Blind Dreams: Wanting a Room of My Own

All throughout middle school and high school I really liked one boy. There were other boys when I was just "done" with the main one. But he was really the only one that I had "strong feelings" for. We were good friends, but never dated. I gave him a letter after graduation, explaining my feelings for him. I had poured out my love for him upon those pages. My sentiments and adoration were lost upon that of an apathetic heart. I was a hopeless romantic martyr and spent most of that summer before college sulking and wallowing in the somber melodies of Corinne Bailey Rae, Norah Jones, and Ben Folds. I thought it wouldn't be possible for me to be loved, that I was forever a wallflower. I had no experience of that kind of relationship up until that point. Not even a single date. Eighteen and never been kissed.

Looking back, some days my heart grieves in that same way. But not over a boy. What it's over, I'm kind of embarrassed, it almost seems too silly to admit! I decided today that I'm not ashamed to put it out there (at least on this blog, haha). One of my deepest yearnings within the past year has been...to be an artist.

I think it almost seems weird to admit that out loud because I can't draw or paint, or really any of that traditional stuff.

But, I just love art so much. And I love being moved by a moment and wishing that I could articulate it into something eternal. Something that I could share and evokes what I'm feeling in others.

Art awakens the senses. Art captures the heart.

And here I am, trying to figure out just how I fit into that picture.

Several weeks ago I was browsing through Barnes and Noble. Now, let me lay this out there- unless you are an avid reader like me, I sometimes don't want other people to know what I'm reading. I hide away with my books and let myself be separated from the rest of the world. I know it's completely weird! But I am Book Modest.  I feel like when you see what other people are reading, you have a gateway to their soul. So I wear my chastity belt proudly, with the exception of a few people. I'm not sure if I'm afraid that people will judge me or what, but I often feel this way when browsing for books as well. Which leads me back to my story at Barnes and Noble...I decided to browse the section about writing. Let me just say, I had to muster a lot of courage to walk over to that section because I felt a little presumptuous doing so. I wouldn't call myself a writer or even an aspiring writer. Let's just go with, I like to journal! ha! So here I was, grazing through some pretty good material, and wouldn't you know, one of the employees walks up to me- "Oh, are you a writer?". I stared at her frozen. Feeling like a grubby old man that had just been spotted in the dirty magazine section. I can't really recall what answer I gave her but I know it was short and to the negative. Thinking back, it was probably the best defense mechanism I have instilled in me yet. She was super nice about it and I think she had felt the disappointment in my answer. If I hadn't shut down the conversation it probably could have ended in me blubbering on about how I don't really know who I am, or what I was made for. That I'd like to be an artist, but the seeds of my yearning and work have left very little to be harvested.

I never really was aware that art was such a part of me until the last couple of years. I took a quilting class and fell head over heels. I was ready for the next step in my relationship with Fabric. Fabric moved in, and I even bought her a special sewing machine. Later that same year, my cousin came in from NYC and she was knitting in my living room and I decided I needed to woo Yarn too. Yarn and I still have a rocky relationship, but sometimes Fabric is too high maintenance. All Yarn demands is to be snuggled on the couch while watching Netflix. I've been reading even more books and dabbling in other needle crafts. It all breathes life into my very being. These days, I even find myself expressing my feelings in written words, and that's very therapeutic as well.

But I don't get to retreat to these places of solitude near as much as I would really like. I am either busy with responsibilities or my energy/motivation runs pretty low after a day at work. I used to believe that to be an actual artist, you had to have so many likes/followers on Instagram or be so successful at it that it turned into something that could pay the bills. I know that to be an artist is something much deeper than that, and it doesn't depend on the views of others.I know this is really a deceptive thought, but I can't help but feeling like a one-sided interaction ( a lot like the ones I have with the crafters of Instagram) is just another form of rejection. A lot like the rejection I felt back in high school when I spent another lonely Friday night at home while the rest of my friends went out on dates. Or the hurt of observing all of the couples slow-dancing to the latest stupid N*sync love song. Instagram/blogging with crafters just isn't the community that everyone claims it to be.

I feel somewhat in a fog from it all, and I hate that I make such a  big deal out of it. God, you gave me this desire-what does it mean? what do I do with it? how can I look at this differently? I'm thankful though. I know that He is present. He has a plan. His Spirit is interceding for me in ways that I don't know how (Romans 8:26).

I can't help but think though. Back to that little girl who felt alone and that she would never be worthy enough of a man's love. How I had always prayed for my "future husband" in high school ( you know, with that special crush in mind). I thought I knew what love was, all of its capabilities. And even though a different name was unspoken upon my heart during those prayers, God knew what He was saving up for me. I may not have really known what was best for me or the true weight and power of my prayers. But my naive prayers were redeemed in the gift of a man. The perfect one that God had always had in mind, before he ever even knit me together in my mother's womb. I could not have dreamed up a more suitable match than what I have in Ryan. We aren't anywhere near perfect spouses, but we are perfect for eachother.

This is what gives me hope. This is what makes it okay that I don't really know what I want or what my place in the world of artists is. I know that God has something in mind, and His ways are always better. Even if these small beginnings end in small endings. I know I have art for myself and if He says it is enough, then that's what it shall be. I am grateful for that which I do get to take part in. I'm just hoping He decides to use me for something more one day :)


2 comments:

  1. I almost couldn't finish reading this, because I wanted to comment on every little thing. In short--I UNDERSTAND. I have the EXACT same feelings on feeling inferior because I have a smaller following. Also, I have to throw it out there that I remember talking to you about that high school boy, as I had my own high school boy to get over. I can't believe how long ago that was! Also, Book Modest. YES. I am the same way! I get so embarrassed when someone asks me what I'm reading, and it's just silly but I can't help it. I even feel awkward buying books, because I feel like showing what books I like to a stranger is like revealing a little bit of my soul. Anyway, back to the point. I am constantly floundering around wondering why I love to write and make things SO MUCH. What do I do with it?! Sometimes I write a certain blog post and think "THIS is why I'm writing!" but so often I want MORE. But I don't know what that means or looks like. And I get very frustrated. Love you, girl!

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    1. Haha! Oh my goodness- I completely understand. I always feel the same way when I'm reading your posts- every line that I read of yours is a resounding YES! I have been so blessed by your friendship and constant encouragement- whether in life, faith, blogging and social media!
      Isn't it crazy how far we have come since those first conversations and speculations that we used to make over EIGHT years ago?
      I am glad I am not the only one who is weird about my books. Which is crazy because I am always so snoopy-if I am out and I see someone reading I almost strain my neck to know what they are wrapped up in! Lol
      Let me just say this my friend. I don't know what your deepest dreams are when it comes to writing- but I KNOW you could achieve anything. You are so gifted not only with words but with being entertaining.
      Love you!!!

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