Our Skin is Our Freedom

Illustration

dealing with procrastinationThe shower tells me to slow down. It’s the end of the night. It’s time to calm my soul, dress it for sleeping. But I can feel my body still longs in desire for anything that tells me, “you’ve done enough today.” Earlier today I didn’t finish editing that image. The animation is still in the same state it was last week, as are those two emails that are sitting in the drafts folder. I didn’t start on any of the three illustrations I have due soon. I took a nap midday, before I even had lunch. And forgot about half the other things that are on my list of to-dos and to-dreams.

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My hands are scratching at the walls that contain me, my skin. It’s so limited to its own time and space. Joined with the warm droplets that are supposed to soothe, but only excite irritation.

My hands don’t stop. I circle in the shower, feeling everything, everything tearing apart, doom imminent, knocking at the door.

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My eyes dart around thinking about everything that I didn’t do that day. In every corner of the stall, associating with each crevice my eyes can find, a different disappointment for the day. All the dreams I wanted to start on, the assignments, tasks, and small self-imposed habits that today were proven that they are indeed not anywhere close to habits.

My hands don’t stop, my eyes don’t stop and my breathing joins in. Anxious, it is breathinbreathingbreathing. Beating to the rhythm of hopes, dreams, pressures, expectations, and fears. Shame and guilt arise in a chest that already feels like it’s drowning. And drowning is not where you wanna be at right before sleeping. And you want to sleep because tomorrow will be an early start. And you can’t stop it. Stop your hands, your eyes, your breathing.

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You stop. For a second your breath stops, holding itself saying: “I’m done. I’m exhausted, tired, done.” And then it lets the breath seep out, with it your whole body slips into that air. You leave with exasperation in the flow of air through your lips, and you come back in with relief.

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You didn’t accomplish everything you wanted today. But you breathed, and you walked and lived. It’s all in that breath, that gives up, it lets go, and everything opens up.

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Your eyes relax, and the eyebrows that were before lifted, finally rest on the knowledge of safety. Your hands stops scratching and decides instead to lay by the side of your thighs. Your breathing is breath, and it is stroke, and it is freedom, and acceptance.

your skin is your freedom - mindfulness
It is there. You’re there. Your skin is your freedom, and your body your temple.

New Year’s Resolutions (2019)

Holidays, Illustration, To Keep On Dreaming

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So I did one post that was more on the sad side of things. Reflecting on some of the harder parts of my life. But I also wanted a blog post that was slightly more hopeful?

Last year I also had a list of resolutions. I didn’t reach many of them, but I was still happy that I had the list to which I could compare myself. It was a good way to assess where I am, where I was. I feel like there was growth and change. So this year I decided to do another list of goals. I’m trying to keep this one shorter. It’ll be 10 things for me to focus on this year, and try and get nailed down. Are these realistic? Probably not. Am I writing them down? Yes.

Art Career

  1. Start streaming on Twitch, and have 50 followers there by the end of the year
  2. Have three videos posted on YouTube
  3. Find an illustration agent
  4. Finish 10 personal commissions
  5. Grow my Instagram following to 1,640, double of what I currently have
  6. Write more, post on my blog twice a month?

Personal Life

  1. Go to a psychologist to figure myself out
  2. Go to church at least twice a month
  3. Exercise 3 times a week
  4. Eat a portion of salad once a day

 

A Year is Past…

Holidays, Illustration, To Keep On Dreaming

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It was a year.

So often I had no clue what was happening or going on.

I barely remember most of it, though I could remember more if I tried.

It felt like a year of fog and unknowing more than anything else.

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I miss many pieces of myself. Parts of me that were left behind. In the hurry I forgot them above the sink, under my bed. Two bags of fifty pounds can only carry so much. Damn my poor planning skills.

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I learned that I really don’t know what I want from life.

It’s funny, because as soon as I chose “art” as my career, it felt like maybe I knew what my future held. How it would play out:

I struggle through college, gaining a degree I don’t necessarily need, yet it’s still great. I find someone, date, marry. We go out into the world knowing we’ll be poor, yet still determined to conquer it. To make the best out of our situation, and make art.

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But today, life is a fog. I will graduate at the end of the year, 2019. I’ll finish my degree, but I don’t know what I want to do with art.

What art do I want to make? What is my voice? Why would people want to hear what I have to say? What do I want to say? What are things that matter to me?

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I also know nothing of relationships. Flung by my emotions between so many different dreams for my future.

Dream 1. I will find a man, it will be love at first sight. Our lives will mesh into each other’s, and somehow the beauty of our relationship will move my parents to accept that relationship.

Dream 2. I will find a woman, it will be love at first sight. Our lives will mesh into each other’s, and the difficulties I face from my sexuality won’t impede me from loving her authentically and truthfully.

Dream3. I will remain single, but I will create an adopted family. An intentional community, where everyone feels welcomed, included, as their full selves.

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These dreams aren’t dreams actually. They represent my fears. They all breathe my fear of loneliness. The fear that I will be only with myself. An individual, singular I, lost in a world of couples, families, communities, who have found each other. Who have found places they belong, who create a space for themselves to be with each other.

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While most of what I feel is lost, disoriented and unsure, I still hold onto hope. Hope of better. Hope of growth and change. Hope that life is more. It has always been more, than the doings and undoing of my brain. The world exists outside of me, and everything is beautiful. So here’s to another year of uncertainty. Let uncertainty be filled with beauty.

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People are important to me.

Thank you for being here.