Last week I was still dealing with crazy head. Don’t get excited, nothing has changed, but I have a plan of action now at the very least. I’ve said I want a Renaissance. I’ve been saying it and feeling it. But it’s hard to work on my Self and be a semi-single SAH mother and a wife and a writer and an artist and a musician and a business owner. For some reason I guess I always felt like I should be able to do it all. Not 100%, but at least do it all myself. My husband is always away, so I take on the role I have to in order to exist here. But I want my other roles; I have many. It’s hard to keep things going and still manage to do everything. Motherhood trumps everything else, including my sanity.
Drifting Sun has been back burnered for quite awhile now. My shed was inundated with all of the stuff that was in my office prior to us needing a room for the baby. I only printed one or two jobs the entire time I was pregnant. I actually had my sister and husband do the physical printing, and I just did the screening, prepping and registration. It can get a little smoky while printing, and in July while being 8 months pregnant the last thing I wanted to do was be standing and printing in my tiny hot box of a shop. So they printed for me as I oversaw the process while sitting outside in a chair, and it worked out nicely. I did print a couple pieces when they ran into problems, though, and helped them get straightened out. And I printed a jacket job I had, because it was one jacket (ONE CHANCE SWIPE!) and my husband felt a little too intimidated to do it himself, which is understandable.
I just printed a job for my cousin (December 2011), a memorial shirt for my Aunt Leslie who died of cancer in 2008. It was an honor to print these shirts and it got me back into the swing of things with printing after the pregnancy hiatus. This still doesn’t change the fact that my printing and chemicals and dark(bath)room stuff doesn’t exactly mix with watching a toddler. And even when I am working on graphics or other things, it takes a great deal of my attention. I’m always split. I’m not a working mother and I’m not a stay at home mother...I’m something else. I’ve tried to work out a situation where I could have her consistently watched once a week but haven’t been able to make it work yet. At a loss, I’ve taken a friend on as my “assistant” instead. I need help. I think it’s obvious, and if I am pleading “please, I’m dying here!” and am not answered with a helpful hand, then by the fuck I’ll MAKE a helping hand. Leslie is my friend and it seems appropriate she shares my aunt’s name. Truthfully, other than my aunt, she is the only Leslie I have ever known. She will visit me a lot and simply allow me to get simple things done like the dishes or getting a shower, just by being another individual that is around. Leslie has agreed to help me out with my business also. It seems appropriate that the first time I met her I was in the shed printing a job. She actually helped me out watching my kid AND printing the first day I met her. Maybe it was her eagerness, or something inside of her I recognized that seemed familiar, but this girl is a lifesaver. Sometimes you just recognize people on a soul level and the connection is immediate and effortless.
Sometimes asking for help can be difficult. I have grown to have a problem with this because the response was usually unsatisfying. I shirked from asking for help...but in truth, I need help. Isn’t it obvious? It can be hard to submit to the fact that you are lost, look at the male stereotype of how hard it is to ask for directions. Last year I struggled with this dilemma when deciding whether to take antidepressants or not and whether to begin to see a therapist or not. Decisions decisions. Life decisions. This year has been chock full of the help I received because of that decision, the decision to heal. The decision to leave the victim mentality behind. It’s mostly a battle with EGO. Ego doesn’t need help...so it thinks. Truth is...EGO needs help more than anyone or anything. EGO is the prime reason for all suffering and most of the communication problems among us. It’s quite the bitch.
So last year was fucking nuts but it was a first step into what really feels like a whole new life, it seems fitting that December 2012 was the end of the Mayan calendar and the supposed end of the world as we know it. Nothing seemed to happen, aside from symbolically. Was that really such a bad thing? I needed the change. I needed my world to end so that my new life could begin. It was a matter of SURRENDER. I simply had to surrender to the help that I have always desperately needed...physically, emotionally, mentally...and spiritually.