Gnistan

Det blåser ute och det viner och tjuter från mina fönster mot kyrkogården. I mig händer det inte mycket. Allt står still. Känner mig torr och fnasig inombords, som om jag flagnar bort lite grann. Har hemsk PMS och känner mig en aning tillplattad efter de kriser jag gick igenom för ett par månader sedan. Måste hitta tillbaka till den där gnistan igen. Den som verkligen definierar vem jag är. Just nu är jag bara en platt pappversion av mig själv.

Ibland önskar jag att min hud var av teflon. Eller järn. Något som inte absorberar allt runt omkring. Något som avvisar andras negativitet, drama, ondska och mörker. Jag önskar att jag kunde välja vilka känslor jag ska känna, istället för att känna allihop,  hela tiden på högsta volym. Den enda känslan som ofta liknar en viskning, är lycka. Jag försöker ge den en röst – det tar tid och jag förstör hela tiden med min förbannade oro och rädsla. Vad är jag ens rädd för?

Livet.

Men det måste levas, jag är faktiskt rätt bra på det – i alla fall när jag drar på mig teflonhuden och låter den där gnistan spraka högre än all rädsla.

Jag klär mig ständigt i andras bild av vem jag är för dem. Jag är ful. Dum. Självisk. En idiot. Tragisk. I deras bild av vem jag är, finns inte gnistan, bara sånt som de anser är fel. I deras bild av mig, finns inte jag.

Jag är här. Lyssnar till vinden. Lyssnar för att se om det sprakar någonstans därinne. Tänker lyssna tills jag hör. Ska klä av mig deras bilder och klä på mig ett lager teflonhud tills jag inte längre känner det som inte tillhör mig.

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No movement

I have been trying to write here for a few days now, but it is like there’s something is in the way, something blocking my thoughts. I am also trying to price my art and it feels like pricing my soul. It’s very uncomfortable. My latest collection is really personal, almost private. Next year marks the fourth year of working on it. That’s crazy. I need to finish it and move on.

 

All the different me’s

All of my different sides are visible in my art.

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I haven’t felt like myself for a while. I’m a little torn between different versions of myself. The office-me, the artist-me, the Swedish-speaking-me and the English-speaking me, the strong me, the scared me etc. It can be a confusing at times. I’ve always had many sides to my personality and also many layers within each side which makes me a bit complicated to say the least. This is also visible in my art. I don’t have one single signature style, but various forms of expressions. I can be raw, I can be cute, I can be dark, I can be colorful. And I can be all those things at once. Even though I win many different followers and collectors by using different techniques and styles, I sort of envy artist with a clear signature style – because they are so dedicated to it. I am too restless, too curious about the next level of expression. I am always moving forward and I can’t go back to a successful style or expression even if I’d want to. When I move on, I never look back. Going back to an old style wouldn’t feel genuine and it would look forced. So, I guess that is my style – to always reinvent myself and my visual expression. On a deeper level, I believe I’ve used my art to rediscover and reclaim all the sides to myself that used to be censored or oppressed by other people.

The stranger

I’ve had some difficult days with health problems. I believe we attract diseases and physical issues which reflect our emotional wounds, almost like a physical manifestation of our heartache. In my case, I’m having issues with my gut (where I believe my core is located) and lately also with my heart. I have had so many years of heartache, anxiety and emotional suffering and it has affected my body in various ways. I have to be kinder to it and give it even more love and care.

PTSD symptoms are often connected to a survival strategy of dissociative behavior. Mine was to separate body and mind so I’d be able to endure painful incidents and uncomfortable situations. I have gotten so used to numbing both the pain and the desires of my body for so  many years, that I don’t know much about what my body wants or likes. In a notebook from a therapy session, I wrote: “my body is a stranger”.

I have worked so hard to change the behavior of my mind but not as much when it comes to changing my physical behavior. I have been talking a lot about the importance of balance – and when it comes to finding a balance between body and mind, I am still looking for it. The mind has gotten all the benefits of my therapy work, so now it’s time to focus on my body, my health and physical connections. I have to learn how to trust my body just as much as I trust my mind. I have to learn how to love it, accept it and how nurture it – and I can only do that by listen to what it has to say. What is is trying to protect? Where does it store the pain? The joy? What does it like? What does it want to do that I’m not allowing it?

I think going back to painting will be the perfect therapy. Working with digital art can be a bit sterile and I can’t wait to get sweaty, messy and drained from some physical labor.

Vädrar ut mörkret

Under en kvävande migrän, slaktar jag gamla spöken. Vädrar ur mörkret. Renar luften i min själ. Har aldrig varit särskilt bra på att stänga mitt hjärta men nu sker det. Jag är ändå för gammal för att ha ett barns vidöppna hjärta. Är alldeles för blåmärkt ända in där det blöder som mest. Hur många gånger har jag gått sönder. Hur många gånger har jag läkt. Antalet förlorade hjärtslag är en massgrav där inne.

Jag tog emot alla som kom nära. Sög nästan, in andra själar i min. Släppte igenom åskan. Deras blixtrar brände sig igenom alla lager. Elektricitetens armar piskade som lavetter på insidan. Allt det mjuka skulle de utplåna, ända tills metallsmaken isade i min hjärna.

Jag drar ihop mig.

Samtidigt lossnar metallsmaken.

Time obsession

Ever since I started my daytime job, I’ve had a hard time adjusting to my new relationship with time. The stress of time, the lack of time, the loss of time, the dream of being able to control it. I used to have all the days and nights to myself. Time didn’t even exist. I was only reminded of it during my calls to Johnny in California; when it was night here and early morning over there. We’ve always been divided by an ocean and 9 hours. But as a working girl, my life has transformed from a timeless zone to a normal timeline of work, play, rest and everyday routines and rituals.

However, I feel as I have accepted this loss of freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I want – and I don’t feel stressed anymore. I won’t squeeze in too many creative projects after I come home from work, I know I’ll just end up exhausted and drained. I will make art and be creative when I feel like it. I think that’s how it’s supposed to work anyway.

I have been talking to my therapist about how I’ve felt obsessed with (the lack of) time since I started working and when I listen to myself talk about it, I can hear how it so obviously related to my past. I have wasted so many years, so much time and heartblood on all the wrong things. I have so much I want to experience, so much I wish to explore and create. I am getting older and time is slipping away. I am not scared of Death but terrified of not living my life to the fullest.

I am 20 years late. Or just in time. To live my life without the fear of losing even more time. I trust myself to know better. I trust life to bring me more tomorrows than yesterdays.

En ny slags tystnad

Jag njuter av en ny slags tystnad. En tystnad som sker djupt inom mig själv. Har gjort så många misstag på sista tiden och varit på drift i ett mörker jag inte trodde jag skulle behöva besöka igen. Nu är det över. Och nu är det verkligen över, på så många sätt. Tystnaden brusar skönt. Jag njuter. Allt står liksom stilla. Jag har upplevt känslan tidigare, men inte ofta. Allt är plötsligt som det ska – jag är i fas med livet och mig själv igen. Jag vet vad jag vill, vem jag på väg att bli och vart jag är på väg. Det är skrämmande hur lätt det fortfarande är för mig att gå vilse i mina sinnen. Hur skör jag är inför mörkret – inför andra människors svarta hål. Jag gör det till mitt, virvlar runt där tills jag inte längre vet vem jag är. Jag tappar bort mig själv ibland. Men jag hittar också snabbare tillbaka nu.

Johnny är fortfarande vaken på andra sidan världen. Känner hans hand i min. Kommer aldrig släppa den mer. Den här tystnaden ger våra rötter mer syre att växa ihop. Det kittlar skönt att bli ännu mer intrasslad bland hans rötter.

Black on black

Dead Lolitas by Mia Makila

“Dead Lolitas” by Mia Makila, 2017 [digital[

I had some kind of breakthrough in my thoughts about my future painting last night. It was wonderful. The Dead Lolita theme has felt old for some time now. I don’t connect with the role of Lolita anymore, I’ve come too far on my journey of self-empowerment. It has been four years since I first got the idea of killing my inner Lolita – and I think I killed her on the way without even noticing. All the artworks for the Lolita show will be included in other collections.

The new theme for a future collection of paintings is “black on black” – whatever that might be. I have worked a lot with demon portraits against a black background and I would say it is my signature style. I love playing around with different nuances of black, adding more life to the dark and, often flat, color. I will also go back to making mixed media pieces instead of just acrylic on canvas – I have some new ideas I want to explore when it comes to my technique. This is exciting! I have already prepared some canvases. All covered with black paint, of course.

Saturday morning

Stranger Things 2

It’s early Saturday morning and I’m watching the second season of Stranger Things in bed. I am also thinking about how clear-minded I feel at the moment. I have rediscovered my path again and I’ll hold on to it harder this time.

Since I have my personal life in order, I will focus on my art from now on. I have a lot of hard work to do. First, I have to price my digital pieces, make a great pricelist and then I have to finish the new collection. Nothing or no one is allowed to come in between me and my art now. I feel ready to make this new journey. The time has come for me to reclaim my career.

 

Forbidden area

At the hospital for another therapy session

Therapy day. I had a lot to talk about this time. I am still a magnet for destructive connections, especially when it comes to men. “If you didn’t have your art, I’m sure you would have been even more self-destructive”, she said. It is not the first time someone has told me that my creativity seem to be a matter of life and death for me. I am so grateful for all my talents – and for being an artist. I have a great outlet for my anxiety and all my fears because of it. A place where I get to deal with all my forbidden emotions – like rage. It is forbidden and out of reach since I have a problem with exposing anger in real life. I don’t get angry, I just get sad, but of course the anger is still there – and I have a lot of it. Just look at my paintings.

I need to take my creativity even more seriously from now on. It is what keeps me balanced. Perhaps it is my fear of anger that makes it so difficult for me to go back to painting, since it is the main element in my visual expression as a painter.

The anger might be my pandora’s box. Once I figure out how to set it free, I’m sure it would both be explosive and liberating. Exposing my anger in a more honest way, is an equally scary as a wonderful thought. It would  be ugly but it would set me free. I have all my talents and my artistic skills as the perfect tools for bringing it out. Writing, visual art, photography. I just have to figure out how to approach the forbidden areas of my mind.

If Michael Jackson could do it, so can I.

Tusen månar

Det är så mörkt ute. Som om någon stulit månljuset, men innanför min hud brinner tusen månar. Jag är fylld av en längtan som läcker igenom varje tanke. Gör mig nästan sjuk. Önskar jag kunde klä av huden och låta månljuset flöda ut över världen. Vill lysa.

Små diamanter

Det har regnat nästan hela veckan. Hela min värld är våt, nästan lite sur. Det har varit en omtumlande tid som flackat fram och tillbaka mellan det förflutna och framtiden. Mina inre bilder kladdade ihop sig och smälte långsamt sönder inifrån och ut. Nu har allt stannat upp. Jag känner mig en aning tom men samtidigt uppfylld av lugnet.

Regnet knastrar som små diamanter mot rutorna. Får en känsla att det är nu som allt är ställt på sin spets. Här och nu börjar jag andas med nya lungor. Älskar med ett rent hjärta. Längtar med ett stadigt tålamod. Här och nu börjar allt om på nytt och det finns inget som stör och inget som hotar all den lycka jag ska erövra.

 

The waterfall

I am listening to the rain outside, thinking about all the tears I’ve wasted in this lifetime. For almost 20 years, my heart has been a waterfall. I am so tired of crying. I have cried for all the wrong reasons. I used to cry because I didn’t understand how people could be so cruel to me. Why they ignored my boundaries. I cried because I couldn’t relate to their way of acting ruthless and arrogant – and I wanted to understand it so I could figure it out in my head and not let it bother me as much. I have cried an ocean over people who never deserved my tears. I have cried because of the loneliness I have felt in past relationships. The kind of loneliness that comes from their projections of who I should be, who I could be, ought to be, who they wanted me to be for their pleasure and comfort. The loneliness of feeling like everything I did was somehow wrong even if I did what they asked me to do. I used to cry because they made me feel like a guest in my own life, in my own body and mind. Like, who I am never really mattered. I have wasted so many tears while trying to figure out why they couldn’t see me, even though my heart is always wide-open.

The rain has stolen the last autumn leaves of the big tree outside my window. It is standing there, naked and bare. I feel just as naked within myself, as I am allowing my thoughts to touch sore places – but without wasting a single tear. My tears are now sacred. I will never waste any tears on the wrong things or people again.

And my heart has turned into a river that takes me further than I’ve ever could imagine.

 

A new era

I am done crying, worrying, doubting and freaking out. I am so done with it. From now on, I will laugh more, love harder and only look forward. The crisis with Johnny is over. We have done a lot of soul searching and a lot of thinking, and our personal issues should never interfere with our love story. The home we have built together over the last 3-4 years, is too strong to break. I didn’t understand this until after we broke up. It really amazes me.

It can be so hard to be in a long distance relationship. No eye contact. No physical dimension. Not sharing everyday stuff together. But it is also so rewarding. All we have is communication and talking from the depths of our hearts. Things get more real that way. It is more alive. I have never been closer to anyone in my whole life – even if we have a whole ocean standing in between us.

I am soon leaving for work but I can’t wait till I’ll get back home again so I can continue working on my new digital pieces. I have so much that wants to get out. I have so many stories to share with you.

I am entering yet another era. This will be my favorite one yet, I can feel it.

October in pictures

I know I have been neglecting this blog lately, but I have been busy and a little lost. Although, I am beginning to feel more like myself again – and reclaiming time as if I own it instead of time owning me. I will write more here from now on. I miss writing. But it’s good to feel alive and stimulated by so many amazing people.

Internal blindness

I fell asleep at 7 pm the other night, that’s crazy early! I am going through a lot of changes right now and feel completely drained. Today, I woke up with anxiety. There is something wrong,  like I have diverted from my original path, therefore, nothing feels right anymore. I’m missing Johnny so much. We are still communicating every day and I just can’t see my life without him in it.

I tried to make another digital piece about what happened to us, but I can’t finish it. I just don’t know where all the pieces fit. I can’t see the end even though we passed it together and I can’t see what’s coming. The internal blindness is uncomfortable for a control freak like myself, but at the same time it is more real than anything I’ve ever experienced before. My mind is without safety net and I am finally living my life instead of planning it. However, I feel like I am not very good at it. Not yet.

My natural state

I am finally back to making art again. It’s been 5 months since I finished the last piece in PhotoShop (The Blue Connection). Being creative is my natural state, so I am starting to feel like myself again. I can see that my style has changed a bit since the last 2 pieces. It has shifted from a darker expression to a more delicate and dreamy style. My collage technique has always been driven by a freudian selection of images – but I work on a much deeper level now. My new collection of works will be my most personal one yet. Like visual diary notes. Who needs therapy when you have a talent to dig into yourself and bring it out as an emotional confession through a clear visual expression?

What I want

It is raining pretty wild. It’s dark outside and the city lights and make the raindrops look like swarovski crystals. I am cozy in my apartment, trying to relax after a hectic day at work. My mind has been blanking out a lot. I’ve been feeling quite flat and numb this week. Not inspired enough to create or write anything substantiell here. However, I have been thinking a lot lately about what I want and what I need – when it comes to love, men and relationships. I believe this is the first time when I don’t have a clear vision of what I want, but slowly tearing down old ideals and desires, old stuff that never made me happy anyway.

I have been with a lot of writers. I feel at home with creative men. especially when they offer a whole inner world as a playground. But just as my own inner world is a magical place of imagination and playfulness, it is a made up world. I also want to live in the real world, where I sometimes have to look closely and wisely to recognize the magic. If it would be possible to get the best of both worlds, I would love it.

I know more about what I don’t want in love and relationships. The last 20 years have been a painful collection of such things. I don’t want to feel like guest in the relationship or in the lifestyle we would have. It is a horrible feeling, a loneliness that is so overwhelming, when you feel like a guest in your own life because you are with someone who doesn’t really understands you. I don’t want to be in something destructive, toxic or dramatic. I want something that is built on mutual respect and therefore doesn’t get explosive or overheated when confronted with an issue or a conflict. I want to feel safe, but never so safe that I get numb or fall asleep internally. I don’t want to feel caged or judged. I don’t want to be a mommy to a man ever again. I have ‘raised’ so many men in my days. Just as I don’t want to feel submissive to, or ‘rescued’ by, any man. I want to laugh a lot in a relationship. Make love instead of having sex. I want to be creative in everything, in the smallest little detail of our everyday life. I want to grow WITH a man, instead of away from him. And I always grow a lot and fast.

But, what I think is really important to me – things that have always been attractive to me, is accessibility and presence. What a great turn on to have a man who is always emotionally available, open and present. Maybe I already know what I want after all.

 

Love phobia

Another early morning. At times I am feeling like a stranger to myself. I have changed so much – and there is no way back to how things used to be. Standing on unfamiliar ground, free from my past and no filter between me and life. Although, I still have many fears to work on. Especially my fear of love that has almost turned into a phobia. I love so easily, but accepting love is the most difficult thing. But as I am confronting all my demons, I have to confront this one too.

Sleepwalker

I am so tired. Everything is moving and changing so fast. I fall asleep around 8 in the evening and wake up feeling just as tired as I did when I fell asleep. As soon as I am going through a period of change and uncertainties, my health declines and I feel fatigue. It is my primitive and subconscious survival strategy – to freeze and to play dead. It’s really annoying. I have so much to explore and experience. I don’t have the time to be a sleepwalker. How do I wake up?

Tystnaden och hjärtat

Tystnaden runt mig är en mash-up av verklighetsbrus. Det är klockor som tickar, brummande ljud från köket, bilar som parkerar utanför fönstret, fågelkvitter, polissirener från ett annat kvarter, mina egna andetag, suset från mitt blod och knastret från datorn. Ingen annan tystnad existerar. Inuti mig är det aldrig tyst.

Hjärtat har ramlat ned, sitter nu i mitten av maggropen och bankar med sina nävar mot min insida. Jag lyssnar spänt. Kan höra ända in. Har aldrig älskat med magen förut. När jag hör Johnnys röst gör det ont i magen och hjärtat drar ihop sig där inne. Ändå har vi har fått lagom distans och kan tala om allt som om vi undersöker vårt förhållande kliniskt. Det finns fortfarande så mycket kärlek. Om ändå saker vore annorlunda. Om det gick att backa. Laga. Ogöra. Hjärtat försöker få mig att höra. Kan inte. Vill kanske inte. Jag häller upp ett glas vatten, nu hör jag inte alls. Skönt.

Det är svårt att gå vidare men varje dag skjuter mig en aning framåt. Jag utforskar mig själv som fri. Njuter när jag vill njuta. Skapar när jag får lust. Städar när jag hinner. Sover när jag blir trött. Har ingen att ta hänsyn till nu. Jag bara är.

Framtiden bär på den verkliga tystnaden. Hör ju ingenting. Ser inga bilder av vad som kanske kommer ske. Drömmarna ligger som roadkill, alldeles krossade längs vägen mot framtiden. Jag sörjer varenda en precis lika mycket som jag sörjer Johnny. Våra fina drömmar. Plockar bland skärvorna och tårarna färgar dem blanka. Våra fina, trasiga drömmar.

 

 

Thursday morning

Thursday morning. Classical music while having breakfast. Enjoying the moment. I started a new piece last night. It will be a new version of the lava house.  I made once of the houses sink to the bottom of the lava ocean while the other one has disappeared into the black sky. It made me cry but at the same time feel a sense of inner peace. I wonder what will happen to the houses. This is such a sad ending to the story, but I have a feeling that they will be fine.

The next chapter

“You don’t like when you have to turn the page and now you are forced to, not only turning the page, but also to start a new chapter. No wonder you have been feeling stressed and scared lately”, she said.  I looked at my therapist and nodded. She was right. I love changes in theory but when they actually happen, I get very lost. My hypochondria is out of control, my blood pressure is way off and I haven’t been able to focus on my creativity since the break up. All these new changes have me crippled at the moment but it is time for me to take back control of my life – I made these changes happen. I welcomed them. I am not a victim of these changes –  they are part of the path I choose to follow. I don’t know where the path will lead me, what will be waiting for me in the future. There is a clean space ahead and I am free to fill it with whatever I want, with whatever I am capable of finding on this path. I just have to get through this transitional phase – and start writing my next chapter.

Lunch at the hospital

It is Tuesday and I am having lunch at the hospital before my last dentist appointment together with the therapist in my treatment for fear of the dentist. I have proved to myself that I can conquer my fears and do things that seem impossible to me. I have also studied my anxiety and see how powerful it is – how much damage it causes. To tame and soothe my anxiety is the most important thing now, otherwise I will never be able to liberate myself from my fears nor find the freedom and peace within myself that I have always needed. It is time to grow up and out of all these suffocating layers of self-protection and heavy doubts about what I am capable of.

What am I so afraid of anyway? I have survived traumas and all kinds of crap – I can survive anything that life throws at me.  Am I really afraid of more bad things – or am I petrified of the possibility that life can be easy, drama free and great? Because then, I won’t need to be in constant self-protection mode and that’s when it gets scary. To be vulnerable – and free of all the heavy layers that have worked as protective scar tissue around my soul.

Who would I become if I walked through life while remembering that I can do whatever I want? Who am I becoming just by asking this question?