whats

There were brief thoughts of blogging daily, and thoughts that lingered longer, about blogging a few times a week. All those thoughts lie abandoned, there where abandoned thoughts go when they're redundant ;) It's a solid week later, and it's okay. I'm okay; still strangely, newly okay with a lot of things these days, and I'm hanging out with it. Getting to know it where it shows up. There's a lot of acquainting myself going on here, and it's... succulent :)

Meanwhile, Summer is still hot and happening in these parts, and I've been documenting! Here are some of the highlights - the condensed version ;)

The slug, as promised - documented in paint and photographed :)

Speaking of wildlife, at 6.15 am last Friday morning, I heard someone's kid screaming. And shout again. And again. Wondering vaguely - while sipping coffee - what parent wouldn't do something about it. Till I realised it was my kid, and that parent doing nothing was me ;) Big drama - a mosquito - "no, there's TWO I think!"... Slapped some stuff on him, hung his mosquito net & left him happy in his tent. He slept until 9.30 am, when I had to actually wake him up! I'm thinking he was awake a while before he shouted for me - pangs of mamma-guilt...

On Saturday, because of snot, I missed the Sketchcrawl Koosje organised in Amsterdam (her blogpost of what I missed is here...). I spent that day getting flowers while reading and watching Squirt and the kid from next door have fun in our blow-up swimming pool - which wasn't necessarily punishment, but I would have preferred to be out sketching! So, I bought myself some new - extremely cheap - cups & drew them to cheer me up.

On Sunday, we went to Leiden, to visit a (boring!) museum, and while I still wasn't feeling entirely wholesome, I sat and drew anyway - because I could :)

The kid is with his grandparents at the moment. He was packed and picked up on Monday, and since he asked for an additional night, I'm not expecting him home until tonight... Luckily I've got this to remember him by ;)

So on Monday, I had time for chores and a drawing ;)

I finalised my attic studio space, too, and found out I didn't need it, per se ;) I've ended up drawing at the coffee table quite a few times, lately, and it's - good. Because drawing is good. And having choice as to where to do it? Is just that, really; choice!

There were two more projects that didn't involve pencils, pens or paint directly:

Squirt's new knotted bracelet that replaced the old one he wore for 18 months (!), and my Inspiration Jar :) If we're friends on FaceBook, you might have added to it already, and I thank you! I intend to continue to draw daily, and there are days when I can't seem to think of anything to draw. Eventhough life is present in abundance, yes. It happens... So this jar will be filled with little slips of paper with words and ideas, along with the name of the person who contributed - and the idea is, I will let you know when I draw one of yours, and let you know where to see it. Because that's the only thing I haven't figured out quite yet ;) There might even be a personal postcard in it for you - so if you want to add your magic to the mix, please do so in the comments section of this post :D And if you're in dire need of ideas to draw? I've got the list on file, and I'm willing to share - in exchange for some extra themes ;)

Nope. This isn't everything. But I'm rethinking the idea of dumping it all in one monster post. I'm going to schedule another one. 

While in quiet mode, this morning, I slowly saw something emerge. About the why of documenting my Summer, or my life, for that matter. And it was eye-opening. And I want to share it. But it warrants its own space, I think. So I'm going to leave it at that, here, for now. You're all updated on the whats of my Summer so far - and I'd love to hear about yours! There's plenty of time for the whys, right?!

Stay cool! Or warm - depending on where you are & your taste in temps ;) Thanks for sharing my Summer with me :)

summer

I've been getting messy with ideas, thoughts and concepts in my head - struggling with the whats and how tos - because I would love to document this Summer... It's been, and still is, interesting ;) I'm running into a lot of things I sort of knew about myself - stuff involving rules and guidelines. Being good enough, and allowing myself. Full stop. Allowing myself is very inclusive, and even if I wanted to get less vague, explain myself, I can't. Not yet, maybe never. What I'm finding out is - perhaps it doesn't matter. And that - is revolutionary. 

I don't have the peace and quiet to come out with everything in my head right now. It's Summer. We're halfway through the first week of Squirt's school holidays and life is different around here ;) It's noisy, filled with life, questions, blow-by-blow reports of how to build the perfect Lego Duplo house - and everything else ;)

"Can I ride my bike, mamma, where are we going, what's next, can I have ice cream, will you come to the playground with me, what's for dinner, why does everyone go on holidays, don't you think I could get a present because it's holidays?"

:D

It's good, and I mean that ;) But the main thing I'm confronting at the moment is - how do I document this Summer? What do I draw, what's important, where does joy live, and does that matter? Where am I, what am I looking for and what do I need to remember about being here, now, in this moment, Squirt's first Summer holiday after starting school? Yes indeed, where am I in the middle of all this? Can I let go, enjoy? Can I hold onto my newly found sanity without all this time I've learnt to spend with myself? Will I still be here, at least somewhat, when Squirt goes back to school, or will I need to reinvent the wheel all over again? 

Questions. Lots of them. But what I was thinking this morning is - if I don't start doing, documenting things - putting them somewhere, sharing it all - then there is nothing that can grow, either. As long as everything that's in my head - stays there, concept-form, nothing happens. What isn't out there can't evolve into something new, can't be tweaked. It can be thought to death of course - I'm good at that, that I know. But can I work it? Can I be there & do? Can I be here, can I - at least try - to blog about it as it happens? The blue skies, clouds, the humidity and the rain? The happy and the something - the mundane, the questions and the yays of it? 

The only thing I know now - is that if I don't try, nothing happens. So I'm confronting another little truth about myself here. The belief that without a script, nothing comes of any plan. I'm here, and I'm going in without a plan. I'm all organised around this new-found - blankness :) I'm going to photograph what strikes me when it does, and draw what bites my pencil. Daily, as much as I can. That's my plan. So here's what's happened so far:

We went to the local swimming hole ('t Twiske) on Monday, and had a lot of fun :D I'd completely resisted the idea of going there, putting on my bathing suit and being where I was - playing with my kid in my white and less-than-perfect body with all these other people there - but I went. For the first time since we moved here back in 2010, I'm one of those moms, and it felt like a weight was lifted! I know it sounds dramatic, but it's true nonetheless. I don't have to wish a cool mom onto my kid - I am one now, and not just because he had fun, either ;)

I cleaned the garden on Tuesday, and here's where we can lounge now:

Of course, that depends on the weather, too ;) It's not as hot or sunny anymore, but to be truthful, both me and the kid are better for it. And it looks cozy ;)

I cleaned out the sand pit and returned it to the neighbour we borrowed it from. Weepy moment. On the bright side, I found and photographed the biggest slug EVER underneath :D But that's a drawing still waiting to happen, so you need to hold your breath for it ;)

Yesterday was a bit of a non-event because I didn't (and still don't) feel too hot. A cold in the wings, in fact. But I did draw nonetheless:

Squirt said he thought holidays warranted a present, and I agreed. A non-pedagogical moment perhaps, but us parents are allowed some of those. Well, I am, anyway ;) Plenty of those, let's not get started ;) Besides, he only woke me twice during my sort-of-sick on-the-couch 15-minute-nap. So there ;) He chose a small Duplo Zoo set, and I drew it. Memories are where you colour them, right?! ;)

That's what Summer 2013 looks like, so far :)

& I'll be back. That's as solid a promise I can make, being here without a plan ;)

How are you?! How's Summer, or Winter, where you are?

solid

So I didn't take a nosedive. Which is as awesome as it is... disconcerting! Because here I was, all prepared to - uhm, nosedive into my usual shut-down-mode, which is where I generally find myself when chaotic happenings end (the need to take apart and rebuild everything I already knew) - but then I didn't. Which leaves me strangely at a loss when it comes to words. I'm in a good place - not Fabulous, but good, and it's unfamiliar. But if I wait untill I've got the words to bend with the road I'm on, this blog will gather dust. I promised myself it wouldn't, and yet it has been empty here for the past two weeks. I started to write and then I stopped. Drafts waiting for - clarity. Or the recycling bin. I'm not sure. Not sure of much at the moment, but - again - in an unfamiliarly good sense :) Things are cooking, but not boiled down. So here are some drawings that came out over the past couple of weeks.

Squirt's bikes. Which seemed like a great subject to draw - lots of lines and technical what-nots to fight with, as well as a good example of the theme I'd thought up for myself: growing. Yes. And then I found myself quite sad ;)

And then there's that. It wasn't immediately inspired by my kid undeniably growing, but it's a part of the whole story anyway, of course. It's something I fight with, still, at times. Not all the time, but it comes up. And right now, strange as it may sound, it feels like a solid thing to come up. Not something that will push me over any kind of edges, not something I'm making harder for myself, but something that is - understood to be hard. I don't know if that makes any kind of sense to anyone but me, but hanging out in a space where I'm actually okay, this is - alright to feel something about...

I don't feel like I'm on my toes. Of course I'm vigilant - I find myself in a strange field of wildflowers, and while I'm enjoying the scenery, and sniffing the air, I know I'm me and I'm vulnerable. But I'm dealing with things, as they come up, and so far?

I'm squeezing just fine :)

Hope you're fine, too. Hope whatever is on your plate is just enough to hang out with, on the sane side of things. 

Here's to whatever lays ahead & facing up! I'll be back... :)

everybody

It's blustery outside today. Storm, sunlit, with the fresh feel of Spring on its tail. The type of day that could blow the cobwebs out of your head if you'd just open up wide enough. Hope, and doable like scraps of paper, blown out of reach, but there, to see - and some days, that helps.

I've got no idea how to get started. It's been so long since I sat down and took myself seriously enough to be here. I've been rattling around in a life that seems too big for me for way too long now. I used to fill that space! I even overflowed it, on really good days!

I want to explain, I want to make sense of it - I want to get over it and get out! Part of me is screaming IT'S TOO SOON - YOU'RE STILL WAY TOO CLUELESS - TOO MANY LOOSE ENDS TO MAKE SENSE OF THIS!! And part of me, the quiet part, the little girl, she knows it's time. She knows I need to open up. She knows that this pain feeds on quiet - because it gets to be the only voice inside my head, keeping me in check. She knows the last bits of clean & sane know-this-about-me will mould without light. She knows I need air and wind and being naked. Yes. She's wise. And she's still there, so there's hope. (there's always hope, she says to me. she never tires of repeating herself when I'm off and deaf. she's plugged in, she sees these things much clearer than I do...)

I want to be poetic about it all - make it beautiful where it really stinks, but she tells me not to worry about how it sounds; and once again, she's right. Worrying about how it all sounds is what gets me here in the first place. It locks the door on me. It cuts me off from my gut, and from sanity, to put it dramatically, and that's always the beginning of the end.

This crap loops all through my life. I'd really love to say I'm getting better at handling it, but I'm not - not visibly, not obviously. And the time to get angry about that isn't - now. It's never. It isn't about getting angry, frustrated at what I'm doing to myself, although it always seems that way for the longest time; just kick your own butt, honey! that's all you need - a good whoopin' and you'll be right as rain. If you'd just get in gear and fit in, you'll be dandy and the world is right!

I'm scared of sounding too dramatic. I'm dead scared of being misunderstood. I'm scared of feeling like the only one who gets like this! I'm scared to throw myself out here, naked again. Really, really scared! But I need to. Because all this starts with feeling like I don't fit in, like I'm not good enough, like I'll never get it right - oh yes, elusive it, indeed! - and my first answer always is, to pull out. And I'm starting to think - okay, the little girl inside told me - that I'll never find glu for repair if I don't come out and show myself again.

Basically, it's really simple. Undone of pretty and sliced open, I was raised by a mother who Knows. I'm not here to vilify my mother. It doesn't help. Lessons learned are lessons learned, and in the end, the only thing that really counts is - how you learn to make up for it - how you learn to cope. I'm not here to excuse her, either, but I do know she wasn't out to get me. She meant well. She was - and is - just never flexible enough to realise that I needed to be right, at times, too. Because what I'm left with now is a broken compass. And way too much stock in what a fabled crowd of Other People think.

What I grew up with is this warped blueprint of how the world works: you do things right, you're good. You do things wrong, and this includes all versions of not-quite-right, you're no good, really. There is no manual for Good. There is no manual for Wrong either, but you catch on pretty quickly. You can gather it from a look, a word, a nod. There's a lot of disappointment involved, and you learn to apologise, because it's the quickest way to get on with things. And if you apologise this much, there must be something wrong with you to start with. That gets ingrained. Deeply. That feeling lasts. You hear 'I didn't say anything!', but you know that look and you don't need the words anymore. You weigh looks and gestures and you know. (have you ever considered you interpret too much? she asks, and yes I have. I have with hindsight. I know NOW. and it isn't necessarily too late to change - to learn to ask, but it's so hard to stop the damage mid-sentence, because I'm afraid I'll hear I was right; I'm wrong, and I really don't want to hear the words out loud...)

If I were asked to describe my way in this world, I'd go with tentative vulnerabilty. There is a lot I don't know. I know we all come from different families, different biographies, different circumstances - not to mention cultures, so I don't feel equipped to weigh and judge. And I don't want to weigh and judge. I like the surprise and the sense of wonder. I like making things up as I go along. I don't like carving things in stone, not being able to revisit, to re-examine, to try a different angle. I like to think, to analyse, and I like to brainstorm, to toss things into the air and see how they land. I don't know what was there first - finding a way to cope with being wrong pretty much anyway, or an innate curiosity, but this is what I'm left with. I'm tentative, I'm vulnerable, and I don't really know. I'm vulnerable because I talk about not knowing. I talk about not being sure. I talk about being wrong, re-assessing, trying again - I talk about that all the time. I talk about how hard life is at times, and how I don't know what to do to make sense, spin meaning, and I always hope for 'me, too!'

But I have quite a few People who Know in my life. People who are Sure. About a lot of things. They're sure about their parenting decisions, about what they'll eat tonight. About their politics, the colour of their underwear, their hobbies and how much time spent on those is reasonable. They're sure about their talents, their skills and their abilities. They know how to measure up, and how not to stand out in a crowd. They're awesome, they're good.

These are good, solid people, and I'm not here to vilify them, either. I know no one is that sure. I know that at least part of it is what I hear them say - because I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be wrong, as I expect to be, at the bottom of things - and in part it's a - cultural thing? A contemporary thing? That we need to be seen to be sure? To show the world we know what we're doing? To have and hold opinions like they're our armour against change? I'm not sure (haha), all I know is, me and my open vulnerability, my lay-it-on-the-table attitude - when my solid ground starts sloping - I'm no match for their Knowledge.

I'm vulnerable because I expect to be wrong. And because I don't have a lot of worthiness in my back pocket on the best of days, let alone the slippery sloping days. I wasn't taught to carry myself, I was taught to - whatever you do, get it right. Without a compass. I don't have goals to fall back on when things start coming apart - meaningful stuff that will drag me out and up and into the light, because what I swallowed all those years ago was - life isn't about meaning, it's about not putting your foot wrong. It's about doing what's expected & about Knowing - being sure. I grew up thinking People Know. Hoping one day, I'd Know, too. Because Everybody Knows. Only really sad, silly, broken people - flawed, faulty, incomplete people don't know.

Some days - more and more days, longer stretches, it's important to remind myself of that! - when it's me and my gut and my brushes and my je ne sais quoi, and things are in place - I'm soaring with the best of them. I don't give a rat's ass about Knowing - knowing that I already do know on an instinctive, intuitive level that I'm alright, I'm okay, flying with my warts and who'll stop me?! But my gut gets clogged. It invariably does. Because I'm not necessarily heading somewhere - shouldn't I be headed somewhere - and shouldn't I Know?! As soon as I try to control being okay - hell, being Fabulous! - as soon as I try to tentatively, vulnerably explain it - as soon as I look up to make sure People see that I'm doing alright...

... that's when I see those looks, those gestures again. That's when I hear People telling me what to do, how they Know, how they got it covered, how their ducks are in a row. These People do a lot of their talking in my head. I talk for them. Inner mean chick does. She knows the drill. She knows when I'm ready to listen, and she takes no prisoners. She dresses like Everybody and digs in. I lose faith in myself and my gut, like I've always done in the face of Everybody, and I literally, physically pull back from the world. I stop seeing friends, stop answering emails, stop drawing, stop hanging out on Facebook, stop reading how everyone seems to have got it all figured out, and I don't want to hear about it either. I lock myself in with the one person who can make it all even worse: me.

For the past two months - give or take - I've been tearing strips off myself, reducing me to something not quite fit to feed a stray dog. All while fighting it, of course. It's been a war zone here - fighting myself for fighting myself for fighting myself. I've been playing footy with irritable bowel syndrome too, for the first time in my life - which is less than helpful when you're trying to trust your gut - but it's told me some truths by joining the party.

When you try to find your gut, your intuition, your I-know-a-few-things-about-me? Don't adjourn into your head. It's what I've always done - that's where the austere room lives in the world - but for the first time ever, I got feedback! It didn't help, and it still doesn't help just to know, but it's a serious clue about how to get out! And clues are good!

There are huge, gaping holes in this story. There are the things I don't know, things I'm not sure how to add up, things I don't want to drag up again, some good juicy examples of things that were said, and a good stack of things that would make this a book, as opposed to a long-winded blog post. One of the biggest holes is probably - why don't I throw everything at fitting in, if it matters that much?! All I can offer is - I think I tried that. Way back when. And it didn't work. I didn't get it. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, or what getting it right was meant to feel like - so I gave up. I think I decided at some point that it's - easier to come in from left-field, the element of surprise and all that - than to try and come in all dressed up, facing disappointment and a need to apologise. At least this way I could always claim they just didn't get it - even if it never really helped for long. Same fight, different coat - but it's how I 'coped' and I can't go back. At the bottom of the whole thing, it's always been about fighting the unfightable. Fighting myself for my sanity. Because it's about what I believe about myself, in the end, now that I'm all grown up. I'm not entirely clueless anymore, but I don't know everything. Ah. Elusive. I'm just not Know Everything-material. My personality can't handle it, my gut knows, but my head is stuck in the sand, ostrich-style. Or something. Holes, huh?

What I do know for sure, is that it's time to go out into the world again. Naked. Tentatively vulnerable with all I've got. And my brushes. I actually know at the bottom of all this - it's okay. I'm alright. I know more than enough. And the only way I can prove it to myself is if I go out in this raging storm out there and stay upright. One street corner at a time.

Do I like my personality? Do I want to change? Is it comfortable, not-knowing, and is there some sort of comfort in the falling, too? Some peace in knowing the enemy? I don't know. I'm forever much too close to this whole thing to claim clarity. What I do think is - I should get me one of those fabled Tribes, a gathering of Soul Sisters to keep me honest and on the straight-but-not-narrow - a new and improved Everybody to hear in my head and change my life! I LOVE reading about those, come across them all the time - great idea, too! Just one question: where do you get one?!

My story isn't all that unique. I don't come from unimaginably terrible things - I just live with a lot of harsh glaring lights and struggle, at times. So why do I get naked and share, anyway? Because I've been really lost, and really lonely lately. It helps, to write it down. It sort of feels like a fresh start, an opening to slip through - or the promise of one, at the very least.

And because I want to tell you - because we all need to hear it at times - 'oh yes, I get that. Me, too, sweetie. Me, too.' You don't have to say it, if you don't want to. I just want you to know you're not alone!

sensitive

I'm still upside-down. Picasso-esque. And I still think I see light ahead. But I haven't exited the tumbleweed tunnel quite yet. I'm vulnerable, still. 

Mostly, when I get here, my intention is to get things straight for myself, in the first place. Writing it down, as if trying to explain it to someone else, it helps. A lot. I gain clarity and insight from pouring the chaos in my head into a story line - knit beginning, middle and ending to what unwritten remains - mayhem. And I really, really appreciate the comments - more than you'll know.

But I don't have the courage nor the head space to write a blog post today. A huge part of this half of my personality - yes, dramatic; the shoe fits - wants to turn on the apologetics. She wants to blog about fluffy clouds. Not blog about that, per se, but be about that. While I know I ain't about fluffy clouds even on good days. When I know deep-down that I wouldn't want to be about fluffy clouds, especially on good days. But that's the extend of it right now. This is where I was, this is where I still am, and whether I kick and scream or fight it, this is what I have to wait out - whether I want to (I don't), or not.

But enough. I don't have the words to make more sense of this than I did before, so I won't try. I'm here, because I want to share something that almost made me cry this morning. And maybe when you read this, it might help you too. I hope it will. It makes sense to me, and I know I'm not the only one who gets like this. It sounds wrong, but it helps me, to know that. To know that you know what I mean when I hang out, when I feel tied up where I'm not. 

I'm reading a book. And it's eye-opening. I'm not big on labels and conditions, but I want to get a grip on this crap. Desperately. So while the title of this book put me off for the longest time, eventhough a very trusted close friend recommended it to me, I finally dove in. And it's - just so true. It's hard work to get deep with it, and I'm not getting that exactly right, quite yet, but when it comes to naming the feelings I've lived with for so long, when things get bad and when I'm on an almost unnatural high - it's spot-on, and I feel so... understood!

The book is The Highly Sensitive Person, by Elaine Aron, and while I'm not ready, at all, to bend it to words for myself, let alone here, I really want to share this (in my edition, soft cover, Element, HarperCollins, 2003, it's on page 62-63). It's sort of a - note to self from the inner child. And it's precious. If you're anything like me, it might touch you, too... 

1. Please don’t make me handle more than I can. I am helpless when you do this, and I hurt all over. Please, please, protect me.

2. I was born this way and can’t change. I know you sometimes think something awful must have made me this way, or at least made me 'worse', but that ought to give you even more sympathy for me. Because either way I can’t help it. Either way, don’t blame me for how I am.

3. What I am is wonderful - I let you sense and feel so much more deeply. I am really one of the best things about you.

4. Check in on me often and take care of me right at that moment if you possibly can. Then, when you can’t, I can trust that you are at least trying and I won’t have long to wait.

5. If you must make me wait for my rest, please ask me nicely if it’s okay. I’m only more miserable and troublesome if you get angry and try to force me.

6. Don’t listen to all the people who say you spoil me. You know me. You decide. Yes, sometimes I might do better left alone to cry myself to sleep. But trust your intuition. Sometimes you know I am too upset to be left alone. I do need a pretty attentive, regular routine. But I’m not easily spoiled.

7. When I’m exhausted, I need sleep. Even when I seem totally wide awake. A regular schedule and a calm routine before bed are important to me. Otherwise, I will lie awake in bed all stirred up for hours. I need a lot of time in bed, even if I’m lying awake. I may need it in the middle of the day, too. Please let me have it.

8. Get to know me better. For example, noisy restaurants seem silly to me - how can anybody eat in them? I have a lot of feelings about such things.

9. Keep my toys simple and my life uncomplicated. Don’t take me to more than one party in a week.

10. I might get used to anything in time, but I don’t do well with a lot of sudden change. Please plan for that, even if the others with you can take it and you don’t want to be a drag. Let me go slow.

11. But I don’t want you to coddle me. I especially don’t want you to think of me as sick or weak. I’m wonderfully clever and strong, in my way. I certainly don’t want you hovering over me, worried about me all day. Or making a lot of excuses for me. I don’t want to be seen as a nuisance, to you or to others. Above all, I count on you, the grown-up, to figure out how to do all of this.

12. Please don’t ignore me. Love me!

13. And like me. As I am.

Chicken soup for my troubled soul. Wise, wise words. Will you let me know if they touch you, too?

life

Basically, life is a layer cake.

And baking layer cake - eating layer cake & all - will create mess. 

And I know it's all inside your attitude towards the mess, really. As Nini and Robin pointed out, life has a tendency to curve, and so do moods, adaptitude, flexibility. So do the yays and the Fabulous. They veer off and they curve back!

I know I've used a lot of words to say this before, and I will use many more, but that's what it boils down to, always. The layer cake, the mess and your attitude. 

I'm still waiting for the next curve in the road, to reconnect with attitude - always looking busy while, but still; waiting for bendiness to return! What are you waiting for, these days?

optimism

* people-drawing because the teacher told me to ;)

* subject matter provided by the Just Draw It! FB group :) 

permission

I have made so many conscious attempts to be here more that I've lost count... And I have finally made a dent in - figuring out why it hasn't been happening. It's about fear. The fear of showing myself out loud and finding no one who cares. To meet shrugs. That's what's stopping me. This old, well-worn idea that being me and everything I bring is nothing to write home about. It's subconsious, and it's been sneaking up on me, but there it is...

Over the months, it's been harder to get here. I've been up to - much, in my head. I've been growing, soul-searching, drawing, changing some patterns, and thinking about all the above. I've been doing a whole lot of grieving, too. The hard stuff I wrote the monster post about; the way my life changed - as lives do - and the need to grab a hold of the stuff I say matters. Figure out what really does matter, and how I want to live it! What I want to show of it, what I want to be honest about, and when to basically stop babbling. And what to do when I do shut up! I've been everywhere, travelling long roads inwards - but I haven't been out, much.

I miss it. Being out. Meeting up with friends to talk and draw, to walk and talk, to hang out in coffee shops... Meeting friends online, reading blogs, hanging out in that virtual coffee shop, too. I feel like I've lost my voice, a little. Because I've been afraid to talk out loud. I've been hanging around with the wrong crowd and my inner critic a little too much for the past half year. I won't say that some things haven't changed for the better, I've had a couple of meaningful heart-to-hearts - but mainly with myself - inner dialogues & long monologues where the other side of me merely nodded and grunted in all the right places. I've spent some time slaying dragons, and trying to put my mother-issues to bed. I've dusted some shelves and figurines - broke a few, too. Shelves and figurines. But at some stage, enough really is enough, and you need to get out. Get it out & all. Get your courage on and be. Out loud, that is!

I've spent a lot of time thinking about blogging more. Thinking about re-invention and direction and change. But my blog is called Muddle On Through for a reason. That's me, that's who I am, that's what I do. I could pretend otherwise, but only for a while, and it would feel like a lie. I would love to be known for my wisdom - for how I grab life and don't let go, but if that's what you're looking for here, you have to read between the lines at times; find the truth where it resides for you. I suppose it's more likely that I'll be known as honest and human. Warts and a tendency to over-think. Shrugged about, perhaps, but the question is whether that matters, deeply. Whether it changes who I am. Because that old shoe fits, and I'm learning to be okay, to bend with the truths of me. I'm not as flexible as I'd like to be, that's a truth, too. But I'm working hard on not breaking quite as much anymore. And you'll find my purr-mode in working order when you least expect it!

I'm not challenging anyone but myself to stick around, of course. My blog was always going to be about who I am and what I make - whether that's sense, a mess, or art - so I'm pushing through this idea that I need to change course in order to blog. I'll stick with what I know & who I am. No more imagined apologies for posts never written because I'm worrying who will care.

I'm renewing my vows to document what makes me tick. To be like that if that's the mood that shows. Whatever the mood that shows. To show my warts, my art and my je ne sais quois. This is where I learn to bend, and where I'm breakable. This is where I take up all the space I need. Where I clash with the décor. Where I'll try to be all that I already am.

So I'm welcome here. That's my 2013 gift to myself :) And you are more than welcome here, too! With warts of your own - whether you're ready or willing to share or not. You're so welcome. It really is lovely to have you!

& here's a question for you:

If we all really are our own solid ground in this mayhem called life, what does yours look like? This is mine! For now ;)

laundry

smile

First day of the first week of Isaak's School Kid Carreer. Courageous kid. He feels it, too, of course. This really is momentous for both of us...

So I came home to an empty house and time. I'd promised myself I'd fill it with something. Something meaningful - as far as I know what that is, right now. Move past the guilt that claiming this time as mine and pristine brings up. Trying not to waver in my resolution to make this time count - for something decidedly not chores of any kind. Nor entertaining distractions, no matter how they whisper that they're easy and instant and will cure all that ails while I let them. I need to start as I plan to go on.

Here's what came up;

autumn comes & shines with an in-your-face beauty that silently SINGS

I'm smiling reluctantly & in spite of myself
letting my bones warm
guilt isn't made to hang on to
especially not the kind we pour over ourselves
masked grief needs colour
light
air
healing does start here and now...

In the end, it all starts with permission. Giving yourself permission to smile, to enjoy, to embrace, to really see what we're given to play with. And to play then. Especially when that's the hardest thing to do. Sometimes the only way to take a first, scared, clueless, hesitant step onto the daunting road ahead is to allow yourself to play with what's here, now. So that's what I did.

healing continues, here and now.

Will you give yourself permission to play today? Do something, anything - just because you know deep down that it's good for you! Chocolates - to help swallow the guilt - are on me today :)

autumn

Summer is well and truly over. It has been for a long time. But I haven't been able to find my way back here - until now. Too much has happened - especially in my head - and it all falls into the category Big Stuff. And it's been building in chaos for so long, that I just wasn't able to capture it in words. Or art with a real heart. It wasn't a lack of bravery - I truly believe I'm growing braver and more courageous by the day - but a lack of words. Of not being able to string it all together in a way that makes sense. To you, or me.

Not being entirely clear on what my blog is meant to be all about doesn't help to find my way back. It's about what I make, my art work, my colour struggles; but in the end - as I'm finding in the doing - my art is about meaning. About scratching an itch, about getting stuff out of my head and onto a page, about making some sort of sense of what's going on in my life - in lives in general, of what makes us tick and what weaves the fabric of human life. About what helps when things aren't smooth - like coffee, chocolate and cakes - and about what I look at when I can't see the bigger picture - like flowers, lots of flowers and plants growing roots. That is what ends up on my page, anyway, when things are flowing.

I'm in the middle of finding out - of trying to find out - of finding the courage to try and find out what my illustrations are about. Where my art fits into my life and what I want it to mean, and to whom. In the midst of re-invention, pretty much. I'll get back to that, but that's what makes it hard to confidently, loosely share what comes out of my pen & paint box. In these days of chaos, it's crazy hard to get to my dining room table 'studio'; to start something and to finish it. Nothing I create comes close to what I want to convey, and I feel lost. My muse doesn't dig chaos. She signs off, without leaving a note, to come back when I know what I'm doing. And she wears a fake innocent smile, like she had no idea I needed her. I'm finding out, among other things, that I need to know what's going on to be able to put it into images. And that isn't an excuse - although I've mistaken it for procrastination on numerous occasions. It's simply what is. My illustrations are about me, about where I find myself & what finds me. And when my GPS is off, like it has been for months now, I'm having a really hard time painting myself to be...

And this isn't even the beginning of what I came here to put out into the world, but I'm out of time, and I suppose it's as good a re-start as any ;) I want to be back here, and I will be. Hold a space for me if you can!

character

I'm going to share myself as a chair.

I knew you didn't see that one coming :D

Pikaland Make Your Mark assignment # 5, finished about a month ago.

Draw the chair you think you are, artistically. I think I made it more about me in general, but that's okay. I'm okay with that. It's fascinating either way, and I was surprised at what came up & out! 

Me as a chair: black & white as instructed for part one - brutal honesty as a personal touch.

Part 2: chair, coloured. Yes. It's quite possible you recognise this chair. Three drawings in one week, people, it was hard work! So I cut a corner. But only a little one. And one that's quite fitting, when you think of it ;)

And finally, my chair against a background without white. I love this one. It involved watercolour, photoshop, micron pen drawing, more watercolour, some gouache and coloured pencils, more photoshop, actual printing, cutting and pasting (the cushion), lettering and scanning! It was an exercise in getting out of my comfortzone, while still ending up with an illustration that's me - both in style and punchline :) 

On a different note, my wrist is still not back to what it should be. I know what's wrong with it - stress, from my head into my shoulder muscles, down into my wrist to settle there. I've had it before, but never this long or quite this severe, and it's been getting me down and optimistic, pessimistic and back up again. I've discovered that I need my wrist for pretty much everything I love to do, as well as for everything I sort of have to do, like cleaning and chopping veggies. While it really is no hardship not to be able to cook healthy family meals or chase dust bunnies for a while - it is a b**ch not to be able to fill all that lovely downtime with all the things I complain I never have time to do more of... Ouch.

I am when I write, when I draw and paint, and when I blog, read blogs + comment and spend time on Facebook being amazed, amused and touched. I am not so much when I can't. It's a lesson. A big, overwhelming one. One that leaves me kicking and screaming until I tell myself it will pass when I stop fighting it. Do I believe that, to the core? I do. I have to. Because this is what I reinvented myself to be when I started cleaning out my closets back in 2010. And I really don't think I've got the stomach to go back in! Sorry for the dramatics. Just thought I'd let you know where I am these days. While I'm there. I have absolutely no intention to stay here, much longer!

Anything you're ready to kick to the curb?! I'd love the perspective right now!

semblance

Yes, a semblance of something moving here ;) I haven't been here, but I feel like I've been pretty much everywhere else, lately - in my flesh and bones life. And then I sort of crashed, which was inevitable. Or that's how it felt, anyway. But it was good, in a self-help-book sort of way - it was needed. Another reassessment of things and stuff and priorities.

That's all I have to say about it, for now. It isn't much, but at least it's a semblance of something happening ;) As is this drawing! My first in over a week. The stress bit my wrist and my wrist sulked. Is still sulking really. Drawing hurts. But I was sick of it! So there! And, so, ouch...




this is for sure the worst post I wrote in a long time! then again, this is the first post I wrote in a long time. I'm forgiving myself for it. my self-help books say I can ;)

loot

These are the drawings I came home with after working outside - or at least in public ;) - last week :D

This was lunch on the 26th, on an art date with a friend :) We did lots of walking and talking, and we even managed to draw some :) Lovely day!!

Another art date on Saturday, with a friend in Gouda, to make up for the missed Sketchcrawl the week before :) We sat on a park bench in the garden of a museum, surrounded by beautiful old buildings - but I ended up challenging myself with angles again. I figure the only way to get better is to keep trying ;)

On the way back from Gouda, we ended up in a traffic jam because of road works. And I decided to take out my sketchbook :D I'm really starting to dig the idea of bringing it everywhere :D

And here's my lovely boy. His back, anyway ;) I am having such a hard time with realistic faces... I maimed him in the drawing I did before (which I tore out of my sketchbook, totally going against principles. It really was that bad!). But then I was struck with the brilliant idea that I could focus on his cute little backside ;) The pockets on this pair of jeans are stitched low - just so you know - that wasn't me missing the truth again ;)

That last drawing, on Queen's Day (celebrating the Dutch Queen's BD, fleamarkets everywhere and people wearing lots of orange)? I did it in the park, on the playground, sat on a bench, surrounded by throngs of people! I'm definitely getting braver, and I'm really starting to love just going with the flow! Sure, I hesitated, but I did it, anyway :D

When last did you do something anyway? I'd love to hear :)

tools

Here's number 10* in Red Parka Diaries' drawing challenge: draw your favourite drawing tools and pay homage to them. Because let’s face, they are awesome and we’d be lost without them.

From right to left - because I can ;) - my Japanese brush pen, through JetPens, along with carbon ink cartridges that are permanent and waterproof (I used it to draw the bike in Amsterdam)! I love that pen! Especially because it's cherry red and because it takes courage to put it to the page, so it keeps me on my toes :) Next to it, one of my Big Girl brushes, and one of my Koi waterbrushes (that I - let's be honest here - use a lot more often than my Big Girl brushes these days...). Dr. Ph. Martin's India Ink - I use black the most, but I have a gorgeous colour wheel of them and they are all waterproof! My go-to dip pen with sketch nib. And of course, my watercolour set - a Van Gogh box filled with Winsor & Newton. Mostly artist grade, but there is some cotman left - I'm slowly replacing empty pans :)

At the bottom of the page, my less adventurous but definitely trusty tools. The ones I grab most often really. The tools that take the least amount of courage to pick up - and let's face it, not every day is a day of Great Courage or experimentation. There's my orange mechanical pencil, filled with B leds, my eraser (or what's left of it), and one of my Sakura Pigma Micron fineliners :)

I suppose this is what my drawing could have looked like if I'd kept it simple. Because these are the tools I use most often, and without these, I'd be lost. But I love all the stuff I use. And most of all, I love that it's there to use! That I can grab whatever my mood guides me to and draw! That all of these things are always out on the dining room table - my dudio - making me happy and excited even when I'm not drawing, but merely walking past, or dusting around them! 

I loved drawing my art supplies :) I love looking at art supplies! But of course, most of all, it's about using my art supplies. That's the best homage you can pay them! But it was fun putting them in the spotlight like this, and I think they appreciate it too.

In case you're wondering, I'm still working on my morning coffee. In the first version, I misspelled twice, and in the second version I used colours that are - not quite it, to be very mild & gentle ;) Version three is in the works. It might be up next. But you never know what happens when these tools and my mind start on a trip all their own ;)


* you can have a look at this challenge's number 2, number 9 & number 1 if you want :)

pet

Here's number 2 in Red Parka Diaries' drawing challenge. I drew my pet :D

Okay. I'm stretching it here. This is Shrek's cousin Chilz. He stopped by to pose with some freshly picked dandelions from our backyard (incidentally the only flower blooming there at the moment...), because I wanted to draw him for a birthday card for the neighbour across the street. I wanted Shrek, of course, but he couldn't make it on such short notice. Besides, his fees are ridiculous! And I say, an Ogre is an Ogre, really. When it comes down to it. Not that the neighbour is an Ogre of course. He just likes Shrek. And Chilz, I hope ;)*

Of course, I'm not keeping an Ogre for a pet. I don't think you're actually allowed. Not that rules are always stopping people, but I draw the line at Ogres. For myself, anyway.

Truth is, we don't have a pet. Just a kid. And he's at least as cute and entertaining! I know I could have drawn someone else's pet, but everyone else has a cat. And at the risk of offending - I hate cats. I don't want to stare one in the eye long enough to draw it. They creep me out... So I'm submitting Chilz. As a pet. He said I could ;)

Here's what I did for number 9. And I'm working on number 1 today :)

* I am utterly AMAZED at people (like Koosje!) who are able to draw a character and stick with it, reproducing it in many different poses and surroundings. I can't do it! I can only draw what I see, and if Chilz is evidence, not even that entirely true to the examples in front of me! Obviously, this was meant to be Shrek. But I just couldn't get it right! Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with Chilz, but it just isn't Shrek... Chilz says - nor does he want to be, thanks very much! Shrek is way too busy Being Famous, if you know what I mean. But that's besides the point ;)

brave

Master piece? Yes, I think so :) 

Because I got away with drawing this quite inconspicuously, but... this is a busy corner in Amsterdam, and I got my sketchbook and paint out anyway :D

P.S. Yup. I just noticed... I predated this drawing ;)