OK-- so to anyone and everyone who wants to read about why, here ya go. Most of the time, I try to investigate why I'm doing something. What is my intent? My motives? Is it love? Is it to give? Is it to receive? Is it to amuse? Mostly all of those things. Sometimes I remember to investigate motives, but I do forget and goof up and goof up often... but this isn't one of those times :)

So, anyway, why do I blog? First, if my perspectives and experiences can be of service to anyone, I offer them. I make a lot of mistakes and many can be learned by just reading and pointing your finger at me. Why make your own mistakes when you don't have to? I have learned so much from relating to real people and real stories that I decided to be one, myself, no holds barred. I tell you the truth from my very subjective perspective. It won't be someone else's, but its mine. If it helps anyone or even lightly amuses, wonderful.

The point is that if there is any one thing that can be gleaned from my blog about life, art, spirituality, love, sadness or joy that will help someone become more secure in themselves to live openly and connect in their lives... then, wonderful. If someone, through my hard-nosed exploration can see the beauty in their own complexities and falliblilties, then this is worth it to me and I will continue to do it.

I offer my vulnerabilities in love and with the intent of love only for that purpose. AA is this way, my Mom's saving grace. We'd both be dead if it wasn't for AA and how they handle life. They talk of struggles openly and about what helped them through hard times and it helps new people and the cycle of giving continues.

Sometimes along the way, even with the best of intents, people's toes get stepped on. A note to my loved ones of past, present and future: Existing as someone connected to me, you will be vulnerable and this won't be comfortable to you. It will require you to be courageous when you feel you can't. Do it anyway and release the shame. It'll be ok.

This is why I don't name names, although the names are easy to find if you look. But the real issue in this blog isn't the name, the person or even the event... it is the lesson learned in the grander scheme of the human condition.

So, if these lessons of the human condition have been lost in my posts, then the person doesn't get it and they shouldn't read any more. For example, the last two posts were about manipulation by people who don't necessarily look manipulative... to us or themselves. We do it all the time, all of us, and we don't even realize it. Myself, included. The posts were also about how our roles in relationships change depending on our strengths and weaknesses.

So, about accepting our roles in those relationships... I accept being a bad-girl (blunt? insensitive?)  sometimes to make someone feel better about themselves. (Its mental gymnastics to understand why I say that, I know. I've been a "guard-dog" for people who couldn't do it for themselves was one way.)

I live based on how I'd like to be treated, adhering to the golden rule. I had rather have my feelings hurt with someone's truth than be placated with a sweet lie. I own being blamed (and criticized) for the repercussions of those things, willingly. I played a role in the victim/rescuer experience without blaming a soul for it but myself and I don't regret it or intend to whine about it. I don't want pity. I did it, I'm an adult and thats that.

But I am also an odd bird, wild. My love runs rampant as much as the other extreme. I wear my heart, my weaknesses and triumphs on my sleeve, opting to be vulnerable all of the time. This woman is my hero, my example and she fully gets why I paint and live as I do. To understand "why" fully, watch this: 

Sure, I get hurt and some judgment, but its worth it. I am human and very fallible and just like you or anyone else you come across. I just happen to be an artist with a blog. (Not a CPA, secretary or accountant. An artist. Much of what I write about becomes paintings.)

So, about this blog, I had been slightly “threatened” that someone had “something” on me that I wouldn't want “out there”. I imagine, in retalliation for what I wrote. I'm curious what someone could possibly have that I don't readily admit on my back through an exposed, soft underbelly. Can't think of a thing. 

But, I am not, nor ever will get, into the habit of hiding anything. Our weakness IS our courage and the day we get that is the day we are whole. I bless someone in their endeavors to dig dirt up on me because its already been dug a long time ago. Airing dirty laundry? There is a spiritual principle behind this. Respect it or not, but watch Brene Brown's TED talk and then make your judgment.

There's more of this post if you click "read more" down there to the right. I hope all who reads the above or anything from this unrepentant wild-child is blessed with the courage for a more authentic and loving life.

In a word, YES. It took a long time, much fearful insights (not fearless. Courage comes from being afraid and doing what you know is right. Fearless is just... stupid. Fearless people don't have the sense to be scared, ha ha. BTDT in the teen years).

Now, life is good. We still have money troubles, an argument here and there, but the internal conflict and resolution are much easier because the agitated anxiety taught me to be open no matter how armored and spikey others are, to respect my value system, to stay away from people that don't "get" me and head towards healthy people who do. I also was gifted with the foresight to do what is right according to my conscience and for the greater good (can't even walk past litter w/out picking it up), so hopefully my art reflects this wisdom gleaned.

My art of the time is meant to be scary, funny and freaky. Thats how the situation was. My art now? Somewhat the same, but in a much more beautiful and spiritual context. God uses all sorts of experiences for his art supplies :)

So anyway, after watching Brene Brown, the painting's meaning finally became comprehensible. It is about how the outside world lives in a space of ego and armor and I didn't. Never have. I tried and it felt completely un-natural, so I shut up and shut down.

Because of this, the feeling of belonging never came to me (until many years later when I met fellow artists/sensitives). Until then, "Fitting in" was something completely alien, and never so evident as when I was in the throws of my breakdown. The scream came from the feeling of not being able to escape it, this emotional knowledge of the disparity between what is inside people and what they show. There is a real person in there somewhere beyond the armor and spikes. Although people's internal workings are none of my business, open-ness is a gift not many people give. Sad, because they get so much more out of the interaction.

The rabbit is the Velveteen Rabbit. Like the Velveteen rabbit, you become real once you have been loved to the point of pain (intimacy brings pain). Real relationships bring arguments and misunderstandings... the rabbit has a scar on its heart and also its wrist. Its in the shape of Edvard's original person, with the same acidic colors (agitated depression heightens adhd or any of your senses, everything feels like an assault). Besides that, check out the dudes walking up the pier. You can't get a read on them, they don't want to look you in the eye. The one without the spikes actually smiled.

In the background are the tell-tale trees painted by every MS gulf coast artist that shows. All the trees look the same, so since this is about not fitting in, I put them in there. Most of the artists of the region also painted shrimpboats and magnolias at some point, so I have a shrimpboat in the background (that didn't exist- due to Katrina) and after feeling shunned at several art shows there (and not from this painting, either, lol) I painted USS FU as the boat's name. 

The struggle of my entire life had revolved around this ONE topic. When no one lives in the space you do or is willing to take off their psychic clothes either, the hunger for intimacy of being real with another person like yourself creates a starvation, a famine of the soul. At the time, I didn't know why or where it was coming from, but the depression had stripped me of any psychic skin and exposed the real guts of the matter. God was part of this, but God had stepped into the background... I suppose to allow me to be taken apart to be put back together again. How many other artists cannibalize their creations to make something new and improved?

For more information about psychic upheavals and re-integrations, read here about "THE POSITIVE DISINTEGRATION THEORY"