2018

A letter to myself, as the year closes.

Last year on New Year’s Eve I was in Futaleufu, Chile with my sister Phoebe, her beautiful friends, my dad, his girlfriend Wendy, my eighteen-month-old son Giles. We ate the best lasagne I ever had in my life– vegetables from Phoebe and Melanie’s garden, homemade ricotta cheese by Melanie, lots of delicious wine.

I had a baby this year. I touched the line between life and death in the only way you can when a baby is born. I witnessed my beautiful friend Shana get married. I danced a lot. I spent some really fantastic moments with my friends. My husband Greg and I made our family bigger, grew more hearts and more love. I grew my hair out and cut it again. I got my first comic published by someone other than myself and got paid for it. I made a lot of paintings, and sold a few. I marked five years without my mom. Giles and I started having some great conversations– he’s reached the age where he can really talk and be funny and ask questions. My favorite compliment is when he tells me, “I like your eyeballs, mom.”

I saw some movies, less than any previous year because life with a toddler and a baby makes it harder to see movies. Here were some of my favorites:

Hearts Beat Loud, Roma, Black Panther, Leave No Trace,  Mary Poppins Returns, Mirai, Eighth Grade, I Feel Pretty

My goals for 2019 are:
– to find more time for my art, and creative ways to be a mom, wife, and artist
– to love my body
– stress less
– to know that i am enough, that i am so awesome
– fight the fucking patriarchy

I guess this is all. It was a good year– hard, weird, beautiful too.

 

Advertisements

ten years (technically eleven?)

Reflecting on the past decade of my life, as I prepare to turn 31 in a month and a half, and I felt the need to put photos of myself from each year next to each other. In some ways I think my face looks the same, and in other ways it looks totally different. Internally, I changed a lot during these years and it’s interesting to see how that affected me externally.

I’m not exactly sure why I need to do this. But it feels necessary somehow. Who was I then? Who am I now? What changed from 27 to 28, when I lost my mom and also fell in love with Greg? Why is this first adult decade so important? As I go from “young woman” to “regular adult/mom” there’s this desire to look back and remember who I have been so far and how I got here.

Me, ages twenty to thirty:

20:
197191_503744604957_5140_n.jpg

21:
1928791_503608213287_417_n.jpg

22:
1923443_507777383237_4124_n.jpg

23:
1910127_513565947907_1065_n.jpg

24:
5059_540129239857_3081326_n.jpg

25:
74065_575756462617_2831438_n.jpg

26:
261265_623012131877_7554958_n.jpg

27:
578949_4978821111884_955795272_n.jpg

28:
1512468_933287497557_1712605953_n.jpg

29:
10955642_10100223375545757_4076926391922955041_n.jpg

30:
12742352_10100353338863227_7302836523217397979_n.jpg