Just an energetic fire ball whose ready to get the ball rolling with damn near anything art like .
How to quiet the constant fear?
I’m afraid , I’m worried that at this point in my life I won’t be able to change from what damaged me . It just seems the more I fight to be different the harder everything is , I love challenges I love to be challenged but to my absolute breaking point ? Is that really necessary? I’m afraid that it’s too late to make friends and that I pass that feeling of regret , shame and hurt down to my children . Why do I always feel like killing myself ? Why do I always feel less than worthy of what I know I deserve ? Why is it so hard to find someone that can love me in-spite of my mental health taking a toll on my appearance and just everything . I love my mom and grandparents . But my mom doesn’t make me feel wanted unless she was a good laugh then I’m her gyal. I never felt truly beautiful or like a princess no matter how many times I heard it because they were always just words . The actions were so different and I resent my mother for not getting help for herself to be stronger and not put her kids through all of what we went through . Then on top of that make it so hush hush that we had to hurt in silence . In our own ways , never speaking about it until the seeds were planted and grew. By then it was instilled in us to suppress beyond what physically felt comfortable. Always pushing people away and never being able to hold onto friendships let alone relationships that might’ve done us good . No we clung to emotionally abusers because it was what we were taught . My grandparents I love them with all my heart but they just don’t understand no matter how much I talk to them . It’s that Generational wall, they’re from a time we’re you could speak about how you feel but honestly just get your shit together . Or money can fix what you feel if you work hard at a dead end jobs you can overwork yourself at the good ones and make something of yourself . Which leads me down another serious of dark holes . Perfection anxiety if I can’t do anything perfect or like I’ve seen I’m pissed and don’t even want to do it . Like today at training he made me run for the first time since I last saw him and I hated it it made me feel like shit it made me feel sloppy it made me feel ugly I was out of breathe by the fourth sprint down and back . I felt that I wasn’t good enough to be in the fire department or to even try out again I could just never get in the shape I needed to be but then also always having my kids with me is a distraction and stressful . Although I moved and I feel better and don’t feel completely smothered with loneliness like I felt when I was with my family , it just keeps reminding me that I don’t have the support I want and o probably never will from anywhere . There dad doesn’t help and he can’t because he continues to live with his mother who is a controlling witch and I will never allow my kids over there again . My mom can’t have them stay because my youngest sister is my daughters molester and I won’t give her another try at my children . My grandparents are older and are worried about contracting Covid because my gmas immune system is weak . My uncle and I are not close because of his wife but I don’t deny my girls access but they don’t communicate either . For once I just want people that want me , that want to check on me not me always having to make the move to them . I want more love and I want caring and I want better for my daughters but so far I feel as though I’m failing . They have no friends and I can’t afford they’re daycare anymore , and I can’t put them in anything anymore because I have Continuous bills . I want to start businesses but without support I just seem to have anxiety attacks and freeze and feel horrible . When will it end , I want it to end . I never get the option to breakdown because If I do my kids see , I never get the option to call for back up because it’s honestly only one sister that comes to my aid and I hate not paying her and over using her all the time .
My Reason for Crafting
Esclavo a Tiempo I’ve always been a creative person, a little ball of life living within the world of art . One who always saw outside the box , but of course what else is an artist. With time I saw my arts evolving and taking direction. I mostly painted ,spending hours in my mother’s basement staring and just moving the brush across the canvases seeing what might come to life . I wasn’t the best at lifelike artistry , always feeling my strong suite lies within abstract expressionism. For the most part my pieces came out with the desired results, other times I had to keep readjusting and looking to see the forms they would take . This was my calming moment, my life didn’t feel as chaotic. It was all fine until the chaos erupted into full blown madness and I was forced from my comfort . After that I didn’t have time for painting my creative ideas , no more free spirit flowing . I felt as if I was trapped like a caged bird , wanting to go back but I couldn’t find the motivation in the darkness that began to consume my very being . I had my beautiful girls and yet I couldn’t aspire to create , I felt so alone and with no form of comfort sought other forms of comfort. Needless to say those could never have filled the gaping hole in my soul. Until one day my grandmother spoke to me of my family tree as she often did , telling me of our long lineage back to the times of slavery. Where my first foundation of both sides of the family came to be. Knowing some of this intrigued me , not always knowing what part was missing from my daily life , I researched as best as I could . Looking for something that resembled a home-like feeling for me . I found that in Cuba my ancestral home , birthplace of my people that were brought to the United States away from all they knew . Although it was only a piece of me , it felt that this was the most significant part of me that I resonated with . Who knew from there the possibilities that would open before me . One day my coworkers and I made plans to meet in Baltimore for the Caribbean Carnival Parade . I had heard about it a lot but never experienced it , the culture shock was so much shocking but more a thought of “I can’t believe this is my first time .” The costumes , the energy , the people , the life , food that this weekend brought to Baltimore was unmatched in my eyes . After only experiencing it once I immediately dove into The Who’s and what’s and how’s of dabbling in carnival . The meaning behind them, the reasons for celebrations, what was a mas? What was a jouvert? In gaining knowledge about its background it felt as though a closer bond was formed to my creative side . But where could I find out how to make the costumes ? To be a part of this amazing journey year after year . I looked up videos, followed more artists , to see who they collaborated with. I finally found a workshop for me and so much vital information was given I felt everything rush back to me . The drive , passion , motivation and most importantly the will to not cave in the darkness that wanted nothing more for me whither in my empty emotions.