Three years of memory is coming up this December. As I helped a friend in town remember her son on the anniversary of the day he died, it snuck up on me that it's never really easier. It feels that way some days, or weeks. But when it comes down to the fiber of our being, to the beating of our hearts, and the memory of those little feet and hands and lips and hair...it's never easier.
I spoke with a good friend recently, and they've experienced their own grief journey for several years now. They said something to the effect of: "I came to the conclusion that I couldn't be everything. I can choose to be a good at some things. So I chose to be a good parent above all else. And the rest of it, I'm okay with being shit at." And it struck me as brilliant.
I want to be everything to everyone and everything. Perfect parent. Perfect griever. Perfect community member. Perfect artist. Perfect religious model. Perfect daughter. Perfect wife. I care too much again, and am stretching myself thin. I need to come to an understanding with myself, that I can be okay with being shit at some of that stuff. Pick the most important things, and don't sweat the rest of it. Don't fear imperfection.
I'm excited for this holiday season. I always love the cold and the scarves and lights and trees and presents for others. Simon will be two in two months, and he's at just the right age to be really excited this time around. But there's the big lump in my throat knowing it's another year come and gone without her. You know the drill by now.
Wishing everyone time to contemplate the end of another year, and time with family, and beauty in the dark shadows too. <3 p="p">
Showing posts with label my Critic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my Critic. Show all posts
Monday, December 10, 2012
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
6.8.11
Harking back to this project and this project again, I think I've got it finished. I did a terrible job on the collage part, as you can tell by the bubbles and bumps of it all. But I love it nonetheless. Not allowing my Critic to get me down on this one.
"Cosmic Love"
Mixed Media
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Right Where I Am: One year, Five months
For the initial jump start for this post, jump over here.
----
One year and five months makes it sound like a long time has passed since Lyra died. I suppose it kind of is. I now have Simon here...almost 4 months old. Things have changed. We've moved twice since she's been gone. We have a house now. We have new neighbors...hell, we have a new town. That in itself changes everything.
The rawness is gone, but the grief has left an indelible mark on me. I don't cry as often. But the tears are right below the surface some days. I think of her many times throughout my day, and as I discover new things with Simon, I sometimes faze out imagining how she would have been. It may be imaginary interest, but I feel good when Simon gazes at the stars I've put near the changing table or by his crib...or as he giggles at the mobile or pictures we made for her that he now enjoys. It feels like she is a tangible piece of our family and he's interacting with her, even if she can't be here.
But then I step outside the safe boundaries of our home, and re-enter the real world where it looks like we have just one child. And I try to interact with other moms and kids in a semi-normal capacity. Moving back to my hometown means some people know what happened. But even then, she's never really brought up. And those who don't know, ask about her tattooed footprints on my foot and to ease the silence after telling them, I change the subject to some newfound delight about Simon. It's just easier that way, and I'm ok with it. That's just how it will be.
I don't know what I expect from others still. You think I'd have figured that out by now.
I've found myself falling back into my perfectionism state of mind. It may be the moving, or parenting a live child and fearing failure in that, or just my self critic popping up with a grand zeal again...but whatever the case, I've lost the ability to not care what people think. I feel I've lost a bit of what Lyra brought to me. I do hate that part of moving further away from the rawness of the grief. The raw emotion and grief gave me blinders to the expectations of others...to the fear of falling and failing. I did what felt natural and instinctive, and it felt good to be free. And I've slowly been shackled again. Maybe just because I haven't had time to do as much art. Maybe because I feel looked down upon for staying at home with Simon. So many reasons I could blame it on. But ultimately, I've allowed it to happen.
I feel like I just repeat myself. I have nothing new to offer to the already existing BLM's. The new ones, sure...they are looking for any and all bits of information that prove they can survive this. But I'm not good at interacting with lots of blogs and comments and I'm sure you've all noticed that. I feel like this blog saved my life...that this beautiful blogging community reached out and held me afloat on those hard days. But I don't feel like I'm contributing anything anymore. I'm feeling more disconnected, and alone. I'm not blaming the BLM community for that...but myself. I don't know what to write, and without posting any new art, what do I have? And sometimes what I feel like writing, I don't feel comfortable sharing with the real life readers I know stop by. I've considered closing this blog. But I haven't come to any solid conclusion about that. Maybe it's just run it's course in regards to being an external outlet for my grief. Maybe my grieving is more internal now...in a healthy way. Maybe it's not so healthy. I don't know.
I cringe internally a lot in regards to how grief in general is handled. When bad things happen to other people, and hearing what words are said and how easily it is swept under the rug. I have intentions of creating a FoLFoH group this way. And maybe signing up to help photograph for families...I don't think there's anyone in this neck of the woods who does that. It's heart-wrenching to think a family wouldn't get pictures with their child(ren). Of course I haven't initiated any of that though.
I know I tear up when I read another new story or hear from a friend about a miscarriage/stillbirth/infant death. It often make me flash back to certain moments in those days during and after her death. It doesn't wreck my whole day anymore though.
And because I do wear my heart on my sleeve, and because I believe and hope that maybe it may help another family or BLM feel less awful...I'm still angry and bitter. Mostly at God and religion. I hate to admit that. There are real life people who will be disappointed to read those words. I don't want to be fixed, or have a big, long, drawn out discussion about why I'm wrong. Or what I'm supposed to believe. Or whatever. But I'm not comfortable with the notion that God did this and has some great reason and plan for her death and for my life. And I'm not comfortable abandoning it all either. As I think I would have said before Lyra's death, I'm a life long student, and I'm still learning and figuring stuff out.
I am "glad" to not feel so bogged down...the weight of it all seems less most days. It's more manageable. Course I'm lucky to have Simon to distract me and keep me busy. I don't know how I would look if I didn't have him here. I wonder how to tell him about her. Or his friends about her. Again, my tattoo is easy to point out, and I wonder how many kids or their parents I'll frighten by telling them babies die.
She's always here...right in my heart...In our home...In our family. I wonder how my grief will look in another year. And how we will continue to remember her.
----
Thankfully Angie has brilliant ideas, and gave me an outlet to perhaps throw out something new here. I hope others will describe where they are at in their grief journey...it's important to see. As Angie stated:"Now, it's your turn. Where are you in your grief? Emotionally. Physically. Psychically. Title your post, "Right Where I Am:(Time since your child's death)". then come back here and link your blog post on the Mr. Linky. Click other participants and read about right where they are. Comment if you can. Just a thank you for telling me about right where you are. If you don't want to write a full post, why not just comment here and tell me the time since your loss(es) and anything else you want to share. Spread the word around the community by linking back to this post, so people can find out what grief is like on all stops on the road."
----
One year and five months makes it sound like a long time has passed since Lyra died. I suppose it kind of is. I now have Simon here...almost 4 months old. Things have changed. We've moved twice since she's been gone. We have a house now. We have new neighbors...hell, we have a new town. That in itself changes everything.
The rawness is gone, but the grief has left an indelible mark on me. I don't cry as often. But the tears are right below the surface some days. I think of her many times throughout my day, and as I discover new things with Simon, I sometimes faze out imagining how she would have been. It may be imaginary interest, but I feel good when Simon gazes at the stars I've put near the changing table or by his crib...or as he giggles at the mobile or pictures we made for her that he now enjoys. It feels like she is a tangible piece of our family and he's interacting with her, even if she can't be here.
But then I step outside the safe boundaries of our home, and re-enter the real world where it looks like we have just one child. And I try to interact with other moms and kids in a semi-normal capacity. Moving back to my hometown means some people know what happened. But even then, she's never really brought up. And those who don't know, ask about her tattooed footprints on my foot and to ease the silence after telling them, I change the subject to some newfound delight about Simon. It's just easier that way, and I'm ok with it. That's just how it will be.
I don't know what I expect from others still. You think I'd have figured that out by now.
I've found myself falling back into my perfectionism state of mind. It may be the moving, or parenting a live child and fearing failure in that, or just my self critic popping up with a grand zeal again...but whatever the case, I've lost the ability to not care what people think. I feel I've lost a bit of what Lyra brought to me. I do hate that part of moving further away from the rawness of the grief. The raw emotion and grief gave me blinders to the expectations of others...to the fear of falling and failing. I did what felt natural and instinctive, and it felt good to be free. And I've slowly been shackled again. Maybe just because I haven't had time to do as much art. Maybe because I feel looked down upon for staying at home with Simon. So many reasons I could blame it on. But ultimately, I've allowed it to happen.
I feel like I just repeat myself. I have nothing new to offer to the already existing BLM's. The new ones, sure...they are looking for any and all bits of information that prove they can survive this. But I'm not good at interacting with lots of blogs and comments and I'm sure you've all noticed that. I feel like this blog saved my life...that this beautiful blogging community reached out and held me afloat on those hard days. But I don't feel like I'm contributing anything anymore. I'm feeling more disconnected, and alone. I'm not blaming the BLM community for that...but myself. I don't know what to write, and without posting any new art, what do I have? And sometimes what I feel like writing, I don't feel comfortable sharing with the real life readers I know stop by. I've considered closing this blog. But I haven't come to any solid conclusion about that. Maybe it's just run it's course in regards to being an external outlet for my grief. Maybe my grieving is more internal now...in a healthy way. Maybe it's not so healthy. I don't know.
I cringe internally a lot in regards to how grief in general is handled. When bad things happen to other people, and hearing what words are said and how easily it is swept under the rug. I have intentions of creating a FoLFoH group this way. And maybe signing up to help photograph for families...I don't think there's anyone in this neck of the woods who does that. It's heart-wrenching to think a family wouldn't get pictures with their child(ren). Of course I haven't initiated any of that though.
I know I tear up when I read another new story or hear from a friend about a miscarriage/stillbirth/infant death. It often make me flash back to certain moments in those days during and after her death. It doesn't wreck my whole day anymore though.
And because I do wear my heart on my sleeve, and because I believe and hope that maybe it may help another family or BLM feel less awful...I'm still angry and bitter. Mostly at God and religion. I hate to admit that. There are real life people who will be disappointed to read those words. I don't want to be fixed, or have a big, long, drawn out discussion about why I'm wrong. Or what I'm supposed to believe. Or whatever. But I'm not comfortable with the notion that God did this and has some great reason and plan for her death and for my life. And I'm not comfortable abandoning it all either. As I think I would have said before Lyra's death, I'm a life long student, and I'm still learning and figuring stuff out.
I am "glad" to not feel so bogged down...the weight of it all seems less most days. It's more manageable. Course I'm lucky to have Simon to distract me and keep me busy. I don't know how I would look if I didn't have him here. I wonder how to tell him about her. Or his friends about her. Again, my tattoo is easy to point out, and I wonder how many kids or their parents I'll frighten by telling them babies die.
She's always here...right in my heart...In our home...In our family. I wonder how my grief will look in another year. And how we will continue to remember her.
----
Thankfully Angie has brilliant ideas, and gave me an outlet to perhaps throw out something new here. I hope others will describe where they are at in their grief journey...it's important to see. As Angie stated:"Now, it's your turn. Where are you in your grief? Emotionally. Physically. Psychically. Title your post, "Right Where I Am:(Time since your child's death)". then come back here and link your blog post on the Mr. Linky. Click other participants and read about right where they are. Comment if you can. Just a thank you for telling me about right where you are. If you don't want to write a full post, why not just comment here and tell me the time since your loss(es) and anything else you want to share. Spread the word around the community by linking back to this post, so people can find out what grief is like on all stops on the road."
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
October: Day 19
Day 19 - a talent of yours*
I hate to say that my talent is my graphic design or art. I've never displayed anything on here that I did before Lyra died. I did some good design work, though always with 'my critic' hanging over my shoulder. And the actual art that I did was always hesitantly produced. Now, I rarely design, and only do art. A funny swap...since I studied four years for design, and it's the option that actually makes money.
*While running errands today I started worrying about this post. I'm usually not good at stating something that I'm good at...I downplay anything and everything in case I fail...so people can't point at me, because I've already pointed it all out. But since Lyra died, I've been working on self confidence...so that's why I so definitively stated my talent today. I feel like I sound arrogant though.
I hate to say that my talent is my graphic design or art. I've never displayed anything on here that I did before Lyra died. I did some good design work, though always with 'my critic' hanging over my shoulder. And the actual art that I did was always hesitantly produced. Now, I rarely design, and only do art. A funny swap...since I studied four years for design, and it's the option that actually makes money.
*While running errands today I started worrying about this post. I'm usually not good at stating something that I'm good at...I downplay anything and everything in case I fail...so people can't point at me, because I've already pointed it all out. But since Lyra died, I've been working on self confidence...so that's why I so definitively stated my talent today. I feel like I sound arrogant though.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
8.7.10
My Critic has made a reappearance.
This sketchbook project has brought him back with insults and doubts blazing. After rebinding my sketchbook with watercolor paper, I promptly left it alone. I made the excuse that I needed to do some practice sketching first. In my head I followed that statement up with, "so I can be sure and appear professional and good and not mess up the sketchbook. I may not have gone to a fine arts school, but that doesn't mean I'm not actually good." Some version of that kept cycling through my brain. After finally voicing it out loud to L one night, he said something along the effects of, "Just dive in. This isn't a competition. Even if it were, just be you." He's been giving me that advice a lot lately...the 'just be you' part. I do love that man for many reasons...that being one of them. So, I had a hand in this first round of battles with the Critic. Hopefully I can handle the bastard on my own from now on. But it's nice knowing I have backup if I need it.
The following is the first pages of my sketchbook project. The binding is slightly atrocious, so please overlook that :) I am quite delighted with it thus far though, and look forward to filling the rest of it up!
This sketchbook project has brought him back with insults and doubts blazing. After rebinding my sketchbook with watercolor paper, I promptly left it alone. I made the excuse that I needed to do some practice sketching first. In my head I followed that statement up with, "so I can be sure and appear professional and good and not mess up the sketchbook. I may not have gone to a fine arts school, but that doesn't mean I'm not actually good." Some version of that kept cycling through my brain. After finally voicing it out loud to L one night, he said something along the effects of, "Just dive in. This isn't a competition. Even if it were, just be you." He's been giving me that advice a lot lately...the 'just be you' part. I do love that man for many reasons...that being one of them. So, I had a hand in this first round of battles with the Critic. Hopefully I can handle the bastard on my own from now on. But it's nice knowing I have backup if I need it.
The following is the first pages of my sketchbook project. The binding is slightly atrocious, so please overlook that :) I am quite delighted with it thus far though, and look forward to filling the rest of it up!
Saturday, June 12, 2010
6.12.10
My husband and I got married our Senior year of college, during the Christmas break. We got a skunky little one bedroom apartment, but it was ours and we learned to be with each other. We learned what brought each other up, and what brought each other down. What foods we detested, and I learned that he'd eat anything I made so he wouldn't make me feel bad. He learned to hug me when I cried.
3 years pass. We grow and change, but we are still the essence of who we are when we got married...spontaneous, spunky, fun. We get pregnant. And we are excited! We plan and decide how we're going to try and be spontaneous, spunky, fun parents. December 17th rolls around and we hear no heartbeat. Dec. 18th, Lyra's born. Dec. 19th we bury her.
Our 4 year anniversary comes on Dec. 28th. We hold hands, and hope that this is the worst we have to experience. We know it won't be easy, but surely it can't get worse than this?
Except, we have to learn who we are all over again. Not just who he is. But who I am. I'm more akin to a sloth now, than the quirky redhead I was before. Can I even go back to who I was? Is it even possible, and if it was, what steps do I even take to get there? It's scary to think that my husband married me, the Rachel I was then, and now has to figure out how to love the Rachel I am now.
This is by no means a revelation that our marriage is falling apart, or that we hate each other. This is not pointing a finger at my husband, blaming him for something. This is a revelation that I have no clue who I am, and I feel old and sad and not like myself. I don't know what makes me feel alive. I don't know what I really enjoy outside my art. Where is my spark? It will be six months soon. Will it take a year? Will it take 18 months? How do you flounder around during those months, til you're more yourself? Or is the rest of our lives, after a loss like this, just about getting used to floundering?
3 years pass. We grow and change, but we are still the essence of who we are when we got married...spontaneous, spunky, fun. We get pregnant. And we are excited! We plan and decide how we're going to try and be spontaneous, spunky, fun parents. December 17th rolls around and we hear no heartbeat. Dec. 18th, Lyra's born. Dec. 19th we bury her.
Our 4 year anniversary comes on Dec. 28th. We hold hands, and hope that this is the worst we have to experience. We know it won't be easy, but surely it can't get worse than this?
Except, we have to learn who we are all over again. Not just who he is. But who I am. I'm more akin to a sloth now, than the quirky redhead I was before. Can I even go back to who I was? Is it even possible, and if it was, what steps do I even take to get there? It's scary to think that my husband married me, the Rachel I was then, and now has to figure out how to love the Rachel I am now.
This is by no means a revelation that our marriage is falling apart, or that we hate each other. This is not pointing a finger at my husband, blaming him for something. This is a revelation that I have no clue who I am, and I feel old and sad and not like myself. I don't know what makes me feel alive. I don't know what I really enjoy outside my art. Where is my spark? It will be six months soon. Will it take a year? Will it take 18 months? How do you flounder around during those months, til you're more yourself? Or is the rest of our lives, after a loss like this, just about getting used to floundering?
I detest this picture, but I'm trying not to be neurotic enough to try drawing it 20 more times before giving up and not posting at all. I need to beat down the critic a bit today. Except I'm not feeling well. So I'm going to go sleep.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
5.5.10
3 posts to go! You still have time to leave a comment to put your name in for the giveaway!!
Watercolor and Pen
3.5 x 5
My Critic is in full force attack mode. I want to apologize for the smudge and for where the watercolor ran. NO. No apologizing about my art. I'm learning, and expressing, and doing. I will not let my Critic keep me from it for fear of imperfection and what people might think.
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