Archive for August 2017

When I was younger and trying to discover who I was I would take a lot of personality quizzes. In part. I wanted to see if someone had a better explanation to why I acted differently than other people. I wanted someone to conjure up a perfect description so I didn't have to. This was also around the same time where I would constantly read my horoscope thinking that if I had some insight into what would happen in my life then I would be more prepared and make a more educated decision. Of course with horoscopes, depending when you were born you fall under a certain sign. This sign usually pertains to your character. I remember discovering that being born in July I was a Cancer, just a day short from being a Leo but it wasn't meant to be. I recall feeling disappointed. The name wasn't cool, while other people had more whimsical signs like Pisces and Gemini. I also associated it with the deadly illness. It felt like a disease rather than something to brag about. It became more troublesome when my descriptions always started with emotionally turbulent and too sensitive as adjectives.
Cancer derives from the word crab, being that cancers are usually hermit-like, very reserved individuals. It took me a while to come to terms with it. However, it also mentioned that they're very nurturing people and I agree. Since I could remember, I always valued family and close relationships. I would overly coddle anyone that I felt very near to, to the point of smothering. I knew that I wanted children at some point and I knew that nothing mattered more than home. To establish a place where I felt safe and comfortable always was a priority. Parenthood seemed like something I could do.

Whenever I thought of pregnancy I always pictured a smiling woman with a protruding belly in a field of daisies. I thought silk ribbons and baby showers. I thought cute decorations and sunlight coming in through a airy window as the smell of a fine pastry fills the air. In short, I thought it was something tender and oddly feminine in that it was like dreaming. This was influenced by all the TV shows, films and books that illustrate it this way. However, I soon came to realize that this is not always the case and in fact rarely is.
Some women have the most splendid of pregnancies and I admire that. They have no trouble conceiving and usually have no complications throughout. Not even the uncomfortable stuff like heartburn and constantly throwing up. I wish my experience had been like that but I would not trade the experience I've had for it. It has made me appreciate things more. It's almost reassured my belief that life is not meant to be looked at through a rose colored eye. No ever talks about the unmentionables.
If you look through any pregnancy or baby books, it's always talk about the most superficial of things. Not that it isn't important, but sometimes in detail explanations to the point of too much information is necessary. I'd rather be told the reality as opposed to soft cushioning it for me.
Coming at the end of my pregnancy I feel like now is a good time to reflect. Some mothers claim to forget about the entire experience once the baby is here and I'd like to give my take while it's still fresh in my mind.
Something that reflects how I felt about pregnancy was the film Alien. That's how it felt. Like something happening inside your body you have little control over. In fact, in the first stages of development the fetus even looks like some extraterrestrial being. You feel like you have no autonomy over your body, you're kind of just letting it happen to you and hope that nothing will go wrong. Even the way it bursts out of your stomach (if you're having a cesarean) is reminiscent. That's one of the biggest thing I had issues coming to term with. I'm very orderly and obsessive in nature. I like to have control of everything around me, even if it's just an illusion of it. So being stripped of this I felt like I was having a dissociative episode. Like the reigns had been passed down to something so minuscule and I could only stand there and watch whether I wanted to or not. That's not to say that this pregnancy was unwanted. In fact, someone that suffers from PCOS, a syndrome that makes cycles very random and has a lot of fertility problems associated with it, it was difficult to become pregnant. It wasn't until I finally went in for treatment did I have any luck at all. When I first found out it was thrilling, it felt like something long awaited finally coming into fruition.
Another thing people, doctors, and books rarely talk about is that if you have any mental disorder it is usually heightened with pregnancy because your hormones start elevating and your entire body starts changing quickly to accommodate a growing fetus. It saddens me that it is deeply overlooked because I didn't know that when first becoming pregnant until experiencing it first hand and doing extensive research into it until I found other moms that suffered as well and they held the same sentiments: that it was often not talked about. It should be discussed, in the same way that if any parent has ailments like high blood pressure or heart disease it's important to note because it can affect both the baby and the mother as well.
As someone that has struggled with anxiety disorders all my life but has managed to assuage it over the past few years, I was suddenly met with a new bolt of feelings that I thought I had managed to keep under control. You're usually told that new moms are prone to overreacting and worrying for nothing and that it's totally normal until it's not. In fact, these feelings were far more uncomfortable than the physical symptoms. I could bear the overwhelming heartburn that made me avoid favorite spicy foods, I could overlook the awkward weight gain and constipation. I could make do with the treacherous fucking morning sickness that lasts well through the morning but mentally, the smallest thing would make me weak.
I remember after the first couple weeks I started having panic attacks as soon as I woke up. I would wake up and immediately my heart would escalate into a troublesome jitter and my hands would become clammy. I wouldn't even be out of bed by the time I started hyperventilating and it was made even worse when morning sickness started becoming something I had to deal with not just in the morning but 24/7. Triggered by even the slightest of smells. It just made my emotional battery drain completely. Because I was so stressed not knowing how to cope with such strong emotions, I would go into bouts of crying for hours on end. I wouldn't be able to speak with someone without feeling like my eyes would overflow and my voice begin to shake. It was embarrassing but mostly it was exhausting. I thought all those negative emotions I had tried so hard to overcome, all my efforts had diminished in just a span of a couple days. I finally broke down and spoke to my OB-GYN telling her how I felt. She prescribed me an anti-anxiety medication in a small dose that is safe to take. The medication Buspirone seems to have a lot of controversy in online forums. While many argue that taking any type of medication while pregnant is risky it certainly doesn't outweigh the pros. With such a small dose, perhaps it was just the placebo effect but after a couple of months the symptoms started to become less aggravating. They were still there and once in a while I would go into another episode but it was manageable, it was no longer a chore just to wake up in the morning and I am thankful for that.
However, I do think that therapy could equally work as well. Unfortunately for me I couldn't afford it at the time. I also think that more awareness about the different ways a person can react to pregnancy is needed. Yes, I do agree it's an uncomfortable subject to talk about and no one wants to feel like they're going to be told they're being selfish or not appreciative of being able to carry their baby while so many women can't but it's important to let mothers know that they're not alone and shouldn't have to go through it alone if they feel this way. Depression, anxiety and any other mental disorder can cloud ones judgement but with good support you can get through it even in pregnancy. Same goes for women that experience post-partum depression.
Another thing they don't tell you is that you don't have to have a baby shower and that is most definitely okay. I've noticed that a lot of women always talk about the baby shower like it's some sacred right of passage but whenever I've gone to one they always feel strange. It feels intimidating, like being at your 6th year birthday party and everyone is singing happy birthday and then suddenly the Aunt with the golden tooth smashes your face into the cake leaving you unable to breathe and destroying a perfectly good cake. The mother opens presents in front of everyone, reading the cards and carefully showing everyone the item (usually clothing) and smiling cordially. There's usually duplicates or an abundance of clothes people think you'll like and you just end up leaving in the closet until the baby is too big for it and you pack it into a box where it gets donated. Now I do think baby showers are wonderful if you really want one but you don't need one. It seems there's such strict traditions when it comes to parenthood and it's always seemed a little ridiculous to me.
After the 20 week mark things did start to improve. I had more energy than all those weeks of lethargy and I started feeling a sense of normalness again. One that I thought I wouldn't experience in a while. I started getting back to things I enjoyed doing like painting and reading books.
In fact, once I discovered the gender and finally saw features in an ultrasound it was relieving and it felt much more real. It felt like this was actually happening, my boyfriend and I were going to be parents. Until then, there was an unconscious detachment. A feeling that although we were past the difficult stage, it was hard to imagine holding a full-sized human baby in our arms. It didn't feel completely true. Once you hear the heartbeat, once you see the features so prominent in both you and your partner you can't help but feel this reassurance, this needed calming boost that all of this hard work is leading up to something.
While many people argue that it is almost asinine to have children at too young at an age I don't think there's a goldie locks age where it's perfect to become parents and everything will somehow fall into place had you waited three more years or done it 5 years earlier. You're going to make mistakes regardless. You can be 38 and being a first time mom will still be equally frightening and new had you decided to have a child at 25. Some people do mature faster than others and if you don't think you're responsible enough or if your lifestyle doesn't deem it a safe environment for a child to grow up in then it's definitely important to think things through. Some people just don't find the point of bearing children and most don't care for providing stability and nurture to someone else and that's fine. Others just want to live their youth without consequence or want to focus on careers before anything else. What bothers me is that when they people see young parents they immediately assume that they're going to mess up and that their children will grow up to be poor, bratty-no manners-had a tough childhood life kids and that's not true. I've known many people that grew up in wealthy neighborhoods whose parents provided and gave them everything they wanted and they grew up to be some of the most obnoxious the-world-is-my-oyster type of individuals.
Like with all things, pregnancy is a strange and personal journey for everyone and it will always vary depending on who you are and where you are at that stage in your life. I'm not through learning and everything new while I take it with great apprehension and unimaginable nervousness it doesn't stop me from appreciating it. Like riding a roller coaster. Once it's over it's something to reflect on and it doesn't stop you from going on it again.
Although I have no idea what birth and parenthood have in store for me I do greet it with trembling arms and hope for the best because it's all I can do. For the longest time, the unknown has always scared me and I've come to terms with the knowledge that the most beautiful things come from the unexpected and often confusing. I am absolutely in love and content with how things have transpired and while I've tried to read every possible article about having the easiest birth I know that it won't actually prepare me for the real deal.
Like all those personality quizzes and horoscope descriptions have said, I do honor the home. I will spend hours trying to make a place seem inviting and warm. Although I don't believe in astrology, I have learned to appreciate the sign cancer. I see it as a nice little reminder that even though I may be described as emotionally volatile and sensitive, I can also thrive confidently if I feel safe and have support from those I cherish the most. I've acknowledged that everything has the potential to be good or bad depending on how you want to look at it.

As always,
thank you for reading

sincerely,

your mother narrator

Going to museums at a young age, I learned to appreciate the quiet hum of an air conditioner and the coldness you felt as you walked throughout the building. The deafening sound giving you goosebumps as you witnessed all the old artifacts like traveling back in time without having to leave at all. The smell both old and new, like a dress from the 60's that was never worn. The pitter-patter of your own steps on the tiles. In retrospect, I was especially privileged going to school in Los Angeles. My school was located near a lot of museums, thus we would take frequent trips there every year. Regardless of how many times we went, how often we saw the same exhibits (although sometimes new) it all still felt electrifying. It wasn't boring, it was something to be anticipated. Something that still made you interested every time, maybe by just the sheer coincidence of stumbling upon something new this time. Something you had overlooked all those times before. I realize now, had I grown up somewhere different: Like in Texas where I currently reside, I feel I wouldn't have been exposed to all places I've seen. The closest museums here are always downtown and definitely not walking distance. Even if they were, the weather would impede you from traveling on foot. However, this is not a critique on the lack of museums in the south and by no means am I saying that I've seen everything there is to see but there's a nostalgia looking back that feels threatened by the thought of not being able to witness it had I lived elsewhere.
My favorite museum out of all of them was the Natural History Museum. As soon as you stepped in you were greeted by the colossal skeletons of two dinosaurs, 5 times your size. The fossils representing predator chasing prey during the Mesozoic era and you could almost imagine how it would go down. You can almost picture it like in all those films with poorly CGI dinosaurs. It was frightening but also fascinating. Looking at the displays of taxidermy creatures in their natural habitat. Like stepping into the Jungle, going into the Desert plains, the Savannah, the Arctic. All featured in the same room. The animals looking so life-like you think for a second that they might move. Might change from their frozen torpor and look you straight in the eye as they step down from their exhibit and walk out the doors. The California Science center was another favorite. Everything, down to it's architecture was incredible. Especially in the eyes of a ten year old girl. It looked futuristic. Even the gift shop was a place you spent a couple minutes in. Featuring things like weird slimes, fool's gold, crystals, anatomy skeletons. It was also very interactive. You could sit in a circular room and learn about anatomy as a huge human robot lit up and talked about the different areas of humans from the circulatory system to your brain.

As I got older though, I started becoming more interested in the arts. Therefore, I started going to art museums. Looking at painting as a young child was tedious and boring at best. But as I got older, I learned to appreciate it. Learned to see what everyone else saw. The way they whispered about the reason certain brushstrokes evoked moods and why color palettes were very important if you wanted your painting to create harmony within itself.
I didn't fully start perceiving and critiquing paintings until I took a painting class in college.
Although I didn't stay in that class very long, the professor being one of those elitists that probably thought anything before the baroque period of art was degenerate. But I did learn a few tricks from hunching over a canvas as I tried to paint rotting fruit. I gathered a new fondness for all those artists that achieved such amazing feats that will live forever as long as people admire them. How revered and honored they are like a sacred chalice. I would start by looking at the nameplate, the year it was made and the small backstory to it. Sometimes I recognized the artist, other times I didn't but I immediately wrote their name down for further research when I got home. I would try to think of how they changed, revolutionized or perhaps was one of many that evoked the period of art it was made in. Oftentimes, I tried to look to decipher what they meant. What were they thinking as they painted this portrait, what did they see when the finished piece was finally hung on the wall, did they have a hidden message, was there a joke hidden between the shapes of certain subjects.
Sometimes, I didn't look at the works of art. At times I would veer my sight towards another spectator and try to think of what they were thinking or feeling when they saw it. Some would stand for long minutes at a time at a certain work of art. Their brows would furrow, they would lean in with their arms behind their back as to reassure themselves that they wouldn't compulsively reach out and touch the wall to feel the texture. Others would swiftly glance and then keep walking. The types that want to see everything but don't want to examine too closely because as aesthetically pleasing as it seems their patience is not something that can be spent standing at a picture for too long. But another entertaining thing were the conversations and how they shifted depending on how old they were and who they were saying it to. Some of them were extremely flamboyant and almost gave the picture in my mind of a nose pointed upwards sniffing the air ostentatiously. Others were very fact-based talking about the ingredients used in the paint mixture, the deep integral science behind the geometry of why the subject wasn't precisely in the middle but slightly inching left. All of them incredibly insightful, if not to the experience of the paintings then to the way people relate, react and interact with those bodies of work.

Suddenly, there was a disproportionate amount of disillusionment that almost became animosity towards modern art for me. There was a monthly exhibit at the modern museum of art here in Texas and I would try my best to attend as often as I could. Some of them were provoking and I enjoyed them especially because they gave context to our society and our world through a subjective lens that could be interpreted however we wanted to. Some of them were unorthodox and ground breaking in my opinion, giving me assurance that 100 years from now the people looking at the art made in this century would see the intensity and strangeness that emerged. It was no longer just painting, there are photographs, statues, ceramics, recyclable material being used to make something else altogether. It was inspirational especially for someone that struggles to convey both a universal message but simultaneously a personal one in my own works of art. However, the more I went the more disappointing they got. It wasn't enjoyably to walk through the hallways and look at the various works made by a certain contemporary artist. They started becoming more apathetic. There was less soul and more irony. But like someone that says something satirical but not actually understanding the true meaning in the first place, it comes off as shoddy and lazy. I understand it's difficult to create something completely unique because it seems like in the age of the internet we've already seen everything. Nothing is new, everything has already been done by someone else. But what modern artists seem to not understand is that it doesn't have to be completely different. It could have some elements to the old periods but also alluding to the modernity of ourselves today. Instead of spray painting the outlines of fruit, cigarettes and trash in the same color over and over again we could try to use the techniques used by the "greats" and try to incorporate that into what our lives are today. I've read interviews by these artists and it seems to me they fall either in giving too much meaning into their work, almost like they have to make up for the facile manner in which they make their creations or they're so vague they don't really understand why they made it in the first place.
It seems like it's not only apathy plaguing this new wave of art but also the idea that anything can be considered art. Although I do agree that it is up to the viewer to determine whether or not it is, it doesn't necessarily mean that it's any good. In fact I've seen more talent on art festivals and streets than what I've seen in modern museums. While I do recognize that this is just my opinion and someone else can have a very different way of viewing it I feel like there's some validity to my claim. We've become desensitized, so overly visually stimulated that nothing is surprising anymore. We create and create and it doesn't really mean anything unless someone buys it, unless someone deems it worthy enough to give you money for it. Giving the whole experience of going to museums a sour taste.
While I still continue to go in case something catches my eye, it's stressing to go. I see the same dull expressions on everyone else and I know that they feel the emptiness coming from those walls. The weird stiffness that although it's something created in our time period, there's no evocation of relating to it. It doesn't truly resemble how we feel or what we have to say about our existence. There's no inner dialogue from the artist to the viewer and it's unsettling and almost truthful if it didn't all feel like lying on the antiseptic floors of a hospital.
Writing this was a bit difficult, because as an artist living in the 21st century I know I contribute to this. I know that not everything can be completely mind opening and resonate with everyone. In fact, when I'm drawing or working on something I don't think of it in a grander scheme, it's something cathartic that I like to do for my own enjoyment. It can be a painting of a cat and as long as I enjoyed making it then I don't really care whether it evokes emotion in anyone else. However, I feel that if I was truly serious about trying to be discovered and trying to show something to the world, despite how microscopic in size I would want it to be something that I'm not only proud of but that it will actually make others want to pick up painting and share their experience to the world. That it's not just because I wanted to be paid for it or for my name to be recognized but because I had something important to say.

as always,
thank you for reading
sincerely

your tacky narrator

Pages

follow the rabbit

Popular Posts

Poetry

FOLLOW US @ INSTAGRAM

Report Abuse

death in the mourning

Contact Form

Followers

Total Pageviews

Search This Blog

Blog Archive

Translate

LATEST POSTS