Love.

"Love yourself as much as you love Sleater-Kinney."

An actual sentence my friend/coworker, Grayson, said to me. I looked at him, wearing one of my many Sleater-Kinney shirts that I've become known for in our little art store nestled diagonal Third Man Records in Nashville. Love yourself as much as you love Sleater-Kinney.

October 20, 2019 I marched my little buckled biker boots into the Ryman Auditorium, setting off the alarm at the bag check due to the buckles. The security laughed it off, even shouting "belt buckles belt buckles!" at me as my sister and I stepped into my favorite venue. A stop at the bathroom first. (I have bathroom PTSD after a rough experience with a college suitemate, another story for another time.) My nerves bubbling up knowing that in about an hour I'd see the band that made my drives home so much more enjoyable and my lows much more bearable. 

After a second bathroom break, (I promise to explain in the future) I walked in during Joseph Keckler's set. Supremely talented, and one of the only opening acts that will forever be burned into my memory in the absolute best way possible. 

Bubbling bubbling bam! There they were. Lights flashing. I froze. I don't think my body was even moving. My eyes were agape as I mouthed the words to the music before me. I took no videos. Only a handful of photos. None of it felt real. The crowd was relatively stagnant, even from my seventh row view. My anxiety overtakes me in crowds, so I was relatively still and boring despite the power unfolding yards from me. I don't remember the song, but Corin sang a note and I noticed my body rolled. Almost as if the words were flowing out of me instead of her. My movement was so heavy yet ephemeral. In my head, I was emoting like Janis, when in reality I'm sure it was more like a badly reenacted Matrix scene in painful slow motion. 

I left the show. Side-eyeing the tour buses wishing I had the confidence to stay back to say hello and thank them for putting on such a monumental show in my tiny, country city. I didn't stay. I walked my buckled boots through shallow puddles on my way to the parking garage and sat in the passenger seat, reliving what had just happened. 

I say all of this to say, yes, I put way too much emphasis on my entertainment heroes and obsessions. I always have. I remember watching Hilary Duff DVDs constantly, thinking I was her. My version of her. A curly haired, gap toothed, chunky version of her.

I didn't realize until adulthood a big reason I had such a hard time loving myself as a child and making friends is because I didn't know myself. I steeped myself in so much pop culture that I really didn't know myself outside of that world. I could tell you all the "cool" places to go in New York or California, because my magazines and TV told me that's where they were. But I let friends walk over me because I didn't pick up on the signs of being used. I wore layered outfits to look like the gals I admired on the movies and TV shows I devoured. But I didn't realize that my friends were starting to get drunk and date while I was home with my parents watching movies. I wanted to be a ballerina. A singer. An actress. I convinced myself I'd be on Disney Channel. I never thought about my real future because I was fully convinced Disney Channel was my future. I also never thought I'd still be in Nashville by this time of my life. I also never thought I would be without the friends I grew up with.

This seeped into adulthood. I am more reality-based now, thankfully. I think my real life is more fulfilling than any Disney fantasy I had as a child, even though the friends have left and stress has entered. I still fulfilled some childhood dreams-- I finally got to visit Los Angeles. I was in a comedy troupe for a few months. I got to model dresses for a fashion show. -- They also manifested in traits that I developed unknowingly, like being painfully shy and nervous in a crowd but able to eloquently speak in front of a large crowd with absolutely no nerves. And for now seeing those negative signs in friends that I didn't pick up on as a child. There are parts of myself that I do love. 

Yet, daily I feel like a failure. I see people achieving these dreams. So passionately expressing the gifts God gave them. It seeps from their pores, the most beautiful glow I have ever seen. If I could only touch it. If I could only bathe in that radiant light. I don't see myself as others see me, I don't reckon. I see all the ugly that stews inside. I feel every emotion so hard that I have to step back and think everything through before I let it out. (Yeah, good going Rachel, ya been ramblin' this whole time.) I see the plethora of mental illnesses that take turns double-dutching in my noggin. Rachel, you're fine! You don't show any signs of having that. Suppressing it for 24 years will do that. 

I drew so many celebrities in art school. I was often having to explain why I did such a thing. Initially, I really didn't know why. I thought it was just easy access to photos. But no. I believe I was seeing traits in these people  that I had but didn't know how to show, or traits that I desperately wanted. Drawing them made me feel closer to them, that goal, that talent. I wanted validation. I wanted to feel like someone outside of Tennessee saw me and really knew me. My family was supportive. I had a few encouraging friends. But someone in the entertainment industry?! Lordy lordy that must mean something! They could erase all the pain inside! 

They can't. 

But I can. 

I look for so much love in those who will likely never know me. I will sing praises to those who could care less. 

Even as a little girl, unassuming and running barefoot through the yard, I knew I was made for something more. I don't know what it is, yet. I think I know then realize I'm just acting on every feeling again. I'm trying to figure all this out one step at a time. I'll still spin my records. I'll still attend shows. I'll always be the girl with heart eyes when seeing someone she admires. 

Nashville.

35mm film photo from two summers ago, Tennessee


I spoke with a woman recently about how I wasn't crazy about how much Nashville has grown. As I bagged her stuff she started telling me if there's no growth, people won't want to stay. I agreed. I do think that statement is true. She kept going. My responses waned but her lecture didn't. I understand what she was trying to tell me but I also felt semi-attacked by her tone and word choice. Nothing was threatening, but I felt as if I was being talked down to because I am a young woman. A young woman who has lived in the Nashville area for twenty-three years. A young woman who has experienced more of Nashville and Tennessee than she has in her short few years here. 

Each word that spilled from her lips in her northern accent felt like punches to my gut. 

Maybe Nashville just isn't for me. 

I've seen the open skyline become crowded. I've seen "hip" restaurants pop up in old landmarks. I've seen scooters clutter the sidewalks. I've seen those gates from CMA Fest permanently stay up on Broadway to make more room for pedestrians clinking-n-clanking in their cowboy boots. I've seen more murals and photo ops. I've been in crowds pushing to the front at a free concert just to be closer even though they showed up later than everyone else. I've seen old, lively parts of town become famished. Beautiful buildings deteriorating while trendy restaurants are cluttered with millennials and out-of-towners. I've seen random houses and apartment buildings pop up beside historical homes. I've seen two random houses plopped beside my Granny's yard. The beloved yard we used to play baseball in. I've seen Nashville mentioned on almost every show and movie. I've seen Nashville become glitzy. I mention I'm from here and it's like I am a rare animal. 

I am happy to see growth. I am happy that people love it here and find solace in this once-little town. 

Yet... the solace I used to find here is gone. 

I remember when going downtown felt like a special occasion. I used to get so excited to be downtown. My first concert at Gaylord Entertainment Center. Driving down 65 and staring at the Batman building. Eyes agog. I volunteered at the Frist for a couple years. I drove by enormous construction on a hotel every single day. That once open part of town now shaded by a shiny silver hotel. It has become a tiny, maybe evil, game for me to try to spot the tourist. Usually cowboy boots and a dress. Now it's even easier because they're usually on a scooter or all dressed the same. I roll my eyes as drunk women shout from a pedal tavern when I'm just trying to drive home from a nearly 9-hour retail work day. 



I say all of this to say- Nashville will always be home. It will always have some sort of spark for me. (Though I do believe working down there nearly every day for the past year has changed my excitement about the city.) I just don't know if I want it to be my forever home. I love driving around finding new places. But I don't feel like I fit in to the "new crowd." Maybe this is also coming from a weird, elderly mentality I have about newness. Waving my cane at the changes as my house coat drapes over my weak shoulders. A "get off my lawn" kinda thing. I drive around sometimes and just feel like this is not where I am meant to be. I can't see myself visiting the local haunts and dives. The ones I have enjoyed haven't been located directly downtown. There's something about being in that crowd downtown that makes me feel so alone. No one notices me but I feel like an obnoxious neon sign, flashing and flashing until I feel like I'm okay again. 

And don't get me wrong, I still enjoy being downtown and hanging out finding new places. The Ryman and the Frist are my two most favorite places on this entire universe. But... I just don't feel like I belong. 

I grew up thinking I should be in California. Hollywood. Los Angeles. Among the stars. I thought I would be a movie star, a singer, an actress. All three! Throwing my feather boa over my shoulder while I peer at the photographers over pink-tinted, frameless, rhinestone sunglasses. Ever since I hopped off the plane at LAX*, there was an overwhelming sense of "you are home." I never felt like a tourist. I never felt out of place. I felt like I was where I always dreamed of being. Every day since I've been gone I think about it. Those endless horizons. The sun and the gargantuan billboards like posters in a movie theater. If money wasn't an issue I would be writing this there right now. Maybe these feelings come from having a boyfriend from there, and my longing to see him for more than a few times a year. But then the memory of waking up to the view of houses on hills surrounded by lush trees envelops my senses. How peaceful that
 was. 

My ideal place is somewhere with trees. Green grass. Open spaces. Close enough to the city but far enough to take a breath from the bustle. I had someone tell me that maybe the reason I felt so at ease in LA was that there are literally so many people there, no one notices you. You don't feel judged because no one is paying attention to you. That sense of privacy in a crowd is oddly liberating. I don't feel that in Nashville. I feel like I am being stared at. No one stared in LA. I was one of them. Here, I feel like there are still eccentricities about me that people can't figure out. 

And this could be all in my head. Maybe I'm talking out of my back end and I should wipe it and flush it and move on. 

I want to feel the happiness I see other people feel while in Nashville. I don't want to feel like a foreigner in my own town. 

Until then, I'm still a native Nashvillian with a California Soul. 

*if you got this reference, I love you.

I'm Okay.

Photo by Daniel Vega-Warholy @warholyphotography on Instagram.

I never write anymore.
I'm too busy trying to calm my thoughts.

Some of you may have noticed that some of my posts since the beginning of this year have been a bit negative. Not negative as in mean, but negative as in just not jovial like I used to be all the time. 

And to be honest with you, I don't know how that happened. I don't know what caused it. I honestly do not have an exact, pin-pointed date that I can show you that caused this. All I really know for sure is that my mind has always been this way, but for some reason this year it amplified. 

Anxiety is not fun. Obsessive-thoughts are not fun. Impulses are not fun. Going from being joyful to your mind telling you mean things is not fun. I've had a lot of people tell me they understand what I'm going through, but my mind tells me they don't. 

I've always had anxiety, but it's never been this severe. 

There were times this semester that I didn't go to class because my mind told me that I was not able to get out of bed. I felt like I needed to sleep instead. At times I was happy I decided to sleep, because getting more sleep helped my mind clear a bit. I ceased that urge really quick once my anxiety bled into my sleep, making facing the day more bearable than sleeping. 

I wasn't focusing like I should've been. I'm still working on that. I couldn't have fun or be around others because I felt guilty for every decision I made. I felt like I was doing something wrong. I hated having to email professors to tell them that I wouldn't be in class because I was afraid of having an anxiety/panic attack. 

I tried to just cope with it on my own. I found myself going online for comfort, posting things in hopes someone would help me. Then someone commented, in a very accusatory way, telling me that I was paranoid and that I needed serious help. (In hindsight, I understand this comment was out of care, it was just worded awfully and sounded more ferocious than it was meant.) I broke down. I cried coming home from my birthday dinner. I just wanted to sleep. All I wanted to do from late January to March was to sleep. Sleep felt like the only way my mind wouldn't destroy me. 

I was in counseling all this past semester. I didn't tell everyone, maybe I should've because I also got messages urging me to get help. I did get help. I just didn't want to share that part of my life so publicly. (Hypocritical, I know. This whole blog is way too personal for the public.) I was going to counseling, but I never liked going. Something felt off. I ended up calling an emergency number one day because I literally felt like I was going to explode if I didn't talk to someone. I later found out that number was only for people who were in danger of hurting themselves or others- I was not aware of this. Maybe it was all in my mind, but I almost felt like my counselor slightly berated me for calling this number. It felt like I wasted someone's time and took time away from an actual emergency. 

But this felt like an emergency.

Our minds are weird. Everyone has intrusive thoughts that are ridiculous. My problem is that I believe the thoughts. My mind tells me, "if you're thinking it, it must be true!" It's excruciating. It sounds like such a stupid issue. There are bigger problems and people with more important issues than "my mind is mean to me." I feel guilty asking for help. I feel so dumb. I feel so bad when I just need to talk to someone, yet I feel like an annoyance. I have a bad habit of repeating things because I feel like I'm not saying them well enough. I will repeat stories and sentences so they come out better, or so that I can maybe believe them. 

I am not belittling the kind words  I've received, the "just try not to worry about it," or the "think positive!" I appreciate those words, I really do. But for someone who has intrusive, negative, anxiety-ridden thoughts, hearing "just be positive" makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong. That this should be easy just to turn off and put on a smile. It's not. It's not that easy. It's not something I can just switch on and off. Yes, I have good days. I have days where the thoughts don't bother me as much- they're still there, just some days I am better at not paying attention to them. It all just depends on the day. 

There's a lot of beautiful things in my life. I am so thankful for them. But my anxiety paints them all black. My mindset has always been like this. I can remember being in elementary school and having an obsessive intrusive thought, but I thought everyone had them so it was easier for me to get over it. (And being a child helps. You don't know much but what's presently in front of you, so you don't worry as much.) I have an obsessive personality. I always have, it's just manifested differently over the years. I miss the childhood worries that mainly revolved around wondering if I was talented enough to be on Disney Channel. (An actual worry of mine as a child. Don't judge.) 

My body will feel calm as my mind gasps for breath. They feel disconnected. I won't feel nervous physically, but mentally I'm a wreck. Someone will tell me kind things and I initially accept it, then seconds later my mind tells me it's a lie and that I'm cold hearted and that I don't deserve what they said and that the fact that I questioned it means it can't be true... see how these thoughts work? And that's with nearly 90% of thoughts that cross my mind. This string of thought follows. It's a hard habit to break, especially since it's been happening since I was a young girl. (I have more stories about this, how I used to worry about small things as a four year old. It's deep rooted.) 

I found myself acting impulsively. Meaning I would do little things to try to make myself feel better, even if it was for a second. Be it falling down a Google rabbit hole trying to diagnose myself or repeatedly asking people to make me feel better. It isn't a fun way to live and I am thankful to say I've drifted from that part of my life and have combated many of those impulses.

I've been told by counselors and friends that this is all in my mind. All the things I worry about are merely just things that my worried imagination conjured up. The reality is that they aren't actually happening. Hearing this does calm me down, it makes me feel relived because for a little bit I feel that these thoughts aren't real. But it's hard for it to go super deep into my psyche. The string of thoughts I mentioned earlier begin happening again. It's not that I forget the reality comment, I do remember it. I tell it to myself daily, multiple times a day. It just won't sink in. I start worrying it away, too. It's so infuriating.

I'm also so used to acting on every feeling (that's how all my artwork is made). I've been trying to learn on how to not do that. Not to blow up every time something upsets me. Not to take every feeling as factual evidence something is wrong. And when I say feeling, I don't mean intuition. I mean when I misinterpret something or when something doesn't go how I envisioned, and I react in getting upset or angry at someone.  To the point that at times I feel like I must tell them how I feel immediately without calming down and reacting in a more appropriate way and thinking through the situation. 

I am working daily to cope with this. And I'm happy to say that it has gotten better. I don't feel like just sleeping anymore. I'm able to get out of bed in the morning and function. I'm smiling more and I'm taking better care of myself. I'm trying to mediate and challenge all the intrusive thoughts. But it's a battle. It's a battle everyday. I feel like I have to constantly apologize to everyone for any and everything. I feel like I burned some bridges that I wish I could go back and build, but I'm not sure if I'm that strong yet. I'm working. I'm still going to a counselor and I'm doing things everyday to make it better. 

(Also, this is a small thing, but I just wanted to say, I am not against taking medication for anxiety. I just want to find ways to cope without medication if I can. I live a somewhat holistic lifestyle (I'm trying to lol) and try not to take medicine often. But I am not against it and won't turn it away if I truly feel I need it.) 

I am okay. I'm not "gonna" be okay, I am okay. I have anxiety. But I am okay.  I've accepted that the anxiety won't disappear completely, but I believe I'll  be able to deal with it better if I keep working everyday. 

I just need a little love and support during this time. Y'all have been more than loving and supportive. I'm just sorry if I sometimes ask for reassurance or repeat things. I'm just trying to get better. 

let me breathe, a poem in 2 parts.

let me breathe 5-6-18

I want to be an artist
I am an artist
but nowadays everyone is an artist

I'm happy for the freedom of expression
how anyone can pick up a pen or brush and create
but they don't get it

They don't get how much work goes into art
how much work goes into being an artist

I know I sound selfish, conceited even
like I don't want to share art with others who want to be artists
I just hate how easily the word is thrown 

Every store carrries sketchbooks now
when I was starting out, only one store sold them
No one wanted sketchbooks then

Everyone claims to be an artist
but I think it's a special breed
it's not just a cool word to label yourself

When you're an artist, you can feel it
even if your work isn't deeply personal, you can feel it still
it's something you have to do
not something you force yourself to do to seem cool

For me, art is survival 
it's my home

I've always believed if you truly are something...
you don't have to shout it 
you just are 

____________________


let me breathe pt 2   5-6-18

i am suffocating
i am confused

i process emotions by talking
but not everyone wants to talk

i feel like i work my hardest
but it's never good enough

i fight the intrusive thoughts 
but they still attack me

i am able to rationalize my fears
but they still steal my sleep

i laugh and smile to enjoy my day
but i remember that there's still something missing

i do one thing for myself
but then the guilt gnaws at me

i feel so alone sometimes.
i am told that i'm not alone in how i'm feeling.
but yet, i've yet to meet someone who fully understands the thoughts.
the intrusive thoughts that consume me to the point i act impulsively,
often saying things i regret to the people i care about most.
and i can't take them back. 
i have to live with them.
even if i apologize for my words, my guilt tells me it's not enough.
that i'm not enough. 
i'm never enough.
those thoughts are irrational.
my counselor tells me that i'm intelligent and that she's impressed i can rationalize the irrational.
well, that's wonderful!
but i don't believe the rationalization my mind does.
it feels fake.
i feel fake sometimes.
this anxiety and whatever else is wrong with me steals my joy.
and it's so hard to bounce back.
i'm trying.
i'm trying.

it never feels like it's enough. 

_______________

22.

I reckon 22 isn't a milestone birthday, but it feels like one. 

I know it's been no secret to many who know me and pay attention to my posts that I have been going through a hard time. I think the age I'm at, the stage of life I'm in, the events happening around me, and some personal struggles are clouding my thoughts and it's become increasingly hard to function normally. 

Let me break it down. 

Every thought, every emotion, every kind word that crosses my path-- my mind immediately questions it and worries about it and criticizes it. If you don't know what exactly that feels like... let me explain further with a real-life inspired situations.

Kind Person: Hi Rachel! I love what you're wearing.
Me: *smiles nervously* Thank you so much! *wonders if they really mean it or if they just say it because they feel bad for me.*

(in conversation about a hard life event)
Kind Person #2: You're strong, and you can get through this. I have faith in you.
Me: Thank you, I know I just need to keep pushing through. *I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this. I am falling apart and no one understands. There is no way that I'm strong. There's no way that this will end good. I have to make a decision now in order to feel better.*

Sadly, this has become my reality this year. Thankfully, it's not always daily. And even when it is daily I have moments where my thoughts don't do this. But when they do, it overtakes the happy thoughts. And I haven't discovered a way to cope yet. I pray, I drink tea, I read, I try to do all that I can. But I haven't discovered a surefire way to cope. Those things do help, but momentarily. 

Being in a long distance relationship, especially with someone you haven't met yet is really taking its toll on me. I don't want to give all the details, because it's something very near and dear to my heart and I don't feel like I need to just lay it out in front of you. But just imagine waking up, going throughout your day, and going to sleep at night, consistently talking to the one you love, but you can't physically see them. The whole communication is electronic, through a screen, through typed words. It's crippling. Especially for my first serious relationship. It stinks. Every time I have to hang up my phone from a call I feel like my heart is shattering. It's not fun. Thankfully, he's coming here in 3 weeks. Three weeks. I'm excited but thinking about going 3 more weeks in this mindset is excruciating. 

Sometimes things feel so hard due to my emotions that I just want to rinse my hands of it all. I want to just drop everything I've worked for so I can feel like I have some sort of control on my life. To feel like I actually understand what's happening, not to the full extent but even just a little bit. I'm stubborn sometimes and wish I could just see the full picture. But I can't. 

Again, sparing the intimate details. I have gone back to counseling. I've already learned that my mind warps things. My mind is critical and I am confused by everything that's happening around me. It's crippling. And I desperately pray that it all gets better soon. Because I was happy. I was so joyfully happy last year. I was so excited for the future and for every little detail, and now I think I'm scared and want to stay back where it's safe. I don't know what's really going on. I'm terrified. Waking up feeling hopeless is not fun. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. 

And there are moments where this isn't so hard. I have my moments of peace and clarity and worry-free thoughts. And I get so excited and so happy. And then 20 minutes later, I'm feeling like I could burst into tears any second and feel like I need to immediately remove myself from any situation I am in in order for it to stop. 

I just want the worry to stop. I miss being so fully happy. I miss it so much. I know it'll get better. It'll take time. But after struggling with this off and on for the past two months, I selfishly wish that I could just see what's happening in the big picture so  I could shrug it off and move on. But life doesn't work that way unfortunately. 

I'm trying. I really am. If you could continue to keep me in your prayers, I'd appreciate it. I'm hoping the fog clears soon. 

Here Comes the Sun.

This is a very spur of the moment thing, so I apologize for any misspellings or things of the sort. I want to write a more detailed post later, but this will do for now.

Nearing seven months ago now, someone entered my life that transformed my life for the better. I never realized drawing a little photo could pull someone into my life that was going to make me feel like the happiest person alive. To feel so so so lucky every day that someone is there in my corner, rooting for me and believing in me. 

For the past week and a half I've been struggling with some personal demons that have proven difficult to ignore. It truly felt like all the happiness and love that I had built up in my life had crumbled overnight. It was and still is terrifying to think about. I felt alone, like no one was there for me and I felt like no one understood. 

It took me a couple days to realize, Rachel... there's this person who is thousands of miles away, someone you can't physically be with yet, but they are still there for you. Through all your tear-filled phone calls and FaceTimes, they are there. They are not giving up on you. Even through harsh things you may have uttered out of confusion and frustration, they stayed there. They looked at you with nothing but love and stayed. They watched you cry even though you could tell it was painful for them. They stayed up late if you wanted to talk, even when you were talking in circles. They were upfront with you but never rude. They gave you reassurance when you needed it most. They made jokes during hard moments in hopes of making you smile. They played music and sang for you to help you fall asleep, just because they knew you love to be sang to. Their image of you never changed even though you feared it did. I was so scared they would run far far away from me, but they didn't. He is still here. He's the first to congratulate me on my successes and the first to comfort me when I encounter a loss. And I kick myself for the times I take his love and support for granted.

I didn't just gain what I hope to be my forever life partner, but I gained a best friend, a confidant. And through him I gained an amazing group people who have become like my little support group, a group of lovely friends who encourage me to be better everyday. Who make me feel like it's okay to be myself because I'm already more than loved because of who I am. 

Long distance is hard. Every morning I wake up I have to face the cruel fact that I can't physically be with the one I desperately want to be with. I'm hopeful this year will bring many changes, positive happy changes that will make my life more beautiful. I am very hopeful, but also very terrified. 

My heart wells when it thinks about the little family I already have all the way out in California. I have two families in two of my favorite places, Nashville and Los Angeles, who support me more than I feel like I deserve. I promise your love doesn't go unnoticed, I just sometimes have a hard time believing I truly deserve it. I'm working on that, I promise. 

I am going to be okay. 

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right

Above image made by my dear Daniel Vega-Warholy. <3 

2017, You Rascal.

What a year it has been. In just a few short weeks it'll be 2018, and I usually don't like wishing away the year but I am so ready for a fresh start. I feel like I've been going nonstop for the past five months and I am so ready for a breather.

I started off the year in a weird place. I was very overwhelmed emotionally. I was not able to focus on things I needed to be focusing on. My mind was distant, off somewhere worrying about things I had no control over. (Which has ultimately become the biggest issue in my life that I'm trying to overcome.) All of this worry lead me to seek out counseling, where I discovered all of my negative thoughts and personal/relationship issues all stemmed from myself. My insecure view of myself was what was causing me to overreact and overthink in situations that oftentimes were all constructed in my mind. Such as believing people hated me when there was no evidence to prove that they did or thinking that the way I looked or acted is why I spent most of my nights at home by myself. An overall low view of myself has almost ruined relationships and my own peace of mind. That's a tough pill to swallow. And unfortunately that has followed me throughout this year.

My spring semester was a period of growth. I finished counseling, I was inducted to an honor society, and I became part of a comedy troupe on campus. For the first time in a long time, things were feeling sunshiny and amazing. I wasn't bogged down by insecure thoughts (as much) and I was able to freely feel happy and enjoy my life for the first time in what felt like years. 

Summer is where my life began to dramatically transform. I worked on commissions, bringing in some extra cash flow that I hadn't had in a while. I was in my first off-campus art showing. I felt happy and completely myself. I still had a few bumps in the road here and there, but that's normal. I'd rather deal with bumps than a constant stream of less-than-kind thoughts. I felt warm and joyful.

In one of my bumps of cruel thoughts, I decided to forget what was happening and decided to draw. Scrolling through Instagram and some photos I had saved, I saw a portrait of Pamela Des Barres taken by Daniel Vega-Warholy, a photographer out of L.A. that I had been following for about a year prior. I got out my toolbox of art supplies and began working. I was home alone so I was drawing in silence. I was in one of my weird moods, but I kept working. I ended up going to sit outside and listen to it rain as I sat in my hot garage to draw. I began doubting my skill, feeling like the drawing wasn't good and I kept telling myself I wasn't going to post it. I finally finished it, convincing myself to post it since it took me so long to draw it in the first place. I posted it on Instagram and Facebook, tagging Pamela and the photographer, Daniel. I thought nothing of it. I went about my day, occasionally checking to see if it was getting any likes or comments, but other than that I had put it completely out of my mind. That's how a lot of my drawings go, I feel like I need to make it, I make it, then I'm finished and move on. Well, later that night I got a friend request and message from the photographer. I was overjoyed! I had been loving his work for over a year now, I felt excited that he wanted to converse with me and was happy that he saw my work. Well, life is also very funny. And now it's been a little over five months and we are now dating. I'm working on a full post about this, because so much of this relationship has affected me and how my work has developed and how I see myself and so much more, and I know a lot of people in my life are iffy about the situation since it's not conventional. But again, more on that in a future post. But I am very happy. So incredibly happy that a little moment of doubt turned into something so outrageously beautiful.

Even with a new relationship and a lot of amazing things happening to me once the school year began, I was still struggling to keep up this positive self image my counselor helped me develop. I was told to do things for myself, to focus on making sure my needs were met and that I wasn't being down on myself. That's become increasingly hard for me, especially this semester. It has been nonstop school school school since late August. I welcome the busyness, because it reassures me that I'm doing something that is fruitful, but Lord have mercy, am I exhausted.

Let me break it down for those who don't know, up until this week, my school day began at 8am or 10am, and ran nonstop until 5pm. I know, I know "Rachel that is a normal workday, you have to get used to that sometime!" I'm fully aware of this. I'm fully aware I'm going to sound like a complainer. But until you've been in art school and/or taken multiple studio classes that are 2-3 hours in length,  you don't realize how stressful it is. I feel like I have been wrung dry and there is not much left in me. Every week there was 3+ projects due. Again, I welcome that busyness because it helped me get into work modes where I would just create create create and there wasn't much time to be lazy or to slack off. But many times it just left me feeling like I had no content left in me. I had become so used to just making work I felt like my professors were wanting me to make. In collage, I tried using things other students were using as source material. In painting, I tried to make paintings on what I thought I was supposed to paint. In drawing, I felt like I couldn't think outside of the box enough to submit work that was worth looking at. In photography, I loved photography but realized that it feels more like a hobby rather than a career option, and I felt guilty for feeling that way. 

It took me all semester to realize that I don't need to make work that I feel like my professors want. I needed to start making work I believed was strong. Making things I felt passionate about and work that I was proud to show. By golly, I started doing that and began receiving comments like "this is the best work you've ever done." And these comments were talking about work I had created based of things I enjoyed, or things that I took from my personal life and turned into art. That is where my voice is. 

I struggled at the beginning of the semester because some of my work was being called kitschy, and I don't see that as negative but I know some others do. It was hard to separate myself from the comments I received in class. I would dwell on the negative responses rather than the positive ones. And that's detrimental to my mindset. It warped my view of my work. I felt like what I enjoyed doing was sub-par. My interests have always been in pop culture, and more specifically music and 60s/70s culture. I felt like I had to push that aside in order to make good work. But once I started creating work that did have those elements, it was more openly received. Because I wasn't lying. I wasn't hiding my interests. I was in full blown, "yeah this collage is named after a Rolling Stones song. And I don't care if you don't think that is "art." Because it is to me." 

It was also a giant relief to hear that this one set of work that I am extremely passionate about was well-received by my mentors for my senior show. (In the spring, holy moly!) They pushed me to take it further. To not let it go. I was told to be selfish, create this work because I need to. Just friggin' do it. 

And on a more personal note, I have been struggling with my self image and the way I do things. I have grown up Christian. I am not neglecting those beliefs at all, but sometimes I find myself getting a more religious experience outside of normal religious practices. I'm sitting here listening to Wings and I feel closer to God. Music gets me there, even secular music. I don't really know how to explain it. I still pray and attend church because I honestly do love it, but at times I feel like my life-changing moments are out in the world. It's one of those things I feel awful about because I get afraid that my religious friends and family members are  going to start thinking negative things about me due to my practices and the art I create. I am attracted to the human form, I am attracted to making art about the world. I feel like God gave me this talent to speak up about my emotions. I feel like he put certain things in my path so I could learn from them, even if they aren't considered "Godly" things. I started collecting crystals and things of the sort, not that I necessarily believe they will heal me, but because they make me feel peaceful. And when I feel peaceful I feel closer to God. At times I feel like I need to keep up this "Godly" image and censor my work and the way I live. But ultimately this is my life and my decisions. I am aware of what I am doing. I am an adult. I don't think it's right to judge anyone for how they live their life, especially if they aren't hurting anyone by doing what they're doing. Maybe I have a muddied view on Christianity. But after being surrounded by so many beautiful people from different backgrounds, I cannot judge anyone for their beliefs. My God is about love. And I am called here to create art and to spread love. I cannot stop doing that. That mindset isn't going to change. 

It was a year of a lot of learning. And I'm still learning. I'm not writing this saying, "I am perfect, I am cured!" I still have a lot of issues I need to iron out. I still don't have that overall positive view of myself. I don't see myself how others see me. I don't really know if I ever will. But I try everyday. I'm working everyday to becoming more and more of the person I know God wants me to be. I'm trying not to feel selfish about doing a few things for myself here and there. I know there are a lot of bumps ahead of me. I'm facing them with open arms. I'm ready to continue creating this work and to continue bettering myself. 

And I keep hearing everyone in my life saying, "Don't try, DO!" 

I'm doing  it. I am bettering myself. I will become stronger.