It has been so long since I've blogged. The sidebar links here are all wrong and out of date, the picture of Maeve up in the banner is ancient, the posts below are hard for me to read because (with the exception of Where I've Been) they all happened before. Before our terrible spring. Before I was humbled and hobbled and forced to surrender once and for all what I thought parenthood would be. Before I started seeing--really seeing, and dealing with--the actual child in front of me, the actual mother looking back from the mirror. But this morning, as the sun comes up and the radiator burbles companionably in the background, a shield of warmth against the 8 degrees of biting cold teeth outside, I feel like I would like to write again. So here I am.
I don't know what this will turn into. My "mission," as it was, to reclaim my artistic dreams, my creative life, and then to help other women start reclaiming theirs... well that part doesn't feel like before. That still feels very real and personal and true. And after a summer of 100% devoted parenting (#CampMommy, anyone?) and a fall I kept describing to myself as my "fallow period" (lots of journaling and vision booking, lots of naps, and NO projects whatsoever), I am finally stepping back into my True North self, with teaching projects in a local school and collaborative plans for reclaiming workshops being dreamed up over coffee dates. But this blog... I might like it to be more personal. Less about "putting it out there" and more about honoring the deep work this reclaiming process requires, over and over, ad infinitum. I might like to talk about spirituality. Or sex. Or friendship. Or some more about the struggle of parenting. Because all that is part of bringing my artist self back to life, too. It's not all paint and inspiration. Or as my daughter likes to say about her weekly therapist appointments, "It's not all fun and games. You have to talk about your feelings."
But will you want to read it if I talk about those things? Of course that is the fear - that you won't. That I'll be sharing too much. Being too much. Alienating folks. Freaking them out.
And yet. I know from experience now that rubbing up against this exact comfort zone boundary - the one that says STOP HERE. You're about to go too far and no one will like you or like your work - is a crucial part of a creative life. We can't make the art we want to make if we're focused on what other people will think. We just can't. So by that logic, I can't write the blog I want to write if I'm worried about readers. So I won't. Worry about you, that is.
It's good to be back.