Category: self introspection

Define Art

According to Wikipedia… An artist is : An artist is a person engaged in one or more of any of a broad spectrum of activities related to creating art, practicing the arts or demonstrating an art. The common usage in both everyday speech and academic discourse is a practitioner in the visual arts only.

I find myself so often considering whether or not I should use the title of artist.  I know that I am an artist… But I feel like what I do doesn’t seem as good. Yes this is my anxiety talking. But part of the issue is art is truly subjective. I can look at a picture and feel like it is genius,  and then you can look and see it as garbage. The same thing goes for any kind of art…. Paintings,  poetry,  yarnwork, music.  With no baseline to measure the art against,  is it really any wonder how many artists fail to have strong self esteem?  Add the fact that you then are expected to,  if you want to make a living from the art,  find the way to sell these small expressions of your soul. It takes a huge amount of courage to even show another soul what you have done. Then deciding what you are worth?  Bah I see it as nearly crippling.

Seasonal Blues

Screenshot_20161214-060114.pngso this time of year it is so hard for many people.  I often feel like it is the worst because of the expectations we are put under to be nice to people who we can’t stand the rest of the year.  Or the fact that we are separate from the ones that we love and have no way to remedy this. Sometimes it is just the weather changes and the sickness that seems to linger about making it even more difficult to be social.  I just wanted to reach out and say that you are not alone.  If this is a difficult time for you,  reach out.  There is always someone who you matter too… Whether you know it or not.  And in the holidays we some times forget about telling the ones around us how much we care.  For some the inner voice is not a kind thing.  Trust me when I say that you are not alone.  ❤

Self worth

So much I find myself having an issue… I am crawling my way to being healthy and a “successful ” person.  For me it is a constant struggle. It means that I have to put the work I do creatively in the world.  I face rejection. Ok,  you say,  and?… Well it comes down to what kind of day I am having.  And I know that I am not alone.  I so often on bad days convince myself that two monkeys with typewriters could write better than I do. And I won’t even get started with my art. It isn’t just depression,  it is self worth.  If you spend your whole life hearing that your opinion is not worth a damn then eventually… You believe it. This is not something that you can just get over!  This requires you to retrain yourself to believe that you matter.  That the systematic erosion of your dreams and desires was not in fact truth. That you can make a difference in this all too dark world.  So if I seem to be attention seeking with my art or my writing… It is not because I am actually attention seeking.. It is likely that I am losing the fight that day against seeing myself as worthy of doing it at all that day. Please don’t hold it against the writing or the art.

Tired ramblings

Last night was not a good one.  I doubt that I slept even a full hour.  Every time I would try it would be falling into yet another nightmare. I have had them all of my life,  as far back as I remember. I rarely remember them,  only wake feeling afraid and small.

So I have been sleep deprived and shaky… Not a good combo. Well it has had me trying to gather all of the random thoughts swimming in my head. Quite unsuccessfully I should add.  So much so that I have decided to post some here to help my mind to relax.  And that it is a glimpse for you of my chaos?  Bonus.

1. I miss my grandmother,  well both of them.  But mostly my maternal grandmother.  I have been trying to learn to crochet.  And she was amazing at it.  She was just plain amazing,  but it is the crochet that is bringing her to mind this time.

2. Samhain.  Yes I am pagan.  And this is a time for family.

3. I am very likely not going to end up with the death of neverland as anything but a novella.  The halfway point is 5000 words.  So I find myself wondering if I am trying to exceed my reach.  I am a  poet.  I am a children’s author. I apparently can do short stories (aka novella). But can I do a novel?

3 i really am enjoying doing the art thing.  If you are curious about how my art is… Myne drawings album is public on my personal Facebook (Patti Harris).  Go ahead,  look!  I would love new input.

4. My daughter is starting to get into create music.  I really want to encourage that.

5. Yule.  I have a idea for a few of the people on my list.  Not that my list is big. I am not able to afford much for even those.

6. Butt coasters.  A friend of mine on Facebook is doing novelty crocheted coasters (www.facebook.com/nothingbuttcoasters/) and I am so tickled by the pug ones… (Thinking about them for one of my list…

7 money.  Always a issue.

8. After the first of the year,  do I want to do another bedtime tales?

9. Zombie castaways.  Android game..  The villa (a building to make needed items in the game)  if you combine love and rubber… You get bedsheets….

10. I really want a small crockpot for the truck.  I wonder if I can pull it off this month.

11.whether I should do a blog post about religion.  Or poets that I love and why….

12 my sister’s faeries.  I feel like I should help more than I do…

So much rambling.  I am heading to bed soon.  I hope that I sleep better tonight.

What is writing?

So I am a published writer. I have just recently published my third children’s book.  I have published several volumes of poetry,  and a novella.  I write this blog and contribute regularly to another. After all of that,  sometimes I feel doubtful that I should claim that I am a writer. I do not have a novel,  and the current story that I am working on… Well I am likely doing a novella again. I am at five thousand words… And I realized that I am about half done. So should I stop calling myself a writer?  NO, because I am still writing.  I will likely have a new volume of poetry to release early in 2017. I will still finish the death of neverland.  I may never write a “Full” novel,  but I wonder if that really is that big of a deal.

So what is writing?  Writing is taking one’s heart and pulling it out through the fingertips.  Writing is creating a tender spot on your own soul,  and exposing it to the world. Writing is late nights,  sore fingers and crying yourself dry. Writing is the feeling of accomplishment of a job well done. Writing is all the tortures of Hell and all the pleasures of heaven. And in the end… Writing is an obsession stronger than any.

#amwriting #always

 

Rape culture

So I am not an easily triggered person,  usually.  However,  here lately social media has been testing the limits. Several times I have opened Facebook and found articles about children dying because they were raped.  Then there are the articles about rapists getting nearly no punishment for what they have done. So then I take to Twitter,  which is usually a little bit more light-hearted. Until the presidential election.  Then there started a new hashtag. #WhyWomenDontReport. Well,  that is a huge can of worms. It caused me to discuss this with Joe.

He said that most of the women who he knows,  or has known have been either raped or molested.  Then as we were talking about it,  he considered.  Of the twenty women who he was intimate with,  he said he was unable to say for sure on four.  The rest were survivors.  That is not even a random statistic.  That is women who he was with.

I was floored by that.  So I posted on Facebook. (So there is a thing on Twitter… #whyIdidntreport
I DID REPORT! At least the first time. I was told that I was a liar. Not all rapes go unreported, some people speak and go unheard. I didn’t speak of the second time because I knew I wouldn’t be believed.) I had several of my friends express similar situations. Think on this,  according to Google,  one in three women are raped in their lifetime. Yes men are also raped,  but I am not speaking of them,  not yet anyway.  So 1/3 of all women.  We as a people need to address this… That is a huge issue.

Add to the issue the ignorance of Trump’s “locker room talk” and the treatment of the victims by those who have the power to change things.  Is it any wonder that sexual assault is the least reported crime?  We make it hard for the scared to overcome the fear instilled by violence to step into a safe place…  And I for one am tired of that.  I was raped at fourteen and molested as a small child.  I am not a statistic.  I am  not a victim.  I am not allowing Rape culture to break me. I speak my truth,  and invite you to do the same.

Outside blind

Okay,  I believe it is time that I explain my truth,  and set myself free.  I have survived many abusive situations.  I really was a broken soul. Then I met an angry redhead. He is my anchor.  He allowed me to heal.  When I met him,  I was dissociating.  I was on more medications than a person should ever take and I flinched whenever anyone looked at me cross.  I was hiding who I was,  mostly because I had seen that it would be unwelcome.  No one believed me when I spoke of what I had been through.  So when I met him,  I was more than a hot mess. I was having nightmares nightly and I was terrified of everything.  I had at our rough count at least fifteen distinct personalities.  Twenty years later, I no longer dissociate. I Will likely have nightmares for the rest of my life,  but I have them less now.  I now wake up to arms who hold me as I cry the tears of fear.  I have someone who has encouraged me to be myself,  no matter what anyone else thinks. We heal each other.

That sounds amazing right?  Well the problem is most people see him and because he is grouchy and anti-social,  They think that he is not good to me. I have watched him walk away from people who he loved because of how they treated me.  I have watched him protect me when I was trapped in my own mind. I have had to stand between him and the outside,  because of people misunderstanding. I will always stand up for him,  he is why I have found the strength to heal a shattered soul. So many people have told me that I can do better……but What they fail to understand is that I don’t want to.  We fight,  we play,  we love,  and we have healed.  Unless you are part of it,  there is so much that you Can not see,  so please don’t judge my life based on the first impression that you have of him or me.

 

Fear does not mean weakness

Some one I care very deeply for was upset because she couldn’t face someone who had abused her.  Well I got to thinking about that.  Fear is a healthy reaction to danger.  If you have ever survived any form of abuse,  you understand that.  I am a survivor.  I have been raped,  molested,  beaten.  I have been in abusive relationships.  I am not now,  because I found my way out of that darkness. I don’t think I could be brave enough to face those who abused me.  When I tried to stand up,  and tell someone…. Well I was not believed.  I was told I was lying.  Even though I showed the signs of the abuse.  So when I was raped by a group of five at thirteen,  Fear kept me silent.  Fear turned into the backbone I needed to become who I am. So I would not be a victim again.  However,  even as strong as I have become,  I doubt that I could face my molester or the five who raped me.  And if I did,  I doubt that I would have anything to say.  The piece of me that was stolen is gone.  I am not that girl anymore.  Nor do I want to be.  So I will keep my fear,  as it strengthens me.  It allows me to realize that there are really monsters out there.  It allows me a chance to know that I won’t break,  for life has tried.  Be proud of what you are,  and do not hide your truth.  For that is what made you.

Nightmares of the human kind

Survivors know,  monsters are real.  They wear human faces,  sometimes even the faces we are supposed to love. I have survived abuse,  been raped more than once.  It is how I have become. I have seen the darkness in  mankind. And just as I am ready to stop seeing the light as possibility,  that is when someone comes to show me there is people who are still worth believing in.

I try to be positive,  for even though I have seen the monsters walking around in man’s skin,  I really don’t want to let the darkness seep too deeply in. To do that,  lets them win. So I teach my daughter that which I was not taught (that no one has a right to do anything she is uncomfortable with) And I make my own way in this scary world.  Some days that means waking up soaked in the tears drawn from the past.  Some days it means pulling away from the world on whole. This is what life is after you meet the nightmares of the human kind.

Too much on my mind to write fiction, so here is a dish of truth.

Identity is not something that is set in stone.  Even though society seems to see it that way. As a  child of the eighties,  the mere idea of gender fluidity was absurd.  You were either a boy,  or a  girl. And the closest to fluidity was being a tomboy or a nancyboy. Either way,  you were bullied.  And the “no bully” thing wasn’t going on then.  Now mind you,  I am not complaining.  It was just how life was.  I am pleased to see the progress.  For me,  the idea of creating who I am now,  well it is part of what I want in life.  For others it is definitely more painful.

I am “one of the guys” most of the time.  The first person who told me that,  Scared me.  As being one of the guys meant that I was flawed,  somehow less female. Still in truth,  it is how I am.  I am happy working with my hands,  no make-up,  simple hair and pants.  Once in a blue moon,  I will get girly.  Dress up in flowing skirts and soft boots.  I love science and nature,  and not just the flowers.  I have helped to do landscaping.  I have spent time in the pit at the track.  I spent summers working on farms.  Oh what is that?  Girls can do that too?  Well yeah… But I was seen as masculine because of it. I was the center for my high school football team (at one of them.)  And could out bench the football team (at another).  So does that make me a guy?  No not really.  I think that is the problem.  Identity tends to be based on stupid things.

For me,  Identity should be less about male/female and more about what you make of yourself.  I am not male.  I am not female… I fall somewhere in between.  I am a poet. I am a mother.  I am a writer.  I am an artist.  I am human.  I am a gamer.  I am…….