An Art Dump

While I begin some art commissions for some friends, I thought I’d go through my phone and dump some of my art here. I am going to take some pictures of the art through my highschool, and some of my doodles. Maybe putting it on here will help me to keep a sort of journal, or portfolio. But maybe it will brighten someone’s day, darken it, or give someone some inspiration! Most importantly, remember art is subjective. You may not like my art, and that is so ok. Just make sure to apprecite art in general!

Everyone Has A Story

I hope everyone that is kind enough to be reading my blog, knows that I am not trying to say my story is worse than yours, or minimize your story in any way. I have learned that, and I think we all need to know that we ALL have a story. Every single one of us. But its easy to think that no one else has any idea what you’re going through. Most people probably do not. Some of you have lost a child, or are watching a spouse pass. Some of you may have had a limb removed, or been homeless at one point. These things I cannot imagine going through, and my heart always aches for anyone going through a trauma. I never think, “This trauma that they are going through is so much less than mine” 

Each and everyone one of us handles trauma differently. So I implore you all to keep that in mind.

I just recently stopped having my consistent nightmares. I was taking Ambien, because I could not sleep. The best side effect of that, aside from the sleep, was that I did not dream. It put me in such a deep state that I either did not dream, or when I woke up I did not remember. When I would forget the Ambien, or was away from home and couldn’t take it the dreams that I had were gruesome. Skin being pulled off of someone, eyeballs being ripped out, things that were straight out of a horror movie. I asked my counselor at the time why I would be dreaming something like that. She told me that I am not allowing myself to heal and work through my trauma. I’m just bottling it all up. So when my brain and subconscious become in charge it starts to put me in a trauma that my brain thinks is an equal representation. So my brain literally thought that people getting shot in the head, and then ripping their eyes out compared to what happened. That’s insane to me. 

There were a lot of reasons that I got off Ambien. I was scared, because sleep is big to me. But I hated relying on it, and it also made me a psycho. I sleep a lot better now, but I still have the occasional nightmare. They are always very vivid, but I can usually pick them apart and understand why I’m dreaming that. I have less anxiety when it comes to sleep now, and I know that my dreams aren’t always going to be horrid, but I’ve started to allow my brain to process things. 

As a parent, I look at my kids, and hope they will never go through a trauma. Ever! I’m sure we all wish that for our kids. I want to protect them from having those sorts of things. But realistically, we can never do that. I know that if my mom could have stopped mine she would have in a heartbeat. I would have stopped/prevented/saved Ryan if I knew and could. (This is where my guilt always comes to play) the beauty of being a parent right? Being human. Those of you that have had a signifigant trauma, or are going through one now, do you find yourself having nightmares also? Do you go through the weird phases that every single counselor and doctor say that you will? I know that in one way or another we all go through those phases of hurt, anger, blah blah, but I don’t know if I really have. 

I am going to be going on a slight blog hiatus, I have a few people asking for some art commissions, and I have to kind of gauge my time. I am going to use this blog as a way to showcase my art also- because I refuse to allow this blog to be only my sob story. I’m going to have as much positive as I can muster. (Which is saying a lot coming from this dark souled girl) :) Thank you all that are reading these. And the kind words. It has helped me start to heal in a way that I did not realize I could. The encouragement has been so wonderful. I love you all!

From The Inside Out

I’m really not sure what has snapped inside my mind these last few months, but I have started to kind of take a step out of myself and really evaluate what my life is right now. I’m not really happy about it. I have a lot of stuff, I have a lot of literal and figurative baggage and I want to clean it up. I have really been focused on cleaning out my garage, and organizing it. In the process- I am finding a lot of my memories lying around. Picture frames that had my wedding pictures, pictures of my grandma, the little kids. Finding my wedding dress. 

The neat thing about finding all those things was how my mind reacted to seeing them. I was sad that my beautiful wedding dress was going to be donated. I love that dress. It really is so gorgeous. I wanted to have my little girl be able to wear it, or part of it on her wedding day. But the memories that are connected to it are useless now. So it went into a black trash bag for the Arc to pick up. The wedding pictures and pictures of their dad holding them as babies carefully came out of their frames, and I stared at them for a moment. Remembered the face, and took so much pleasure in tearing them up into tiny little pieces and throwing them in the trash, and slamming the frame in there and hearing the glass break. I wasn’t entirely angry, but it was cathartic to sort of release a demon. A demon that had been sitting in my garage for five years. 

This blog is also sort of opening up old wounds, but it is just as cathartic. I am opening a wound that sort of closed over on itself, but the wound was always there. Slowly rotting. I want to rip that scab off and give it some air. Clean it out, and let it heal properly. I want to be the best person I can for myself and for my children. At some point my children will have more to their lives. Part that I may not really be involved it. The older that they get, the less I have to hover around them, and the more time that will be available for me, and my head. And what will there be? I do not want it to be a damaged depressed woman that has no purpose. I want to have something for myself. Be it my art, or my writing, or something that just hasn’t presented itself yet.

So, by cleaning out my garage, my blog, my room, my closets, and soon my storage unit I am ripping my scab off my heart and soul. It is quite exposed and I appreciate everyone that has treated it with such care. I am evaluating friendships, and their relationships to my well being. Looking for signs of toxicity in my life. 

I have started planning more things to do with my kids to create memories. As much as I love to sleep in a binge watch a show, that isn’t something to giggle about during Christmas 10 years from now. I want to get outside, have adventures, have mishaps and laughs. Cry’s. Just make some dang memories. And that is terrifying to me, because I feel like I really have to do that alone. I relied so heavily on having a “someone” with me. Another adult. For the longest time, I needed another adult. Not necessarily an adultier adult, but just another person that could help make decisions. I am an alpha female, and would trump any stupid ideas anyways, but I’m sure you all understand what I’m saying. Ive done a lot of things with the kids this year that was just the three of us, and I have been so stinking proud of myself. And my sweet close friends that know me even tell me they were proud of me, because they knew how hard it is to come out of my comfort shell and do something alone, something that was kind of scary, something that could ultimately end badly. 

Isn’t that how some of the best stories happen though? When something ends badly, but we can all laugh about it later? But my anxious mind always goes to worse case scenario. Like death. (My anxiety and where it leads my head is soooo a blog entry for another day. Ive got a great story about dinosaurs and dancing monsters) So that is why sometimes its so hard to go do something new and different. Hike an unknown trail, go to Silver City. Possibly camping. Because what if?

WHAT IF

Again. Anxiety for another day.

Today is about bravery and healing. And every time that I face a fear, or work on the garage, clean the kitchen, do some laundry and put it away I have been brave, and am now proud of myself. So does it get easier? The quick answer is no. Because if it was easier, I think that I would do it more. I would keep things nice and organized. I wouldn’t let it get to the point where its an act of sheer bravery to clean a garage, or do Lillys laundry. The longer answer is it gets easier to TALK myself into just doing it. “You will make mom happy if you clean up the kitchen. She will have a better day”, “If you do all this laundry and put it away, Lilly will be empowered to keep her room clean, and dress herself as if she isn’t homeless” (It doesn’t work. She has untamable curly hair and is six. She looks homeless)

“If you get up, and go grocery shopping the kids will have something to eat for at least six hours before they eat everything in sight”

“If you take the kids to the park, they will get some exercise and get away from the TV”

“If you go to the neighbors birthday party you will have been social and had an excuse to wear your new lipstick”

It sounds crazy that all of that takes bravery. Grocery shopping stresses me out because of the amount of people and money I have to spend. The park is boring most times for me, and I’m the one staring at my phone. And the neighbor is my friend, but again, I have anxiety around a lot of people and luckily I made the mistake of dating her brother so it gets way awkward. 

I still find a way to do all of those things though. Like a previous post, I am tired of having regrets. I am tired of hiding, I am tired of being sad. I love being my dark twisted self, but I am ready to start sharing that with a smile. I am ready to start some new friendships, I am ready to stop sitting in corners, and finding excuses to miss things. I’m ready to go camping, and fall down a mountain and get a scar and a bruise. I’m ready to start to heal from the inside out. 

A Sappy Obligatory Post About My Baby

When I decided to start this blog it was going to be centered around me and the kids. My poor grammar, and poor spelling taken in stride. I truly appreciate everyone that has taken the time to read what I’ve written, and given me such sweet encouragement. I do not claim to be a writer, or any good at it, but damn I really do enjoy it. I always could express myself so much better with writing. Guess it makes me a good millennial because I love to text. (If only people texted back! Haha.. I kid.)

Ok, about my post today. This one may be long, because I’m gloating of my shinning star Ryan. From the moment he was born that kid has made my life into something crazy and wonderful. He is hilarious, and feel sorry for whatever girl comes his way because this momma is gunna wring her dry. No one will be good enough for this sweet little boy, and if anyone hurts my little boys heart...it is so game on. This last Friday he stayed with his uncle Pierce, and they had a fun boys night. I was so happy he got to get out of the house and look at some awesome cars at the roadster show. He made sure to take lots of pictures, and showed me his dream car, and the car he thought I would love. He always needs to know where I am, what I’m doing, who I’m talking to, what I’m talking about, you name it, if he is in ear shot, he needs to know what the beef is. IT DRIVES ME CRAZY. But I totally understand why. He is protective, and wants to protect his mommy. Even though that is so my job.

On Saturday he had some of his friends over and we took them to Grinkers Palace where we played arcade games, and had some pizza cake.

          


Sunday we did the jump creek adventure, Monday he went to school and Tuesday was the kiddos birthday. We hung out, went to my work and had lunch with one of my favorite people, went and played with animals at the humane society, and had all but one of his uncles (who couldn’t come only because he is sort of serving our country or some crazyness) come for dinner and more cake. 

                           



I think the best part was the amount of amazing cards that Ryan received from everyone. Espcially from my old work Lowes. The out pouring of love was so amazing, and I love you all so much for the smiles that you created for Ryan. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. But don’t take my word for it.

                        

No Regrets

I sent a text today that I regretted almost immediately. It wasn’t anything risqué, or rude. It was quite nice. It was just saying hello to someone, that never texts me ever. They take hours and hours sometimes days to respond. I regretted it, because I’m quite aware that I am no one to this person, especially a friend. 

And then I didn’t regret it because I am so over regret. I am over second guessing myself, my feelings, my actions. I am who I am. I am trying to hard to face all of my fears. The unknown. I think that’s my biggest fear at the moment. So this weekend has been full of things I haven’t really done. I took a bunch of preteen kids to a video arcade, with the help of my awesome brother Pierce. I was all for doing it alone, but I needed one more space for a kid. And he is just all a round my buddy. I decided that Sunday needed to be a funday, and I loaded the kids into my car for our adventure. This adventure actually taught me an interesting lesson.

Ive been to Jump Creek Falls one other time. It was with an ex boyfriend, and I remember it being a little more difficult. I’m sure it was because Lilly was two at the time. But me and the kids had no issues, and met some cool people and I got to pet some super cute dogs. One guy was talking my ear off, and he was super hot, and then his left hand came out of his pocket and the blinding silver ring made him very un-hot. But it was still nice to talk to a stranger, and not be afraid.

Lilly is into a whining stage, so the whole entire 20 minutes or so back to the car she was upset we were going back towards the car. I told her we were going to keep hiking, but we had to hike out of that canyon, and I needed to use the restroom at the top. A couple of times her legs just magically stopped working. It was so crazy. But the further we got they all of sudden would start working again and she could run! But then she would fall to the ground and say they were broken and cry. Strangest thing. We finally make it out of the canyon, and hike back toward our car, and drink some water and I decide, “We have already seen the falls, lets go that way!” Ryan was extatic because the kid is super weird and likes to do dangerous things that involve the possibility of falling down an Owyee mountain, while smiling the entire time. Lillys legs seemed to be working great all of a sudden. Mine however were starting to realize that this was a really damn high steep hill. But if I told my kids, “nope, your fat ass mom cant do this” they would have been heart broken. So I kept on going. Slowly. Very very slowly. I had a lot of stops. I was pretty embarrassed actually because everyone was doing great. They were also skinny and I am not. It did get to a point, about half way up the mountain I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to continue. My head was pounding, I was sweating like no ones business, and I thought I was going to vomit. 

Then Ryan and Lilly’s voices screaming “You can do It mommy! We believe in you!” Started ringing. I kept going up. I made it to this huge boulder and about died. I was looking for somewhere to puke. I’m not kidding. It took me a solid 15 minutes to even get back up, and I am surprised my jelly legs even allowed that. We wondered around at the top, saw that the path kept going but I knew I really couldn’t do it. Ryan was famished, and the little whiner started back up. So we slowly made our very steep hike back down. I only fell down the mountain a little, scaring the hell out of my kids. My ankle doesn’t think its very funny, but I did. Mostly because it scared me too, and all I could do was laugh. We made it to the car, grabbed some ice cream and headed home. 

I am dead! My head is pounding, my ankle is screaming and my legs are jello. Tomorrow they are going to feel like two lead weights. But I did it! I made it to the top, and I proved to myself, and to my children, that even if you WANT to give up, you can still push yourself and achieve what you set your mind to.

Now, I have a four day weekend, and lets be real. Tomorrow after the kids go to school my mind is set on a beautiful nap.

No regrets.

Rufus McGee

When I first started dating Matt there was another Man of the house. His name was Rufus McGee. Matt had gotten this little scrappy Siamese cat, with a crooked tail and they were buds. That cat ruled the house until I moved in. Because it was a party house, the back door was always open where people were coming and going. Rufus included. Rufus was not happy when I moved in. 

He hated me, and quite frankly I wasn’t a fan of his either.

Now, remember when I first moved in it wasn’t two weeks later that I found out that I was preganant. My sense of smell was amplified and I swore I could smell cat pee everywhere. I couldn’t figure it out. Until I started finding odd wet spots on my KITCHEN COUNTERS. Now, my kitchen counters were a wonderful yellow color. So I couldn’t be sure. But then I found that little butt doing his business right there one night.

He quickly became an outside cat. He wasn’t happy with that AT ALL. He got so mad that Matt wouldn’t let him in, that while Matt was working on his cars, Rufus would prance up to him, and spray him with pee. 

I tell this story of Rufus the twisted Siamese for a specific reason so stay with me. This little kitty later teaches me a tough lesson. And caused me one of the hardest single mom things Ive had to do. He caused me to have a full on breakdown in my back yard. 

As Matt and I moved, Rufus always followed. A small part of me always wished he would run away. In one of our houses it was really cold, and Matt would let him in, because he was convinced that Rufus had outgrown his ways. He hadn’t. In fact, he still held a grudge against me, and was pissing in the cups of my bras. only for me to go home and change shirts and realize at the end of the day the smell I was smelling all day was actually the bra, not the pants or the shirt.

And then Matt got arrested, and I had to tend to Rufus. Now, even though I hated this cat, I still wasn’t going to do him harm. I fed and watered the monster. And when me and the kids moved in my with mom, I brought him with. Again, small part of me hoped he would run away. Especially since we were all the way out in Caldwell. I would never purposefully get rid of him, because it wasn’t his fault his owner was a piece of shit. 

He still had to abide by the same rules. He wasn’t aloud in the house.(even though he would try relentlessly to go in. And little Ryan loves animals so much that he would even sneak him in his room much to my displeasure.) But he quickly became the general of the house. He would guard us all by sitting on the front bench. When we all got home he would happily meow and purr and rub against our legs saying welcome. He had little notches and holes in this ears, and probably fleas. He would bring us headless birds, mice, and rats. He would be so proud of the presents he left us. 

I remember there was this one day he got into a fight with another animal. He had a really bad open wound about the size of a silver dollar. It really grossed me out, and this was definitely something that I would of had Matt take care of. But, there was no  Matt. Only Brianna, and two little kids worried about their kitty. So I gathered my hydrogen peroxide, a towel, some paper towels and prayer. I knew this was going to end in my blood. But much to my surprise, he purred the entire time. He held still, and let me clean his wound. When I was done he leaned next to me with his eyes closed. I knew at that exact moment that he was my buddy. Matt was his dad, and just like my little human kids he was abandoned too. 

This continued on for a few years, and even my mom who isn’t the biggest fan of cats loved Rufus. He watched over our house. One morning in the summer as my mom was leaving for work I could hear her saying “Oh Rufus, you silly kitty.” But he didn’t move. She called me out front with her, and there he was. Snuggled up against her hippie lavender plant, dead. I was devastated. How did he die? He never acted sick, and he wasn’t injured. I was running late for work, and couldn’t bear to send the kids to school and daycare with this news. I grabbed some towels, and wrapped him up in a box and placed him on the side of the house where I could figure this all out later. 

My day was a blur. How was I going to tell my kids their kitty had died? Who was going to explain about death? Who was going to dig the hole?

Oh yeah. Me. Alone.

I sat Ryan and Lilly down when I got home and explained that Rufus had passed away. Lilly was sad, but didn’t quite grasp the concept. But Poor little Ryans eyed welled up with big tears. He wanted to see him. After explaining everything to the kids, and wiping their sad eyes, I had to go outback, and find a space to make a grave. I dug under our picture window and bawled. I shouldn’t have to do this alone. If I had a partner, I could be consoling my kids while the other dug this hole. Instead I dug harder. I was having to bury my little friend, and I wish he had been my friend sooner. I wish this little kitty knew how much he meant to me. But I realized how much I meant to him. 

He knew I never liked him. But he knew the second I would never abandon him. He knew I loved him back, and I know that when I made his little outdoor kitty house with a warming pad, that I was smitten with that little brown kitty. It broke my heart that I was having to bury this little animal alone. And It hit me so hard, that this was just one of the many hard things I was going to have to do alone, and that’s what upset me more than anything. But also made me realize I knew I could do anything.

The Men I Date Reflect My Depression

Well thats a fun title isn’t it? My mom said something to me the other day that I decided to keep in the forefront. “You have to let go of your bitterness.” I want to argue with her so hard on this. But if any of you have met my mother that is a battle you need to pick carefully. (Love you something fierce Mom) But here is the deal, I want to argue with her on that, because I have not yet accepted that its that easy. To just let it go. But what pisses me off more than anything is I know she’s right. She told me that my person will come when I let go of the bitterness.
So to get back to the title of my post today. The men I date directly are a reflection of my self esteem and depression. Because quiet frankly the men that I have allowed myself to date in the last five years have been absolute shit. Just like my attitude. Why would a positive successful man want to be with a depressive woman that has a hard time getting out of bed? So I dated the men that had self esteem issues also. The ones that drank too much, lied and like to manipulate. Luckily I’ve been strong enough to back the hell away from those, but not without a lot of tears, revisiting my severe depression, and a lot of self loathing and “I’m going to die alone.”
I am very aware I am trying to fill a void. A space of warmth to snuggle up against to in bed. But at what cost? Being constantly ignored? Controlled, manipulated, someone that needs their own ego stroked? Someone that literally cannot take care of themselves either and relies on family to do that for them? Brianna Delanie you are worth so much more than that! You are worth someone that is going to love you so hard that all of your broken pieces fall back together. And then they will still love those visible cracks from the breaks. Someone that is going to love your kids, and help you. But you need to get your act together!
How do you do that when you are me?
How do you decide to be happy? How do you decide to get up and hope your anti depressant works extra well today so you have the energy to get some groceries, clean the kitchen, do some laundry, laugh with your kids, maybe take them to a movie, do some homework with them? How do you fight your brain so hard.
This blog has begun to really help me analyze everything that I’ve gone through with a different perspective. I honestly have something deep inside of me that I haven’t seen for a few years. Hope.
Hope for happiness.
I realize now, that happiness does not come to your doorstep like a fedex package. (But lets be real, those are close)
Happiness is earned and worked towards. And at this moment I have this hope, that I am taking some steps to that happiness. Cleansing of my soul so to speak. These things happened. I cannot change anything that happened. But I can however change how I react the next five years. (And further) How my attitude and thoughts will directly affect the future Brianna.
I don’t think after I shut down, and gave up, that I ever really decided to try again. I think this entire time I’ve just been going through the motions of what I’m expected to do. I’m expected to wake up every morning and do my hair. Do my makeup, get the kids ready for school. Go to work, come home, make dinner, give baths and then go to bed. Repeat for the next 18 years.
But then what? I have literally completely lost who I am. Who I was. But I am unsure if the person that I was- is the person I want to find again. She seemed weak, and scared. She seemed blind, and had no self esteem. This new Brianna is going to look in the mirror and smile. She is going to look forward to the day, of what she may be able to accomplish. And learn from the failures that she faces. Because she is still human, and will have more heartache and failures. But the key is to continue to get up and kick the dust off, but to keep her chin up in the process. I will not let Matt control my happiness anymore than he already has. Matt and the abuse.
And if it be in the cards that I am to find another person to bring into my life, I want them to be a reflection of myself. I want to have someone that deserves me, and I deserve them just as much. But I know that I need to just start working on myself, so that the men I date will not reflect my depression, but will reflect my strength, beauty and badassery.