits with me and listens, often seated in front of me, like he's there to protect or keep watch. He's doing his job, healing some wounds, working on filling some big shoes. This is my Birdie. My hero.</div>
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I don't really know how to explain where the name Birdie came from, because I was set on calling him Sprout. I still introduce him as such, but the word may as well have been equal to silence, since he hardly responded to it. Birdie, he took to in an instant. I suppose it was his little mask, which has always reminded me of a chickadee; or how his ears used to bend so sweetly in that floppy puppy sort of way. Not to mention Birdie (The Early Bird) was the mascot for McDonald's breakfasts. That part makes me smile. Still, he grew SO fast, and SO big. Sprout. I can't deny it.</div>
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I'd say, since losing Breakfast, Birdie and I have really gotten to know one another. There was so much stress in the house before, surrounding Breakfast's blindness, it was difficult to give Birdie the attention that I wanted to supply. There was a lot of juggling my focus, time, and energy, it wasn't an ideal lifestyle. I was exhausted, and sad, and frustrated; knowing my best friend was making his exit in front of me, while the other needed me in a different way. I did my best to be present. I really did. I know there is some form of relief behind all of it, but it stings to say so. I also hate to admit how much of myself got lost along the way. I was just scrambling to hang on to every moment while they lasted. Both the old, and the new.<br />
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I love having one dog, though. There's just a certain bond I appreciate, that is focused and centred, and special; in that no one knows what it looks like but the two of you. I'd say, over the past 50 days (that's how long it has been?!) we've had some really wonderful moments together; as I've been introducing him to things that he has never seen before. It's his first summer, right now. There's fun behind that newness, and I'm being reminded all over again, of where my life started 9 years ago, when Breakfast and I first moved here. I love reflecting on such a life changing adventure. Yet, I'm ready to take on this new one, sitting in front of me. It'll be interesting to see where we go.</div>
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It's the familiar that makes and breaks me. Every corner of this city has some sort of memory attached. It's bittersweet, thinking of all the fun Breakfast and I had here; but it reminds me too often that he's gone forever. It's so messed up, I have a really hard time accepting it still. I knew this time in our lives had to come, and I'm just letting myself process it one day at a time. I shake my head a lot, in disbelief, in amazement, in shock, that it finally arrived. It's like, there's a great big hole in my heart, waiting to be filled again. Day by day, step by step. We're doing it together. Everything is new.</div>
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I'm just grateful I have Birdie with me through all of this. He keeps me laughing, he keeps me present, and he just reminds me that I have so much love to continue to give. I don't think I could ever live my life without a dog beside me; for the joy and security it provides. I've come out of a very thick (afraid) shell over the years, and while I so often say that Breakfast taught me how to be brave... we did it together. I'm still here. And as much as it sucks to lose my best friend, I'm happy to get the chance to continue on and fill my heart all over again. I'm one lucky girl to have him... and I know, and Breakfast would agree, he's one lucky guy to have me. </div>
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This is my Birdie. My hero.</div>
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libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-24533357922201862662019-06-15T23:46:00.002-07:002019-06-16T00:00:27.832-07:00Breakfast JonesI don't know why, but I feel the need to let this one out. The heartache, the pain, the shock, it's fresh. Breakfast Jones, my sweetest boy, my best friend, my copilot, my adventure buddy, my first dog of my very own... my life saver. Gone.<br />
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I knew his end was coming, and no matter how often people tried to ease my sadness with their optimism of how happy he was, how healthy he looked, how long of a life he still had left; I knew. I swear I knew it for a long time that it was coming. I even grieved it in front of him, knowing it wasn't going to get better. I held him many times and told him how hard that goodbye would be. I just didn't imagine it would ever happen this way. But dare I say, he left this world in the best way possible. No suffering, no nothing. He just ran for the ball and his world went black.<br />
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I swear he gave me a gift with his end, by relieving me of ever having to make the choice of when to end his life. The quality of that life was becoming so evident that it was challenging on him, and my heart. He just wasn't the same. I actually missed him even when he was sitting right there in front of me. He taught me a heck of a lesson about presence, and soaking up every beautiful moment while they last. I'm so glad we had 9 long years together. I swear, there are at least a million fields and trails in this city that we've spent countless hours in, chasing ball, sitting in the grass, gazing at the clouds or the stars. Thousands of walks, millions of steps, side by side. SO much playtime! We even had a neighbour thank us recently, for the entertainment and joy he provided, by being the ham that he was when I treated him to a ball too big for him to fit in his mouth. He truly was a bottle of unlimited happiness. It was contagious, and yet I know I provided it.<br />
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When his blindness started to take hold, two years ago, I was in a bit of a slow state of panic. I wanted to fix it, make it better, clear out those eye clouds with a tiny little vacuum just so he could see and do the things he did with SO much energy. Heavy handed, bull headed, absolutely a loose cannon when it came to playing at full tilt. It's almost comical he left this world doing what he has always done. I mean, I'm so glad he died happy. It's how he has always been.<br />
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I can't even describe the way he changed my life. I had no idea I could ever love a dog so much, but I chose him, as he chose me (at 8 weeks old) with a lick on the nose when I said "hi" to him for the first time. He was my one and only, my best friend, my sweetest four-legged love. I was reflecting on our time not too long ago, and how he has been with me since I lived in Calgary. SO long ago, and my goodness we have both grown up so much since then. He was there during a crucial time in my life. It was the year everything changed, as I left a 9 year relationship (the same age as Breakfast left this world) to be on my own, not knowing what the eff I was doing. I try not to dwell on what I would have done differently, knowing what I know now; but I wasn't afraid... because of him.<br />
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It's tough to be honest about just how much he saved me, too. I used to be incredibly anxious, and afraid of the world; so badly that I went months without ever leaving the house even for a minute. I was paralyzed by old trauma, which I hadn't faced at that time, and without knowing, he provided me a cure to a very hard and dark phase of depression; where I had once thought it wasn't going to get better. With him, there was no way of keeping myself contained. I had to get outside and be there for him, to show him the world. My fears of being seen, just suddenly faded away. Day by day, step by step, on every adventure, he introduced me to things I never dreamed of seeing. It's an endless scrapbook of memories that are just for the two of us. A special thing to treasure as I do my best to accept that this is where it ends.<br />
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The biggest gift he provided was the joy of summer. I grew up playing outdoors, so the nostalgia of the sights, the sounds, the colours, the smells; he showed me such a rainbow of beauty I'd almost forgotten about. He also got me out of my shell, he pushed me through my fears, he really got me out there; especially when it came to meeting new people. We'd walk in any direction, around any neighbourhood we could find, for hours on end, numerous times a day, getting lost on purpose. On my own, I don't think I would have had the courage to do so. That's something I can never thank him enough for. Life. Hell, I named him Breakfast because I'd made lists of gratitude, to ease myself out of my own darkness. Incredible what that name will always mean to me now. Something so sweet and simple. The best way to start the day, indeed.<br />
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I'll always be so grateful for the smiles he generated just by being himself, or the surprise that came when I'd tell people his name. That smile of his was so damn contagious... never mind those shit (funny) moments when he'd take the time to soak in mud puddles (or splash parks) to cool off from the heat. I don't want to forget how hard he'd run for it, to scoop his belly in the cool water, and breathe deep with that big dumb smile of his. My god, I'll miss it. So many silly memories, I'm glad to say, with confidence, that I know I gave him such a happy life. Of course, he did the same for me.<br />
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I noticed big changes in him, especially over the past couple of years. I knew that my time with him was becoming really limited when I saw how badly his blindness started to take his mind with it. He was disoriented, very nervous, VERY unaware of how much he actually needed to slow down. He's a bit like me in so many ways, in that regard. He didn't know how to stop, and no one was going to take away the things he always knew and loved throughout his lifetime. He had a bit of an "I got this" attitude, and so, I see the dangers there when it really is so necessary to STOP before someone gets hurt. It wasn't easy to slow down, for either of us, but I also knew it was necessary to stop more often and soak it up while it lasted.<br />
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And yet, this end is so horribly bizarre for the timing. My life itself is changing in a way that I knew was going to be hard on him. It was almost a little cornering in a sense where I knew that doing something for myself was going to have to put him in an ending position. There's no way he could come with me, with his level of stress and uncertainty. But how? How on earth do you make those choices? I paused, I froze, I just couldn't even imagine. I think I was swept away by a new wave of depression, by trying my damn best to hang on for dear life. How do you say goodbye to someone you love so damn much? I think he could sense it in me that I was falling so hard to get that container back. To lock things up, and try to hide from life and death itself. Goodness knows that doesn't work, and he wasn't about to let me go back to that place again. He loved me hard. I felt it. He knew I was breaking inside.<br />
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It's a big part of why I brought a new boy into our posse. It wasn't an easy choice for me to make (for years) because Breakfast was just such a solo roller and I loved giving him my absolute attention. It wasn't the easiest transition, and I really did mourn the loss of 'just the two of us.' Still, I did it for my heart, knowing that when the time came, I wouldn't be alone. Honestly, without Birdie here right now, I doubt I'd be able to peel myself off the floor, or go outside. Actually, today was my first day taking him out to the market (in Breakfast's harness) to see what sort of universe we have gotten to experience through the years. It's like the torch was passed, like Breakfast died knowing I'm taken care of.<br />
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I plan on moving back to the west coast, as it has held onto my heart since the day we left it. Breakfast came with me the first time, and I will always remember that magical freedom of adventure as we looked at the ocean in front of us, driving through mountains, soaking our feet on the shores, hopping rocks and simply breathing in the gorgeous open space between the trees. Nature sure is a healer, and he took me through it all with such courage. We were unstoppable. Actually, one of our songs on that trip was 'Nothing's Gonna Stop us Now.' A happy song, with a funny sort of confidence neither of us knew how to handle. All we knew is that we were happy so long as we were together.<br />
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I can go on for ages about this profound experience, and how someone so small and special has come and gone; and the impact he left on my life. How much I've grown and changed because of him, and how damn grateful I'll always be for finding him. He really did save my life from a darkness I didn't know how to escape from. The mark he left on my heart and soul will remain forever. My god, the impact. I have been shaking my head a lot in absolute amazement. All of it. Start to finish.<br />
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And while I mourn, and smile, and cry and laugh at the memories we had, it's the sweet stuff that hurts the most to accept as an end. I'll miss his comforting snores, the way he'd "falump" when he licked my nose, how he'd sleep against my back or let me spoon him at night. How he'd lick my fingers when I was in the bath, how he'd stomp when he wanted me to throw the damn ball; the huffing efforts it took for him to burrito in a blanket nest just right, how he'd "mmm" when I squeezed him or scratched his tummy, his hilariously timed toots, boobie scratches, ear rubs, that tiny nose of his. Ugh, Binky, my sweet wonderful little lump of love. I miss you so much already. I knew this day had to come, somehow. I just feel like you did your best, by sparing my heart from having to decide when it was your time, by taking it into your own hands. You knew I was haunted by time, and it brought me to overwhelming tears so often, wanting to contain all of those sweet wrinkles and smells that made you the only Breakfast Jones there is. We took full advantage of what we could, of our time together, and I am glad to say I have no regrets, no guilt or wishes I'd done more somehow. I know I gave you something special, just as you provided to me, without debt, without effort. That's love, and that's the lesson. You showed me a beautiful return, with a beautiful end. I mean, despite the heartache of it all, it's the happiest end I could have asked for.<br />
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And so, when we shared our final moments, in the quiet room of the vet's office, his body lifeless and still, his eyes lost of shine, his beautiful paws crossed in a strange running stand still, in absolute silence, knowing I'd never see him again, I pressed my face into his cheek, grabbed those sweet folds of skin, I smelled him in, and said "Thank you, I love you so much, my sweet boy. You saved my life, and I will never forget it."<br />
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Oh how I miss you already.libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-49138894154131958352019-06-02T21:48:00.002-07:002019-06-02T22:06:07.864-07:00time capsuleI don't know how I feel about blogging anymore, though I'd say that I definitely needed some time away. I keep meaning to write about stuff, the way I used to, but something lost its charm. I think it has a lot to do with ownership, and how we maintain healthy boundaries; in a world where expression gets bombarded by opinion.<br />
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When you're someone who is comfortable with expression, but anxious with communication... you enter a weird sort of atmosphere where you feel like you're being watched, and expected to perform in a certain way. If you're not careful, you might hurt feelings or offend someone; and my goodness I've learned to bite my tongue with a lot of things. I adjusted what I like to share with others, and what I like to keep to myself. I'm kind of enjoying the latter, because not everything needs to be shared with the world.<br />
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Still, there will always be a side of me that wants to write things down and keep my memories in tact. This place contains years of my life, which I am so glad I took the time to record. I can literally go back in time and see pieces of my life, what I was learning, who I met along the way, and what type of person I was becoming; especially since 2015 (our biggest adventure) while 2017 threw me for a really big loop which I still believe I'm recovering from.<br />
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But, before I ramble with a recap of all that has happened in my life since the last time I wrote... life is good, life is scary, life is sad, life is lovely, and holy crap is it changing fast. I just want to take it in and put it down in front of me, because I know I'm going to look back at it and wish I'd put it in a time capsule... to treasure forever.<br />
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Deep breaths. And we're back.libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-44537975415455857292017-09-25T14:32:00.000-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.746-07:00see for companionshipJust moments ago, I had to break up -another- dog fight. For some time now, I've noticed major differences in my boy; and it has to do with his eyes. He's losing his vision, and pretty quick.<br />
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This year has been an absolute mess of change, especially when it comes to health. I don't really need to recap what's up with my own health (see previous posts) but I can say it has been pretty rocky. While Breakfast is the -healthy- Michael Phelps of playtime, his vision was brought to my attention about a year ago. I was told it was cataracts, and that they could eventually leave him blind over the span of a few years. I'd say that in this year alone, I've noticed a drastic difference in his behaviour, already.<br />
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I've been told by so many people, that dogs just naturally go blind, and they live their lives happy as can be. Sure, he never complains. Dogs are amazing that way. The trouble is that this completely alters our lifestyle, because it is becoming dangerous to be around other dogs (because he can't see and becomes defensive.) While this is a super sad reality to face, and a little embarrassing, I hate to admit that the idea of keeping him secluded, for safety, makes my own anxiety run around in all directions. I didn't get a dog to stay indoors, to walk him in a baby stroller (what is that?) or to avoid the outside world for his own safety. Introvert or not, you might be surprised to know that I got a dog for the opposite reasons.<br />
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Breakfast is the reason why I go outside every single day. When we first moved to this city, I had no idea where I was. To get to know our surroundings, I was able to get out, go for long walks with the comfort of his company; and figure out where we were. It helped me find my way back home (intentionally getting lost is fun) and it also helped me meet the people I know today. We have a number of really cool acquaintances who I never would have met, if it wasn't for him. I rely on him for a social connection, just as he relies on me for a bit of the same thing. Sadly, his intros to new dogs has been a bit of a hit and miss, lately, because he can't trust without seeing clearly. With this major shift in our groove, I can't say I'm welcoming to the idea of just letting nature take its course, and accept the sad reality that my best friend is going blind.<br />
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If we're going to get into the "just a dog" talk, you can leave now. If you want to talk about the money involved, and how it could be spent on other things, we may have differences in our perception of value. Everyone has an opinion. Take away the dog and the reality is a massive loss in connection. I got a dog to make sure to go outside (every day, multiple times), to push my comforts, to be around strangers, to mingle with crowds, to meet new faces, to converse on days I'd likely go about it alone; to share stories with others about the big time love that these little lives provide. It's amazing to connect with perfect strangers, and relate to that common bond, based on love. Dogs are magical little beings, and I think the world could use more of them. MORE love, please!<br />
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Breakfast is an incredible soul. He's contagiously happy, and often encourages others to play without even directly inviting them in. He is my inner child on 4 legs. Everything is a game, and there's always a reason to play. Even on my toughest of days, he has been there, to make me smile, and to make sure I get back on my feet again. He even got me running after him, this summer, to exercise and enjoy the freeness of racing through the grass. He is a fountain of youth who needs to play. It's weird to see that shift when he suddenly gets lost, loses sight of the game, or even in some cases... runs into me when he's running toward the glare of the sun. Those things are certainly safe (and comical, yes) when it's just the two of us. But, the rest of the world, sadly.. they don't know. It's where someone can get hurt, and I really can't stand that added tension. Isolation isn't helpful to anyone who enjoys giving so much as we do. Ask either one of us to just stop, it's not going to happen. I got a dog to live in and enjoy this world, not to hide from it.<br />
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So, once my own mess of health tests and pokes and whatnot are sorted, it looks like B is next in line for a push in the right direction. I feel this is such a massive year for major alterations toward the better, the more positive, the more honest, and the literal seeing more clearly. I have no idea how this is going to go down, but it can only go up from here. Fingers crossed, and deep breaths. I want my boy back, to see the world as it is, to be safe from the unknown (as other dogs will approach), and live his happiest days the way he has always seen them. I feel it's not only best for him, but for both of us. There's still so much of this world to see, together!<br />
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I will be keeping up with this and problem solving for possible crowd funding and art tradesies. There is always a way to share the love from all sides.libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-73329967853743216992017-09-15T15:18:00.002-07:002018-10-11T23:02:13.140-07:00Twisted CysterJust writing a little something about the status of my health situation. If you can believe it, I'm still waiting for tests to confirm what's going on inside my body (since June). With my CT scan approaching at the end of this month, I'd like to think that surgery won't be too far around the corner. Get this jerk out!<br />
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Overall, I'm feeling okay. I'm a little sore at times, often tired, and occasionally uneasy. Doctors are still running tests on my kidneys, my chest, my stomach, my hormones, my adrenals, blood.. you name it. It's exhausting, but I'm happy (and nervous) for getting the answers I need, in order to get better. The hope is that the removal of this (4") beast will help the rest of my body shift back to normal again. I'm keeping my thoughts in a positive place, eating healthy meals to boost my heart and mind, exercising, meditating, resting when needed. It's all I can do for now, while the waiting game continues. 2 more weeks and we'll be closer to the answers we need. In the meantime, take care of yourself, and go get the answers; if you feel you have questions about your health. It might be scary to ask, and get tests done, but you don't want to wait for it to become an answer you don't want to hear. Fingers crossed about the upcoming tests, and surgery to follow.<br />
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Will share more of this process as I go. Thank you all for your support through this sh*t!libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-16954393443541115372017-08-18T11:46:00.000-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.379-07:00summer 17<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It has been a while since I've taken the time to write about anything at all. Lately, I do so much of it on paper, keeping it to myself in the old fashioned way. The trouble with blogging, is I have adopted a bit of an attitude of "who cares anyway?" because really, I know there are more important things going on in this world than how I spent my summer. Still, this digital journal was something I started for myself years ago, back when people didn't really do much blogging. I'm just here to feel good about what there is to feel good about. You (possible reader) don't have to care, though it would be weird of you to be here reading this if you didn't. I think this is where the internet and social media have been crumbling the expression of happiness. It's all our own, and no one else's. That's why people tend to speak out against it. Whatever. This world is messed. This is my life stuff... you don't have to like it at all.</div>
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This summer has been incredibly life altering. After 6 years of looking for a place to stop, we finally did. It's sort of disorienting but in the best way. For a long while, I didn't know if I'd ever find a home here, in Edmonton. 6 years is a long time of packing up and moving, and starting over every other year. You lose sight of yourself in the mix of so much shifting. It's like living your very own Groundhog Day, trying to start over with the next place, and live. It breaks you. It makes you lose sight of so much, and yet it brings a lot into your view when it comes to appreciating what's there over what isn't. Still, it's tough. I eventually thought maybe it was a sign I wasn't wanted in this world at all. That might sound incredibly dark or morbid, but I have the tendency to feel that way about life at times. Once I finally found a place that welcomed me, and allowed me to trust and balance and BE.. it changed. It was like landing in the middle of a magical world that finally stands still. Yet, it has always been there. And, so have I. I belong here.</div>
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In all honesty, I spent so much of my summer mending a broken heart. Love is a really tough thing for me to release; when I hang onto so many things so deeply, tightly, and gratefully as I do for those I hold in my arms. I was very much in love. Deep, hard, heavy; but the sad reality was that the world had other plans. Life and timing most certainly got in the way. With so much instability swirling around both of our separate worlds, it was just so difficult to provide much at all with focus. It's incredibly sad when you finally stop spinning, and it has all ended in front of you. Like a magnificent blur. A sort of dream. It was a love that took me 36 years to find, and it has felt like an incredible sacrifice to have lost it as I have gained so much of what I need from my surroundings. They suck me in. I do love it, but damn, it's an empty feeling to find the world you were looking for, with an evident missing piece from your side. At least memory is a wonderful gift. I smile warmly at what was, and also more certainly at what is. Despite the emptiness that comes with such heartache, I know I'm in a much better place with myself.</div>
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I have also faced a lot of my own personal shadows. From my struggles with anxiety, depression, insecurity, and self worth; it has really become so clear where I needed to clean up some clutter. I'd carried a lot with me through the years, simply because I didn't have time to stop and think about it. In other cases, I was actually running from it too. You can't run from what you need to face. And so, I've come to accept these as pieces of my life that will remain as a chapter in my life story. It doesn't own or define me, it's just what was. Accepting self, life, family, circumstance.. it's like learning to take yourself in for all that you are. Resent, remorse, regret; they don't exist. With these open fields, and endless skies, I speak freely, I breathe deeply, and feel myself return. It's weird what your surroundings can do to your mind. It's just like suddenly the world presented itself to me and said, <i> "hey... we can really ease the load and just BE. You're the best at being you. So be it. You are worthy of love, WITH all of your imperfections. Just take care of you, and the rest will follow." </i></div>
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If you say so, world.</div>
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I'm proud of all of the hard work that I've done... including the -real- actual work. It's my third year running a business, and while I'm probably the busiest I've been in my experience as an entrepreneur, I'm actually working less, and in more control. I don't put work at the top of my list of priorities, because health/mental health, well being, quality of life, family, loved ones, come way above the work itself in terms of value and importance. While I'm grateful to do what I love, and be supported for it; work, emails, messages, social media, followers, stats; it isn't my every waking moment. I have to take time, in order to gain strength to keep myself going. I'm the engine of my business.. and that engine needs to be taken care of in order to keep running. I rarely do late nights unless the creativity strikes. I see my strengths at the right times, and for that, I'm able to provide the best service I can. It all has its own payback, because I'm happiest when I can provide the quality I wish to represent. The money itself is not even nearly as important as the value of life and my purpose. I feel my health situation really put this into perspective to keep that in mind. Work will never take me away from what matters in this world. Life, you are number one. </div>
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I no longer put the pressure on myself to do so much at once. I make a habit to reach out and tell someone when I'm in need of help, or in need of someone to talk to. Needing isn't needy. By habit, I tend to do so much on my own so willingly, because I like to learn by getting my hands on things. I live to learn, but sometimes that can keep so much at a distance from entering my life. Letting it in by reaching out is an incredible lesson in also understanding my own self worth. Just because I can get annoyed at my own incessant need to understand it all, doesn't mean it's an inconvenience to others if I have questions. <b>"Just because you can do it alone, doesn't mean you have to."</b> I feel my health has taught me to exercise this message. I'm learning about how to stop trying to be my all. I'm glad I enjoy my own company and how curious I am to expand and understand things, but it really does shut out a lot of what wants to come in. I open my arms far more willingly these days than I have in most of my lifetime. I have to remind myself that this isn't a weakness. Help is aways there. You just have to ask.</div>
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In regards to my health, the waiting game to get tests done has not been easy on my mind. I'm stressed. I'm afraid. I'm nervous. I'm anxious to get my body back. It's not the same. While I'm often physically exhausted from it, I'm also looking at this as a chance to practice proper health, diet, exercise, nourishment, and most importantly hydration. You don't want kidney stones! Not that I have them (I might) but the thought makes me cringe. My kidneys are probably my greater concern in all of this, as I've had some problems with them in the past. Either way, <b>drink more water and less coffee</b>. Reviewing my diet has really pushed my view into the efforts involved with self care. It's not an easy thing for most people. Including myself. I remember, there were times in my career where I was treating my body similarly to how a college kids ploughs through a semester. Late nights, lunch? dinner? convenient snacks, whatever amount of caffeine to fuel the fire. Awful. I remember I would sometimes go over half of my day without eating or drinking anything at all(!) This is how some business runners actually roll, just to keep up with the demands. It doesn't pay off. Health is hands down what you want to keep track of. Holy crap, it's scary what people do to keep up with work. Nope. Not me.</div>
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My balcony became my sanctuary. It's where I go to take mind breaks, breathe, people watch, enjoy some sun, shut out the technological world, and just enjoy the day. I planted some vegetables and herbs, to treat myself like my own special chef on sunny nights for barbecuing and creating hearty dishes to fill the soul. It has helped me get through a lot of the tough stuff, and it gives me so much to look forward to. These are the things that matter to me so much, and I love that I'm able to provide in a way that treats me so kindly. It's like night and day, how I feel about life in general. I realize that what you surround yourself with really is what you become. I feel grounded, healthy, strong, and just really happy with watching things grow. This is when I realized how much I love life itself. I grew it myself, and now I'm gobbling it up. Did I mention peas? *squee*</div>
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In all of this, I'm just glad to know that I always see the blue skies behind each grey cloud. Sometimes my optimism really delights me, while other times I feel it can blur my focus from the problem that needs to be faced. Still, despite the struggles I'm currently sifting through, I know I've experienced worse days that these ones. I acknowledge the struggles, and on occasion I appreciate the pain. It makes me remember that great strength comes from these moments, and I'm learning every day to shine on no matter what. In all that I've lost, I know I have gained. Loss is never an easy process, and so, I just allow the grief and acceptance as they come. Some days I'm fine, other days I cry just out of the blue in the process of a thought or a memory. I'm grateful for it all, as weird as that may sound. All of what I was, all I've been, all I've seen and done, has brought me to who I am now. Life is such a marvellous mess of inconsistent weather forecasts. PS. Watching thunderstorms from the balcony is amazing.</div>
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Overall, the biggest struggle is sometimes in my energy. From the emotions of releasing what is no longer, keeping up with the world and life itself, to embracing what is here and to come; it can really overwhelm me on the days when I'd like to know the answers. I have no idea where we are going from here, but it's nice to say we'll figure it out from the place we now call home. No more running, at least, not from ourselves. It's so good to be home. Without it, I don't know where I'd be.</div>
<br />libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-10291872593745967822017-07-16T13:57:00.000-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.188-07:00what the healthA few weeks ago, I was given the news that I'm lugging around a cyst larger than my own fist. Despite the cuteness in rhyming, this was a bit of a surprise, even if I have to admit that I knew something was very wrong with my body for a long time. Since sharing this news openly on social media, I thought I'd take some time to write more about it; as I've been asked a lot of questions in regards to the signs, the process, and what happens next. In short, it's a long road ahead... as it also took a long one to get here. All I have to say, to shorten the detailed story ahead, is to get a second opinion if and when you ever think your body is trying to tell you something. Tests are scary, but the answers could save you a lot of trouble in the future. Don't hesitate.<br />
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I've always been very body aware, and I like to keep in check by going for annual physicals, including therapy, to ensure that everything is functioning properly and in good condition. I mean really, if we provide maintenance to our cars when the parts are in need of care; we should also do the same for our bodies. It's that simple, in my mind. From physical health, to mental health, it's all the same to me. I keep up with all that I can, to make sure I'm healthy and on top of my game. The more you learn about your body and how it functions, the sooner you'll know when something is in need of attention.<br />
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The struggle for answers started last summer, as I was getting sick every few weeks (possibly to do with my monthly cycle) where I experienced massive headaches, nausea, vomiting, cramps, and body fluids that were not of my usual norm. I was incredibly frustrated by it, and also tried to solve the issue on my own, because my doctor wasn't helping. Fortunately, the vomiting stopped when I switched to purified water (scary, living in a building with old plumbing), but I really do wonder if my fluctuating illness had more to do with my body adjusting to this foreign beast in my reproductive organs. Hormones work in incredible ways. Anything that goes out of whack, you don't have to wait long for your body to show you the signs.<br />
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To be honest, the struggle really took a toll on my self esteem, because I was dealing with stuff I didn't understand. It got so bad that it eventually stood in the way of anything intimately related; because of the discomfort and even the embarrassment of unexpected reactions. I knew that something was wrong, but because my doctor insisted (without running physical tests) that it was "just an infection" or that there was "nothing to worry about" I'd carry on and hope for the best. This sort of disappointment really adds up over time. I felt like I was out-of-order, and started to drift from even knowing myself anymore. Talking about symptoms without tests to confirm is about as handy as finding your own diagnosis, online. (Believe me, I went there, and it didn't help at all.) After months of running in circles with the same doctor, I decided it was time for a second opinion. I wanted real answers, and most of all, I wanted my body/life/health back.<br />
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This time around, I specifically chose a female doctor. I figured if my issues were hormonally related, or an actual infection (like the last guy kept saying, and prescribing) someone with the same parts as me would probably know better. I mean really, ladies, we know when sh*t ain't right downstairs! Once I got in for my meet-and-greet with my new doctor, discussed family history, and my issue of concern, she set up an appointment for a physical to get things rolling. Poke, poke, pee in a cup, it's that simple. And just like that, within the week, I was called back for discussion. Nerve wracking to get that callback, but I figured at this point in time, I'd rather be told there <i>is something wrong</i> than another round of no answers and a slap of an unnecessary drug to make me feel like something is being resolved.<br />
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The first sign of concern was my urine test. It came back with signs of red blood cells. This can be an indicator to things like kidney stones, tumours, infection, blood in the urine. Red flag. So, the next step was to explore those areas for more answers. Guys, this is what doctors do! Fast forward through 3 hours of ultrasounds and scans, and mammograms (apparently this cyst has affected a lot of my body) we found a variety of small cysts in my breasts, and one 4 inch culprit clinging to my left ovary. The ones in my breasts aren't of major concern (benign) and will be monitored in months to come. They could even go away once the big one is removed from my ovary, because of the hormones involved. Amazing how bodies work, hey?<br />
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So, what now? Well, more tests, to determine if there are any major concerns; like my kidneys being at risk of interference or infection. Incredibly, my CT scan for those answers has to wait<b> until the end of September</b>, and the remaining tests will run again in 6 months (following surgery) to make sure that the other cysts don't increase in size. I think the bigger concern has to do with my kidneys. Either there's a blockage (like a stone or another cyst) in the way, or the 4 inch bastard is just taking up space and interfering with proper function. Of course, the best situation would be the latter. That way, surgery can be kept simple by evicting the unwanted tenant, and I can just let my body return back to itself. Ugh. What a mess!<br />
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In the meantime, I have friends on call in case of any emergencies. I am at risk of my cyst getting tangled up, or even bursting, so if I experience any pain... it's time to go to the hospital. That part is a bit scary, but it's out of my control. I'm just happy to know there is help if and when and if I need it. The universe presents these sorts of gifts as a reminder, it's all going to be just fine. I am loved.<br />
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And so, that's what's up. The waiting game kind of stinks, but I will say that I'm grateful for my friends and family, and this beautiful summer we are having. I see summer as a time of personal growth and expansion, so I'm taking it all in while I can. Really, if I'm going to heal from surgery, I'd rather it be at a time where I can comfortably curl up with blankets... instead of during a time when I'd rather be outside, or sprawled in front of an oscillating fan. With my new surroundings, in my new home, it has brought me an incredible amount of inner peace and balance that couldn't have come at a better time. In comparison to the mess of 2016, I feel so grounded and optimistic. Despite what is to come, the occasional worry, exhaustion, frustration, sadness, and fear (yes, it is scary) I feel lucky to have been provided with answers that lead me forward and to a better place. One day at a time, we'll get there!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS7tyqcNB2zp5HBM9R4lk19acVN8SD9EM76gtUDouCI5rQV8bUh8nMlmt-sk-lIDC8faIW5-W_pwRQSA0yrQT2x7q8vv_XU3MpdPndcVjnmY9q1CWoSWxV97adqEY_9PO0lZgj0tG_Rqpc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-07-16+at+1.48.25+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="743" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS7tyqcNB2zp5HBM9R4lk19acVN8SD9EM76gtUDouCI5rQV8bUh8nMlmt-sk-lIDC8faIW5-W_pwRQSA0yrQT2x7q8vv_XU3MpdPndcVjnmY9q1CWoSWxV97adqEY_9PO0lZgj0tG_Rqpc/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-07-16+at+1.48.25+PM.png" width="398" /></a></div>
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As a side note, I decided to set up a <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/kill-francyst">GoFundMe</a> so that I can clear out some of the external clutter around me (prints!) so that I can give back to those who have so willingly offered to help in any way possible. Nothing heals me more than sharing the love. Already, prints are clearing out, for as little as $10, which is going into savings for the approaching downtime I'll need to recover. You can read all about it, by following the link.<br />
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Thank you all for being there for me. It means more than you know.libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-77744498630080637202017-06-26T15:04:00.006-07:002021-05-11T22:04:54.443-07:00true colours<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-7U5Kvl0yaDYCJamgKwnzt-jhPyH140VL3F4hxwtlx-QDYa5lSikzGwet8JxTQO9DLcKeTiO_fcbPF02yOVpmpZbgT6AHEIIyfp8zzyT948IBvWACYBi1LoTtAAJ9mWkO1ggwH2enaP5/s1600/unnamed-6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="640" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-7U5Kvl0yaDYCJamgKwnzt-jhPyH140VL3F4hxwtlx-QDYa5lSikzGwet8JxTQO9DLcKeTiO_fcbPF02yOVpmpZbgT6AHEIIyfp8zzyT948IBvWACYBi1LoTtAAJ9mWkO1ggwH2enaP5/s400/unnamed-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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A couple of years ago, I decided to start an art project that changed my life entirely. I feel that all struggles can be conquered if we put them out in front of us. For me, I use art. It's how I've come to heal and understand myself. This project is incredibly special to me, and it makes me feel beyond vulnerable to share it, because I chose to use my body as a medium. The great thing about vulnerability is that when you face it, it transforms into strength. I would like to think this could somehow help others understand their personal struggles with their bodies, like I learned about my own. Regardless of the outcome, I really want to share this experience. So here I am, coming out from hiding.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TYpkd6vwbqKYAlB2HGtr0QofFtPHgvY77SdkOxYJPGZmmRGe1gS7KnNYc1Fb5rzmeAp0ijo2k2jPQdeNCyQaD-j_qKz7EaUDncLMPlnDtmiC1SItY88ayE5Inrzzvg9izQj0m5e4XGNB/s1600/unnamed-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="640" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TYpkd6vwbqKYAlB2HGtr0QofFtPHgvY77SdkOxYJPGZmmRGe1gS7KnNYc1Fb5rzmeAp0ijo2k2jPQdeNCyQaD-j_qKz7EaUDncLMPlnDtmiC1SItY88ayE5Inrzzvg9izQj0m5e4XGNB/s400/unnamed-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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For years, I'd struggled with confidence and body image. From how I valued my body, to how I reacted to the world around me. I could tell that I was hiding from something. It was difficult to face at first, but that's the reason why I set up personal challenges to begin with. To change. I wanted to see my body as something more than I allowed myself to see. A piece of art, maybe even something engaging, something beautiful. It's amazing, that due to our experiences, we can really struggle to see our beauty at all.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9FHe2HWWtlgGYtXnDXlCvx1cmBlQLJvndSFl2IsRkScBCncwjOBeCxk28CdYeoedeb1eYGfUt5b_-PC8qJexTW5wSoYzeG3DF0nocUz5IerQWe6I_opszGm-Ji8Z3-ga9BA9tMHBah-N/s1600/unnamed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="625" data-original-width="640" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9FHe2HWWtlgGYtXnDXlCvx1cmBlQLJvndSFl2IsRkScBCncwjOBeCxk28CdYeoedeb1eYGfUt5b_-PC8qJexTW5wSoYzeG3DF0nocUz5IerQWe6I_opszGm-Ji8Z3-ga9BA9tMHBah-N/s400/unnamed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I feel so many women could take something from this project, because we rarely see ourselves as anything remotely positive. We can point out our flaws and imperfections, and yet, so many of us have so much to be proud of. I find this lacking gratitude toward ourselves to be sad and unnecessary, and yet I did the same. I still struggle. To get to the bottom of it, I decided to take my feelings and flip them on me, by showing myself what was hiding on the inside. Going back to the very beginning, I see how far I've come since then. (Deep breaths.) Here we go.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUS3QEqWDaDDU6WKraQ1g5eiL5pbFP-hQWZQ_RXREuUEydvVI3XSE6pyvUMNKXPkWbVeQkBB5H6VjEj-1sp-alpy8npF5PnfiRu46VFWQs06t-MirlS02bjx4WOSQHIxgVgk_UShQqjuX/s1600/unnamed-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="640" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUS3QEqWDaDDU6WKraQ1g5eiL5pbFP-hQWZQ_RXREuUEydvVI3XSE6pyvUMNKXPkWbVeQkBB5H6VjEj-1sp-alpy8npF5PnfiRu46VFWQs06t-MirlS02bjx4WOSQHIxgVgk_UShQqjuX/s400/unnamed-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I threw on a layer of paint as a sort of barrier of protection. I find it funny that I actually felt terribly uncomfortable to be completely naked, even in the privacy of my own home. As my first photo illustrates (above), I was super nervous... maybe even a bit terrified. Still, I knew what my intentions were, and chose to continue to explore the light, and what angles I needed, in order to create the image I was looking for. I didn't go in with a specific plan, but I was hoping to make something visually inspiring that could alter my view of myself. Finding that took some time. </div>
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I enjoy that the first colour I started with, was white. White is a colour of innocence, purity, new beginnings. As I look back at the first image, it really does touch a soft spot in my heart. This was a time when I had no idea how to view myself as anything more than what I was allowing myself to see. The more I ventured into the light (literally), the more I started to see how easy it was to alter my perspective. No one was telling me I wasn't enough, no one had said I was unworthy, ugly, or whatever I was trying to carry on my shoulders for no reason. It's when I realized that my own negative views were my own choice. The only one standing in my way was myself. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SichxehiBZJ_VMpvyt8h0vWAwC-azkfBj7xZfCU2BZ0-SMnrqCHa5uq_uFOTAAjPw9eL9peuURbnbVA4cb7fQ7Xsxgj3QZ5CdNQmLuY1v4Lt4MOLTaGvJkFTlaBPFQgS3UVNxUVDWFx5/s1600/IMG_2922.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SichxehiBZJ_VMpvyt8h0vWAwC-azkfBj7xZfCU2BZ0-SMnrqCHa5uq_uFOTAAjPw9eL9peuURbnbVA4cb7fQ7Xsxgj3QZ5CdNQmLuY1v4Lt4MOLTaGvJkFTlaBPFQgS3UVNxUVDWFx5/s400/IMG_2922.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And then, I finally stepped into the light. Eventually, I found an image where I caught myself by surprise, thinking, "oh wow, that's me?!" It felt a little wrong to feel so positively at first, but yet, being proud of ourselves is something we all need to practice. Think of how lucky we are to be alive, never mind what we have in front of us at this very moment. I started to think of the fact that my body isn't going to look the way it does forever. I suddenly imagined my older self, looking back at this image and thinking, "yeah, girl!" Meanwhile, we so often have the tendency to avoid the moment, dodge the compliments, and compare what we don't have, over what we do. It's amazing how many women I've met, who have looked at old photos of themselves and said things like, "if only I looked like that again," or "I used to be so thin." Think they felt that way about themselves when they were in the moment? Highly unlikely. Let your older self look in on you, and suddenly, you become much more than you allow your current self to see and believe in.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1tr2UG2JN3cD0WtkpqCTfryFFom0DOmEzJvxsekOItSfcVe2mAQJoRHmqf5L78mmvaBVIqCiY_wM19OSvASx0A7ywj9enxP79hRz3Pv-ZzHGTnimIrGM8PYs5rNuYfC-H2qBScyhkoTQm/s1600/IMG_3062.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="639" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1tr2UG2JN3cD0WtkpqCTfryFFom0DOmEzJvxsekOItSfcVe2mAQJoRHmqf5L78mmvaBVIqCiY_wM19OSvASx0A7ywj9enxP79hRz3Pv-ZzHGTnimIrGM8PYs5rNuYfC-H2qBScyhkoTQm/s400/IMG_3062.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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There seems to be a really big issue with confidence, and how it is so often mislabelled as selfishness or arrogance. Discovering my own confidence, during the process of this project, was both surprising and yet so necessary for me to see for myself. It made me realize that for a very long time, I was doing what I thought others expected of me. Like I kept myself at a certain level, so that no one would feel at all threatened by my actual capabilities. It starts on the playground, when kids are cruel. We call people names, we pick them apart; all due to our own insecurities. As adults, I still see this happening. We need to grow up! Rather than lash out at the world around you, ask what you need from yourself. When I realized my confidence, I was a little less guarded. I was free from my own negative perceptions of who I am, and what makes me a valuable person. It was a nice lesson, to be reminded that no one is out to get you. If they are, you can stand tall and be set to defend yourself. Just know, that when those defences aren't needed, we can almost aggressively keep people at bay, when we really want to let them in and share our best selves, together. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHIwmPT4k_6mslqH3kwQBZ5s4VBm15jJ_iYetZVo1QyA94jdqAvpL6aW8IZtLvMkvcgappoEvRA7s3JYF4vkEchNYQOOnq0zqrbZF4D_ODysXWHXzxTibxaPRdypGig2iMdW5RlPGusxf/s1600/unnamed-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="621" data-original-width="640" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHIwmPT4k_6mslqH3kwQBZ5s4VBm15jJ_iYetZVo1QyA94jdqAvpL6aW8IZtLvMkvcgappoEvRA7s3JYF4vkEchNYQOOnq0zqrbZF4D_ODysXWHXzxTibxaPRdypGig2iMdW5RlPGusxf/s400/unnamed-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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But the truth is, I've been so prone to hiding. For over half of my lifetime I've struggled with a protective shell that comes from unfortunate experiences like abuse, abandonment, harassment, neglect, and ridicule. Those aren't easy layers to ignore, especially when our minds will work against us, to protect what has been hurt before. When people scoff and say things like, "let it go" I ask them to consider a little something called human psychology and conditioning. We don't just let go of what we know of the world when we experience certain things. It's when I get to explaining it a little differently for others to understand.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kNtk7Qk0pT0UOWfXgRxUMKGvmQXa1fuBaXitAiqCke2Rs9mXOpJnUkXr5k76MEqLMZI1nK8sNlxEnWAixcuUdpjxcV26gQEP7QmA1fHKJGSCJRZfOlI2KmITs4MZhH3iygNFzH1c4xYD/s1600/unnamed-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="640" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kNtk7Qk0pT0UOWfXgRxUMKGvmQXa1fuBaXitAiqCke2Rs9mXOpJnUkXr5k76MEqLMZI1nK8sNlxEnWAixcuUdpjxcV26gQEP7QmA1fHKJGSCJRZfOlI2KmITs4MZhH3iygNFzH1c4xYD/s400/unnamed-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Ever meet someone who owns a rescue dog? There's something about them that is so incredibly nurturing, understanding, and patient; to see that they're urging an innocent creature out from hiding. When rescue dogs explore the new world, they do so with caution; as they've been hurt in such a way that can sometimes be paralyzing to their experiences. I say the same thing goes for people, and we need to offer that very same love and encouragement. We respond through what we know, and if you have been hurt in a way that has caused any form of trauma ... It's going to take a long time to shed that protective layer entirely and trust the world around you.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDzpNMrgksyiWmajALS90U7KFs3bQ1MZYcrHZWGj17rXJ2jW_h1ZdCoZtsX8IALJqIOn4TaoC1UyTVViXaRc9umPdDITNEOazBaZiY0T9mWdSN9HuE3lEgTFvtq919z_yNSDphaswwPVb/s1600/unnamed-5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="619" data-original-width="640" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDzpNMrgksyiWmajALS90U7KFs3bQ1MZYcrHZWGj17rXJ2jW_h1ZdCoZtsX8IALJqIOn4TaoC1UyTVViXaRc9umPdDITNEOazBaZiY0T9mWdSN9HuE3lEgTFvtq919z_yNSDphaswwPVb/s400/unnamed-5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Sometimes, it never really goes away entirely, because our bodies react to the protective responses our minds create for us. Some people pack on weight, others -like I did- hide behind bulky clothing as a sort of protective shell. I realize that this is a continuing struggle for me, as I sometimes catch myself tucking away, especially from men, even when I trust them or begin to love them in my relationships. While my body might say I'm okay, my mind might not; or vice versa. With assurance, communication, respect, and patience, you can come out from hiding. Don't use your pain and experience as a shield of protection, wear it as your armour.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihejqt_BcO5OFipTltuaq1acjRWEbjqYCaGphHEd4fWbUd2Y-WcZRNSK90E0PnkEbIEnWb9vg68-NsC8DADx-Uaw7rix5A5sUHs4scg5MRBFibljpjZvQhciVdr_1pxxZOHipaMcDSKVrc/s1600/unnamed-7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="640" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihejqt_BcO5OFipTltuaq1acjRWEbjqYCaGphHEd4fWbUd2Y-WcZRNSK90E0PnkEbIEnWb9vg68-NsC8DADx-Uaw7rix5A5sUHs4scg5MRBFibljpjZvQhciVdr_1pxxZOHipaMcDSKVrc/s400/unnamed-7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'm going to say that being a woman is not an easy job. In society, there's a really funny pressure that comes with our appearances, and how being beautiful is more important than being seen as professional, or anything remotely serious. I used to devalue being a woman because I thought there was nothing good about us, except our bodies. I grew up with some pretty terrible examples to support that, so much that I had absolutely no respect for my own gender. I was just a walking body, and a man was there to do something with it. Sounds pretty harsh, but that's what I believed for a very long time. Fortunately, I've been lucky to have been proven wrong in my relationships, and the people who currently surround me and see my value. The downfall is that not all of the world agrees just yet. That's a really disappointing fact. Our world needs to grow up. It's why we need women to raise their voices about this stuff, and empower others to follow. It's why I'm here with this message.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAT8mQCQvpxuwpkzIVYm8ucp0V2U-GWf_L-Rs0iAVH7HPys9cYz8748nEA3MeBL8CTTdNWRtKW22Gbat8unccuBt32UntU_jucPxr-PeaH6_1gJ9MmH7KbEGdqDGFk7FGPO5BZI9fnmER0/s1600/IMG_4044.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="622" data-original-width="639" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAT8mQCQvpxuwpkzIVYm8ucp0V2U-GWf_L-Rs0iAVH7HPys9cYz8748nEA3MeBL8CTTdNWRtKW22Gbat8unccuBt32UntU_jucPxr-PeaH6_1gJ9MmH7KbEGdqDGFk7FGPO5BZI9fnmER0/s400/IMG_4044.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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(More deep breaths) And so, here is the image that changed my life (above.) The one I'm actually most proud of, and yet, the one I'm the most nervous to share. It's a bit... racy? Or is it? This image gave me some new words, that I didn't even consider to use when describing myself. I see it as something beautiful, strong, feminine, powerful, dare I say ... sexy(?) Me!? This image makes me see myself as so much more than I ever allowed myself to acknowledge. I look good. I felt good! I didn't know I was capable of such a feminine image.. because I'd been hiding from my own body for so long. The creeps, the pervs, the ones who make us -as women- never want to show our skin to the world, out of the fears of being put in a really terrible position of vulnerability. This image makes me feel kind of sad about how often I've hidden from expressing myself with this sort of confidence. I am blushing so hard and almost hiding my face about sharing this with the world so openly. There's nothing to be ashamed of, and yet my hands shake as I type this out. This is me, a woman, a walking, talking, Venus. I think all women need to discover their inner goddess and see it for themselves. We are far from weak. When I want to think of my brightest moment, my greatest achievement in self understanding and power, it's this image. It's my armour. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirg7glJVknUNhwvAQGH2jf0IOH3LkOMMpqoVuKwerKrYvT7vElUvQz_eoPeBiu0fUkmOa3vSyLCA3KKGYrPvmgT9-eUDHeOMevFzUYYnBBPsN-Y2ZZCjP5Pb3RFORD6O9Ng4sdHtrhJ4uO/s1600/unnamed-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="935" data-original-width="1280" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirg7glJVknUNhwvAQGH2jf0IOH3LkOMMpqoVuKwerKrYvT7vElUvQz_eoPeBiu0fUkmOa3vSyLCA3KKGYrPvmgT9-eUDHeOMevFzUYYnBBPsN-Y2ZZCjP5Pb3RFORD6O9Ng4sdHtrhJ4uO/s400/unnamed-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I decided that this project will continue for a really long time, as I feel confidence takes practice in order to fully understand and embrace it. It's cool to go back to this series, which I started back in 2015, and to see that I've maintained some of the important lessons that I took from it. Like anything in this life of ours, in this complicated world, filled with experiences that shape us for the rest of our living years; we're going to have to practice how to stay on top of our game. It's why I believe that any form of weakness or personal struggle can be challenged to become something far more than a discovered strength. These are the healing powers that come with art and creation. <br />
It's what I'm here for.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGikpvblebFCK8moLFtcPdT4tu2bU30G3GypE9sDsLg42xS9k3zkjMvJAgQT8jrrBK4mM6ntCbqW-3Te6wRV4ohMGjqh0eF_GnLsA4OiqHTmqaD6by6VIB0q3E2dClfIZ2iDc9zwSW9I6-/s1600/unnamed-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="812" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGikpvblebFCK8moLFtcPdT4tu2bU30G3GypE9sDsLg42xS9k3zkjMvJAgQT8jrrBK4mM6ntCbqW-3Te6wRV4ohMGjqh0eF_GnLsA4OiqHTmqaD6by6VIB0q3E2dClfIZ2iDc9zwSW9I6-/s400/unnamed-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I realize that this is just the tip of the ice berg, and yet, so much more than I ever imagined to share with the world. I still have hundreds of photos of this project tucked away for myself to review, and continue to add to as I get to know myself. My message(s) may be a little lengthy and complex, but in simplest terms, I believe you have more to offer this world than you likely allow yourself to see. I've sat with this project for 2 long years, pacing, questioning, wondering if it was even worth it to share so openly. Maybe it's totally inappropriate, or too revealing, or absolutely absurd. Those opinions are yours, and we are entitled to believe all that we want; without having to fight for what is right. I'm just here to offer a voice, to share where I've learned something valuable about my strength and purpose. I hope I can touch even just one person, to take maybe a little piece of motivation from this, to understand that you got this. You are a beautiful, brave, incredible, a work of art. Show your true colours, and let them shine. You don't have to hide. The world needs you, right now.</div>
libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-67343503354186267882017-04-24T21:54:00.002-07:002018-10-11T23:02:13.097-07:00art schooledlibbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-40965188119328625472017-04-23T11:13:00.004-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.701-07:00art work<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuV85DakEr5cShW7MFGV4OG_UW8k_dZSqRBmWlLnZAz1c1czZ81i8o_VoCiUjW9Gpr49DfxNDahojwhwOxY6NSj3N48DGmj1RVxIAImbNHQsSr8aTGHwHilHvg6SVVlTPPsglWLRBfUrTF/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-04-23+at+10.41.04+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuV85DakEr5cShW7MFGV4OG_UW8k_dZSqRBmWlLnZAz1c1czZ81i8o_VoCiUjW9Gpr49DfxNDahojwhwOxY6NSj3N48DGmj1RVxIAImbNHQsSr8aTGHwHilHvg6SVVlTPPsglWLRBfUrTF/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-04-23+at+10.41.04+AM.png" width="317" /></a></div>
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A couple of weeks ago, I got myself a pack of 10 canvases. Considering I haven't had much of a relationship with painting -lately- it was a bit of a weird choice to go so overboard with my purchase. They were cheap, and a series was calling me. When I finally spread out my materials, shut off my distractions, put on my paint clothes, and decided to let my paintbrush do the talking, I saw something that surprised me. I was coming from a place of distress. </div>
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It has been a struggle to openly admit that I'm tired of the world. The anger, the immaturity, the pussy hats, the fighting, the pointing fingers, the war, the competition for who is hurting the most. It's so tiresome, and I don't feel I have to be part of it on a daily basis to classify as caring. Happiness is a recipe we all want to get our hands on, yet it is bashed and trashed for being too much. It's not a competition. I've decided that if I can't control the sanity of the world, I can at least control my own. </div>
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Since becoming a paid artist, the disconnect from work and art have come to blur my vision. For years now, I've been doing it in an entirely different way from what is natural to me. My skills haven't improved, my drive no longer exists, I'm following lists of instructions from someone else's vision, in some ways I'm even dumbing it down so far below my capabilities just to play it safe for what is acceptable. Art isn't about reading minds, or doing what you're told. At least not for me. Ask any artist about custom orders and they'll likely tell you the same story. So soon as we're asked for reason, we shut down. It's what I believe kills creativity to begin with.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vPC28qAJ7gXfE4NYQQL3bJToNetYoEnNpUn1bu30IJcxpt44Ui_R8HVJRTnxEpR35x80ibo3GR3Nm9yxpFwDOG3ynU1WBAX6-3xH6klsTqLNTlMEa5fAZHjhHgrbWQOjCgZpsws0THnB/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-04-23+at+10.41.18+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vPC28qAJ7gXfE4NYQQL3bJToNetYoEnNpUn1bu30IJcxpt44Ui_R8HVJRTnxEpR35x80ibo3GR3Nm9yxpFwDOG3ynU1WBAX6-3xH6klsTqLNTlMEa5fAZHjhHgrbWQOjCgZpsws0THnB/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-04-23+at+10.41.18+AM.png" width="317" /></a></div>
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I've struggled with seeing the value of my position, even though there are a number of incredible artists who I look up to. I don't know how to put myself in a higher position, or even see myself as intelligent, or brave enough to firmly believe that what I have to offer has far more value than a marketed price tag. It's where my confidence falls short, where I don't trust even my own voice, and why I'm pushing harder to understand what it is that keeps us standing in our own way. All at once, I'm discovering my true value. This is a push to move forward. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-OE1SOB0dlVCGAVwGjN2kF0JrXHQHoW4-bHU_ca6-gk-mvpheKJxI3MMpBQHQMQNF1QQZtHhEvfpUAfwovy1MSC0TcMGRQoAGcsdPn1Y2ZaHUDPPxLu33Qt8KvIB-KyEmBfLm4vo71Anc/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-04-23+at+10.41.11+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-OE1SOB0dlVCGAVwGjN2kF0JrXHQHoW4-bHU_ca6-gk-mvpheKJxI3MMpBQHQMQNF1QQZtHhEvfpUAfwovy1MSC0TcMGRQoAGcsdPn1Y2ZaHUDPPxLu33Qt8KvIB-KyEmBfLm4vo71Anc/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-04-23+at+10.41.11+AM.png" width="316" /></a></div>
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This is still a growing practice, putting myself out there. I don't even know where I'm going with it. All I know is that a lot of struggles are going on under the surface, along with what is going on outside. It's not easy to keep up with, and I feel that now is the time to really find the strength to get through this. You are in more control than you are led to believe. </div>
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I'm here to help you.</div>
<br />libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-81990504327809300722017-04-13T15:34:00.003-07:002018-10-11T23:02:13.267-07:00the art of healing I feel we could all use some time to acknowledge our strengths. In this busy world, it often takes an actual effort to make time for ourselves; where it becomes too simple to look past all of those things that really matter. The world has been in a flip floppy place. Emotions are high, feelings are vulnerable, and the tension is thick. I'd say it's almost toxic to get too close to it right now, and so, I'm pulling at my own heart to hear it out, and heal. It's time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxL7L0KkSFdHPx6T4wS4ec_XUbu41un7TOf7iG8g-DUuk3vCaVu3VX85SL0uXFbXcRsND06Z8iH1LLBTqcfDV9nQFO4L-vgsne-QtsUdXoPfExd_gnZ4PIhXp-rA5tPZvQ8JhLTCYGqLk/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-04-13+at+4.04.10+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxL7L0KkSFdHPx6T4wS4ec_XUbu41un7TOf7iG8g-DUuk3vCaVu3VX85SL0uXFbXcRsND06Z8iH1LLBTqcfDV9nQFO4L-vgsne-QtsUdXoPfExd_gnZ4PIhXp-rA5tPZvQ8JhLTCYGqLk/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-04-13+at+4.04.10+PM.png" width="398" /></a></div>
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If there's one thing I'm good at, it's healing. The downside is that I had to learn through some really unfortunate experiences. I've been told that I'm more optimistic than I allow myself to believe, because when things become a natural habit, we often forget that not everyone feels or believes or behaves the same. Optimism isn't an easy thing to hang onto, when life gets real, and throws a punch or two in your direction. We can get totally knocked off of our feet, and have no idea when we'll land. It's when I call upon my creativity, to map out the journey to get there. I suppose that's a gift I should be more grateful for. I don't know what I'd do without it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpb-jWSOaMPJyBrRZ37I_Sk-tR7u-tEKFnq1r71EONlLRgrDW34OCFfSHABJx3-qTe81H5hHbxCut3PKQoP_UKFbmWLn9vegAlrO5MPJ1LGBd4LMMdOCgvhUx41UZKU1otFyZUbdHfHcx6/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-04-13+at+4.06.36+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpb-jWSOaMPJyBrRZ37I_Sk-tR7u-tEKFnq1r71EONlLRgrDW34OCFfSHABJx3-qTe81H5hHbxCut3PKQoP_UKFbmWLn9vegAlrO5MPJ1LGBd4LMMdOCgvhUx41UZKU1otFyZUbdHfHcx6/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-04-13+at+4.06.36+PM.png" width="317" /></a></div>
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It's why I want to share more. It's something I feel people can get some real closure from, to express in their own way; once we get rid of rationalizing and trying to understand everything. I'm a great over thinker, but I never block myself from feeling it out. If I did, I likely wouldn't be drawing anymore. It's why I feel sort of sad when I hear people say that they "can't" draw, when it's really a matter of trying. I feel creativity is what keeps our hearts alive and happy. Look at how kids play with their imaginations. I'm pretty sure most of us were like that at some point. I don't believe in ever letting that go.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEI9urYpZ7O-qTBr-5LE8vQaiemVZhsEc-O93a9ngLL0DIKpug0vUH6Kpfbu1nrl2fST9R8BZ9T5tVoC1tYayhXWcaPc-hzv1iSLhcCbGsceaTtBqym0Oz0sM2kYk4lJ_k9tTVX1-go9-9/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-04-13+at+4.09.43+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEI9urYpZ7O-qTBr-5LE8vQaiemVZhsEc-O93a9ngLL0DIKpug0vUH6Kpfbu1nrl2fST9R8BZ9T5tVoC1tYayhXWcaPc-hzv1iSLhcCbGsceaTtBqym0Oz0sM2kYk4lJ_k9tTVX1-go9-9/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-04-13+at+4.09.43+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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When my grandma died, it was probably the biggest life altering experience ever. I had no idea how I was going to go on without her, and sometimes, even after 20 years, I think of her and wish I could sit at her kitchen table and just chat for hours. It's what we did best. When that was gone, it was absolutely like I'd lost such a part of myself that would never return. Loss has an incredible impact on so much around us, never realizing how much it takes from us, as we move forward as different people. This is life, and it's not easy to accept at all times. I just like to remember that I've gotten through it, and to a better place since then. I didn't think it was possible. I have my art to thank for that. It literally painted a picture of everything I was feeling underneath the surface. That's the beauty.. You get to see it all in front of you as you let it all out into the open. What's more special is that it's all yours to know, see, feel, and understand. It sort of builds a special relationship all over again, that no one but you will ever know.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2HAxu1QZS2QDIIMgu8JMXXFPfF_VZZDU79GLt4920nyzfnq1xBGKRR388bnQDgUAaCq3T77tFa3Ml6R0ndjs5L4cZzNUCR1bucg0mqQg7qL_KBv_gf0SSC0P1mTtlOVQd6B0pEs2uzjlc/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2HAxu1QZS2QDIIMgu8JMXXFPfF_VZZDU79GLt4920nyzfnq1xBGKRR388bnQDgUAaCq3T77tFa3Ml6R0ndjs5L4cZzNUCR1bucg0mqQg7qL_KBv_gf0SSC0P1mTtlOVQd6B0pEs2uzjlc/s400/unnamed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I painted pictures of trees. It's something my grandma once said she'd like to come back as, if given the chance; so she could continue to provide for her family. We never planted a tree, but I chose to look at my surroundings as a comforting presence to bring her closer to me, for my own healing. The more I painted trees, the more I accepted that this was the shape she would forever remain. It's of course not the same as who I remember, but something I can go to if I ever need to get through those lumps of coping with life and death. It closes those gaps of distance that we have no control over. I am so appreciative for all of my tree paintings. I think it might be time to make another one, just to see how much has changed. I'm sure my grandma would be proud of who I am today.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEira9RQu9-0uA_q5IyztvHfeBYAuPQT1kYsQXxJXH_WPOQ5V2TaoBLwj98Bsg2NrIbwXeWWlU2t8Cr2ZI2ENyYFYAnZ5-yx0yW6gHxrzmXscX4ltWqkvKZklLLA_2o5RBDHa7mk00EFSwlY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-04-13+at+4.25.17+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEira9RQu9-0uA_q5IyztvHfeBYAuPQT1kYsQXxJXH_WPOQ5V2TaoBLwj98Bsg2NrIbwXeWWlU2t8Cr2ZI2ENyYFYAnZ5-yx0yW6gHxrzmXscX4ltWqkvKZklLLA_2o5RBDHa7mk00EFSwlY/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-04-13+at+4.25.17+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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I use my creativity to get through personal challenges. When I was heading to the island, in 2015, I drifted into isolation, and yet my art went into outer space. I realized my fears and curiosities of the unknown, and let it be a part of me. I was moved by Bowie's Space Oddity because the words inspired me to take the leap into an unfamiliar place, just to see what I could discover for myself. I will never forget the drive, and hearing that first strum of the guitar to start me on my journey. An image came to mind, my thoughts exploded, and before I could rest on the first night I arrived, I was in my sketchbook, recording these thoughts. This will always be a moment in life that I'll value forever. It's when I changed entirely, and found who I am. I sometimes still don't know who that is, but I know if I need guidance, I can pick up a pen and see for myself. </div>
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Art is an act of expression, and it speaks in many volumes. It can come in the form of a painting, drawing, a song, a sculpture, a poem.. endless mediums that bring an incredible amount of healing and emotional discovery. I hate to admit that when shit gets bad, I look at it as an opportunity to make great things. It's like the Trump stuff. We're all sick of it, we're all fearful; but we can laugh for a moment at someone's comical depiction of him; because we need that relief from our feelings. It doesn't mean we don't care, it's just a reminder that we can find laughter in the face of so much negativity and in some ways terror. I just don't believe we have to be in that thick of emotion, in order to be a part of society. It's why I said that when Trump was elected, the world is going to have some amazing art to share. </div>
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I'm looking to express, and practice more of my strengths; because the point of this post was for my own personal reminder. Healing takes time, and I believe we all go through moments of absolute despair and frustration. If you are in need of some relief from the real world, pick up a pen, sit down at your piano, dig out those scrap pieces of fabric, scissors, ink, a new journal for your thoughts. Don't deny your creativity the time to speak. If you're hurt, alone, sad, broken, beat; now is the time to pull out your finest.You know you have it in you, and so do I. There is so much to share with the world around you. It needs more love. </div>
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libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-63942357229155799812017-03-03T17:31:00.002-08:002018-10-11T23:02:13.035-07:00the sinking horse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
A little while back, I decided to illustrate something for self motivation. Much like how people use inspirational quotes, I rely on imagery and art. I'm inspired by stories and character; and the emotions that surround them. When I first saw this scene, from The NeverEnding Story, I remember feeling -<i>once I got over how sad I was about the beautiful white horse getting dirty</i>- that when it comes to personal struggles, sometimes you have to let the horse sink. It doesn't mean you're selfish, it doesn't mean you've failed, and it never for a second means that you don't care. Just sometimes, you have to realize which position you're in, before it's too late to ask for help.</div>
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This image makes me consider my own personal struggles. I've become more honest with myself when it comes to my insecurities, my frustrations with anxiety and depression, and how my self esteem honestly blows. I don't like to put that stuff out there often, because then I feel the need to over explain, so that I don't get emails from people who think I'm in a bad place with myself. I don't need to hear that I "don't need to feel that way", or that it's stupid for me to even be insecure at all. Being told your emotions aren't right is where the struggle begins, and I'd say that for many years, I've been the role of the horse; because I didn't know how to ask for help.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1L1xY9Xw-ixxd8jsKxFrfvHGCVW35oAKHNXMm2SEpGMPUYdjXHI3RtwDP-pzH2Rh7T03khUDa3FsbkHH8wjMDG2gAGVHm7z05fR3AI6dSbhkv_V45yxrEQX88HOjdAc05bv2CIy8oS9i5/s1600/Artx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1L1xY9Xw-ixxd8jsKxFrfvHGCVW35oAKHNXMm2SEpGMPUYdjXHI3RtwDP-pzH2Rh7T03khUDa3FsbkHH8wjMDG2gAGVHm7z05fR3AI6dSbhkv_V45yxrEQX88HOjdAc05bv2CIy8oS9i5/s640/Artx.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">The NeverEnding Story (1984)</span></i></div>
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A few weeks ago, I fell on the ice and broke a rib. When it first happened, I was pissed at myself for being so stupid. Who falls on the ice? Why weren't you paying attention? How do you manage to make things worse for yourself at all times? It became less about the accident itself, and more about my personal downfalls. Pity party central, actually. Where do you expect to take yourself, when you only expect yourself to fail? It's exhausting. Don't be the horse. There really is no need. </div>
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It takes a lot to know when it's time to let go. At least for me. I always try to work things out, to gain understanding, to somehow balance everything in order to say it's just fine. Taking on too much at once, can really result in too much weight to carry, which eventually leads us to the failure we've all been trying desperately to avoid. This whole experience, and this image, have taught me so much about myself, and how unnecessary it is to play both roles, at all times. As a good friend once told me, "just because you can do it yourself, doesn't mean you have to." Know your limits, reach out when it's needed, and you'll never be the sinking horse.</div>
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It's okay to ask for help.</div>
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libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-64380931703882124662016-11-01T13:32:00.004-07:002018-05-29T01:37:18.967-07:00anxiety in picturesI missed over a week of writing, because my anxiety had other ideas. Don't ask me what I'm anxious about. I don't have an answer; and yet I have a million. Anxiety doesn't want me to make up my mind, or form an answer with confidence. Anxiety has its own ideas. Far too many to keep up with, and so many places to put them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwh0PKaulHWHPYxPDVFakGpSZKzzK3uVojET9LJfzoBnL3sJtjli5J9UgQxG1oRhIvc4eW1Jy-hKBaveu29YlPgflCn4enkTfvBHy3MR7ln7VnCZL_S8Eky24hYkLHTwsSv2q0l5A3Enn/s1600/Monk1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwh0PKaulHWHPYxPDVFakGpSZKzzK3uVojET9LJfzoBnL3sJtjli5J9UgQxG1oRhIvc4eW1Jy-hKBaveu29YlPgflCn4enkTfvBHy3MR7ln7VnCZL_S8Eky24hYkLHTwsSv2q0l5A3Enn/s400/Monk1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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When I get anxious, I make a habit of drawing it out in front of me. It comes out in the form of a monkey. My feelings toward monkeys are similar to how most people react toward spiders. I really don't want one in my house, near, or touching me. (To be honest, I personally don't mind spiders.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ufxvwAz4j20zw_u_Pww3dUv1iB5-psAfU2XBQmQtDC7nFwN96hbM3YbUhJGoVu7xlVTHb4LhAOHjYIGZI_EqhZ5N7HfIQzKQ9d1k0JB4nnAC8ZVeDOe8vHknDqIwkIIu7NpEyvcRI0f3/s1600/Monk5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ufxvwAz4j20zw_u_Pww3dUv1iB5-psAfU2XBQmQtDC7nFwN96hbM3YbUhJGoVu7xlVTHb4LhAOHjYIGZI_EqhZ5N7HfIQzKQ9d1k0JB4nnAC8ZVeDOe8vHknDqIwkIIu7NpEyvcRI0f3/s400/Monk5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anxiety likes to create a presence. It wants you to feel like someone is waiting for you. It could be one person, or it could be the entire universe. Likely, it's the universe. Imagine the heartache when you let them all down. It's almost as bad as Alderaan.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg25YzGVYxhyphenhyphenqG7xehFtiIasPf3PJ45D9k4NDncUGD6oYF1P9Y0qNvd33L4WjDxb6M-hdo_DzIeQc7mgZuHpHDeL2zXL6oYReWMllfVCWBRfg5TvXUawSOcXueIuOP9OmdEpcwZKD2sY5Ai/s1600/Monk2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg25YzGVYxhyphenhyphenqG7xehFtiIasPf3PJ45D9k4NDncUGD6oYF1P9Y0qNvd33L4WjDxb6M-hdo_DzIeQc7mgZuHpHDeL2zXL6oYReWMllfVCWBRfg5TvXUawSOcXueIuOP9OmdEpcwZKD2sY5Ai/s400/Monk2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anxiety doesn't make decisions, yet it makes them all at once. Just as it wants to fixate on what is already behind, it wants to anticipate everything that lies ahead. It will pick, poke, and scratch at all of the things it can to distract itself from moving forward. Anxiety doesn't like forward. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tKOYShBnHzkq0-RX79DWZYJ_2D6eRgvDMnCi6i1I-LMK8ZPz1ootu2x8RXTWV_FVvZ2FAqB-KjN56-mB0uxQqRKC0ZQSU8z8HO3zflEJ8sIo-aAedIS7WKyD6UMcMko65mBMczI1Xo2i/s1600/Monk4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tKOYShBnHzkq0-RX79DWZYJ_2D6eRgvDMnCi6i1I-LMK8ZPz1ootu2x8RXTWV_FVvZ2FAqB-KjN56-mB0uxQqRKC0ZQSU8z8HO3zflEJ8sIo-aAedIS7WKyD6UMcMko65mBMczI1Xo2i/s400/Monk4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And yet, anxiety is in such a hurry to get there. It will run in every direction, in hopes it will get there safely, and on time. Not knowing where "there" even is, it is on a mission to find it. It anticipates so much at once, it takes effort to slow it down even for a moment. Anxiety doesn't like to rest. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3tCCKRLgKiXif7lMO8EEK6cfycE24SboILsk6c6833wKgEdhm4pRlBddruyOYDXX9MjrpyKBSq3IrVFf5ratw7DGz3l8Kyv7hbaBMnsdHWTtEr7IM-GGEshUeVfNJdmrDpS1-OdlHMaE/s1600/Monk3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3tCCKRLgKiXif7lMO8EEK6cfycE24SboILsk6c6833wKgEdhm4pRlBddruyOYDXX9MjrpyKBSq3IrVFf5ratw7DGz3l8Kyv7hbaBMnsdHWTtEr7IM-GGEshUeVfNJdmrDpS1-OdlHMaE/s400/Monk3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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One thing you should know about anxiety is that it isn't a fan of the moment. There's not so much to see or do, when you look at what is presently in front of you. Nowhere to run. Not back, not forth, not forward, or behind. It's why meditation helps when anxiety is high. Meditation is a practice of being in the moment. You breathe and become present with now. Anxiety doesn't like that, and that's totally fine. No one asked for its opinion.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE-hc4aAHLjBimyAbx84WinCuTEbIZ5kFutD1eSv8dnEv0tRIUwnfOszHvlYEXu9bhYFvQzixEyHsR1X6YbHu2mL7zQps8GjWU4QP9N0uOILJJ-teiLjofYYHQcrkP_DDE0gjDi4sP2VbN/s1600/mg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE-hc4aAHLjBimyAbx84WinCuTEbIZ5kFutD1eSv8dnEv0tRIUwnfOszHvlYEXu9bhYFvQzixEyHsR1X6YbHu2mL7zQps8GjWU4QP9N0uOILJJ-teiLjofYYHQcrkP_DDE0gjDi4sP2VbN/s400/mg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Even when things are going good, anxiety will want to come in and sort out what doesn't need sorting. Truth is, change of any kind (good or bad) takes time to adjust to, and you just need to be fair. It doesn't have to happen in a certain way, at a certain time, all at once, in the air, in the sky, in a parade, or in the grocery store; no matter how hard you try to chase it, push it, pull it, understand it, accept it, dismiss it, to see it for yourself. STOP. Breathe. Be fair. All that you can control is this very moment. And when you realize that.... </div>
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libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-6077072802138428082016-10-16T14:48:00.000-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.950-07:00this truth of mineI like to write about my emotions, because it puts things out in front of me to see. I feel I've done a lot of reflecting lately, because it gives me a certain confidence in realizing that change is possible when you firmly believe that what you deserve in life is better than what you're allowing yourself to see. Happiness is a funny thing, and it feels incredibly possessive.. but the truth is that it is entirely yours to make. And you don't have to be scared or defensive about sharing it.<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQfIYVvrZXwRpOnV7h-LTTHNz4_-8mj6jCHMQVkwZoi9bl5Ca0sBRe5bOdl6oAOlP2MLDgiLlgq85wKMqTjuZlcURmszP-RH86K6a2yG4zccgRsdhccMaofR6z_47iJwuPkTD77aCqBI-q/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-10-16+at+1.44.28+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQfIYVvrZXwRpOnV7h-LTTHNz4_-8mj6jCHMQVkwZoi9bl5Ca0sBRe5bOdl6oAOlP2MLDgiLlgq85wKMqTjuZlcURmszP-RH86K6a2yG4zccgRsdhccMaofR6z_47iJwuPkTD77aCqBI-q/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-10-16+at+1.44.28+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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I feel I've become so different in the past year, because I learned how to offer myself exactly what I needed. I write about this so often because it's really a massive discovery that I didn't even know existed until I got up and tried it. It makes me laugh, and sometimes it makes me cry. I mourn often, the sad truth, that I didn't allow myself to see my actual value for a very long time. I didn't believe in it because I chose to let my outside sources dictate it for me. There's this weird blur between confidence and arrogance, and the key is to not care what others think of it. It's <b>all </b>about choices. You can't control the choices others make, but you can control your own. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2x_FYYdZfjiwk5FcRgtK0uxcsdDfICFSK1O7fhfeutzbAQfYdWPyNe2E2xoBhfAy7cIBRJbFOBZSim_DTfL57yeJoXemmxUdPQOTglTpSXQnLLxquy7BVBvg-wi1Ele6ewpqDBtVnx7le/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-10-16+at+2.10.33+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2x_FYYdZfjiwk5FcRgtK0uxcsdDfICFSK1O7fhfeutzbAQfYdWPyNe2E2xoBhfAy7cIBRJbFOBZSim_DTfL57yeJoXemmxUdPQOTglTpSXQnLLxquy7BVBvg-wi1Ele6ewpqDBtVnx7le/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-10-16+at+2.10.33+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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I've had my fair share of name calling along the way, and those things hurt the most. Even to see someone label me as "holier than thou" was a super laughable situation, because I realize that people choose to see you the way they want to see you. It has nothing to do with you at all. Especially when the internet is used so loosely as an emotional dumping ground for approval and acceptance. I no longer express my emotions on social media platforms, when it's something that could lead to misunderstanding or question. People are going to read your emotions, and make them their own. It's partially why I struggle with writing this blog. Truth is, this is about me.. and that's why I'm here. It's your own choice to read it, and take what you want from it. Just maybe, for a minute, realize that it's not always about you. I take my own advice with this, as I accept the multiple losses around me. Everyone and everything is susceptible to change. </div>
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I'm still learning how to maintain my confidence without feeling it's something I have to hold back, because someone might have a problem with it or twist it into something ugly. The truth is, someone is always going to have a problem with your successes; especially if you make it look easy. There's something weird about the expression of happiness and how it is received in society.. especially on the internet. The amount of people that I've seen/heard grumbling about someone posting something happy, with an "okay I get it" or "I'm so sick of hearing about it!" It's why trolls exist. Happiness puts us at a distance from those who don't know how to join it. It's why it can often be seen as a threat, because there's a sensation of leaving something behind. The sad reality in that is you're likely leaving behind what you didn't need in the first place </div>
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Part of embracing my own happiness involved letting go of some of my deepest, darkest struggles and my most cynical beliefs; which to be honest, were not very kind at all. I felt guilty for being alive, <b>and</b> for being a woman, because of my examples. Because of those examples, I also believed that it was <b>impossible</b> for any man to love anyone past themselves.. unless of course you have something they want; which likely involves your body and not so much your mind or your own voice. I present to you, my daddy issues! Really, this is the only example I grew into believing, and it was often supported by other people who chose to hurt me along the way. Two father figures that treated me like an absolute waste of breathing space. I was never human to either of them, and they took control by abusing and abandoning me. This is not at all being read in a voice of pity. This actually presented me with the challenge of discovering my own personal strength and beauty. I heavily value my experiences for their lessons. Even if they're not the happiest ones to put out there. </div>
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I chose to keep this pattern of doubting my value (with men) through my own actions, because it was easier to prove myself right than it was to prove myself wrong. I could get super deep into how much this affected my relationships with men, and how I often treated them far better than I treated myself. I gravitated to distance, rejection, arrogance, deceit, and full out neglect. I recall some of the things that were even said to my face, and I laugh out loud at how absurd it was to even allow it... or in most cases, defend it. I was always proving myself right from my experiences; that I was worth nothing. One man told me he didn't love me anymore, on my own birthday. Another said he liked my face better when it had makeup on because my natural face was "weird" to look at. I even had one man flatly say to me, that he was using me for sex, and couldn't put his feelings toward me into words.. because there were no feelings at all. I allowed it. I smiled. It was <i>cute</i>. I took it as the best I could get. The best I could allow myself to receive. It really is absolutely profound to me, to prove to myself that all of the pain I didn't want to keep feeling, was actually in my control. </div>
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Habits and beliefs are tricky to break, but I'm happy to say that I'm seeing love in a very new light. I reach out to the men who offer me the<i> right </i>love and support; and they continuously prove me wrong.. or I should say right.. for knowing that love is something that does exist in this world, and that I'm an important part of it. It's why my journey to the island will always be treasured, because it was a time when I learned how to get out, rid myself of what was only holding me back, break those patterns and beliefs, and to gain closure with myself through love and support toward no one else but me. I let go of <i>so much</i> heartache, and came back with even more to give ...and receive... and believe that I'm absolutely worthy of it. It feels really amazing to see it in such a different shape. It's so honest and simple.. and eeeek, it scares me in the best way. I can only hold it tight and be thankful that I did the work to see things for what they are. Confidence in my own value is a constant effort to maintain; because change takes time. Patience is a virtue, and I'm learning that I can only go at my own pace. Some will follow, others won't. It's okay to push forward and into a happier place, so long as you're not leaving yourself behind.</div>
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I smile at my experiences, despite the sadness that sprinkles some of those memories, and I let them go, one by one. I have held on to so much that wasn't mine, and I handed it back to the source by leaving it where it belongs. It isn't always easy to accept it, because it involves severing ties to relationships that I really wish I could maintain and share as I find my happier place. My father, and even some of the people I once loved and shared my life with; I wish each one of them well, and I smile warmly at the sensation of being free from ever losing sight of who I really am. Men <b>are</b> capable of love, and in such a remarkably strong yet gentle fashion. The key to finding this sort of love is to lead by example, by giving exactly what you desire for yourself, to yourself, before anyone else. That's what happiness is. If you don't like it, you can stay where you are. </div>
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libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-27824129256410051272016-10-09T15:12:00.002-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.538-07:00promised return<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A promise I made to myself, for this month, was that I was going to write (and post!) every week, because I haven't done much at all since August(!) Writing has always been my escape. My personal release. I'll admit that I've been writing a lot outside of technology, because there is no audience. I've become so conscious of the world that exists out there.. and I find a lot of it to be so confusing. From open ended Facebook statuses seeking questions and comfort, and in some cases argument or debate; to passive-aggressive Tweets that maybe say we're not expressing our needs in the proper place or fashion. Sometimes, I don't even know how to express anymore. And so, I do so elsewhere.<br />
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I didn't really notice it until I came back to the city, just how disconnected the world is from.. the world, and from ourselves. When I lived on the island, I had to learn how to connect with my new and unfamiliar surroundings by being present; without the internet as a safety net for introductions. I didn't think I was capable of approaching strangers, without feeling somewhat awkward or shy in my usual fashion; because I'd listened to the opinions of others so heavily. "Closed off", reserved, snobbish, aloof, and my favourite "self involved". I believed in these labels so heavily, until I actually got to see myself for who I really am, by being myself, by myself. The more I allowed it, and trusted it, and listened fully to who I am as a person; the more I saw strangers approaching me, sitting with me, talking, sharing, and leaving me with incredible words about how comforting, real, honest, and open I am. This IS me. Real, true, amazing, and profound connections; which taught me to see myself for who I am, and not for how others <i>choose to see me</i>. I didn't realize that when I left the island and returned to my familiar surroundings, that it was going to appear entirely different than when I left it. I'd come back more self aware and confident in my own skin, and yet, so insecure about who was going to accept it. The harsh labels I'd been given as guidance to change, from people who I had once assumed were my friends; were only an expression of their own expectations. I can't be more than anything but myself.<br />
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I spent a lot of this summer entirely on my own, because I felt it was necessary to understand how I was going to maintain confidence in myself; by evaluating my choices, and providing my energy to the right things. I noticed a really sad habit in my relationships, including some within my own family, that I was often giving to those who didn't see or value it for what it was. It was like I was working for a certain approval that was never even acknowledged. The instant I shut it off, the more I gained for myself. When you stop offering love to the wrong places, the more you can provide to yourself and to others who will actually return it willingly. It was the first year I picked up the phone to wish my step dad a happy birthday. It felt so much better than sending an empty emailed message to my real father, who hasn't remembered my birthday in over 6 years. It isn't an easy process, to accept that your love isn't valued by everyone you want to present it to. I mourned many losses this summer, when yet, I gained so much from learning how to give and actually receive the treatment I'm so prone to providing. Equality is very new to me. It shouldn't be a trying effort.<br />
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I could go on and on about this personal discovery for hours, but the truth is that it took me so much to get to this point in sharing all that I've just written. To sum it up, I'm learning a whole lot about what I'm capable of being, and who I really am, and what I have to give to the world. The internet is a totally different universe that I am learning how to approach just the same as I am coming back to the real world, as myself. Without boundaries, it can be difficult to put it out there without the fears or assumption that someone is going to read things incorrectly or turn my words inside out and into something that they want to argue or feel for themselves. Truth is, I can't control how others choose to see me, but I can control my boundaries and who I know I am. I turn off my phone more often, I look at what is plainly in front of me. Life is precious, and so are you, and your time, and your energy. I have an endless amount of love to give. And here I am, reminding myself what is mine and how to hang onto it.<br />
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Thank goodness I made it this far. Writing is so good for my soul.libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-52726881009948029782016-08-04T00:18:00.000-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.859-07:00creative confidence 101<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I realize I've been putting a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself to do more than I'm capable of, for no apparent reason. I've been denying myself of my natural process, and have also lost touch with my confidence in execution. I don't know where I fell off so hard with my thoughts, but it has been months since I've written a post without editing things down a million times. Something is off. Something is missing. Something is standing in my way of focus. I figure this is the perfect time to get started on some personal projects, to help pull myself out of it. I'm good at that. I'm encouraging myself to find my strengths. I didn't think I had any until I went looking for them. I feel I have many yet still to discover. That's why I'm here.<br />
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When I help people sort out their creative puzzles, whether it be finding the inspiration to be more creative, to nailing down the proper skills, or understanding their creative passions; I always start with the same piece of advice. Well, I have a few pieces, but number one is to do what I call Peter Pan-ing yourself. I've written about it before, so I don't need to go too far into detail. Basically, I'm asking you to get back in touch with your inner child, the person you were from the start, the person you still are; the person you need to nurture and allow to shine through. It's who you are to the core. You are far more valuable than you allow yourself to realize.<br />
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I often keep pictures of myself on my desk, as influence to embrace my creative confidence. I could trash myself so easily, and yet, when I put that kid out in front of me, my view changes entirely. I care about that kid, big time. She has a big heart, and a mind so deep you could get lost in it. I'm a busy dreamer; almost as intense as Walter Mitty. Ask that kid to fill a book with stories in a day, and she would. She did. I'm just sorting out where some of those pieces got lost along the way. I'm looking to that kid to help me find the answers. They're there, and she knows how to find them. I just have to stop trying to be a magnificent adult, and listen.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">It might sound strange to hear it from me, but creative confidence has always been a struggle. I'm also terribly insecure about being labelled as an artist. Not only does it sound -to me- to be incredibly eccentric (as we can't go without our turtlenecks, judgemental sneers, and tilted berets) I also grew up with a weird societal concept that creative thought lacked real and useful<i> </i>intelligence. I'm not even kidding when I say that I felt like Forrest Gump through most of my school years, because I didn't know how to retain information if it wasn't delivered creatively. I wish I'd known then that it was just how my mind worked. Not a weakness. Not stupid at all. Stupid is as stupid does. </span><br />
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Confidence, in general, is a tough one to trust and embrace fully, because those who don't have it will attempt to make it difficult for you... including yourself. There's this weird sensation that comes with confidence, because as we gain it, we change. And as we change, so do those around us. It becomes a certain process of dealing with loss at the same time as celebrating the gain. Confidence is tough! As I learn to accept my own; I notice that I care far less about what others think of me, and I spend little to no time trying to earn anyone's acceptance or approval. Like me for who I am, because I'm only trying to do the same. It's a tricky balance that gets easier with time, as you learn to trust it. Just like your creative confidence. Love what you're made of, and don't be scared to let it out.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">I like to ask people, what was your favourite project in school(?) because it often stirs up a storm of excitement that is reminiscent to how we express as children. We get jacked up, we jump in, and we deliver with joy. For me, my favourite memory was when one of my teachers brought in a typewriter (the olden days laptop) typed out the classroom's creative stories and coil bound the pages into individual books. Each page had room for illustrations, and inside each construction paper cover/title page, was a -very real- library card to stamp and sign out. For a kid who loved nothing more than reading and writing, this was a dream come true! I will always remember how much I valued that project, and how it made me feel. I don't hang onto much, and yet I still have those books, and the ones I made later on in my own free time. Part of building creative confidence is searching for the root of your interests. If it makes you shine, it's your passion. Grab hold of it, and make something of it. I now know mine. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">In school, I always excelled at anything creative; especially writing. I took to poetry, silly rhymes, and short stories that delivered an emotional or even nonsensical message. I was naturally good at it; so much, that my teachers brought attention to it and made it known to others. I suppose this is why I struggle with positive attention; because it made me a target for ridicule and trolling. It's that threat of confidence that I was talking about earlier. Don't be afraid of it. Let the lumps pout it out on their own, until they learn to do it for themselves. You don't owe anyone explanation for what you believe in. Let it out, and be proud of it.</span><br />
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When Creative Writing transformed into English class, I know that is where I lost interest in writing the way I used to. Rather than write what I felt, or what I dreamed of, I was asked to write with reason, for an answer. After endless (boring) group discussions, analyzing the pages of Brave New World, for months on end; someone in my Advanced English group project wrote my review as "I don't think she read the book." This really let me down. It really made me resent my natural abilities, because suddenly I was told I was wrong. I believe this is how most of us lose touch with our passions. It doesn't take much to build a roadblock, but it can take years to knock it down.</div>
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I'm still trusting my strengths, and figuring out how to share them with others. Hey, it's why we're here, reading this lengthy blog post that seems to feel all over the map in information. I'm not deleting it. I want it out of my system. It's just like the advice I give to those who want to explore their creative side again. Just try. Try! Don't think too hard, and definitely don't rob the fun out of it. As grownups we know how to make every single thing become <b>so lame</b> through question, complaint, comparison, and reason. Or at least that's how I have often viewed grownups; and why I cried about ever being one when I was little. I was smart enough to know that I was going to lose touch with something I was naturally good at, because growing up involves taking everything so damn seriously. Ask a kid to draw a monster, and I doubt you'll be seeing them asking for reference on how to draw an actual monster. They just do it. They look into their minds and make it happen. This is why I say that reaching back toward your inner child will save you. They just want you to have fun again. Real fun. Not like the fun you have by paying your bills on time. Ugh.<br />
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As an even more enjoyable representation of who I am as a person, I like look at the personality of my dog. People often say that our pets reflect who we are, and if that's the case I'm both honoured and a little bit scared (totally kidding). Breakfast's greatest strength is that he's young at heart. Often, most people think he's a puppy, because of how he reacts to greetings and invitations to engage in play. He can make a game out of just about anything, and get anyone to join him. Every day, I look at him and think, "hey, you're pretty great." My four legged fountain of youth. I'm so glad he reminds me to laugh and play, every single day. Without fail. What a gift he has.<br />
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And while I'd say that I'm great at being creative most days, not every day is successful. Like today. I spent hours trying to write this -stupid- post out to sound right, and only now am I writing and telling myself not to delete it. Why? Because that's also the advice I give to people who want to experiment with their creative side. Let it out and let it be. Get a book, some pens (there aren't any secret magic materials that artists use), find what makes <i>you</i> happy, and just fucking do it. Really, sorry to be french about it, but I'm just feeling a bit frustrated with myself.. and it suits this post entirely. Don't stand in your own way of doing what matters to you. If you have expectations to be at a certain skill level, or what your concept of "good" is, or what makes it worth it to you; then that's an entirely different post. If you want more of yourself, practice. If you want to start somewhere, be easy on yourself, or else it's going to end quickly. Stop being a grownup about it, lame-o.<br />
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My last bit of advice as you chip away at finding your creative spirit, is to just shut up. I might sound rude here, but really. Shut up with the excuses, shut up about how you don't have time, shut up about how you "suck" at art, shut up about how dumb your drawings might look, shut up about comparison to others, shut up about how you're going to fail, shut up about every little thing that makes YOU stand in your own way. I'm great at this game too, and I've been drawing all of my life. What makes me nuts though is when I encourage people to play, and they flop over with the excuse that I'm somehow going to judge them for trying. Guess what. You're putting words in <i>your own </i>mouth, to stop before you begin. Stop making me out to be the master of judgement. My arms are open to you to get out there and try. Shut up and play. I just want you to express what's hiding in there. The beauty isn't in the skill level, it's in trusting your natural voice. Your creativity, is your voice. Please speak up!<br />
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For real though, go out and get yourself a book. Sit down with it for even just a minute a day, and don't pay any attention to how you might want to talk yourself out of it. No one is putting a single bit of pressure on you, but you. There's no invisible audience waiting to laugh at you. There's no one standing behind you waiting to ask for your rationale. No one has to "get" what you're up to. Hell, <i>you</i> don't even have to know what you're up to. Draw something that comes to mind, or just mindlessly doodle. Write down a word, the lyrics to your favourite song, write a poem, a sonnet, a haiku. Research something interesting that you want to learn, jot it down, draw a picture of it. No one is going to see it but you. If you want to share it, share it. Creativity is something all for yourself, and that's the beauty behind it. When you gain confidence, you can share it.. and guess what, others will surely follow. That's the beauty of learning how to play. Just be. Seriously, Peter Pan yourself hard. Let that kid inside of you do what it has always been good at. I have yet to even address the things I'm looking to explore for myself. Funny, it involves writing... and here we are. I made it. I got this out of my system.<br />
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Go find that kid inside of you and let it out. I'm sure it has a lot of fun things to show you.<br />
<br />libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-31651478210417778902016-06-15T15:41:00.002-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.584-07:00good griefWhen I feel stuck, I write. It's my therapy, my process of understanding. I don't even know where to begin, yet I already have. I'm sick of loss, I'm sick of sadness, and I'm sick with frustration that I can't fix it all. "Grief is a solo journey," my best friend reminded me. This is true. I suppose this is why I feel so distanced from everyone. Grief puts us in such an empty place in the world. I feel I'm lost in my own thoughts, because we all process things differently. I can't even talk about myself. It feels selfish, and yet, I need to. I need to understand.<br />
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I'm a feeler. When I grieve, often it is more for those who are grieving. I always want to know what they're thinking, how their hearts are aching, how they feel about knowing that life will be different from that moment on. Life is profound. We learn through experience, and the impact of loss can alter and shape us forever. I'm no pro at dealing, but I know I've experienced plenty. Grandparents, cousins, friends, coworkers, neighbours, pets. It's a lot to take in, but it has taught me so much. I know that my reaction of acceptance can sometimes be taken as if I don't care, because it is different than what is expected. That's where it hurts the most. Grief comes in all shapes and sizes. With and without tears of sadness.<br />
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My first loss was my grandma. She practically raised me, as my second mom, my source of understanding, my example, my cheering team, my supporter. I was 15 when I last saw her, and for years, I felt it was impossible that she was gone forever. It felt like a cruel magic trick, a weird sort of disappearing act. For years, my dreams deceived me into believing she was on vacation and bound to return, or that I'd need some sort of potion to bring her back to life again. I'd call her home phone number, to hear it ring, to wait for that voice to be there and say it was just fine. I deceived myself for years. I didn't know how to let go. I didn't know how to accept it that death is permanent, and life isn't. It shook me hard.<br />
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I was angry, I was sad, I was depressed for years. I went through a million emotions, until I finally followed the advice of my mom. She said to shine. She said to celebrate. She said to laugh and remember the good times. From my perspective, at the time when it was fresh, I thought this wishful approach seemed damn selfish... and kind of annoying. I thought, how dare you take away my sadness and tell me I should be <i>smiling</i>? It definitely wasn't for her to say, but I now appreciate the courage it takes to do what she suggested. Shining in the face of loss is a method of survival. It really has helped me through the years of so much at once. Thank you, mom.<br />
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I was lucky I didn't see my grandparents age. They were only in their 60s/70s when they passed; so I never saw them whither or experience anything with their health that altered who they were and how I remember them. Their deaths were quite sudden, and so I never had that chance to say goodbye. I've come to accept that I don't like goodbyes. I don't think getting to say it changes anything in regards to closure. I know that for years after their absence, I at least wanted to say thank you. To let them know how much they provided to me while they were here. I can't change that. But I can take what I've learned, and I can treat the ones who are present, with love, honour, respect, and devotion; so that when they go, I can say there are no regrets. It has altered many of my relationships, as I appreciate every single day that we are all given.<br />
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I mended a lot of my relationships with my family. We experienced some really horrible things together, and for a while it broke us apart, as we healed at our own pace. I feel that the beauty behind loss and heartache is that it makes you stronger. My mom always focused on this fact, and it helped me embrace the tough times, for what they'd show me later on. I feel I can face a lot of tough things that most people don't know how to process. I feel like this, sadly, keeps me at a distance from those who expect differently. I can't get them to see what I want them to see. It can only be done on their own time. I can only listen, be that shoulder, and offer help when needed, and remind them... I'm there. My heart is heavy with love, and it wants to be shared. Grief is a closed process before it can open up to the world again. I wait.<br />
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I'm learning just to keep quiet and be patient. Like my mom, who sat at the foot of my bed, after my grandma died, hoping just for a minute that I'd return; to see me smile, to hear me laugh, to watch the colour come back to my tear stained cheeks, to watch me run outside with my arms open again. It was never easy for her to sit back and wait for it. I get that, but it takes time to rejoice in the face of loss. One of the toughest things about feeling joy again is that there's a sensation of leaving the lost behind. I'm glad that I see joy as part of the process of life and death. I know my grandparents would never want me to spend a lifetime grieving over their passing. I choose to celebrate what I ever had, thanks to them.<br />
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My mom taught me such a valuable lesson, I feel that when I am faced with a world where she is no longer there; I'll know how to take her with me. This gift is tremendous. I really feel it is the most valuable lesson that has helped me deal with the realness of life. Meditation also taught me a lot about life and death, as I used to fear death to the point of panic. I didn't like the idea that it is inevitable that I'll one day be gone. People will be left behind. I'll be spoken about, remembered in a way I'll never know. It makes me think about how I live out my days, how I treat the people around me, how I focus my energy. What do I want to leave behind? What would I want to do with my precious time on this earth? I suppose loss has helped me reflect on what I need from myself, while I'm here. I can't control anything but right now... so here I am. I'm okay with knowing one day I'll be gone. Life is beauty. Live it fully with the time you're given. Now is all we have.<br />
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In my neighbourhood, there are poppies blooming everywhere. I see them as a massive symbol of remembrance. They remind me to stop, take time, and remember all that has been lost; and all that has been gained in the process of experience. I used to see my grandma in the shape of a tree, because she said it was what she wished to return as. That's lovely, and that image keeps her close to me no matter where I go. To my grandpa, who showed me the night sky; the stars will always remind me of the twinkle in his eye as he shared his glorious knowledge and imagination. So many things in this world keep the losses in a place that can never be taken. I'm grateful for memories, I'm grateful to remember the people who have made up my life. Everyone comes and goes. Love is what never dies.<br />
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Tomorrow would be my grandma's birthday.<br />
I will celebrate.libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-24826128009557305372016-05-29T21:42:00.004-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.473-07:00in circles<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm trying my best to keep my writing simple. The trouble I have is that I get a thought, and then I get excited about a number of things at once; then I write a bunch of stuff I can't keep up with, losing the thought entirely in the end. I don't see any of it as a bad thing, because writing is a certain therapy for me; but I see that my mind gets caught in a loop, and goes for a ride.. sometimes leading to places where I get a little lost. I'm happy to have such an active mind, but I'm also learning to take time for it, to stop, entirely. I catch myself running on empty a little too often not to do something about it.</div>
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I like to understand how my mind works, and really listen to what I need in order to feel more positively about the things around me. I'm the happiest I've felt in years, and yet, my anxiety is at such a steady high. I realize that this sort of thing happens when I'm not considering my needs. My mind and body need time to turn off. Sometimes I go to bed and things keep going. It's no wonder I've been so lethargic. I can't afford to fall behind, and funny enough, catching up involves taking it slow.</div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">I put so much of myself in what I do, as a profession, that it's really not a surprise that I can run myself down into a state of depression, and self inflicted (coffee) anxiety. For a very long time, I felt like I was a hamster on a wheel; rushing to make sure my work was done for the next person, and the next, and the next, and the next; I hardly gave myself notice. This went on for a really long time, until I realized that my own happiness really needed to be included in this cycle of giving.</span></div>
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I recently heard someone say that 'we are no longer our 10 year old selves, and yet we are <i>still</i> our 10 year old selves." I loved this quote because it is exactly where I am right now with self acceptance and who I have always been, and what is actually mine. I've come to accept some really big responsibilities, and also embrace some of my greatest strengths. I care hard, I'm sensitive, I can cry at the thought of someone being hurt. I'm built to love. It takes time to learn how to let those vulnerabilities out, and see them as your strengths. My need to cry when I'm upset or hurt by something isn't going to change. When I get mad, I spout and pout, until I work it out. If someone doesn't like it, it's not mine to fix. Trust yourself, and value your worth. When you change how you care for yourself, it alters what care you receive from others. Not even kidding. My life has changed so much because of it.</div>
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I realize that my posts might be a bit redundant when it comes to self love, time, and finding happiness. The truth is that I just want to share how it has worked for me, because happiness is a constant effort that you can only get from yourself. I may be the happiest I've been in years, but I'm also in the biggest state of transition. I'm letting go of some really tough shit that I've dealt with through the years, and when I reflect on those things; I see that I spent a really long time not providing myself with much love or respect. Especially in my relationships. Not to get too personal, but a solid example:<br />
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I was once in a relationship where I was cheated on multiple times. The evidence was in writing, and sometimes left plainly in front of me to discover; yet I chose not to acknowledge it for what it was. Instead, I put this weird pressure on myself to prove that person wrong, to show them that I was <i>good enough</i> to be loved; because I have always known my true value. For a long time, I took this treatment as my own responsibility. I even felt that maybe I deserved it, because I'd made my own mistakes that I didn't know how to face. Once I took that time and forgave myself, I stopped allowing myself to be treated poorly by anyone. That's why I say that self love acts as a filter for people who don't belong. Self love doesn't allow you for a second to be treated like the bag of shit I once thought I was. It's sad, and yet I laugh out loud, to think I was ever in such a place. You should never <i>ever</i> have to run in circles, to show someone your worth. Offer yourself love, and others will follow. Truly.<br />
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I've been giving myself some new challenges, to embrace change, encourage more of the positive, and to remind myself that change takes time, effort, and absolute maintenance. I have a number of projects on the go, including a 100 day challenge, called <a href="https://thegreatdiscontent.com/100days">The Great Discontent</a>, where I decided to call mine The Great Disconnect. This 100 day project (doing something creative for 100 days) goes with my incentive to limit my time with technology, because of how social media actually affects my social habits. It's tough to describe, but as an introvert, I have an absolute limit when it comes to how much social interaction is 'enough' for me in one day. When I noticed myself lose touch with some of my relationships and even my own art/passions; I decided to do something about it. I'm enjoying the freedom of turning things off and being present. 100 days, one photo only, and one thought to go with it. To see what I've been up to, check out @kendylitis on Instagram. I'll be there.</div>
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Now that I've come to acknowledge my limits, and my needs, I am only just branching out into a healthier environment of what, to me, is real. I have a lot on my plate when it comes to self discovery, which is why I find personal projects, and daily challenges, to be so helpful. Creative expression is a healer, and I feel that we can get to know ourselves so well when we take that time to let it out in front of us. I've learned so much in just 41 days, and it doesn't stop. And while most of my posts about happiness may seem a little repetitive for how often I express it, I'm just stating the truth. I'm happy because I worked for it. If you want something to change in your life, do something. Simple as that.. yet not simple at all. Be there for yourself, and you'll see. </div>
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You're amazing. You deserve to be treated that way, by others, and yourself.</div>
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<br />libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-3388256959435029002016-05-15T20:19:00.003-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.657-07:00from me to me: 35<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">As part of a tradition, I like to write about what each year of my life looks like; for the sake of projecting and maintaining a focus on the progress within myself. 35 was a hefty year, and I've been struggling for days to put it into words what it taught me, because there's just so much. All I can say is that it was the year that I figured out who I am, who I've always been; and who I will remain... without fear. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">It has been a really interesting time of trusting my own voice, and hearing it out. When you listen to your needs, you find so much more to love in the world around you. They're always there, you just have to look for them, and listen. It took me months to decide to leave a city that I'd labelled as home, for one I didn't know at all. I'd say I didn't realize what was in front of me, until I left it. I feel this is a huge message that comes with life itself. I knew I didn't need to say goodbye, and yet I did. I needed space, time, solitude, perspective. I needed to put myself in the centre of my own universe in order to see what to allow back in. I suppose this is how Space Oddity became the anthem of my 35th year of life. What an adventure!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">35 was the year I made some decisions that were incredibly lofty and even a bit irresponsible. I quit my office job, started to work as a professional artist, and learned how to take that title seriously. I still struggle with it, as my confidence is new and still quite reluctant to accept that this is actually my true calling. An office job felt like the smart thing to do, yet a pay check could never define my time and/or my worth; nor did it ever offer me any form of benefit, relief, or room to grow. I had to stand pretty firm on my own dreams and beliefs, to prove to myself that it's okay to try, even if the struggle is real. I need spontaneity and challenges in my life, or else I grow bored and robotic. In an office job, I was miserable, restricted, and repressed from my actual capabilities. Quitting my job is still hands down the best thing I could have done for myself.. next to asking my dog to pick between staying where we were, OR going on an adventure. Perhaps that decision making process was a little careless in some regard; but damn, I'm glad we did it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I learned that happiness is something <i>you create for yourself</i>, and one of the toughest truths behind it is that not everyone is going to like it... especially if you make it look easy. The more I've shared how happy I <i>choose to be</i>, the more I see myself losing 'friends'. It's a tough truth to accept, but it lightens the load on its own. I remember someone messaging me, while I was in BC, to point out how happy I seemed on my own; like it was a bad thing. Loving life isn't about being selfish, it's about being appreciative of what you have in front of you. I left town with very little in tow, and made the most of it. I feel happy to know that I'm capable of making so much out of so little; as very few of us take the time to realize how lucky we are to even be alive for another day. In the face of a year with so much loss, I was presented with so much gain. It all came from within. Magic.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not everyone is going to believe or accept that I've changed for the better, and I'm okay with that. I learned from a very soft hearted and selfless woman, who happens to be my mom, that not everyone is going to like you at your best. I realize that I've struggled through the years, in our relationship, because I saw a lot of her strengths as weaknesses; because they are similar to my own. I haven't given myself much cred through the years, for how strong I actually am; because like her, I always want to do more. My mom has been there through thick and thin, and when it comes to loss, I experienced far too much heartache at an early age. We lost our home, our family, our privacy, our stability, our pets, our belongings, our loved ones, and a good portion of our lives that we'll never get back. We grew up quickly, and lost so much at once, that it caused me to rebel for a very long while. My mom is incredibly forgiving, loving, and patient. I appreciate that she stepped back and let me grow, and come back to myself, at my own pace. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">It makes sense that I chose to gravitate to people who didn't really deserve the love I had to offer, for so long, because I hadn't realized my own worth. For years, I felt that I was messing everything up as I went; when the truth was that I was giving so much for nothing in return. You give and give, and they only ask for more. I cut off ties with those who only took from me, and their reactions were almost similar to a tantrum. I realize that they expected something of me that was too valuable for them to receive. I gave up trying to argue for what they chose not to see, and I spared my energy for better things. Much like my mom, I forget that I have feelings that are both delicate as they are strong. I forget to offer the same love I give so willingly to others, to myself. Self love is necessary. Anyone who calls it selfish, is just mad you're not providing to their own selfish needs. They can only sort it out for themselves. I've done my time, being ignored for my actual worth.</span></span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Being loved for your true strengths (and weaknesses) is a very humbling thing.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I realize, in this ever changing world, that I'm lucky to be alive. Lately, I've noticed both of my parents talk about their own mortality, and this makes the process of life seem more real; that it's only here for a limited time. I'm 36, and I see it in my physical body that I'm actually <i>a woman</i>. I'm someone who has lived a decent life, filled with a number of ups and downs, which have shaped me into something unique and even beautiful. I decided to document pieces of my life that I know I'll look back at and be proud of, through a personal project that changed my perspective entirely. It was a project that made me think about why we can't look forward to what we have now, with the same energy we feel about the things we no longer have. Always be proud of yourself. Be proud of the life you have, and the shape you have become through experience. Appreciate that you're given another day to breathe. You are valuable to this world, and you have so much power to make the best of it in your own way. It's pretty incredible, and I am still reluctant to share my -revealing- personal project fully because I literally stripped down to all that I am and expressed what I was feeling. It makes me really nervous to share it, but I also learned that being vulnerable is what makes us stronger. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">35 was a lot about discovering what family means to me. I realize that I distanced myself almost literally, for the sake of seeing what I needed in order to understand, trust, and believe in it fully. I've spent years, moving around, pressing restart, letting people in, letting people go, saying goodbye, keeping a safe distance from the unpredictable and familiar sensation of abandonment. I have some scars that are still present, but I learned that I create my own pain for myself to keep safe from the surprise. When I was surrounded by the things that made me feel insignificant, I realized how significant I am to myself. We can get caught up in forgetting that we're not the universe, nor do we own it. We are just a very small part of it, and we can lose it just as quickly as we have already gained. We feel deeply, we protect ourselves, we grieve, we mourn, we cry, we scream, we shout at the top of our lungs. It's easy to feel super alone until you realize who is listening. At 35 I learned that just because I can do it all alone, doesn't mean I have to. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The more I learned to ask for help, the more I learned how to receive it. 35 showed me a tremendous amount of love, from so many angles. From the people I've known all my life, the people I met in the past year, to the ones I'm still getting to know; my life is entirely different based off of who I choose to accept into it. Realizing my worth from within this circle of people is how I found home for the first time in years, in an image that I'll never forget. It was the night I decided -on impulse- to go back where I had come from. I was leaving the island, with certainty of where I needed to be, and right above the highway, as large as I'd ever seen it, was Ursa Major (the big dipper). Ursa has been an incredibly representational symbol for me; of family, of trust, of a bond that doesn't require blood (or relation) to be true. Ursa Major is an asterism, made up of stars that are totally unrelated, creating something that is viewed as a whole from afar. That night, I trusted what made me whole and I followed it. No wonder it was so hard for me to leave in the first place! What a profound moment, to realize the definition of home, and make it real. I'm so happy to be back where I belong. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I suppose you could say that </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">at 35, I broke down and built myself up, simultaneously. I found what love means from both inside and out, and that adoration doesn't waver in the ones who truly believe in your purpose. Love is a pretty incredible thing, and comes in many shapes and sizes. When people see you for who you actually are, and embrace you for what you are capable of giving to this world, and encourage it; those are the ones you should hang on to. I buried a lot of unwanted love, and negative pieces of myself in the woods of BC. It was a cleanse that I absolutely needed in order to push forward, and welcome in new love, with confidence. I've never felt so weightless and free of uncertainty. 35 was a year where I realized that I deserve true and honest love. To the guy who asked me daily, how my day was, and how he could help before he'd wish me goodnight, thank you. You're a big deal in a <i>very</i> big year for me.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">At 35, I started to see more of my mom in my appearance, and that's part of what this post is about. When I see features that look more like her face, and expressions that are far too close to home, I smile when I realize I'm becoming my maker. I burst into tears one day, when I realized that they're pieces of her I will always carry, even when she's no longer there. I remember when I was at a park, in Victoria, feeling totally scared and alone in a new and unfamiliar place. Just as I was about to go to my car, to leave, I heard the song "Wonderful World" coming from an orchestra close by. I stopped and listened, and let the tears roll. It reminded me so much of my mom and her valuable lessons to see all that we have in front of us, and smile in the face of fear and sadness. It's the part of her I will always carry, and for that, I will never feel alone. Thanks, mom. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then there's this guy, who was literally with me every step of the way. To the tiniest friend I have, who impacts my life every single day that we grow together. He has taught me to find the fun in every single day, and I could not have made it through my time alone on that island, if it wasn't for him. He got me out of the house, exploring places I'd only ever dreamed of. If he could understand the words that I say, or could listen for more than a few seconds, I'd thank him profusely for giving me courage I didn't know I had. I'll never forget that loaded car, Tetris'd so tight with our personal belongings, with a little face smiling at me the entire way. He chose this adventure for me, and I couldn't be more grateful. What a chance we took together, and I'm so proud to call you one of my best friends, without fail. Breakfast Jones, you smelly, loveable, and wonderful soul. I'm so glad you're a part of my universe. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">What I wish to take with me into my 36th year, is more trust in my power to feel and express. I'm still learning out my voice, and what it sounds like to speak up and be heard. I have a lot to give, and I'm figuring out how to trust and embrace it; and continue to value it as something that fits my own needs. Self love really is such an essential part of life, and it should never be held against you as something negative or wrong. We go through life knowing no one better than our true selves, so why not treasure it by letting it grow and explore? I have so much yet to learn, and yet, I've come out of such an incredible year of experience. I can only take what I learned and make something more of it. 36, I think we're going to have fun. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Finally, one last memorable moment to share before I end this lengthy post. There was a time, before I left for BC, when I had a very vivid dream about my own going away party. I was approached by my dear friend Spencer, who said to me frankly, "you're going to die when you leave." It totally freaked me out, because I'd been warned about the various dangers and risks involved with driving the unpredictable mountain roads. Once I saw it for myself (and that's the only way you learn is by taking risks) I enjoyed the countdown for Major Tom, and took it as a statement that I wasn't going to return the same person I was when I'd left. It's true. I left on an adventure, without a single thing to lose, and so much to gain. I took the biggest leap into the unknown, and it resulted in a life altering year that has changed me entirely. Despite all that I just wrote, I still feel like I can't put it into words just how good 35 was for me. What an incredible time! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This adventure hasn't ended. It has only just begun.</span>libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-81674314137294959142016-04-27T21:39:00.001-07:002018-10-11T23:02:13.225-07:00enjoy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I choose to keep myself inspired. It isn't always easy, but I feel that sometimes the key is to not go looking for it. Get outside, explore the unknown, get up close and touch it. The world is a lovely place, and damn this spring has been amazing. When the sun is out, and I need a break, I go to the trails and get lost for hours. Nature is calm and patient. It listens. There is no rush. Enjoy the world. It has a whole lot to share.</div>
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I take far more time to myself, to stop. I'm looking to add even more of this time to my days, because I realize it's necessary, especially when it comes to disconnecting from the office part of my home. I could work all day, if I'm not careful. Sometimes, I do. To keep from burnout; I turn off my phone, I keep all forms of technology out of my bedroom, I go to bed earlier (still working on reading before bed), I don't answer emails on weekends... It's all a balance. Down time needs to happen in order to keep going. Technology is just far too distracting from what is actually important. Shut it off and enjoy real life. Your energy will thank you.</div>
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Play. It can be difficult to allow myself to experiment with personal projects, when there is so much to do for everyone else. I'm prone to giving to others before I even consider to do much for myself at all. I realize that when I put off the things I want to do, I become rebellious toward the restrictions I put on myself, and I see tension in my work. It's unnecessary. Personal work is just as important as any other work, because it stretches the creative muscles. Either pout, shout, or play. Enjoy yourself.</div>
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I'm also learning how to do absolutely nothing. Nothing. No sound, no distractions, nothing. It's how I start my mornings, without looking at a single email until I eat, bathe, meditate, and sort out what I'm doing for the day. Nothing is so urgent I can't enjoy a little bit of time to myself. Enjoy space. </div>
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The more I learn to shut down and take time away from waste, the more I realize that I'm able to put time into the things that interest me most. Since I was a kid, I've enjoyed writing. I have more to share on this topic because it is big. All I can say, to condense it, is to test out your true interests. The ones that have always been there. Your dreams are valid. Explore what they are trying to say, and make something. Enjoy it for yourself (share later, maybe).</div>
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In the mix, I'm working on a lot of pieces of myself. I realize that I drifted into a bit of a state of insecurity, as I tend to do on occasion. I want to write more about this topic as well, because I feel this is a big one, with a number of solutions. In short, reactions are funny. Sometimes from others, and sometimes for ourselves. There's just so much fluff surrounding self love and happiness, seeming arrogant and phoney. If you can't believe in it, or accept it, no one else will. Enjoy proper love. You do deserve it.</div>
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Sometimes, it all feels like a lot of work. I don't always have good days, or days where I do work that I'm proud of. I don't always have productive days, or rewarding days. I sometimes have days where I fall off completely from being responsible, or seeing my own achievements for what they are. It's a part of life, to roll with the punches and learn from the experience. When I go outside, I choose a different path (literally), every day. Each time, I see that it leads me to another layer of discovery, another reason to keep pushing forward to see what comes next after that, and after that. No one is standing in your way, but you. </div>
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Enjoy the adventure.</div>
libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-54552059128220318192016-04-01T13:09:00.002-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.903-07:00dream speakI had a dream last night that was quite vivid. It was one of those ones where you wake up with a million thoughts, because what you saw seemed so believable, so real. It was like I could reach out and touch it, and take something from it. I woke up and realized that I'm letting go of a lot of stuff. I've accepted that my recent exhaustion is simply part of adjusting to change.<br />
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In my dream, I was approached by someone who I haven't seen in years. They've definitely been on my mind for some time, because I made a very big choice to remove them from my life. I'm not the type of person who lets things go easily, nor do I believe in letting go of someone to harbour negativity toward them. I exhaust my efforts (and some of my loved ones who witness it) until I feel good about it, because I choose to dissect the process. You could shake me, shout at me, tell me a million times to stop mentioning the same things over and over; and I'll still continue to sift it out in my own fashion. I like to understand my feelings rather than just drop them and carry on. Some people can move on without looking back even once, and I admire that ability. I've never in my lifetime been the type to say, "okay, I'm done" and mean it, without falling back on analyzing my feelings. Even if I know it's the right thing, I still struggle with feeling bad for feeling good about letting go entirely.<br />
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The person in my dream offered me a smile. I don't remember what they said, but it was as if they'd decided that we were still the friends that we used to be. I personally had very little interest; but they continued to follow me and talk as if I still cared about them. As they spoke, I studied their face, I watched the curl of their lips as they smiled at me, manipulatively. I recall questioning, in my mind, how this person could speak to me so frankly, when they were fully aware of why I'd have no interest. They continued to smile warmly, like they were waiting for me to bend. No apology, no acknowledgement, no remorse. Like an empty vessel. I couldn't relate.<br />
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I realize that my dream presented the evidence that I've changed, and that I don't tolerate empty, one sided, relationships anymore. I can read through the manipulation, and it's interesting for me to react in the way that actually serves me properly. Typically, manipulative types say their empty sorries and wait for me to say "it's okay" as invitation for them to maintain their upper hand. I'm sensitive, I empathize. I offer it up easily, but I've learned to protect it from those who want to steal it for their own, cheap, self gratification. Some will do anything for the power of control, by draining your positive energy, abusing the things that make you a wonderful person. I've gone years, allowing this to happen. It still shocks me to see it when I say no, and mean it.<br />
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I believe that people fear change, because of how others respond to it. Not everyone is going to adapt or agree with it, even if it is for the better. Look at the reaction that comes when a social media platform alters their design. It's amazing what some people will do, to stay where they feel more comfortable, yet, change is constant. I'd say that I faced a similar challenge when I chose to alter my lifestyle for the better. Not everyone was supportive of these changes, even if I was happier than I'd been in years. In fact, some acted out against it, and said I'd become selfish for putting it out there. The beauty behind this sort of process is that the assholes really do filter themselves out on their own. Keep smiling, even if it hurts. The ones who matter remain.<br />
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For a good while, in my dream, I didn't say anything in response to the blind being standing in front of me, talking as if I cared about what they had to say. The selfishness was apparent; their ignorance, thick. The imagery presented me with so much evidence that I'm making the right choice to leave this behind. There was false laughter that I didn't join, a pat on the back that I didn't reciprocate, there was even a goodbye that I didn't return. They attempted to use something from the past, as if to say that our history is what will always keep us bonded. Perhaps fond memories will remain, but the person involved will not. I cannot. It's already done. Instead of spend any of my energy on even looking once more, I walked into the woods, under the stars, without turning back. I don't remember what happened past that moment. I think that was point.<br />
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I woke up and gave myself a few minutes to breathe. I realize that I have been absolutely beyond exhausted for quite some time. Much of that has to do with acceptance, and the grieving process that comes with letting things go. I'm letting go of people who carry pieces of myself, which I am willing to part with. It's a moment of grief, of loss, of letting go of something that was once familiar. Change is an interesting transition of energy. It's heavy, it's hard; and yet when it's done, it brings relief and rejuvenation. For someone like me, it takes a lot to accept that this is what it looks like to move on. I see the message that my dream presented to me so simply, as if to say that I'm doing a good job. I'm embracing change by acting on it. I'm living with a new mantra, to keep on the right track, to embrace my own happiness, to break free from those who wanted to take it from me.<br />
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Not all things are present to belong.<br />
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<br />libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-46754741308110192382016-03-27T07:55:00.001-07:002018-10-11T23:02:12.791-07:00listen upI was sexually abused, and I have chosen to write about it because there are certain things on my mind that have kept me awake for days.<br />
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There's something about the world that makes me frustrated, when I see our reactions geared by anger, hate, and expressed rage. When we scream and point fingers, we don't listen. When we accuse, we lose sight of the truth. When I saw the reactions to the recent sexual assault articles on the internet, I felt the need to speak up. Not only about my own abuse, but my abuser.<br />
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Yes, people who are violated need to tell someone about it. I did the day it happened. What I didn't know was that I'd been violated a number of times, because the scenarios -prior to the worst one- were so innocently laid out. He was clumsy, apologetic, and had absolutely no idea what he was doing. I felt he actually had a problem, an obsession he couldn't control. He was a pedophile, and he acted on his thoughts. What is it that makes an abuser get so caught up in their thoughts that they have to act it out? I feel that we will never know the answers, unless we ask them to speak.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">My abuser didn't go to jail. He wasn't burned at the stake. He was barely even punished. Instead, he got help. It was an option, and I didn't always like this decision; especially on days when I was feeling shamed and guilty from what I'd been through. Still, I didn't feel that being angry solved anything. It only put me in a place I didn't want to be. I feel that making sure my abuser got help was actually the better answer than throwing him in a cell and waiting for him to drop the soap. I don't believe that hurt is healed through revenge and punishment. I feel that the only way for us to fully understand is to listen to the source. </span></div>
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I feel that our abusers hurt just as much as the people they inflict their own internal pain on. My abuser experienced the same sort of anguish that I did as a child. He did what he only knew. No one was aware of his abuse, until he was asked to speak. This doesn't void the wrong of his actions, but I feel it helps with the process of learning how to get our abusers to speak up without shame. We can't stop them without understanding them. Instead of locking them up and screaming our heads off, shut off the hate, and listen. It's the only way we can get answers, and hope to prevent it.<br />
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I've gone through many moments of hating my abuser, for stealing a part of my childhood that I will never know. I grew up far too fast. I have also felt far too many moments of shame when I say that my first sexual experience was with someone who was posing as a potential father figure. It is really amazing, the impact it has had on me and how I view myself. I still see the scars of his actions when I notice the protective shell that I carry, to keep people out. Anything, to avoid going through what I've already been through. I've been hardened through my experiences so heavily; when yet I was born as sensitive and caring as they come. I am still learning how to let people see that, without fearing it will be abused again. It bothers me when I see the evidence of trauma.<br />
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I don't choose to think of myself as a victim. I also don't see myself as a survivor. I was abused and I naturally had to live my life the best way I knew how. If I let the weight of someone's actions take over my life, hate wins. I choose to live and be proud. I stopped asking why, or how I deserved it. It's something I didn't have control over, it's something I didn't understand. Through my experiences I feel I've learned so much about myself, and the world we live in. I have healed and become something better than what I was. I am stronger than I ever expected. I am what I am. That's what healing is. I only learned through listening. That's what we need to do.<br />
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Stop the hate, and listen. Everyone deserves to be heard.<br />
<br />libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-11823544902231232982016-03-17T17:58:00.000-07:002018-06-21T17:19:35.842-07:00ordering a custom portrait is fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4380357447152376870.post-13357550910762193462016-03-07T20:29:00.000-08:002018-10-11T23:02:12.314-07:00personal work<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It started with one image, and it took me somewhere. It brought me out of a really stubborn funk. I didn't know how to shake it, but I let it come out through a little personal project. I suppose this post is about how personal work differs from the real work, and how personal work is just as important as the work that puts food on the table. </div>
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I love when a series can teach me a little about myself. I realize that since returning to the city, after having spent 4 glorious months in the wilderness, I am going through a major withdrawal from nature. I'd even say that it has been depressing for me, to return to city energy. It is far more frantic, tense, distracted, and impatient. Why are we in such a big hurry? Why do we glaze over and stare at our phones so often? Where is the real connection? Where is the presence of absence? Why don't we stop and enjoy shit? It grosses me out, how much we're missing out on, right in front of us. The trees, the stars in the sky, the landscapes, the clouds, the rivers, the valleys, our loved ones. It's all right there! I decided to take my frustrations, and focus on my own energy. It's all I can do, really. If I give it time, if I let it breathe, if I express; it slows down and it blooms into something quite beautiful. How you take it in, how you let it out, is a choice. Breathe.</div>
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This series also reminded me of natural beauty. There's power in beauty, there's power in knowing who you naturally are, there's power in being a woman born on this earth. To think that there are people who jack themselves full of toxins to have fuller lips, more defined cheekbones, bigger boobs, tight asses; it's terribly sad. Society is so caught up in the shiny things, it's tough to notice the real beauty that is right there in front of us. We don't even appreciate our own skin anymore. I cling to nature, and hope she teaches more people to go with the flow in which she glides with. Life is life. We all die. Who cares if we look our age? We are all beautiful as we age, as we grow, and we become more of ourselves. Personally, I think aging is sexy. Natural beauty.</div>
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Personal work is so important, and yet it can be tricky to give time to. When there is real work to do, I find it difficult to put myself first, because it feels selfish. It took a lot to get myself to listen to what my mind was telling me, because I created my own guilt. I even imagined my own audience; sitting, waiting, asking me why I wasn't working on their -paid- projects. Personal work is just as valuable as real work because it helps with the process. When you repress what needs to come out, it builds tension, it wears you thin. It's like tucking yourself under the rug. It isn't healthy. Let it out. I was actually quite exhausted before I started this series, and I couldn't sort out why. As soon as I got to the third image, I felt like I could run a marathon...with my mind!</div>
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Before I knew it, I had 5 images completed in one day. It surprised me, as I looked at the clock and saw 4am roll by. I wasn't tired. I was excited. I was on a roll, but I had to tell myself to stop for the night. I was happy to be excited with my work again. I woke up the next day and approached my real work with ease. I was happy with what I was creating, and as I got into the swing of pumping out projects, I realized the personal work was actually helping me. It was also cheering me on. You CAN do this. You are good at what you do! You make amazing things! You're inspiring others! You've inspired yourself! Go you!</div>
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But, what's the difference when it's almost the exact same work as what I do every day? Well, it's the process of thought and expression that is entirely different. I'm relying on myself for the imagery, I'm creating something new, something that doesn't require a photo for reference. I'm not copying a face that exists, I'm not working for anyone but myself, I'm not working to please anyone but myself. It's a totally different ball game, and it helps my mind breathe. Creatives need to express themselves. It really is as necessary as breathing. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kaDdemWB1E1RksRpTS6dldfYJR3xrafIh8lem9a0vHuT7XF7uIT3XIlNk08kvs_RJqs_hmoNGxz7IAEXoRR9JHe-x7oCpmT28PyeVGShzI6sNavLYWFihyeA_SzG9zM5kZRgEUrX-2i0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-03-07+at+7.45.01+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kaDdemWB1E1RksRpTS6dldfYJR3xrafIh8lem9a0vHuT7XF7uIT3XIlNk08kvs_RJqs_hmoNGxz7IAEXoRR9JHe-x7oCpmT28PyeVGShzI6sNavLYWFihyeA_SzG9zM5kZRgEUrX-2i0/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-03-07+at+7.45.01+PM.png" width="247" /></a></div>
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I realize that I was miserable when I worked in an office, because I wasn't able to express myself the way I needed to. I was simply doing work for someone else to take for themselves, without a thank you, without any feedback. Creatives are emotional. Yes, we love the pat on the back, because we put ourselves into everything we do. With the work I do now, I'm beyond happy. I'm an entirely different person, because I get to see where my work goes. It touches people. It inspires people. It brings people together. This is incredibly beautiful to me, and I feel amazing to get to call this my job. This is where freelance has saved my life. There is no reward in the corporate world. Not for me, at least. It's not about the bigger pay check, or pleasing someone with a tie. The reward is in personal growth and knowledge, the ability to see that what you do actually makes someone feel something positive. I wouldn't give it up for anything. </div>
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To encourage my work flow, I started to use my personal work as a reward, to end my day. If I could send out an X amount of orders in a day, it meant I was allowed to do something for myself; without the guilt I was only putting on myself for no good reason. I have a horrible habit of devoting all of my energy into what I do, because it's easier for me to give to others. It sometimes takes hours for me to even disconnect, because some parts of my work don't feel like work. I feel lucky to get to do what I do, but it doesn't mean it needs to be my every waking moment. When I let my work consume me, it does exactly that. My energy was tapped out entirely almost a week ago. And now, I'm ready to take on more. All because of this series.</div>
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People love when things are personal. It's part of how this series came to be. It isn't a coincidence that the Taurus illustration looks a little bit like me, with dark hair and freckles. It's my sign, and I wanted it to be something special that I could smile at. It took me back to how nature makes me feel, how I feel as the woman I am, when I was born, how I've grown to be who I am today. There are pieces of myself that I'm only just learning how to put out there, without reluctance. This series oozes with delicate femininity. When I see this as a part of myself, it makes me feel good about who I am today. I've softened, I've loosened up, I've opened myself into things I would have normally feared. I'm happy to see those pieces of myself surface. It pleases me to see that in this series. Personal work is a healer inside and out, because it is simply that... it's personal! I'm so proud of it, and because of that, I'm proud of myself.</div>
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It takes a lot for people to be proud of themselves, because we live in a world that is often threatened by the happiness of others. If you can make happiness seem easy, you're doing a good job. It's not easy, at least not all the time. If you can figure out how to provide yourself with it, it becomes stronger and a natural part of your life. I'm happier than I've been in years. And I mean maybe even decades. I'm learning to let myself embrace who I am, love what I do, without worrying if it seems selfish or arrogant. If you don't know the difference between arrogance and self love, maybe you need to take more time to sort it out. Self love is essential to happiness. If you don't love who you are, then no one else will. I feel deeply loved these days, and it shows in my work. Happiness shines when you let it out. If someone doesn't like it, let them have their clouds to themselves. Life is too short to bother.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga5vtHWvJprQDOJ3eEcrZeJR1C1ebZwwn0TpJFjB50Wk6ZT-guLFHXCUSdszYyRa0nYTd895HWiMa4tU70R3ACwS8k0H8wttjYvoT8_5-i1tKBOsjp4wMNCn_HxlGchS7re0A2yaTXxFJ3/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-03-07+at+7.44.12+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga5vtHWvJprQDOJ3eEcrZeJR1C1ebZwwn0TpJFjB50Wk6ZT-guLFHXCUSdszYyRa0nYTd895HWiMa4tU70R3ACwS8k0H8wttjYvoT8_5-i1tKBOsjp4wMNCn_HxlGchS7re0A2yaTXxFJ3/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-03-07+at+7.44.12+PM.png" width="308" /></a></div>
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To be able to inspire others with what I do, inspires me even further. It's like a never ending cycle that creatives live off of; which is why I am in so in love with visual social media, such as Instagram. I've managed to create a certain community that I can reach out to when I need the guidance, advice, or maybe even a little "me too!" to remind me that the personal lulls are part of the process. It's tough for creatives to admit that we can't just make amazing things every waking hour of the day. Believe me, if we could, we would. We live off of giving to others. That's why when the silence spreads, it lays on thick. It's like missing a big piece of yourself. The beauty is when you find it again. It always returns. Don't you worry!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKosC7j1Cch7cOFXi-FJ3pWkytP4qN1P4MO7iAI74MqfV8had_WuQp3uY-tBAsQa2qu1-9NggMxBqOdTJ4ic-NcYslmz8y9p_tjAcPU-b809ZhG89TsYpca6WuYL0RwdiK11pkkPBQw61/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-03-07+at+7.44.01+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKosC7j1Cch7cOFXi-FJ3pWkytP4qN1P4MO7iAI74MqfV8had_WuQp3uY-tBAsQa2qu1-9NggMxBqOdTJ4ic-NcYslmz8y9p_tjAcPU-b809ZhG89TsYpca6WuYL0RwdiK11pkkPBQw61/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-03-07+at+7.44.01+PM.png" width="310" /></a></div>
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Lastly, this series reminds me of personal growth. When I was in BC, I was inspired by nature, and I worked on an entirely different series that involved ladies with flowers in their hair. I love where this whole thing has taken me, and I'm glad that I'm so different than who I was even this time last year. I've grown, I've come to understand who I am, what is important, what makes me the person I am today. I'm going to grow old, I'm going to let nature tell me when it's time. This is a beautiful world filled with growth, loss, lessons, and so much love. I'm so proud of myself for finding this series, and allowing myself to heal through it. This my friends is why personal work is necessary. Do yourself a favour and make something for yourself. Make it yours, and see where you go. </div>
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So much love.</div>
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<br />libbytreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03216978364120675705noreply@blogger.com0