How to love an introvert (from a sensitive extrovert’s point of view)

September 29, 2017 No Comments

Dear internet, I have something that I must admit to myself and the rest of the world.

I am the most extrovert of extroverts.

Communication is awesome to me. The idea of going to fun events alone without anyone to share it with sounds incredibly lame. Why wouldn’t I want to share this incredible experience known as life with people I love? Why do I have to feel bad about this?

Why have I spent most of my life being called

Needy

Pushy

Too intense

Insecure

As an extrovert who is also an incredibly sensitive person, I feel every little shift in people’s personalities. And of course, being an extrovert I want to get people to talk about it. How can I make their day better? Did I do something to upset them? I mean, I am not insecure here but also don’t want to be completely oblivious to people’s feelings around me. If someone mistook me as rude, I feel like I must know about it. I also don’t want to withhold something cool that I think someone would find awesome too! Sharing is caring, right?

If you are an introvert reading this, you are probably already exhausted by this article imagining someone in your life like me.

Sorry, not sorry.

However, I have found that in my life I have become the most attached to people that turn out to be introverts. Those introverts are just so wonderful to me. I mean, once I get passed a long time of feeling completely annoying to them, ignored, and shut out. Then they are so awesome! No, for reals. The relationships I have built with extroverts help me keep focused. They love me, but also have to retreat to recharge enough to help push me to keep focused on my goals.

I am that very weird, asshole extrovert that when I am focused on my work, art or goals, I put all of that magical energy that I usually put into conversations to whatever it is that I am working on. So when I am around fellow extroverts, I tend to offend them and make them get put up with me because when it’s work time, it’s work time. However, the introverts I love usually are just excited they get a chance to plug in for recharge again because I come back and smother them with love and excitement.

Things I learned to Deal with as an extrovert :

It is not personal when introverts ignore you.

Yes. I have cried many times with my introvert loves ignored me.
My dear friend Shelby will take off from my world for sometimes up to a week. Do I freak out? Yes. Do I think I did something to make her hate me? Yes. Do I replay it in my head 900 times the last time we talked to make sure that I am not the asshole? Yes. Did I try to convince myself that they must hate me because I would never ignore them unless I hated them? Yes.

But there is something I don’t do anymore in this situation. I don’t try to make them feel like shit for just being themselves.

It wasn’t even until the last year that I really understood the difference between an introvert and an extrovert. So I went pretty quick to judge these wonderful people in my life. It didn’t even cross my mind that the answer to their silence was anything other than them wanting to disconnect from me personally. I would call them out on ignoring my messages. Send insults. I would react instead of respond. How could these people I adore possibly care at me at all if they are looking at my phone calls and messages and ignoring me? The only probable answer is that they decided I suck and that they hate me. Or if it was a man I was dating, I took it as they were clearly boning 10 other women. Clearly.

Rather than reacting to these silent treatments, I now respond.

Not gonna lie, I still fuck this up a lot. I still have my doubts, but I don’t lose control of my feelings. And we know us little sensitive extroverts have so many of those.

I responded with assuming the best in someone that just leaving them alone. Rather than feeling rejected, I told myself that they only had so much energy to give their days, that they were simply spent. They couldn’t give me what they knew I wanted. With this fact, I decided to just trust that when they were recharged that they would return to me. Go spend all that extrovert energy on someone else who was lined up with my energy level. Stop depending on anyone to make me happy. The most I would send as a follow-up to these special introverts in my life is something cute and loving to let them know I was thinking of them and am excited to see them again whenever they are ready.

The relationships I have had with introverts has improved so much since this simple correction. I trust them more. I trust the world a bit more. I feel a bit more comfortable knowing that we are all so different and those differences need to be respected, rather than judged.
Sometimes when introverts ask you to hang out, you just don’t need to talk the whole time.

This one was something I realized very recently. Since I have decided to pull my own head out of my ass and be more observant and accepting of people’s patterns, I was able to learn some new lessons. Once I stopped being so damn concerned with my feelings and expectations and realized that other people had different needs than me, I opened my eyes up a bit.

When I ask to hang out, I assume there will be talking. And hanging out. Because I am an extrovert and need to talk. I think people want to hear me talk. Right?

Ok, maybe not so much.

Sometimes when an introvert asks you to hang out, they simply want your presence. Not so much all the thoughts and feelings that you want them to talk about. Not for you to pick their brain. They were able to muster their last bit of energy and spend it on you. Feel special. Sometimes just hanging out and watching a TV show without talking is an ok thing. Laughing together. Snuggling. Whatever you do with your introvert lovebug. Don’t take it so personally when you keep trying to start the conversation and you can tell they are shut down. Take it as a gentle sign that they just don’t have the energy for it at the time. Just enjoy the physical time together and being able to just relax and check out.
Shy people do not always mean they are introverts. Introverts can still be chatty, bubbly creatures too.

So observe. For the longest time, I felt like all extroverts had to be like me. Loud. Outgoing. Talkative. It was the shy, quiet ones that were introverts right? Oh so wrong.

One of my closest friends is very much an extrovert like me. Sometimes she puts the phone down for a few hours if she is stressed, but for the most part, she is very much chatting with me all day every day. She loves going out together and meeting new people. However, in person, she can come off a bit shy. And so I assumed she was clearly an introvert, which was so damn wrong.

There are three little introverts in my life who I adore dearly. All three of them I assumed they were just like me because in person we can chat for hours. They are outgoing and charming. They seem comfortable in meeting new people. You know what else they do after they have had tons of social interaction with me and I am on cloud nine of social happiness?

THEY WILL TAKE OFF FOR DAYS.

It’s been a struggle dealing with this. I took it so personally for so long. I assumed when the excuse came “oh things came up” that it was clearly a lie. They clearly just had better people to talk to and were trying to push me out of their lives. Or the always fun “I guess I am just annoying them this week” feeling. While it is totally understandable for me to have these feelings, I am still in the process of drilling into my head that it literally has nothing to do with me. That in fact, my anxiety about these silent times would push my relationships further away.

But they were so chatty just yesterday? Yesterday they said they were sad they had to go! Yesterday they loved me!!!! Why God, WHY don’t these chatty, bubbly people like me not want to talk? WHY WOULDN’T THEY TALK?

Oh, because they literally don’t have the fucks to give me. My sweet, beautiful introverts had been drained of all their loving fucks for me, and simply could not give. This is literally none of my business, and it shouldn’t be bothering me as much as it did. It still bothers me to this day here and there, but once again it is about responding rather than reacting. It’s about trusting in your connection with them that they wouldn’t just leave you. Because trust me, they are just assuming you know that they love you.
They need you to pull them out of their shell.

I swear I’ve been told this. So if any introverts are offended by this, I am sorry. But… not sorry.

Because if it were up to my sweet beautiful introverts…. they would stay hidden in their house. And then weeks after not seeing anyone or having social interaction they would be very sad and then afraid to try to come and re-spark the connection. So here I am, forcing them out of their shell because it is just so easy to hide out in there. Just like as an extrovert, it is so easy to just keep fucking talking and finding connections to distract you from your own mind. These are my little introverts and I keep them social, while they keep me grounded a bit.

So make sure you still set your standards, little extrovert. Just tell them that it hurts when there is a long, constant silence. Offer to just come over for a movie if you miss them. Be patient. I repeat, Be patient.

Or if you just don’t want that introverted personality in your life, it is totally ok to leave the relationship. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It just means maybe this connection isn’t for you.

I am stubborn though, so I keep them around.

Besides, Batman is an introvert and I wouldn’t stop wanting to kick it with him just because he had to hand out some vigilante justice for a few days.

Watercolor Batman Fan Artwork by Heather Elizabeth

Journal

Why I chose to give up the 4 year college dream to work for myself

September 25, 2017 No Comments

Why I chose to give up the 4 year college dream to work for myself Journal photographer blog inspiration having faith freelance inspiration freelance blog female bloggers artist blogger artist blog

There is a typical American dream. Graduate high school, choose a college, meet a spouse in college, then graduate college and marry spouse. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that dream. It’s quite the happy, sweet dream that I have noticed works well for so many people. Their hearts are filled with joy. I should want that dream.

I guess I just never did.

I felt the pull of that dream for sure. There was the pressure from parents to go to college to get that desk job. Have that stable, happy paycheck. But from the age of 17, I was so against going with the norm that I was already choosing my own logo design company as my way of income rather than working at the local Blockbuster (remember those?). There was so much freedom in the house of working and creating for clients. While I was working sometimes 10 hours a day for not much pay, I felt fulfilled. I was making pretty things to help others succeed.

Society pulled on me a bit too much and I finally gave into the 9-5 job. It was consistent, good money as a graphic designer. My rent was always paid. My car payment was made. I always had weekends off to go get drunk and party with my friends. It was honkey dory. Then I started looking into getting into college. In the meantime, I took pretty photos of people for fun.

“Photography and art are just a hobby”, I told myself.

Be Realistic.

This is where the Universe came in and forced me to follow my inner desire to create art for a living.

You see, I was fired from that safe, 9-5 job. To this day I must admit I didn’t deserve to let go. I went above and beyond at that job and even dealt with a lot of sexual harassment. The manager who took care of all the hiring was a very unhappy woman that fired all other women at the place of business within 6 months. So it was only by luck and the rest of the staff loving me I even kept that job for as long as I did.

If I am being honest, It wasn’t a perfect, positive transition from 9-5 consistent land to Freelance artist. It was a rather rough transition. Do I follow the path and go to college? Do I find another 9-5 and hope that they don’t fire me as well for no reason? Rather than looking for the answers within myself, I decided the best course of action was to try to find those answers at the bottom of a shot glass at the local watering hole for a good few months. In case you are wondering, this is not the right way to go about finding your happiness.

One day in my pointless job search, I realized I don’t even care that much for graphic design. Photography was my heart and soul. It’s was made my heart race in anticipation. It was something that at the end of the day I was excited for the next day of art to be created. I had photographed my close friend’s wedding for fun a few months before and upon looking through the photographs, I realized that it was a really great experience.

It was scary, but I put it out there that I was going to be a freelance, self employed wedding photographer. I was going to tell stories with my camera. I was going to make people feel beautiful.

I mean, I had no fucking idea what the hell I was doing but I was going to dive in face first and see what happened. I let fear go for the first time in my life and told myself I was capable of this. I was capable of working the hours that would give me the freedom to live a life of creation and adventure. I was going to do a job that was rewarding, even though while my friends were out partying, meeting boyfriends, having kids and getting married… I was working 12 hour days.

WHY THO, HEATHER?

Because a lot of people had died in my life.

Ok, sorry that was a bit morbid.

But really, I spent my life watching those I loved hustling for work. Hustling to make the all mighty dollar. They did the time in school, the army, whatever it was that was their training to put them in a job that would give them security. These people spent so many years doing this, they didn’t get any satisfaction out of life. They died young. These dreams of love and adventure turned to dust with them.

Fuck that. It wasn’t happening to me. My days were going to be led by what I wanted. I was going to take that trip on a day I needed an off day. I was going to spent my days working for that almighty dollar doing something that fed my soul. Not only was I feeding my own soul, but I saw the incredible effect that I had on other people. My clients looked at their photos and they truly meant something. My kindness meant something. My ability to take their fear of their photograph being taken away meant something. I was creating art out of their stories.

Yes, at times I wish I had taken the college route with the stable job. But I am happy that I never let fear take me away from what my soul really wanted. It wanted to be free. It wanted to do whatever the fuck it wanted when it wanted. It wanted to spend it’s days creating and inspiring. And well, there just isn’t a college course for that.

Sure people think I just sit at home and my schedules are free. Sure people judge me on the fact that most days I am wearing yoga pants with my hair in a bun. Yes, people constantly say “must be nice” when I am able to take week long trips because I feel like it. Nope, I didn’t meet the amazing love of my life in college and I don’t have 1.5 kids right now with my white picket fence.

That is totally ok though.

Because just like the line of work I chose, it may be hard but it’s worth it. It may be different than what most other people choose, but it fits me. And whatever lovers, events, and opportunities are coming my way thanks to this path I chose, I know it’s going to be perfect to fill me up with happiness.

Follow your heart, always. It may take awhile, but you will always see it was the right choice.

Journal

A day in New York City on September 11th.

September 12, 2017 No Comments

I talk a lot. I over talk. I am an extrovert by nature.

On this day last year though, I didn’t have much to say.

My brother and I had two extra days in the state to go sight seeing. We didn’t plan it to be on the 15th anniversary of 9/11, it just happened that way. In fact, it wasn’t until that morning at 4 am as I was getting ready to catch the train from Albany to the city that I realized even what day it was. I remember sitting in silence on the train. There was a fire fighter dressed in his formal clothes with his head down. You could see the heaviness on his shoulders.

Our train was ten minutes early. Us California kids were completely lost at where to go. When the clock hit 8:47am all we had to do was follow the bag pipes to find a crowd of people circled around a small flower memorial.

No words. I just watched.

Some of these photographs were taken by my brother. It was an incredibly powerful experience to be in this city on this day. While it was a beautiful and sunny day in New York City… you couldn’t help but feel that cloud of grief hanging over the island.

You also couldn’t help but feel the strength of love and the human spirit.

I will let the photographs do the rest of the talking.

A day in New York City on September 11th. Journal artistic blogger artist blog 9/11 photography 9/11 memorial

Journal, Watercolors

Finding inspiration when you are down in the dumps

July 28, 2017 No Comments

Finding inspiration when you are down in the dumps Journal Watercolors self love positive thinking law of attraction injury recovery injury disney watercolor disney fan art cinderella books to read for motivation books to read for inspiration books for artists artist blog artist

Oops I did it again.

I injured myself. A painful, terrible injury in my lower back and hip. Injuries are no biggie until it makes it so I cant create. Editing, painting, drawing…. all things that really revolved a desk. Poof! Gone.

When you can’t create how do you stay inspired? How do you get excited about your days when the very thing that you live for is gone? Rather than just focusing on how much pain you are in and wallowing in depression?

Well… sometimes you just don’t.

I am sure you were expecting something else. But I have a point, I promise you.

Sometimes you just give in to the fact that you are in pain. You accept it. You cry it out. You feel like punching the wall because you are so frustrated that you are basically confined to a couch. The the only way you can do what you love is by laying paints out on your bed and hurting your knees while you try to paint as you use your bed as a kneeling desk. And that then hurts you so damn much you have to quit as well.

Your energy is in the wrong place. Your energy needs to be on loving your body and healing it.

Always choose the path of least resistance. In this case – rather than focusing on the fact that you cannot create or be inspired, distract yourself from it. Stop focusing on your lack. What can you possibly do while being unable to create all the art going on in your head?

Once I got out of my own damn way and started focusing on healing, I figured out a few things to really help me keep inspired and excited. But damn, I really needed to get through my self-loathing, I hate everything bull crap. Just feel the feelings and let that shit go.

Read. Read. READ.
I needed a distraction while I was hurt. So I loaded up several books on my kindle that kept the inspiration going. Gave me the hope that in the end of this awful injury that it was going to be ok. That I wasn’t running out of life and time to make the art I wanted.Most of these are memoirs or inspirational books. It really helped me look forward to applying what I learned in these books to my life once I was all healed and ready.
A few books that really helped me include :
Declutter your mind
Never Broken : Songs are only half the story
The 5 Love languages
The Tao of Willie
You are a Badass
Keep a journal of things you want to create.
Excitement is what kept me from going insane. It’s what keeps most people from mulling over in their heads all the things that are upsetting them. So I carried a little notebook with me. Each time I had the urge to paint and had this incredible idea, I wrote it down. New blog idea? Write it down. New business venture? I took the time to write a business plan.

Now that I am healed I have all these incredible plans to start tackling. They are what kept me from going insane when bedridden!
Be grateful for every moment that the pain is gone.
This is one of the harder things that I had to force myself to do. Each time I noticed that my back and hip were in no pain whatsoever, I told myself how grateful I was to be in a pain-free body. I would literally take a deep breath in and feel gratitude for the fact my body was giving me a damn break from feeling like shit. It really is true the things that you feel gratitude towards, you get more of. So get to being damn grateful.
Watch Disney movies.
It makes everyone feel better.
Take time to reflect and write to people you’ve been meaning to for years.
Remember that family member you have been too busy to check in on? Call them.
Remember all of those business contacts that you have been too busy to email (you can do it from your phone, people!) to remind them that you exist? Email them. Remind them of your existence and they will remember how awesome you are. Trade ideas. Prep for building an empire.
How about that friend that you had a messy break up with years ago? Take time to reflect on if you miss them or not. What did you do wrong? What great things did they bring to your life? Send them a message to put out that olive branch. Forgiveness and love feel great for the soul.

We are dealt our blows to learn a lesson. Sometimes the lesson is that you need to sit the hell down and observe more. Thanks, back injury. I’ve achieved a lot in this time that you’ve made me artistically useless.

Stay inspired. xo

film photography, Journal

Drive, drive, drive.

June 14, 2017 No Comments

ut It’s that time of year again that I spend several days a week driving to beautiful locations. Which means it’s a lot of hours in a car alone with nothing but music keeping me company. Turns out its such good company that on these drives I would always find a reason to go off my route home so that I can find some hidden beauties for the sake of finding beauty.

There is something about driving without direction that is so freeing. In a year of change, I’ve spent a lot of time driving down old roads with no direction other than what looked good at the time. Sometimes I have just left my house on a dreary afternoon just to drive in whatever direction that called to me. A few hours later I am back home after a long date with the road and my radio, and my heart is ready to focus. The anxieties have a habit of flying out the window if you drive fast enough.

Pick a direction. Get completely lost. End up exactly where you were supposed to be all along.

I don’t know if you need help finding direction in such a messy world. What works for me might not work for you. But if you need a place to start, I recommend jumping in the car with no GPS and see what happens.

Drive, drive, drive. film photography Journal artist blog art blogger advice for artists

Drawing, Journal

30 things that I learned in my 30th year.

April 25, 2017 No Comments

So I made it past the threshold of a decade known as the “thirties”.

I am writing this in my room currently between guitar attempts. It’s the last few hours of my 30th year. My phone is away. My computer is down. Just me, this guitar and a journal. In this moment I realize how much I have changed in the past year because the Heather that was here 365 days ago wouldn’t have been content in this moment by herself.

365. 365 days is what took me to evolve from the person that I was April 25th, 2016 to who I am today, on April 25th, 2017. I’ve been through this process of 365 days 30 times already, yet for the first time, I really feel like I am content with myself at the conclusion of this merry-go-round. A year ago today I was laying on the couch most of the day crying. My mind had no control. And now here I am just 365 days later feeling completely content. For the first time in my life, I can say I am happy. Truly, 100% happy.

Money hasn’t been flowing lately. The state of the world is pretty stressful. I haven’t reached my weight loss goal yet. I haven’t gotten married or been with my soul mate. My car still has that pretty big dent on it. I still clash with friends here and there. But I am really, really damn happy. I wouldn’t even say content. Sincerely happy with where my life is going. There are so many possibilities before me that I was just too damn blind to see.

This happiness came from all I learned this year. I learned so much this year that I would have never anticipated the knowledge that these 365 days would give me. There was no grand plan for age 30. No intention of changing my life. It was just another day closer to my passing in this world and surviving.

Perhaps it is because I finally expected nothing, I finally gained everything that I really needed.

During my 30th year, I took the time to make notes of the things I learned by 30. They have been a mess of notes in journals, Facebook status updates, and random texts to friends. But when it came to the conclusion of the year I realized the importance of all these things that I have learned. These things that I have learned have brought a calmness to my soul that I have never had. For that, I have gratitude for every damn moment that I have experienced this year.

Don’t Drive with your fucking brights on.
Pizza is always there for you.
People are more complex than you realize. Their struggles are often silent. I found that 99% of the time their terrible actions have nothing to do with me, and everything to do with them. I stopped taking it so personally. I wished them well in my heart and forgive them for myself. I spent time thinking about how thankful I was for the good times. Most importantly I started to remember to apologize for the terrible things I did to others when I was struggling with my demons. No one is innocent.
Ripping an acrylic nail off really hurts. I need to just use my adult money and get them taken off instead of thinking hope and endless fiddling is going to get them off. Once the nails had been removed, I also realized that I had been wasting $900 a year on fake nails which I spent most of my time being embarrassed because of how damn dirty they got.
Alcohol is bad for me and I should really just stick to beer or wine. While I used to be a bad ass like John Wayne and take out 8 shots of whiskey in a night and lived to tell the tale, those days are gone. Now I can go from two shots to jumping on cars and making people wonder if they should hug me or restrain me. When I switched from shot after shot I noticed this magical thing started happening – I can remember how I got into bed last night! SCORE.
Also, the hangovers? My God. My body loves to punish me with deadly force for my tomfoolery. I need to send out a formal apology to everyone over 30 that ever canceled plans on me for being hung over. Many apologies. I feel your pain now.
Art really makes me happy. For years I have neglected my paintings. My drawings. My writing. I put down the guitar. I just stopped everything I loved to pursue nothing but photography. I’ve reconnected with this part of me and realized how much satisfaction I really got in the creation process. The idea that I can put my phone down, put music on and just connect with my creative side is something I am eternally grateful for. Let’s just say I don’t ever get bored or text for hours anymore. The art I have created with all the time I used to mindlessly scroll through facebook is mindblowing to me.
The only shoes I really need is cowboy boots.
People will leave me and I am ok with that. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss them. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel hurt. But it also means I spend a lot less time stressing about phone calls back or fights. If they leave – they leave. If they love me like I know they do deep down inside, they come back. Since I came to learn this simple fact any tifs with people have gone far smoother and reconciled quickly.
I really hate texting. Turns out I am getting arthritis in my neck (so are you, probably) from looking down at that little glowing box all fucking day long. However, most people in the world hate talking on the phone now because everything can be accessed by text. So I just need to deal with that frustration when trying to get a hold of people. I would much rather spend time with that person or call them than text meaningless things back and forth all day. Unless it’s Tiffany because I cannot go a day without sending her memes.
Sleeping schedules are important and I really need one.
People do not need my 15 selfies a week. People don’t need the daily update on what I look like or what shirt I am wearing. Give some mystery. Wear the shirt for me. Do my makeup to go out into the world, not to post a selfie for some likes. Unless I am doing something really awesome, put the phone down and let the people I am with see my face.
Take the selfies anyway. I just go back to them when I am having an ugly day.
That I have become the person that says “Music was way better back in my day”.
That I actually like my face now that I don’t wear a ton of make-up. It started as an experiment but this year I started to wear less make-up no matter where ever I went. I set a timer on my phone – 10 minutes. That’s the only time I have to paint my damn face anymore. The benefits of this experiment have been that I look in the mirror in the morning and am far more kind to who I see looking back. Also, I am on time to appointments more often.
Mad Men was right about everything.
While it may be one of the hardest things for me to do, I trust that everyone is just doing the best that they can. After training my brain to have this thought when I am upset with someone, it has made my conflicts go away and made more relationships stick.
I shouldn’t have quit guitar in high school. In my life, I have been given three guitars to play. Without asking for them. Without mentioning my want to play. I always dreamed of playing guitar and writing songs but never did so because I thought I wasn’t pretty enough for anyone to ever listen to me. My guitar teacher couldn’t remember my name and taught more about the bands he hangs out with than how to hold a guitar pick correctly. I put blame on all of these reasons for why I gave up. Now I realized that was all bullshit and jamming on this box has given me more joy in my life than I can describe. I don’t know what I am doing or where I am going with it, but it makes my heart explode so I’ll stick with it.
That I didn’t ever really enjoy having fake nail, hair, or eyelashes. The nails made me useless and caught dirt. The hair took me hours a day in brushing and caring for. The eyelashes made me have to check myself in the bathroom at Disneyland way too many times for my taste. Why was I doing all this? I’ve found shedding all of the things that were supposed to make me more beautiful is what really made me more beautiful.
My parents are really awesome. It’s been easy to blame them for everything. Be irritated. Stomp my feet when I don’t get what I want. That’s what you are supposed to do right? Spend your life disappointing them so you can blame them for their disappointment? I have found showing them gratitude for the bullshit I have put them through was a far more productive way to go about things. They’ve seen me at rock bottom and loved me anyway. This year they should have possibly disowned me or kicked me out, but instead, they just held me when I cried my eyes out from my most shameful moment. They supported me in my passion to re-build myself, rather than nagging at me for my faults that probably deserved to be nagged out. When making choices with me they could have chosen fear or love, and they always chose love even when I didn’t deserve it.
I really want a little farm one day. Most of my life I just drifted and took what was given to me, which is probably why I didn’t know what direction I wanted to go in. I realized what my dream home was. A small, cozy house with a lot of land to rescue dogs, chickens, and any other animal I want. A peace away from the storm. I want to build things on my little farm. I want to make art on my little farm. I want to make music. It’s not here in my reality yet but at least I know I am heading there.
I don’t need to worry about if a guy likes me or not. Most of the last few years have been consumed with carrying my ex with me. He would wake up one moment and hate me. It was a cycle that I don’t even need to go into, but just say it changed who I was. I dated men I didn’t even like just so I could worry about if they liked me. Sure when they left I didn’t even miss them, but I missed being wanted. I was hungry for it. So imagine how I handled it when I met someone I really did care about? Energy is energy and all my bad juju definitely did nothing to help that grow. All the men I choose to talk to now I think of what I think about them, rather than worrying if they want me. I’ve grown happier. I listen to love songs again. I live through love for myself, rather than fear of being left. It has made so much difference.
Men and women are really different. I’ve been operating my whole life with the thinking of “well I wouldn’t do that” when it comes to something any man in my life would do. Be it romantic relationships, friendships or family. There was a judgment I cast on the men in my life because I put them up to the standards by which I would do things. I have come to realize their brains work completely differently. I can learn to communicate or I can learn to condemn. Communicating so far has been the more useful course of action.
When given the choice between love and fear, always choose love. Always.
I am never alone and I am truly loved. Through my 31 years, I have spent feeling like I am totally alone. When really I just hadn’t found my tribe yet. I’ve always had a family that loved me dearly. I had these friends that I just hadn’t met yet who would get me through the toughest time of my life. They would love me enough to stop enabling, and start empowering. Rather than leaving me at my worst, they stuck through it and had faith. I am one lucky broad to have this small group of friends that I want to take to Disneyland right now so much.
Real love makes you want to be a better person. When you love someone completely. Be it a friend, family member or friend, they bring out the best in you. You see the light that they see in you and you want to be better for them. So I’ve learned to give back love in the best way I can – being the person they deserve to love. I learned what it was like to love someone’s flaws, the past, present and possibility of the future. I learned to love them even when they broke my heart.
It doesn’t make me less of a person to accept help. It doesn’t make me less of an independent person. I wasn’t just put on this planet to give love, I was also put here to receive it. I learned that perhaps it’s a bigger kindness to let someone buy you dinner rather than taking away their chances to show kindness. I let people be kind to me more often, and oddly people just keep being kinder the more I am open to receiving it.
I learned to not be ashamed of the scars. There is a power to vulnerability that I was always in denial about. I was too stubborn to admit my pain and hurt without conveying it in a way that lashed out to test people to see if they would stay. Suppressing feelings in a box and saying “I’m ok” is fine and dandy until you are using that pain as a weapon. I let myself feel the feelings now. I let myself be honest with people that I am working on myself. There is strength in vulnerability because in that moment you can face your demons head on and deal with them, or you can run and be in denial. Denial was the road I took. And now I choose vulnerability. I’ve been where I’ve been. I’ve done what I’ve done, and every day I’ll get better.
Saying “Thank you” is better for the soul than “I’m sorry”. Don’t get me wrong, I still apologize when I am an asshole. We all know I need to because I can be a big asshole. However, I used to find myself apologizing for the mere action of existing it seemed like. If I cried to someone about what I was going through, I said “I’m sorry” like I was a nuisance to listen to. It’s been an adjustment but I find myself saying “Thank you for being there for me” a whole lot more and not only making people in my life feel more appreciated, but I feel better about myself as a person. Late for an appointment? “Thank you for your patience!”.
Most importantly I learned to get off the victim couch. It was a nice soft comforting couch. It told me I was always safe there. When I had bad behavior it justified me telling me “it’s ok because those people in the past made you like this”. When I wanted to pick up a bottle I told myself it was ok because of everything I had been through. In a split second, I could blame everyone else for the conflicts and losses in my life. I could be an asshole to people because… well I was damaged from all these mean people in my life and had to make people fight to love me. This, in turn, made me the asshole. Sitting on the victim couch will always eventually make you the total and complete asshole. Once I accepted that in some shape or form I attracted everything in my life to me, I felt less anger. I felt like forgiving. I started looking at the mirror more. The realization that I had a part to play in all of these awful experiences gave me a sense of power. My negativity brought more negative into my life or made me assume that good people were bad. Well, looks like I turned into the negative asshole.
Off the victim couch, into real life. The empowerment that I feel from this I cannot put into words. It changed my world.
I should always try to be a bit more like Willie Nelson.

Journal, Watercolors

Finding your personal vision

February 25, 2017 No Comments

Here is something all artists can really relate to. How do I find my own personal style?

Step One : Watch tutorials or take classes to learn basic techniques

Step Two : Stop giving a fuck and do what comes to your pretty damn heart.

I’ve spent most of my life an artist. I emulated others. Copied styles. Looked intensely at reference photos. It was a lot, a LOT of fan art from various nerd obsessions that I had acquired over the years. Photography stole me for the past 7 years, and I dropped the pencil. I sold my brushes. At first I had these wide eyes and photographed from the heart. But the same thing happened to me that happened to my illustrations… I started to lose myself.

I lost myself in the comparisons. For a bit I even concerned myself with other photographer’s work spaces that maybe if I just had that hip, minimalistic office style like it would make me into this cool photographer that they were. Because that is how it works right? Paint my walls white and all of a sudden have a green thumb for all of these perfect plants around my work station that has only 5 items tops on the desk? That would make me turn my black and whites into the exact black and whites that other photographers were doing. That’s how I would get the same amount of likes. I would have 30K instagram followers and they would be asking me for workshops! YES!!!

Turns out, it doesn’t work that way. Not by a long shot.

So I decided to just… be happy.

I turned back into art that was created for me. Bought some brushes for the first time in 14 years. Watch a few tutorials on watercolor (Skillshare is amazing, by the way) and oil painting. I made gifts for my friends. I painted fanart again without looking at references. I just made pretty things that I loved creating. And suddenly something happened :

I was excited about photography again. I was excited about ALL art again. I realized I had a gift and a vision people loved all along. When did I get swept away by this internet full of photographers? When did I forget that I love painting chickens and fan art and anything my little heart desired?

Finding your personal vision Journal Watercolors watercolor artist painter Bay Area artist artist blog advice for artists

Honestly, I can’t tell you when that happened to me. It was a slow decay at my creative heart that crept in without any sound. I wasn’t prepared for something to pick apart the very foundation of which I had based my whole life on. But there I was, not looking forward to art anymore. I was still excellent at it. I still let the excitement of my clients absorb into me. But it was being done out of fear of not doing a good job, rather than passion for creating something unique and beautiful made with my heart.

Your heart is a pretty amazing thing. No one else has one quite like you. What I’ve realized at this point in my life (it only took me a mere 24 years of being an artist), is that putting anything out of your mind that doesn’t bring love and happiness to your art will kill your creativity. Turn on music that makes your soul explode, rather than looking at art with the amount of likes that you wish you could get. Close your eyes and use your own visualizations – every little detail. Whatever you pictured you can create. But only if you allow yourself to release the blocks that you though you needed to hold your creativity up.

…TLDR?

Minimalistic offices are boring when you can have these little guys instead.