So, after I ran out of ideas and it has proven to be more work than fun, I have decided to change up this site and write about my challenges in finding myself again, or at all, depending on how you look at it. I grew up in a house with four siblings. I became the Scapegoat of the family, and remain that to them. I accept that me being that for them makes their life easier. I refuse to allow them to pull me in any longer. I have limited the amount of time I give each one. I just don’t care what happens to them. I do talk to my younger brother though, he’s the forgotten child. He and I were essentially raised my our grandmother, mom’s mom. I don’t plan into going into the whole family history, but will bring up things as they come up in my endeavors. The main thing I want to explore is me finding my creative self again.

My creative side gets pacified by a few things; singing, drawing, dancing, writing, and I found sewing. I will get into each of these separately and I know these are some of the main ways people are creative. I liked playing the drums and have always regretted and resented having to give that up.

As a child I always loved to sing. My dad claimed that the first song I ever sang was Old Dogs,Children and Watermelon Wine by Tom T. Hall. I know I loved being in choir or in music class when we sang, the first few years in school we would sing or play instruments, occasionally both. When things started going bad for my parent’s relationship I found Barry Manilow. He got me through a lot of bad things. Belting out every song like I understood the pain has never been hard for me to do no matter who wrote the song. I have created a Sing-a-long playlist on my music streaming app. I still hesitate if I know someone can hear me, but I’m finding my voice again in that area.

Drawing came naturally to me. I have learned though, that I use both sides of my brain and it can create challenges. When you overthink a creative project you see more and more mistakes. At the age of 12 I sent in the turtle drawing to the scam school in the magazines. I assumed I wouldn’t hear anything, a guy came to the house to talk to me about my drawing. I remember him asking me if anyone helped me with it. So, I guess I was better than I gave myself credit for. I stopped making time to draw. It’s discouraging when people credit the time you spent on something more than the final product. Art class taught me how to use everything but oil paint, we just never did oils.

Dancing was something that due to being “shy” my mother didn’t see I wanted to do. I got to have a free ballet lesson and loved it. I still remember feeling alive while I danced and that was over 50 years ago. I did start dancing at the age of 13 at the nightclubs that allowed 14-20 year old people mingle at a club on Sunday and Wednesday. I know I said 13, my older brother vouched for me that I was 14, although I was barely 13. It was fun to move to the music in a club setting. No one singled you out, there were too many people. If anyone did single me out, I never knew. Out on the dance floor I was in my own world. I was aware when someone would try to break into my dancing bubble. I would just move to another part of the floor. In my 20’s I learned to dance to Country music, and since that is mostly partner stuff, it was hard, still fun, but hard. Then I learned to belly dance and danced at a fair for a few years. I went from a background dancer for one song to the lead in one show.

Writing, well, I have been doing a tango with that for years. I wrote a story in 3^rd grade that I’m still really proud of. I used to make up stories and authors for the demanding and demeaning teacher I had in 7^th grade. It wasn’t until 11^th grade that I learned the therapeutic aspects of writing. It wasn’t until after I graduated High school that I realized that I have a knack to write fiction. I went to school for it, but that was a waste of money. I still want to write my book, the idea stays with me always, I just don’t make the time. I did when I was forced to, went back to school for it. Life happened. I have always been better about telling people how I feel on paper than in person. My emotions don’t get the best of me that way. I still find writing therapeutic.

I have taught myself how to sew. I had to for the belly dancing costumes. I love starting a project, picking out the material, pattern, etc. I hate the part where I get confused on how to piece together the pieces, or sew them wrong, or the machine jams. I’m proud and relieved when it’s done. I have learned that what I go through is Cognitive Overload, and have to reset. So, it is more of something I revert to and not something I run to for a creative outlet. Although the embroidery machine has given me a different outlet. I’ve donated my time, knowledge, and skill to those that asked. The school my children went to benefited from this more than most.

Writing, singing, and dancing have always been my anchors in releasing everything. My age and psoriatic arthritis have other plans for me dancing. I sing all the time as long as I am sure no one can hear me. I’m trying to get better about singing in front of people, I was always okay in a choir, but with my childhood, the “spotlight” makes me uncomfortable. I am hoping writing will be helpful. I do not make the time for any of it and it makes me sad. I know I need to make the time for any of it, I just get caught up in whatever else is going on and never pick anything up. This one is 100% on me and I really should make the time.

So, here I am. Writing about being creative again after raising three boys and it now just being my husband, the dogs, and myself. I’m still healing from my life. My husband is close to his dream and I’m still trying to find mine. So, hopefully, we can find it all together.