Thoughts That Take You Down (written 3/27/07)

Hello - I'm sending you all LOVE! Now get ready for this one because I've been thinking about CRYING, and why things hurt so much sometimes.

This last week was an intense one for me. On Thursday, I decided it was time for me to take some of my pictures ( from my book) and the cover image and get them made into a small poster, as well as a promotional bookmark. I've been working on the bookmark for a long time, but it's been difficult for me the whole way. I have "designed" a bookmark and the poster (a small poster for a bookstore window here in Seattle), but I've been very insecure about actually getting them produced , as I don't know much about production or the technical end of things. So I've been dreading going to Kinkos. But on Thursday, I forced the issue , collected my files and brought them in.

When I arrived, I was met by a woman, who, interestingly enough, is an illustrator trying to find work in children's books. She was, needless to say, extremely, almost painfully attentive to me. She is a woman in her early fifties (maybe take a few years) with short medium brown hair and a shorter, stouter body (not fat). After first chastising me somewhat about my lack of knowledge (see you really can attract your fears to you!) of production and explaining that my bookmarks could not be done as they are, she went on to champion the poster. However, the cover image file printed out poorly, which left her resorting to experimentation with the color copier in order to try and get a decent reproduction. Although she was extremely generous with her time, It was too much time learning about her, and feeling crummy about myself, and an exorbitant and uncomfortable amount of attention payed to me when all I wanted to do was leave, really. In the end, we produced a poster that was okay and would do in a pinch, if need be.

I exited Kinkos in severe discomfort over all the attention having been payed me, and the conspicuousness of my presence to the other Kinko employees and customers. Upon arriving home, I walked past Bill and his questions as to how it went, and got in the shower and wept hysterically. "Why?" you might ask. "Why the drama?" I don't know exactly; I felt like I was splitting in half. The feeling of not knowing "HOW" to do what I thought I needed to do, the torment of thinking that I couldn't do what I most wanted to do, of feeling so inadequate to the moment. . . . which brings me to my next story of crying.

Years ago when I was attending college (not art school, the Evergreen State College), I had spent about half a year writing a children's novel. It was the first time I'd written any story over five pages long. I had worked alone on "contract" with one of the professors there. The project, to my mind, had been successful. I completed a children's novel and felt pretty good about it. But then, it was time to figure out what to study next. I wasn't sure. I knew I wanted to illustrate the book, but I also knew I couldn't really draw. I looked into drawing classes and finally found a course called, "Studio Project". Studio Project was a full course-load program that required four hours a day working in the studio. Now, I'd never drawn for four hours and I'd never been in a studio, and it seemed intimidating. Also, registration in the class was to be determined by an interview with the professor. I went for the interview and was accepted.
But as the time to go approached, I fell apart. I have a vague memory of calling my father - hysterical, and considering leaving school all together - as there was "nothing" I wanted to study. I don't remember what he said, but my guess is it was a "let's see what happens" kind of response. When I got off the phone, I proceeded to cry harder ( I believe) than I have ever cried. I cried so hard and so intensely that I soon developed the worst throbbing headache of my life. My friend and roommate at the time, Margo, tended me. But I was nuts. It was extremely hard for me to calm down. Again, "Why?" Although I wasn't aware of it, I believe it was the same dynamic operative over the Kinkos Trauma: I wanted something very much, but was simultaneously convinced that I couldn't do it - that I was some how deficient to the challenge. And so, this is painful. Here's my last crying story - and then, hopefully, we can put the kleenex away.

When I was attending art school, I decided I very much wanted to take Video, but I had an image of people who did video as being different than me. I saw them as sort of "cool" and I saw myself as a sort of emotional, fearful type. Video seemed to demand some boldness whereas (I believed) drawing and painting left room for one to remain safe and timid, if need be. But, still, I wanted to take Video and so I did. The assignments in the class were given weekly and each of us had to sign up to take a camera out. So, on our day, each of us would go to the school, sign out the camera for 24 hours and then promptly return it for the next student. And so, that's what I did. With great anxiety, I would bus over to the school, get the camera, return home, set the equipment down, get into the shower and wail and weep. Why - again? Because it was something that I very much wanted to do from the heart (from the inside out), but the outside of me - my personality- was convinced and fearful that I COULD NOT -that I was going to find myself unable and/or incapable. Once I dried off, calmed down, I would set to work and do just fine. Over time, I believe, I was able to bring video equipment into my home and not fall to pieces.

Here's the point: When "it" hurts, when I feel like I just "can't", when I am tormented by feelings of inadequacy, of pain, of not KNOWING WHAT TO DO, it is often related to very much wanting something on a soul level, but my thoughts and my beliefs about myself and the situation are in conflict with what I really want. And that's incredibly painful. You want to be loving and supportive of your child, but you think you're not a good enough parent - that's painful. You want to write a book, but you think you can't or you believe you're no good at it or too lazy - that's painful. You want to feel beautiful, but your thoughts are about how your hair's ugly, or your body's not the right weight, or you've got this or that going on - PAINFUL. It's not the dream or the wanting that needs to go, it's the thoughts that don't support it.

The day I went to Kinkos, I had no support. I had no support because what I wanted most was not being supported by what I was choosing to think about myself. And that was painful. And THAT was what I was attempting to wash off in that very long shower. Perhaps what I needed to hear from myself was, "It's great that you're taking this on and it's great that you're learning and you can keep learning and asking."

Yes. I wish you all the best and hope that this week you support your own dreams with your thoughts. I know you would never tell me to give up or be down on myself, so, certainly, encourage yourselves too. And I will strive to do exactly that also!

Lots of Love.
All is Well.
Jen