maybe it's because i'm so tired

I'm sad tonight. I haven't cried in a long time. I thought maybe I had finally run out of tears. I was hoping I had at least. I can't pinpoint why I'm upset, but the pain is back. I know it wasn't ever really gone. I just got better at coping. At forgetting.

This whole thing has made me doubt myself and I hate that. I'm scared to be myself. Scared to say and do the things that I want to because I'm afraid someone else I love won't like it and they'll leave. I'm afraid someone else will take my inventory and find me lacking. I'm afraid I'll never be good enough again. And not just good enough, but great. I'm terrified of never being someone's everything again. I used to be comfortable with myself and in my skin, and he took that from me. I feel stupid and gross and ugly and bitchy and impossible to live with. He called me a burden. More painful words have never been spoken.

I want it to be gone though. I don't want to hurt. I don't want to ache for something that's over. But how do you stop something like that? If someone knows, please tell me. People act like I should just be able to shut it off. It's over, let it go. I wish, I WISH it was that easy. If I could blink all of it away, I would.  I so would. None of that "smile cause it happened" shit. It would just be gone. I'm so tired of hearing about how this is a "growing process" and how I'll "learn something". Just give it time. Everything happens for a reason. Yeah. Ok. Just once I wish someone would tell me, "It f-ing sucks and there's not a damn thing in hell you can do about it." At least I'd know they really knew what they were talking about.

I know people mean well when they tell me nice things, but I'm just so tired. I'm so, so tired. Hurting is exhausting. I'm getting impatient. I really thought it would have been significantly easier at this point. I've tried it all. Done all I can do. I so quit.

But who knows. Maybe that's what I need. Maybe I need to quit. To give up. Not real sure how to do that either. Maybe at some point I'll be too drained to care. Thought I would have been there by now. My God, can I please just get there?

I found a quote I like better than those sappy, sentimental ones. I found one that might be a bit on the cynical side. But you know what? At least it has some kind of plan to it. It makes a good point. It doesn't refer vaguely to rainbows and bunnies in the future. It talks about now. And making sure you don't get hurt again. And let me tell you what: I cannot do this again. I'm still not sure if this will break me, but I'm sure a second time would.

So, therefore:

"A wise girl kisses, but doesn't love. Listens, but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left."

-Marilyn Monroe

Amen, sister.

gaining perspective

I found out the other night that a friend of mine died on Monday. He technically was my sister's friend. They dated for awhile. But he kept in contact with me through Facebook and stuff. Every now and then he'd write me a goofy little message. He was just a baby. So, so young and really just full of life. He loved his family, his friends and his life. He was just one of those people that seemed invincible. He was a force of nature.

When my mom told me, it stopped me in my tracks. I just cried. I mean, we weren't super close, but he had so much ahead of him. It really blew my mind. It's always sad when someone dies, but his death just shocked the hell outta me. I guess it's always that way when someone you know dies. The face on the news means something then. He was just so strong, healthy, cute beyond belief, happy, funny, and sweet.

It really kind of puts you in your place. I was just rolling along, hurting and feeling sorry for myself, and then I heard that and it kind of shook me. I could die tomorrow. Would I be happy with how I've been spending the last few months? Probably not. It's not like you just get over a divorce or something like that. It's a process and there's lots of grieving and sorting to do. You can't stop that. But you can remember to be grateful. You can remember that each day is a gift. You can remember that there are much, much worse things than what is happening to you. You can keep things in perspective.

If you're the praying kind, send some prayers his family's way. Here's the link to an article that my mom sent me a few minutes ago. Read it, look at his picture and really see him, and remember to keep things in perspective.

maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me

I've been asked a few times why I started my shop and why I create the pieces I do. I've always felt uncomfortable answering that question. I think I feel like it should be some big creative genius love story. I think I should be someone who’s always had art in my soul. Unfortunately, it wasn't like that. It was actually born out of incredible pain, anger, and maybe a little bit of desperation. I'll start at the beginning...

I was never good at art. Not just not good, but bad; really bad. I think I failed art in kindergarten. All I remember is having to sit on the naughty carpet square because I finger painted another kid. I was hopeless at art from then on, and I really had no desire to experience it. I blame the naughty carpet square. To this very day stick people are a challenge for me. Heck, even my handwriting sucks.

Then one day that all changed. Don't get me wrong, I certainly didn't get any better at finger painting, but I changed. I changed because my husband asked me for a divorce. I was blindsided. I didn't see it coming. I lost my partner and best friend all in one fell swoop; in the space of mere seconds. I'm not going to spend a lot of time on this. This isn't about poor me, but it's relevant to the story seeing as how it was the catalyst for all this. But suffice it to say that I have never felt pain of this magnitude. I didn't want a divorce. I still don't. But you can't control other people, so you do the best you can with what you have.

It was so much easier to avoid it all. I was holed up, hiding out. I was doing what any woman would do - lying in bed and watching TV all day. My channel of choice was HGTV. That was rather strange in itself because I've never much had the patience for HGTV. Most of the time, I get bored and fast forward (DVR is the best invention ever!) to the end so I can just see the before and after. The worst is when they paint a room bright orange with neon green shelving units or something. I die a little inside every time that happens. I don't have anything against green or orange, but there's a time and a place...

As it tends to do, reality caught up with me and I had to start *gasp* coping. As I began my journey, I realized that I was completely empty and lost. I gave so much of myself to my marriage, to my husband, that I didn't have anything left for me. I didn’t have a definition of myself anymore. For those of you who haven't experienced that, it's terrifying. I just kept thinking, "What am I going to do now?".

So what does HGTV have to do with anything? I began noticing how intent and interested I became when they used glass tiles. They were beautiful. So many colors, shapes, sizes, and textures. I was transfixed. How can you look at those suckers and not feel happiness down to your soul? Mostly they were putting them in kitchen back splashes or bathrooms, but I don't own a house. So tiling is out for me. So I sucked up as much as I could on TV.

I wanted those tiles so badly. I had this strange urge to touch them; to feel the cool smoothness. I wanted to hold them up every which way and watch the light play through them. I wanted to feel the weight of them in my hand. That may sound odd to some people. To be honest, it would have sounded really odd to me a few months ago. Now I realize it was just something shifting inside of me.

One day I was telling one of my friends about my tile fixation and the resulting dilemma. She just looked at me and said, "Why don't you find something else to stick 'em on?" God love her. What she lacks in eloquence she makes up for in truth. So I did what she said. I started to think about just how many ways I could use them. The possibilities are truly endless.

Of course, my dream would be to make a career out of this and support myself. I don't have any false illusions on that front though. If it happens, it happens. If not, well, I guess that's why I went to college. But at the worst time in my life, I've had the chance to do something important to me. I’ve been able to create; to put a little of myself into every piece and share it with someone else. I know it sounds way sappy, but I kind of feel like I can breathe a little deeper with every tile I lay.

I don't know any fancy art words. I can't tell you the difference between the Impressionists and the Expressionists. I can’t hold up the fraying end of a deep, artistic discussion. In the educational sense, I haven't a clue what I'm doing. I just love creating my pieces. I enjoy the entire process, from picking out the elements to sealing the grout. I make huge messes. I'm forever finding grout on my elbows and ears. Sometimes I want to take one of my pieces outside and use it to shoot skeet because I'm so frustrated. I'm the farthest thing from a professional artist, but now I think I know how it feels to have art in your soul.