Stuff I still haven’t learned, despite 37 years of trying.

I had a birthday and I graduated nursing school.  I was valedictorian.  It was really hard, but I did it.  I wish I could feel good about it somehow, but I just can’t.  Part of the problem was the fact that some of my classmates didn’t finish.  I would have given my blood to save them, but I couldn’t.  I feel so responsible for everyone all of the time, that I take other people’s failure harder than my own.  I guess I have survivor’s guilt. 

The other part of the problem is just me being me.

I quit running.  I’ll come back eventually.  I managed to gain 10 lbs since Christmas and it’s really pissing me off.  Don’t worry, friends, I’ll be back soon.  I just don’t feel good right now.  I can’t stand the heat and Oklahoma is full of it. 

This lack of joy at my own brutally hard accomplishment has me thinking about my flaws.  I’m not the kind of person to concentrate on what is good about me.  I try too hard.  I care too much about the wrong people.  I can’t mind my own business.  I let things get to me that other people easily ignore.  (I constantly compare myself to others until I find a way to feel inferior.)

Here is a handy little list of all the things I didn’t learn in school this year.  These are the things I might never learn.

How to ask for help or comfort.

How to keep a desk clean.

What to thow away/what to keep.

When to relax.

How to see the bright side.

How to escape guilt.

When to quit.

How to keep friends.

How to quit eating my feelings.

How to eat without slobbing down the front of my shirt.

How to feel good about something I did.

How to see myself as worthy, smart, funny, or talented.

How to look in the mirror without disgust.

How to be a better, calmer, happier mother.

How to take medication as directed without waiting to get deathly ill to comply.

How to be a good stepmother.

How to handle disappointment.

How to take a compliment.

When to stop texting someone who is obviously avoiding me.

How to stay motivated to make art when I feel empty, lost, or overwhelmed.

How to take a joke when it hurts.

How to follow my own advice.

I’m a great nurse.  I almost deleted that to say that I’m a good nurse, but I’m trying hard here.  I’m a great nurse and a flawed person.  I’ve got a year before I go back to school for my RN career ladder.  I should probably concentrate on learning to accept myself and get my poop in a group while I’ve got so much time on my hands.

Want to play along?  What do you need to work on?  Feel free to use any of my learning objectives.

 

Giggly Mama

Shannon has long been a friend of this blog.  I’ve written about her before, but she deserves a little more praise than I’ve been giving her.  Shannon is an amazing person.  She kind and smart and creative.  She’s sweet and it’s not saccharine.  She’s just plain adorable.  I’m really lucky to have her as a friend.

Art therapy doesn’t have to be literal, though that’s how I do it.  When Shannon feels bad, she makes these abstract designs to self-soothe and release.  You don’t have to use special images.  This isn’t voodoo.  The act of moving one’s hands to create something is an act of beauty and self-care.

She has tons of other exciting things to look at on her blog.  She has fabulous portraits of cult classic heroes, art deco pieces, 70′s funky owls and birds, etc.  You can see them all together on her Flickr stream.  Stop by and say something nice to her.  She deserves it.

194 eyes

194 eyes, originally uploaded by sekhmet17.

I don’t know much about this artist. The Flickr profile reads, “Jodie A. Currie is a Canadian who seeks healing from clinical depression, social anxiety, and complex post-traumatic stress through art therapy.” See more work at deviantART.

I’m really intrigued with these drawings. When I first started using craft as self-soothing, I used to crochet huge mandalas from any type of string I could find. It was the early 1990s and I was a poor college student, so I often used scraps of twine, plastic bags, strips of fabric, and cheap yarn. I’d work on them until they were heavy weights sitting in my lap, then I’d give them away. (Or throw them away, I was into purging back then.)

Maybe try a mandala. I’d love to see what you can do with the concept. How could you make it meaningful to you? I’m going to Flickr to stare at these mandalas a little more and try to get some inspiration.

Beefranck on Sylvia Plath

, originally uploaded by beefranck.

If you love embroidery, you probably know Beefranck. She shares a blog (http://www.mrxstitch.com/) with some of fiber art’s most influential people.

Here is what she had to say about this piece:

“I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for awhile. It seems fitting that I finished it this week, which marks a year since I was laid off.

This is my problem with unemployment. If I’m not busy enough, I have time to think – and that never ends well.”

As much as I enjoy a snarky cross stitched quote, I usually just read it and move on. What I really love about Bridget’s stitching is that it holds you. Her quotes are pensive, her backgrounds are interesting, and I find them very emotional despite their geometric appearance.

You can just imagine her frustration as she stitches every bit of this background.

See her Flickr stream here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/beefranck/.

Ode to a Spoon

Ode to a Spoon, originally uploaded by alexcateye.

“Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.”

Zen Proverb

My life is full of simple tasks that bring me joy. I make art. I keep house.

Thread needles
Start washer
Wipe tables
Read stories
Brew coffee
Pour soymilk
Scrub toilets
Cook dinner
Nag children
Plan artwork
Sew dresses
Stir batter
Take asprin
Charge cellphone
Make clutter
Lose scissors
Play Tetris
Pet dogs

That’s my version of Zen. I’m not really calm or enlightened, but I enjoy my small tasks and appreciate what I have.

The Outside Looking In–Exploration of Perceptions

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my perceptions of my body.

I still plan on doing a lot of knitting, but I’m going to be working a lot of stuff out in my head with embroidery for a while.

I’m thinking beyond “body image” to the mental pictures I carry with me of my own inner workings–bones, organs, chemicals.

After the deaths of my brother and two of his children in the last year (and also the recent death of my brother-in-law) I have really wanted to know what it means to have a body, especially my own. I also want to think about how my perceptions of my body affect its function and how its function affect my perceptions.

I used to work in a medical laboratory. When drawing a woman’s blood once, she was greatly concerned about the color of blood in the vial. “Is it that dark because I drink too much?” she asked. I told her that it was venous blood and the dark color was normal. “What color would it be if I were drinking too much?” she asked. I told her it would probably be the same. I couldn’t, however, convince her, even after showing her specimens from other people, that her blood looked normal. To her, it looked dark because she drank too much beer.

How do I see my own body systems? I mostly picture them as two-dimensional drawings. I picture brightly colored digestive organs–a bright green gallbladder with a dashed outline indicating that it has been removed. My brain is always a sideways pen and ink drawing. (As seen in my last post.) Chemicals and hormones are always candy colored.

Today’s exploration is dedicated to my lungs. Due to panic attacks/allergies/asthma, I always think of my lungs as tiny and funereal blue. The perfect little baby balloons that fill with air are missing. The diaphragm is always a thinly sliced sliver instead of the strong sheet of muscle.

Thinky Thoughts

I’ve been bitten by the Embroidery Bug. Actually, I think it’s more of a needlestick injury, something I’m familiar with…something impossible to forget. (Now I want a complete social history on Embroidery. Where has she been and who has she been doing it with?)

I’m not sure what to do with the brain. I just know I had to stitch it. My poor little head is exploding with ideas. It’s, well, convoluted.

Maybe I’ll sew it into a drool bib to wear when I’m thinking my deep thoughts. Hmm…I shall see.