It’s been a while!

The past couple of years have been a struggle for me. You wouldn’t really know it though unless you are living with me (thank you Adrienne for your love and patience). I have struggled mentally, emotionally, and physically mostly since I turned 60. I sort of lost my drive, my grit, and my zest for life. Oh I didn’t lose it completely, but I had to work pretty hard to pull these things out of myself so I wouldn’t slide completely out of control down a slippery slope. So what happens? On September 27, 2024 Hurricane Helene nails Western North Carolina and life as we knew it changed. And, I just turned 62 this past week.

Wait. Let me back up here a minute to September 17, 1989. I was living in St. Croix, USVI. It was a beautiful, idyllic, sun kissed life of windsurfing, running, mountain biking and living in a little island paradise. And then Hurricane Hugo completely devastated the island. We lost the cozy home we were renting, all of its contents and all of our stuff. Our mountain bikes survived, and amazingly our windsurfing gear. Our car was impaled by a palm tree so our mountain bikes became our mode of transportation. We spent the night in a tiny closet the width and length of two people sitting facing each other the night of the hurricane, as our house blew apart around us. To say that it was scary is an understatement. This hurricane story is for another time, but suffice it to say that my life completely changed after Hurricane Hugo. I was married to the one and only boyfriend I ever had. My high school sweetheart. The hurricane blew my life upside down and this is when I realized that I was gay. I eventually left my husband on the island to come to the states to find a counselor and gain some clarity. My intention was to return to him and our life on the island. I never returned and we divorced.

Before I left the island I cut my hair. I had long blonde hair most of my adult life, but this new realization about myself being gay, and maybe the trauma and difficulty of the hurricane and living with no running water or electricity for about a year prompted me to cut it all off. I have had short hair ever since.

Which brings me to Hurricane Helene. Wow, Hugo and Helene (2 H’s, one male and one female), and both in September, 35 years apart. It isn’t surprising that Helene brought back A LOT for me. This time around I was safe in my home, no electricity for a relatively short amount of time, and even no running water for 50-something days wasn’t all that bad compared to one year without both and no home post Hugo. For me, the re-traumatization came with seeing and hearing about all of the loss around me. Buildings. Towns. People. All of our favorite coffee shops, restaurants, places to go and hang out. The entire River Arts District. Lives lost. Artwork lost. Homes lost. So many trees gone. Evidence of all of this is still around me every day. I can’t drive anywhere without seeing destruction, debris, devastation. The grief runs deep. I kept flashing back and forth in my mind and memories. 1989 - 2024 … Hugo - Helene … then - now … and what about in between? What about the past 35 years? All of it swimming around in my head. Tears … loss … of a life … a lifestyle … a husband and best friend … all of my island friends … my identity … who was I? Who am I? What happened? Where did time go? After Hugo I was in survival mode. Food. Shelter. Safety. Survival. I don’t think I ever really processed what I went through 35 years ago. My focus then when I returned to the states was coming to terms with my self as a gay woman. Somehow the hurricane got lost in the shuffle.

Well here we are today. I have a beautiful home. I have a beautiful wife. And during my last haircut appointment I stated that I was going to let my hair grow. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think in some way letting my hair grow, at least for right now, is sort of symbolizing a healing that is taking place within me. A healing that Hurricane Helene initiated. I have been spending some time with trees and their wisdom has been guiding me to find my way. Helene reawakened something in me. Helene is allowing me to heal parts of myself that I have lost over time and some that I have been unable to reach since maybe even before Hugo.

See, when traumatic events happen we are impacted in the moment, and then we carry that residual awakening for a while, and then eventually we return to the status quo. A routine. A new normal. Whatever.

I don’t want to fall asleep again though. I want to remain present. Recovery in Western North Carolina is going to take a long time. It might even take a lifetime. I’m not sure where this is all going … this blog post … this journey … this life. But I do know that I love how Helene made us all wake up. We saw each other. We helped each other. Nobody was a stranger. We came together in neighborhoods and communities. We didn’t care about our differences. That will never change. We ARE those people with or without Helene showing us the way. We just need to remain awake. There’s a lot of work to do. In here. Out there.

There always is.

Artist Date

What is an artist date?

An artist date is something that is super important, and something that I don’t do enough. Today I am having an artist date with myself. I am sitting outside at a cafe in the River Arts District on a beautiful day. I am surrounded by people and amazing Graffiti art on every visible wall of every surrounding building. This is my go-to place when I want to feel cool and hip. I sip on a vanilla latte, eat a morning glory muffin, and feel like a free spirit artist for a minute.

Today, I decided to work on my personal artist website a bit and write my first blog post. Admittedly, I am a struggling artist, in every sense of the word. I am struggling because I am not actively selling any of my art at the moment. I am struggling because I often don’t see myself as an artist, even though I know that I am. I struggle with feelings of guilt when I spend time in my studio because I still feel like other things are more important or valued - like yard work, grocery shopping, cooking, errands, cleaning out the gutters, and any other big or small thing that seems to stare me in the face. I struggle against a lifetime of family and society telling me what work, making money, and living life on the day to day should look like. I struggle because I am alone for most of every day and me alone with my thoughts can be a dangerous and detrimental thing. I struggle with self worth, believing in myself, and doing what it takes to be successful. I struggle with feeling all the things all the time - depressed, hopeful, anxious, panic-stricken, motivated, inspired, overwhelmed, sad, happy, full, empty, grateful.

An artist date is an opportunity to recharge your creative self, find inspiration, be around people, get some fresh air, and maybe even act like an artist. I am living into myself and my life as an artist. It doesn’t look like most people’s days. I get that. And I appreciate so much the privilege of being able to do this. I don’t do it enough. Because I feel guilty. Although I feel guilty and have trouble allowing myself to have an artist date like this, I call bullshit on it. I am no good to anyone if I am walking around miserable, uninspired, unmotivated, listless, and depressed. An artist date can be something like what I am doing today, or it can be a trip to an art gallery or museum, the art supply store, bookstore, or even a walk in the woods or at a nature center. It can be whatever you want it to be wherever you want it to be as long as it serves to fill you up and get you in touch with your authentic self.

My muffin and coffee are almost gone. What’s next? I’m going to walk around and get lost in the graffiti … dreaming about one day making some graffiti of my own.