Sunday, January 24, 2016

Spirals and Creativity

I am a creative soul. I am always doing something and I am never whole within myself if I leave the house without a small bag of creative things. Be that a journal and pens. Watercolours and washi tape. A crochet project or three. A knitted something.

During 2015 my creativity fell apart at the seams. I wanted to be creative but my creative persona was hiding behind all that befell me. I yearned to do something, I searched myriad blogs, saved hundreds of pinterest photos for inspiration and I doggedly continued to write my way through my blocks.

My creative writing words and stories lay beneath my foundations, every now and again a character would pop up and I would struggle to write a single page. Words refusing to flow. Again I would take to my journal and lament.  

I yearned to paint art journal pages but each one became a layer of meh. Then I took up painting at an easel - like a real artist… what was I thinking? Thinking I would return to a raw art form and be able to suddenly churn out all these soul paintings depicting all that I felt was missing within. Instead I managed a mishmash of colours on pages. Blurring together until all you could see was murky quagmire of paint. Don't believe me.... oh honey you better believe it! 

*this* was one of the better ones... I won't be selling my artwork... ever! 

I carried a set of watercolours with me everywhere and each Wednesday I would pull them out and attempt to yield them across the page and even with my daughters art teacher tracking my dismal progress something was lacking.

I wrote and wrote.

Then wrote some more.

There were failed attempts at crochet projects - frogged (I NEVER frog!) and re-stashed.

I even started writing a memoir style book that ended in a series of anger fuelled words that left me sinking into a funk as suddenly everything became crystal clear and things started making sense.

It wasn’t until this year that I realized – you cannot force creativity. My entire creative self in 2015 was poured into my four little midori journals. Over 60,000 words. They were the whole of my creative side.

They may be slim and thin, but the words within are many and packed a punch.

And of course I prettified the edges. 

Inside there are quotes printed from Pinterest, words and always some type of doodling and lots of colour. 

As always the words were with me. They may not have been the words I craved to write and continue the story of Jack and Emmy. Even my blog posts suffered as I spiralled. In the end it was the blank spaces between the spirals that I found myself exactly where I needed to be in 2015. Creatively wise.

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Happier New Year

2015 really kicked my arse to the curb. As it did with so many who took to Facebook to say good-effing-ridance to a bitch of a year.

While I did share a couple of major things that were forcing me down throughout the year, there were many many undercurrents swirling between the lines that kept me shackled. Everything wound together until I was left holding one great big ball of crap that weighed heavily upon every fibre of my being.

I tried therapy, but therapy works better on one issue at a time.

I tried writing it down, but writing works better one issue at a time.

I tried talking it out, but talking works better one issue at a time.

You know how onions have layers. My ball of crap had so many layers it needed to be frogged.

It is ironic really - I chose the word WEAVE for 2015. Thinking I could weave all the areas of my life into some semblance of balance. It was the year I needed this the most.

However I failed to account for the several months of healing and the months upon months of grief upon grief. I did not realise that all my issues would WEAVE together and create this huge ball of crap.

Toward the end of the year I started tackling each problem as one issue at a time. I wrote pages upon pages of words about my hysterectomy. Of losing a useless (to me) organ, of how I felt I was less of a woman and how I was searching for something in this now vapid space in my stomach.

I watched as a friend endured a transplant and was amazed at the way she bounced back ready to face life and live it to its fullest.

Meanwhile I'm over here *waa *waa *boo *hoo.

I seriously started questioning myself after seeing her. But that's just it isn't it. Adenomyosis is NOT a death sentence. It's merely an invisible disease that most people haven't heard of. Nor could they even begin to comprehend the sheer pain it causes + a variety of side effects that are not "linked" however have all but disappeared since my operation.

After much soul searching in the two months since I last wrote, I considered closing the chapter on this blog. I mean I am now over it so what more can I say or do, without sounding like a whining moaning little so and so. I do not (& have never wanted to make this about me) however feel there is more that needs to be said and shared.

Ultimately I want to help others, to show them they are NOT alone. That what they are going through is not all in their heads. To show up and say I am a survivor and to share the extreme isolation you can feel when you are booted from the "invisible disease club" to "you are missing a uterus but hey look at this new baby, isn't it cute club"

So I am officially taking 2016 and am planning to RISE above the stigma of talking about womens health. I am going to take back this space and stamp it with ME and my stories - gore and all. Heck I might even just publish my memoirs here - including where I get all ranty with my medical team (KIDDING!) and maybe just maybe amongst all the ashes I leave behind me I will find my creative writing once more.

As to how I plan on doing all this - I have zero clue. I might even change my mind next week. Or I might not. What you will find here in 2016 is anyone's guess, I'm going to trust in my words and let them shape my journey.

But there will be positivity.

Heck LIFE is for LIVING!!!