Daydreams Diary: I’m Waiting Here

Truth is I’m long overdue for one of these things. So-much-so that I don’t know where to begin.

With that said, like a wise friend once told me,

“Start at the beginning.”

 

Still Ill

Since the tail-end of 2015, I’ve been wrapped under ill health. I’ve hinted at it here before, but never blatantly stated there is something very wrong going on in my body that could possibly cost me my life.

I guess I didn’t want to worry you.

I didn’t want to add to your stress.

I could barely accept it myself.

After all, I am a mother.

 

Months of Work With No Reward

Book covers and album art might seem like easy work to someone outside of my field. Until they try it themselves and see just how grueling it can be. Most quit within the first year.

It takes a trained eye to be able to determine what is going to pull a person in. Concept artists are in the business of bringing your visions to life. This sometimes involves an almost spiritual gift to “see” into someone’s head.

I’ve been at this now professionally past the year mark. The job itself has come with countless rewards. These past few months have been different, though. It seems nothing I’m working on is getting off the ground.

 

More Hate (As Usual)

Riding off to run errands one morning I hear a distinctly familiar voice on the radio. He was being interviewed by a popular shock jock around these parts (and nationally). The man went on trashing some female that he only referred to as “some chick on Instagram.”

Needless to say that “chick” was me and that interview cost me some clients. I’ll spare you the details. This person doesn’t even know me. They only know of me, due to the fact we move in similar circles.

It didn’t stop there.

After the atrocities going on in my country, I could no longer allow myself to stay silent on certain topics sadly deemed “political” issues.

This has gotten me labeled, attacked, and ultimately shunned. All because I am sticking up for people who’s voices get silenced daily. But, this is not new to me. I had the same role growing up in school. I’m used to standing up to bullies in defense of my friends. Though just like then, sooner or later, I expect to be attacked or silenced—just like them. This does not mean I’ll stop; no, much to the contrary. I simply acknowledge that this is a tough fight, that will probably still be going on long after I meet my end.

 

Hope

The hardest part about writing this isn’t publishing it.

It’s the knowing that most of this will go over people’s heads.

It’s the knowing that the same people who slashed me up for being “too positive” all the time will criticize this for being “too negative.”

It’s the feeling that this could possibly be the last thing I write.

It’s the knowing that no matter what I do, I can’t fix any of it. (And I’m a control freak.)

It’s the knowing that no matter what height I reach, someone will always be there to knock me back down.

Though despite all of this shit, I will not give up or give in. Heaven knows I’ve been through worse.

As long as I’m still here there’s a chance to spin this all around. After all, I’ve got things planned and that doesn’t stop just because I’m ill.

 

Family & Friends

My sister is having a baby. I’ll be an auntie this May. I wish I could say this is cause for celebration but, sadly my relationship with my sister is becoming strained. I want to be there with her when she delivers. I want to help solve all of her problems. But I can’t. I’m not always available when everyone needs me. Some people in my life understand that. Most don’t. I have a demanding job, an even more demanding side-job, and I’m the mother of a child that needs extra care. Some people misinterpret this as me not caring for them. Now, I can add my own flesh and blood to that list.

 

No Time to Wallow in the Mire

Even with all of that heavy muck, I have no time to stop. There’s a client waiting on my work as we speak. I have three days to make magic happen. There’s a Sleepy Sundays piece of artwork waiting to be published for you bright & early. My son needs me 24/7, and that doesn’t stop when I’m sick. It’s open season on every single person I love, so you know I’m not going to shut up about all that anytime soon. Not while people I care about along with myself are persecuted, ridiculed, labeled, silenced, and shoved away.

I could just shut down. It would be easy. It would feel good. I’d get some much-needed peace.

But what fun would that be? I’ve been sent here to create—to heal.

Someone I care deeply about that has been somewhat of a mentor to me this past year and well into 2017 recently said,

“I can’t live in a world without art.”

So why in the world would I let that happen? As long as I live and breathe here on this Earth, why would I ever stop?

I was born for this.

So c’mon baby light my fire…

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Sleepy Sundays: Memories, Memories

She was on my mind since days ago, when I resurfaced from my work coma and realized Mother’s Day was coming up. While caring for my own son, who recently fell ill I couldn’t help but replay times I was with her in my head.

One of those times, one of the few times she actually drove, we had a blast as we set out on our journey to my old home.

This song that I couldn’t find for the longest time was playing. Last week I stumbled upon it on YouTube:

It was the most fun we had laughing and giggling for a moment in time. I miss her.

Flowers often remind me of her for personal reasons. So whenever you see florals in my art, chances are she may have something to do with it.

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Life has shifted to a point where I finally feel like I’d be making her proud. Growing up, she was one of the only people besides a cousin that ever supported my passions from day one.

She didn’t live long enough to see me get to this point. Yet somehow, I know she’d be my biggest fan. She always was.

She didn’t live long enough to see me become a mother myself. Yet somehow, I know she would love my son unconditionally.

Sometimes I have to pinch myself and ask “Is this really my job? Do I really have most of what I wanted in life? Yet somehow, even with that happiness and sense of achievement, on days like this, I just miss her. It’s a slap of reality that I am a young woman and yet most of my friends and family are dead. I’m determined to honor them. Each time use my hands and mind in unison to create arts in this world, I will honor them.

Nothing’s gonna break our stride, Mom. Nothing ever will.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the mothers out there.

Like a House of Cards…

Last night I cracked my head on the floor.

It was the first panic attack I’ve had in over ten years. 

Maybe it was in light of recent events. Perhaps it was a whole host of mess that’s been building up for a while. 

All I know is I have to write this here & now to get it out of me and into my safe place here. 

I’ve been planning on sharing over at Stories about PTSD, since I had never spoken in-depth about it before. The little bit I have shared though, has helped people along the way.

I got a phonecall a few days back from my sister who lives many states away. The voice on the other end was desperate.

She wanted to move back up here to her original home, but I’d have some convincing to do on her behalf with some family members.

She’s been abusing drugs and engaging the kind of behavior where she could end up dead.

Her erratic/nervous tone over the phone had me sensing this wasn’t going to go right.

She sounded just like my mother at a certain point in time and it frightened me. It also took some of my old wounds and yanked them right back open. 

The worst part was another family member’s reaction. It hurt them. Deeply. I think this is what put me over the edge.

Needless to say no one feels comfortable bringing her up here. Though we still want to help her someway/somehow. 

She just has to truly want the help.

Before I could talk to family members, she posted some drug-infused rant on her Facebook page saying most of her family with the exception of me never cared about her. She went on & on. Of course people saw it. I’ve always told her watch what she blabs out there on the internet.

Now, I can’t hold back.

This may seem insensitive and selfish.

Until I cracked my head on the kitchen floor from the weight of it all. 

I started hyperventilating out of nowhere for about five seconds, my vision blacked out, and I went down like a load of bricks.

When I came to 

my name was being called & I was being asked what happened.

My son and his father had seen me go down quickly, but it was one of those things you couldn’t stop. 

My legs were shaking. I was shocked and embarrassed. I started sobbing hysterically like a two year old.

I was a blubbering mess. 

My son was concerned. “Mom did you slip? Are you okay? You hit your head really hard.”

I’m okay now.

Aside from my tail bone, elbow, ankle, and head hurting like hell.

But what do you do? When your anxiety that you thought was dealt with, comes back and bites you in the ass this hard

I think its time to go back to therapy.

I’m not going to let this knock me down.

I’ve got way too many great things to share with you this 2016.