The curse of the creative.
I think a lot.
My poor brain. I work so hard to turn it off. There are multiple obsessions… I ponder my business and how to support my oil team, I ponder my patisserie and what kind of equipment I’ll need… what kind of menu I will offer…. what books my kids should be reading this week…
I ponder my life and why I constantly feel like I don’t fit in. Even with the people that love me dearly. Sometimes it just feels like a life apart.
It’s a personal hang up, I know, this but a phone conversation the other day with my dear friend Shaye shed some light and some articulation on these feelings that roll around thru the stone tumbler that is my mind. Like, I know I’m weird. We have a truckload of offspring by modern standards, we don’t own a TV, we don’t own a microwave, we home birth, we make other controversial decision with our kids… we butcher our own pigs for crying out loud. But it’s more than that…
I’m a rebellious, gipsy-hearted, entrepreneur… I don’t want to live in “beige-land“. I want romance, beauty, art, music, wine, sexiness, music and warmth… But it comes with some sacrifice… and dare I say, a ton of insanity.
It’s the curse of the creative and I’ve had this conversation with many fellow creative souls.
See, my problem is, like Shaye and I discussed…. our life is like a watercolour. Everything simply smears together. Nothing is black and white. Everything bleeds into everything else. Nothing is cut and dried. Clean and clear.
We make a huge breakfast every morning, it bleeds into my morning workout, it bleeds into school. No one leaves for the day (we are a full-time family). There are NO moments of silence, no pause in the familial chaos.
We do school together at the kitchen table cause we live in a mouse house and there is nowhere else to go right now, drama breaks out or two of the six decide that it’s time for breakfast number two (come on, you stay at home moms understand breakfast number two!!!)
We finish an animal project outside and I decide it’s time to learn a new homesteading skill or I get my eye on a new beautiful blue eyed buck and… BAM! Trips to the lumberyard, the feed store, studying up on YouTube videos… then there’s heat lamps, deadstock and feathers and poop and chaos…
See, we’re not the type to hire a designer, finish a room and be done with it til it’s out of style twenty years later….I’m not the type to wear khaki pants and a mom shirt… I am constantly expressing myself with my wardrobe (Holla! Charming Charlie, masked balls runs!) …And God forbid I buy pasta sauce off the shelf – NO, I have to make 30 quarts at time of my own.
I mean for crying out loud, I’m making my own prosciutto.
Do you catch me? Our lives are a giant “German Shmear”!!! Nothing is ever done. And if it is, then there’s a new skill to learn or a new-to-die-for-sofa that will land in my lap that I’ll want to refinish and redesign my entire living room around. Or some giant schoolroom chalkboard that I’ve decided should but my room in half. Or I get a burr up my butt that I want “and Outlander Christmas” in order to fully “express myself” and I have to drive all over Chicagoland to find that banging Nicole Miller plaid fabric (follow me on Instagram)
I’ve fallen in love with…NOT to mention that we are going to be moving in the next year and BAM! I won’t be renting anymore….I’m going to FINALLY be able to be the creative nut job I haven’t been for the last five years of renting. Nothing is ever done…NOTHING…. and I LIKE it that way. Everything is a creative process but sometimes, when you’re looking over the fence, the grass looks greener, organized, cleaner and much more orderly.
It looks finished.
Like just pouring your husband a glass of wine, cutting him some apples and cheese and enjoying the roses he so graciously bought you.
Nope, that’s not good enough. Let me create something, even if it’s some lame photographs, with this beauty.
As good as it looks. I can’t imagine a finished life.
So – don’t get me wrong. I love being a proud member of the anti-beigeland-society but damn, often, it’s exhausting. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, fun and it tastes delicious but somedays…. when the laundry is piling up and there are scrap fabric and pins on the floor…. when there are glitter and potting soil all over your kitchen, when there are stinking chicks under a heat lamp on your porch and dripping honey frames sitting on your dryer and you just want some ORDER and tranquilité.… well, you wonder if your khaki wearing, showroom furniture buying friends have something that you don’t have???
I have my insecure moments. Yes, I do. I crave order and neatness. But, the stacked towels and perfect powder rooms my friends have, I know, that’s not for me. Greener isn’t always better for the creative soul and…
You know what they don’t have? Homemade prosciutto.