Time to Just Be Me

Fig. 1 happy Mimi

The past year has been and interesting one, to say the least. Many good thing have happened: my band got steady gig, met some... interesting... people, found out I am to be an aunt, and I had an amazing first fund-raiser for Pin-ups in Paradise.

All this aside, I also got into an accident, got arrested (long story there), had a mini break down, had three deaths in two months time, and quit my job. Well, the last thing is actually very positive, but we'll get to that later.

Here I am, though, and I am happy. Happier than I have been in a loooooong while.

Fig. 2 amazing series of faces I did in
conjunction with Gemini Photography 

How is this possible? Because I am still free to be me.

I still get to create, I still get to make music, I still get to choose how I live, I still have the chance to do exactly what I want. The main difference is now I have the time to do it. No excuses. Shit or get off the pot.

The biggest surprise is... it's working. I have never felt more confident, more secure, or more successful.


Within days of me walking out on that useless job, I completed all I needed to start my business as an artist. I finished two murals I am incredibly proud of and I am working on all my non-profit paperwork like I should have been. I even went to two lectures that directly pertain to my new chosen career path.

Fig. 3 One of the pieces I worked on at Open Space Studios

Extra bonuses:

• I'm not exhausted emotionally or physically like I was before
• I have a consistent schedule for work which is very important for bipolar disorder
• I am cooking at home more, which means I am saving money and eating better
• I'm losing weight (I guess that has to do with eating better as well)
• I'm sleeping better. Actually getting dreams and all of that. 

If you ask anyone close to me, apparently I am just a better person to be around. I suppose it is hard to be grumpy when you are working towards what makes you really happy.

Fig. 4 painting in the studio

I feel so different because of it.  I feel like a new woman has emerged and she's strong and can deal with anything. I walk differently. I hold my head up. I meditate more. I speak more deliberately. It's all very strange, this journey from the past two years. It hasn't been easy at all, but I look back and think 'holy hell, I can't believe I survived that.' Then I look at my wrist and see the tattoo: believe. I keep reminding myself everyday that I have to believe. In me. In my strength. In my created family. In my dreams.

I can't understand how it took me this long to shed the chains of my former life but I needed that journey to get here. Some part of me, even after the lengthy treatment, the loss of friends and family upon my return, the destructive behavior since, was holding on to that part of me that wanted to go back and fix everything I had undone. I wanted to fix everything I ruined because I let my illness go unchecked for too long. I wanted to fix the me that was shattered into a billion little shards... infinite puzzles pieces I wanted so desperately to put back together.

One day a few weeks back, it hit me. I can't put that life back together. The damage is done. Try as I might, the combinations are too many and the pieces too undone. The damage is too complete to try to salvage any remains. What I need to do is create a new life. So I walked out. I just got up and walked away. I called my ride in tears- scared that I would be met with anger and judgement and scorn. Then, as I got into the vehicle, this man, this man that I have come to rely on and adore far more than he knows, this man that has been there for me when I was losing it all yet still wanted to be a part of my crazy-fucked-up life, said, "I'm proud of you." Then we laughed and I said, "I'm proud of me, too."