The past four weeks have been dunking me. I’m stepping into college again, working away at that degree. It’s nearly mine.
I’m taking one course that’s kicking my ass in a good way. It’s Non-Fiction Creative Writing. I took it on a whim right at the last moment because my counselor suggested I wrap up my degree and move on after, not the other way around. I’m writing true memories, non-fiction –I’ve learned my book that I’m creating will be called a Graphic Memior. Oooh, I like it. The instructor has been fawning over my submissions which is new to me; I’m not used to praise and success. Feels good. Wow. I could eventually get used to it, I think. It’s nice to learn that I’m a good writer and that my topics keep the reader busy. The hardest part is the therapy of it all. This is deep. I’m having to dive into memory banks I’ve closed off, I’m opening up bags with dust floofing up the attic of my mind, so many feelings I’ve stored inside, so many boxes of untouched trauma, sorrow, loss, winnings, gains, and fears. The instructor is asking us hard questions like “Who are you?” –yes, as someone with Imposter Syndrome (caused by a lifetime of being 2nd guessed, questioned and doubted by parents/husband) it’s really hard to know what I like, who I really am and what really makes me excited. I dig, and I’m learning, but man! It’s like meeting someone new, I tell you. I’m learning things about me I never took time to know.
The other course I’m in and wriggling all about over is Algebra. Oof, it makes sense until they start naming number/letter clusters with full blown names like “Co-efficient with a variable in an exponential expression, plus a product of…” –now the mitts are off; we’re fighting. Time to get out the Algebra to English Dictionary. Why tf isn’t there one???
Much to my surprise, I took two, count them, two (not one, cuz I like suffering) cram courses. One is, of all things, English Comp II. Oh hell, why’d I do this? I love writing, so it won’t kill me, but it’s the citing and the pulling , the comma strikes, and the quoting with citations –all the information’s gotta be in exactly the right places, period. Oof, again. This one is going to cause tears for me, I think. The instructor told us in her opening video to just do week by week and we’ll make it so I’m taking her at her word. It’s going to challenge me, and it’s teaching me how to set aside time for working, giving the kids know-how to busy themselves while I’m “away.”
Nice thing about working at home (be it working on a degree or on a “living” (same thing)) is my kids have me to lean on. Sure, at times I’m “Busy” and they can’t knock on the door/come in for assistance, but they know I’m here. They know that when push comes to shove, their basic needs are being met and they can come to me for further help when I’m free for them. They’re learning Boundaries –something I never had with my own mother. They’re getting ROUTINE, another thing I wasn’t gifted with, growing up. They’re getting a mother who feels like her time is being respected, who respects their time, and who will be calm and reflect the attitude they want, not their own frantic, fearful one when things aren’t going right. They can sneak into my room while class is in, and ask with a whisper, “Can you turn off the camera? I need a hug.” and I’m here for it. Bring on the hugs, if it’s needed –cus’ it’s always needed. <3 Even the youngest gets it. She’s 9 now, holy cow, but she gets it. She’s keeping busy on her laptop building a Minecraft world complete with motes, castles, fast food restaurants and did I mention cats? Oh wow, her world is flooded with cats, she loves cats, lol. If she grows bored with it, she can grab books from the shelf, paper from the stack, there’s a caboodle full of art supplies and a cabinet overflowing with stretched and flat canvasses –she and her sisters have been honing their art skills –I do believe I may have some experts here. There’s art that I’m considering having framed and prints made, they’re that good. I don’t feel I’m free to share, so you’ll have to wait until they’re adults, willing to show. Sorry.
My final [cram] course will be my second favorite, I’m sure; Psychology 101. MMmmmmm, taste all those dysfunctions, enjoy all those creamy illnesses with all the juicy understandings as to WHY. I am dipping into the book already (my cram courses begin Monday Feb 8), and I already have learned a lot. Humans have been well aware what abuse can do to the mind, I wish more parents had the knowledge… more children could be spared mental illnesses –I think some day humans will be able to grow and mature their minds alongside their bodies, seems right now all that matures in most of the population is the body…
In the meantime…
What would you do if you had to spend 72 hours alone with yourself? No socializing?
That is quite something for me to fantasize about. See, I’ve been surrounded by people, and I mean lots of people for quite some time. When I left my childhood, 6-person family to cling to my single person in the 1990s , the two of us soon blossomed into three, then four, five sadly passed away before their arrival, six, seven, eight, then came twins, and then one more, surprise! Eleven became our family size. So, you can imagine the last 26 years have been full; getting away isn’t something I can pull off, easily. I have somewhat of an idea how it would feel, though.
For the first day I would spend my time writing, sketching, eating fruit and laying in the sunlight that streamed in my room. I wouldn’t even move if I didn’t have to. I know the silence would penetrate my mind, making a high pitched “sss” in my ears. I would turn on vocal-free chillstep music, watch a YouTube video –or is that cheating? That’s like spending time with someone…
No YouTube friends for me then, ok. Ok, I’d turn on my Oculus for an hour or two –wait, that’s socializing, as well… Hmm… Ok, I’ve got it, I’d plug in my graphic tablet and begin polishing up some artwork pieces and posting them in my shop, online.
I may even pull out the mic and record a video to upload to my followers on YouTube. I’d make a copy, and if it’s listening worthy, I’d post a recording on my podcast, the Dalai Momma. Silly name, I know. It’s a play on words.
That night I’d draw a hot bath, light fragrant candles around the tub and bring a book along. My bath would swim in a concoction of lavender, orange, and cedar oils. I’d dive into a novel, luscious with passion, science fiction and future. Like usual, I’d sip water from my copper flask. I’d mutter to the characters and offer advice, aloud. There’d be no one in the house to hear me and I’d make as much noise as I’d please. I’d indulge in dark chocolate from a sustainable source, because eating anything other would cause my heart much shame; I’m fully aware how chocolate is harvested for the large corporations. I’d crawl underneath my blankets, in my freshly made bed. I’d pull the weighted blanket over my body, set my Insight Timer, and after a long meditation I’d drift into a thick, deep sleep and I wouldn’t even snore.
I’d wake refreshed in the morning and pack up for the beach with some gear and fruit. Since they’re already in the trunk, my hammock and camping gear will serve their purpose. I’d strap down the kayak and pack in my longboard. I’d make sure my helmet, gear and life jacket are there, along with my pillow, some books and a jug of clear water. My phone will serve to entertain, only. On the drive I’d listen to music, since even podcasts seem like fraternizing.
As I’d explore the beach and camp on the shore, I’d study and sketch, catch up on my book list and forage for mushrooms, berries and wildlife. I’d swim when I feel the want and nap in the afternoon sun. I wouldn’t need to make a mountain of a meal for a massive army; I’d toss a handful of granola down the chute and keep enjoying life. I’d build a campsite with my hammock and as I’d slumber I’d hear mosquitos fighting through the netting, but never winning entry. I’d longboard along the harbor, eat ice cream from a cup, I’d wear jean shorts and long socks with stripes, a bikini and my brown hair in two, long braids down the back. I’d be a rebel, I’d revel in the freedom and the timelessness of it all. I’d speak and sing to myself and answer and sing right on back.
I believe I’d return a refreshed, fully refueled human being. I can’t even imagine the things I’d learn about myself as I journaled and read my entries later; the meditations and zen moments would create so much creation within me. There’d be no stopping the flow for quite some time to follow.
Maybe, I’ll go take that 72 hours. although it’s -6F out…
****(if you’re interested in knowing how my 9 year old and the rest of my 6-at-home are laptoping and Minecrafting, arting and such, I purchased Lenovo ThinkPads at Back Market for around $140 each. Yeah, it was an expensive decision, but they need to be creating in the same way the world is. Minecraft was purchased on Microsoft on my personal account, and I’m able to add it to 6 other computers –nice! As for our art supplies and the giant caboodle full? I purchase my things ethically, again (small footprint, better karma) and buy locally at Dick Blick –locally, as in United States. They’re a family-run/owned business and I’ve been buying art supplies from them since 1986. The prices are better than Michael’s, plus I don’t have to worry about spreading Covid in a storefront. Forget Hobby-fucking-Lobby, I boycott their bigoted asses.) www.dickblick.com