Shame

We don't shame people.

I have to repeat this to myself on a daily, sometimes hourly basis.

Before I am allowed to react to anything, remember...we don't shame people.

This has been a month of learning about who I am and learning about who other people are.

Almost 4 weeks ago, I joined the gym. I joined the gym because I hated my body. I called it my "depression" body. I spent a year barely getting out of bed. I drank a lot of stout beers. My recovery process involved sitting in one place, for a very long time, painting. So...depression body.

I knew I was starting to get really uncomfortable in my own skin, but I kept on thinking that it was going to magically get better.

Probably because I believe in unicorns, I think bodies can just "magically" get fit and healthy.

Turns out, that's not a thing that happens. Bogus. So I joined the gym.

Going to the gym is hard. I feel gross. Out of shape. Unattractive. I'm awkward around people. I try to have conversations with new people who don't know that I'm awkward and anxious and trying to fake my way through it...and I usually say something that causes them to stop and stare oddly at me for a minute before getting away from me as fast as they can.

There are people who will tell you that they don't see these interactions with me and other people, but trust me when I say that EVERY interaction with people I'm not close to feels this way.

Anxiety is SO much fun. Especially at the gym.

But shame is what we were talking about, right?

So there's an elderly woman who is in the gym locker room around the same time I am a couple of times a week. I don't know if it's me, I don't know if there are some issues with her, I don't really know what's going on except...every time she sees me she calls me a "fucking bitch" under her breath.

I'm not even kidding.

The first time she did it, other people heard and we all just kind of stopped and stared, with no one really understanding what or why or who it was directed at. The woman just said it and walked out of the dressing room.

But after a few weeks, it seems like this is directed at me. The other day I was walking behind her, at her pace. She must have sensed me behind her, so she turned around and then she moved aside as if to let me pass....so I thanked her and I passed by. And as I passed by, I heard her mutter "fucking bitch."

You guys...I have anxiety. I think that everyone hates me. I'm nearly sure of it, all of the time. So this keeps happening and I'm freaking out. Like ...what? What did I do?  And I wanted to ask other women in the dressing room what was wrong with this woman. And I wanted to go to the front desk and describe her and ask if anyone has complained about her. I wanted everyone to know that I am just fine and NOT a fucking bitch and why is this woman so terrible every single time she sees me?

But here's the thing. We don't shame people. Whatever is going on with this woman, it isn't about me. And due to the oddness of the situation and the woman's advanced age, I would guess that it has more to do with some brain wires getting crossed for her. And that sucks.

I can bring everyone's attention to the exchanges between this woman and I, and potentially cause a big scene and make other people look at this woman as though she is crazy and somehow "less than." I could definitely do that.

Or I can remember that we don't shame people. And this is more than likely a complicated issue that has nothing to do with me. I can remember that I know who I am. That this woman and I have SO much in common. My brain tells me that I'm horrible. Her brain tells her that I'm a fucking bitch. Both of our brains are wrong. And neither one of us deserves to be shamed for it.

Who knows...maybe eventually I'll work up the courage to talk to her and we'll become super best friends! Right? Maybe?




Lessons, you guys.  Every week life is teaching me some hard ...and interesting...lessons.


Art Stories

When I first started experimenting with college classes, I took an art 110 class - basic drawing.  And that class taught me A LOT about light and about paying attention. And then I was done taking art classes.  So everything after that point has been self taught. And by self taught, I mean, I google everything about technique and materials and I pay really close attention to what other artists are doing. I learn from everyone who has come before me and from every artist who has the courage to put their stuff out into the world.

I love other artists.  And as a beginning muralist (it's really only been a couple of years), right now I'm paying REALLY close attention to the work of other muralists. I don't know what I'm doing (as usual), so what better way to learn than watching others who are amazing?

Anyway, the point of this whole blog post is to tell you that because I'm always looking for really cool art, I'm going to start sharing it with you every week. And this week I'm sharing 3 artists from Peoria, Illinois! I chose these three artists because, although they each have their own style, they all have pieces that are just a tiny bit (or a lot of bit) surreal. They're all strangely beautiful works.


First, Nikole Cooney. 

Nikole has an exhibit that's currently in the third floor gallery at the Contemporary Art Center. Lucky for you, it's there until June 24, 2016, so you have time to see it.  And you should go see it.  It's incredible. I feel horrible that I'm going to share this with you via my terrible cell phone pictures, but really, that should just be more encouragement for you to go see it yourself.



This piece is immediately to your left when you walk in.  As soon as I saw it, I had one of those "holy shit, this isn't like anything else in Peoria" moments. I mean - it's really just beautiful.  It's this surreal fantasy come to life.  And the detail is amazing.  I was especially struck by the barnacles that encrust the bottom of the boat...and then, when you look up at the balloon, you see a tiny little piece of honeycomb with a bee coming out of it. At first, I couldn't figure out why it was there...until I looked to my right and saw this piece...




I wish I had a better picture of this. The girl is not only covered in nature, with sticks and flowers in her hair, but she is nature. Her body is becoming a beehive, with her chest and back made partially out of honeycomb, honey dripping from her fingers, and bees everywhere. The walls are becoming home to the bees as well...except for the ones who traveled across the way to the hot air balloon.



This is a detail of a nine foot sculpture that includes a main figure, as well as a sort of "forest" surrounding her. The entire sculpture is breathtaking, but the detail on this piece was what struck me. Her hands are carefully woven (not shown) and her dress holds these little ...secrets? It's hard to see, but this cave like area within her dress actually holds a nest, with eggs inside of it, and moss all around.



Hummingbirds dangle from disembodied hands, while wolves jump at them in this piece entitled "Remember Your Wings." One of the strings that once held a hummingbird is broken,as though someone grabbed it and pulled it off. But if you look up, you see that the hummingbird has broken loose, with part of it's string still attached, and is feeding on the flowers.

This one made me cry.

There are a few more pieces on display, each one just as beautiful and amazing as the ones I shared here. Please go see this exhibit - you have until July 24th!
(If you want to know more about Nikole and her process, she was interviewed by the Journal Star in this article.)



Next - Alec DeJesus.  

Alec has shown a few places around town and I've been fortunate enough to work with him on two mural projects and see how his work comes to life.  I'm also lucky enough to own one of his pieces. It's one of those that, as soon as I saw it, I knew it was supposed to be with me:



I think this piece is about 4 feet tall and it hangs right above our staircase landing. I can't tell you exactly what it is about his work that speaks to me, but I love it. It's just the right combination of bizarre and totally normal. In addition, the way that he creates people is really amazing. They have so much depth and character in their expressions.  Despite being oddly shaped and looking like they come from some other universe, they're figures that you can relate to. Alec creates people who I would consider "my people." The odd and beautiful weirdos.












Alec has an upcoming exhibit in November at the Ear in the Envelope. I promise I'll post about it as it comes nearer!


Finally - Lowell Levene Sims

Lowell and I actually had the opportunity to sit down and talk about some of his work the other day. Lowell has been painting for a while, but it wasn't until recently that I started feeling a connection to it (which we agreed is normal with art - sometimes you connect to it, sometimes you don't). His last two exhibits have changed a lot from the work that came before, and his latest pieces seem to have more emotional depth. Lowell agrees that his work has changed and says that he likes what he's creating these days and feels more connected to it himself. Some of it is inspired by his sleeping moments, filled with odd and apocalyptic dreams, that he brings to life on canvas when he wakes. I'm also lucky enough to own one of Lowell's pieces - it hangs in my living room:


This is another piece that, as soon as I saw it, I knew it was supposed to come home with me. Unfortunately, at the time I saw it I was totally broke.  But fortunately, Lowell was willing to do an art trade, and so we traded pieces. Everybody wins!

Here are some pieces from Lowell's current exhibition at The Art Garage:








Lowell's work will be at The Art Garage through the month of June.


Stay tuned - next week we're going to talk about murals - murals from around the world and a brand new mural that I'm going to be working on in a really well known spot in Peoria!








It seems like you're doing well!

I hear this on a regular basis.

"It sounds like great things are happening for you!"
"It looks like Hey Lola is doing really well!"
"It seems like things are going really well for you!"

Which, in comparison to last year...and lots of years, actually, things are going pretty well. But I'm always a bit taken aback when people comment about how great things seem like they're going for me because...what? No. I mean...I'm building. And I'm moving forward. But I'm struggling.  And right now I'm attempting to climb a super steep mountain and the going is sooooooooo slooooooooow. And I'm regularly frustrated and feeling defeated.

I've been investing in facebook advertising for my shop, so I know that that's one of the things that makes it seem like everything is going so well - because people keep seeing my stuff in their face all of the time.  If only that always translated to sales, right? A lot of times, it doesn't. And it's really hard not to get mired down in mental loserville (You know - that awesome place in your head where you convince yourself that you're the worst thing that ever happened, ever) when you paid to get your stuff in front of a whole lot of people and NO ONE is interested.  That happens.  It happens a lot, actually. In every type of business, especially those that are just starting out.

When we owned our bar, sometimes we would sit there from open until close and no one would come in. We had to get ok with that. We had to keep going and not let ourselves get mired down in mental loserville.

Because the thing is - a slow start doesn't mean you're a loser. I mean - you started something, right? Lots of people don't even have the courage to do that.





Where was I?

OH! So, I found myself doing that exact same thing to someone the other day - "It looks like things are going really well for you!" and then I stopped.  I don't want to do that.  Social media isn't a true indicator of how anyone is doing. Yesterday, I was irrationally angry and I couldn't figure out why and I wanted to post mean and nasty and controversial things and I really wanted to pick fights...but I didn't. I put on my best social media face, and that's what I showed the world. I think I probably even posted some inspiring quote or something. Mostly because I knew it wasn't healthy for anyone for me to spread my anger around and infect the people around me with it.

But what I showed the world yesterday wasn't what I was truly feeling (even though I'm usually pretty open about what I'm truly feeling). And most people show us the best version of themselves online.  And when we see them and we say, "It looks like things are going really well for you!" we don't really give them the opportunity to do anything but keep presenting that best version...which may not be true.

So I've stopped saying that and now I just start with, "Hi. How are you doing?"

I want to give anyone the opportunity to be transparent with me. Honest. No faking. No "best" version. Just who you are, messed up bits and all. 

PS - Things aren't going really well for me...but I'm moving forward. Every single day is better than the day before, and I'm continuously grateful just to be able to say "I'm better than I was yesterday."

This whole "loving your body" thing...

I bought a swimsuit today and it was exactly as much fun as you might imagine.

Unless buying a swimsuit actually IS fun for you, in which case, scratch that.

You know how sometimes women post pictures of themselves in swimsuits and people are like "woo hoo! Sexy! Blah blah blah  hot mama!" Or whatever it is that they say.  And then other women post pictures of themselves in swimsuits and people are like, "oh girl...you're so BRAVE."

That's what was going through my head the whole time I was trying on swimsuits. I knew I wanted to blog about this experience and this whole body thing I'm going through but when I thought about posting a picture of myself in a swimsuit, I just knew I was going to be the "brave" girl.

Which...I mean...NO.

I'm pretty good at facing a lot of my fears and insecurities, but not that one. I have absolutely zero desire to be the brave girl in the swimsuit picture. And besides, I'm pretty sure I'd totally freak out on the first person who called me brave for wearing a swimsuit.

I mentioned on facebook the other day that I had joined a gym because I hate my body. And that feels weird because first - we're *supposed* to love our bodies and second - aren't I the one always saying that we're enough?

And so....I don't really HATE my body. And my body IS enough. It does what it's supposed to do and carries me from the beginning to the end of each day without incident. It does throw migraines my way fairly often and that's less than fun.  There are some stomach issues. And my feet and my uterus need some surgical assistance, but other than that, the body is good. It works. It does its job.

It IS enough.

But here's the thing...

It could be better.  

I know this. Once upon a time I was a stripper.  And as a stripper, I regularly climbed two story high poles, flipped my entire body upside down and crawled back down that pole, face first, like a cat. Which, as you can imagine, requires an incredible amount of strength and balance. I had all sorts of muscle tone. I was strong.

And then, the other day I made a time lapse video of a painting I was working on. I was wearing a tank top and all you could see was my back and when I watched the video I was all, "oh my god. WHEN DID I GET MY GRANDMOTHERS ARMS??????" (Yeah. I deleted that video. So fast. )

I know what this body is capable of. I'm pretty sure that if James and I got in a car accident and the car was on fire, that I could lift him up and drag him to safety. I'm sure I could do that.

But I also know that I tried to lift 10 pounds of weight for an hour in an exercise class today and failed spectacularly. Because what my body has done in the past, what it could do in a life or death situation and what it does on a regular basis now are vastly different.

So I'm doing some work to make it better.  Not necessarily to make it what it was...just what I know it could be. What I would like it to be.

And then...

And then I went to try on swimsuits and you know how that goes (do you?).  The dressing room lights at Target are completely unforgiving and if you thought you had some parts that you weren't happy about before, well...you are more than aware of them when you're standing under the bright lights of the Target dressing room in an ill fitting swimsuit.

Ill fitting because my clothing size fluctuates all over the place. I grab a few swimsuits in all of the sizes and NONE of them fit.

So...I know my body is enough but it could be better and I'm working on making it better but dear God in heaven, how on earth am I ever going to be comfortable with my size if I NEVER know what size I am? I literally never take the right size into the dressing room because, depending on who makes the clothes, I am a size 2.

A size 4.
A size 6.
A medium.
A petite small.
A XXL.
A plus size.
Or an 8.


Just a couple of things from my closet. In all of the sizes.


Pretty much any time I go into a dressing room to try anything on, it's just defeating. It's terrible. There have been times where I am wearing size 6 jeans and I take a pair of size 6 jeans into the dressing room and I can't get them over my leg. Or, I try on a different pair of size 6 jeans and I'm swimming in them. The only answer is to literally take every single size of whatever it is that I want to try on and do some lucky guessing.

Anyway, I had a point but I went off on that clothing size tangent...

I guess my point is, it's ok to love your body and to think that your body is enough, but also to know that it could be better and to try to make it better. I mean - it's yours. Whatever works for you, right?

And also, when you go to try stuff on and nothing fits, there's a good chance that has nothing to do with you and has everything to do with the Random Size Generator that I'm quite sure all clothing companies use.

OH!!! And also again, if you're one of those people who are trying to make your body better and you're sweating and flailing and uncoordinated and squishy and weak...

ME TOO!!!! And we've totally got this!!! We will flail and trip and sweat our way into a better version of ourselves, no matter how silly we look. I believe in me, therefore, I believe in you.



This isn't a swimsuit picture.
This picture is after day two at the gym, when I almost passed out and I almost puked and I'm not even kidding. 
I am not the cool looking chick at the gym. 
I'm the hot mess.
I'm fine with that.
I'm going to keep going back.

And so it goes...

Last night I found out that my brother is going back to prison.

It's a difficult thing - to write about your own life and at the same time, try to respect the privacy of the people in your life. It's not my job or my place to tell their stories. But our stories are interwoven and...

I was raised with Denial. It's unhealthy. I want to smash Denial to pieces. Denial has wreaked havoc on my family. Denial lives inside of my brother and it eats him alive.

So do I write? Or do I say nothing? If I say nothing, is it Denial or is it respect for privacy?

So I land here: You cannot live with Denial. 

You cannot pretend that you're not sick. That you don't need help. That your childhood didn't happen that way. That people didn't hurt you. That you didn't hurt people. That your problems aren't too big and that you don't feel lost and out of control.

Denial will set up residence in your mind and she will poke and prod at you and then turn away and pretend like it wasn't her. She will drive you mad. She will drive you to drink. To put the needle in your arm. To lash out at everyone around you. To just say fuck it all, because what does it matter anyway?

And then Denial will tell you that there's nothing wrong. That this is normal. That no one wants to hear about your problems, anyway. Pretend everything is fine, and eventually it will be. Pretend that it wasn't that bad, and eventually you will forget.

Denial.

My heart is broken for my brother. For my entire family. For the way that we are splintered and awkward and uncomfortable and broken.

What do we do with this mess? 

We move Denial out.

We don't pretend that we're not sick. That we don't need help. We don't pretend that we aren't broken and splintered. We don't pretend that this isn't a mess. We don't pretend that we can fix each other. We don't pretend that things are fine when they are not.

It's not an easy task...to move Denial out. It hurts. But break ups are always hard. Until the day you wake up and you breathe. And you have that moment. That "oh" moment. When you realize it really is better this way. As hard as it was to let go, as long as it has taken you to get over her, life really is better without Denial.

Let her go.


2003. Denial and I have a very long history together.