tiny kelsie

creative endeavors & the exploration that fuels them


This February, I’m getting out of my funk

Man, what I year this last one was.

I know, I know. This started out sounding like the post that everyone makes during the first week of January. I’m okay with that.

Last March, after going through the first months of 2015 with fervor, focus, and a plan for the goals I wanted to achieve, I was caught off guard by a sudden life change: we were moving cross country. If you’ve read my blog the few times I’ve posted in the last year, you know this well. Maybe a little too well.

I touched on the subject a bit, but I hardly elaborated on the despair that I went through in the months preceding the move. I was withdrawn. As a stay-at-home mom, being withdrawn is a baaad move, because you can get away with it. You can go copious amounts of time with only engaging with the people who you share a home with, you can get away with only small talk, and the people who know and love you well can continue being none-the-wiser.

Then there was the process of selling our first house. The emotional roller coaster of stripping down our personal items as Our House became The House on the Market, then allowing strangers in and out of your home to learn that it “wasn’t the one” over and over again. It was home, I couldn’t not take it personal when what was great for us and full of joy and memories wasn’t wanted for weeks and weeks.

Following that, the four of us (dog included) spent a month living in a studio apartment behind my mom’s house (Actually, it has no kitchenette–just a coffee maker, a water cooler and a fridge. Is that still a studio?) as the issues she and I have reared their heads once again. Then my Granny passed away. Every day felt like another “goodbye”: to a neighborhood, an acquaintance, a feeling of nostalgia that I got far too often, a friend, a hometown. Even for a southerner, a month is a helluva long goodbye, y’all.

We finally arrived. All I had been waiting for: stability, sense of home, a place where I belonged. Home at last! What I didn’t expect, was with such great change came great anxiety. When I was out in this new world, I didn’t feel like an explorer like I do on my travels, I felt displaced, like an intruder. I shut myself out, and then I began to feel alone.

But here we are, in February. It’s been quite the road to get here, but I’ve already been getting into a good schedule and I have SO many fun DIYs to share. I’ve really missed blogging, and I’ve noticed that my Elopement Announcements post has been pinned over 150 times on Pinterest in under a year! That might not seem like too much to bigger bloggers, but it’s just enough to show me that I should get back on the wagon, and pursue my passions.

You’ll be seeing much more of me in 2016.

 



3 responses to “This February, I’m getting out of my funk”

  1. Welcome back! And happy new year!

    I’m sorry to hear about the anxiety and sadness of leaving your old home and starting fresh again. And I’m especially sorry to hear about your grandmother. I hope you guys have weathered that as best as possible. :/

    Relocating can be overwhelming. Getting to know the area, meeting new people, finding true friends, not being bored out of your mind, making sure your son is adjusting well…whew! Sounds like a lot for you. I certainly don’t blame you for being anxious or a tinge depressed. Hope you’re not too hard on yourself.

    Can’t wait to hear more along the way. Xoxo

  2. Thank you! It really has been quite a mess, and I never knew how much it took to relocate. Thankfully my son is doing awesome! He loves his new teacher, the neighborhood, and he even has a “bestie” who is in his class AND lives on our street. What luck!

    Can’t wait to keep up with you and your new boyfriend(!) as well! 😉

  3. […] mentioned before about the passing of my Granny. A loving, warm-hearted woman, Barbara McCain Carlin was almost always in her kitchen, whether she […]

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About Me

I’m an artist. Sometimes I paint impressionist townscapes in oils, other times I sketch out what I’d rather be painting in pencil. I design intentional environments in my home, and sometimes I get around to projects that the design consists of. I flip thrifted clothes, or I let ideas pile up like used fabrics overflowing from a box in my basement. This is a metaphor, but also a fact.
I’m a writer. Sometimes that means bad poetry. I often meander in my prose, as I find it hard not to mention every detail, what something reminds me of, and all of the background information you could never want.
I’m an explorer. Sometimes I explore the great outdoors, or other countries. Other times, my nose deep in a book, I’m exploring the universal human experience, nature science, ancient wisdom and impacts of colonialism. Often, I’m exploring my own inner experience through train-of-thought journaling.

I’m restless in my curiosity and consistently creative. To an outsider, it’s clear that leading a creative life involves output: paintings, outfits, decor, a garden. The creative knows that this output requires a frequent stream and synthesis of that input. This blog is the space I use to organize and sort my meandering thoughts and pile of ideas.

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