you've got this

I write to you this Thursday morning as a tired but content girl in the desert. And I have an art journal page to share. 

I also have the downloadable coloring sheet and some thoughts on coloring with Copics; scroll down for the art talk.

I'm woefully behind on Things, like laundry and cleaning and putting oil in my car (as my spontaneous Trip Into The Mountains took a lot out of her!). Replying to emails and comments and Instagram. I've been busy with work (not to be confused with The Work, aka my calling as an artist and generally adventurous soul). 

Working takes a lot out of you, especially if you're a Spoonie (and here's a link to explain that term!). I often come home bone tired, collapse into my chair, and watch a movie. There's little energy to pull out paints or play with color. There IS reading and curling up in bed and listening to thunderstorms. Music and friends and just BEING. 

Here's a bit of The Work that's sprung up in my life: questions about my tattoo. 

I don't really wear a lot of bracelets while working, so it's right there, a stark black reminder of all I've been through and all I am capable of. And as I'm right handed and motion with that hand, I have lots of customers inquire as to what it is/means. 

And then a bit of magic happens as I candidly answer (because it's all out on the internet, so what's one more stranger knowing?): they smile, they say kind words, they give me a high five. 

They share their story. 

They talk about recovery and how they're doing. 

They celebrate with me for stolen seconds. 

This magic is infectious. I want to talk to more people. Share with people younger than me who might not know what's going on. I want to hug everyone who's been through the same struggle. I want to buy cupcakes and laugh and get frosting on my nose. 

So I come back here, to my dear old blog, and say: Today is going to be a good day. You've got this. 

That's what this art journal page is about. That feeling of overwhelm but knowing you can do this. That you've already been through so much, conquered so many fears and demons, that there's nothing you can't overcome. Even if you don't think you can do it -- you can. I know you can. 

Beat down on me like a waterfall because I can take so much more than I had ever dreamed. 

(Here's a playlist I made on Spotify to go with this post.)

Still in the drawing process. I needed the pep talk at work one night so I started working on this during a break.  

Once I finish drawing, I start on shading in grayscale. It's super relaxing but intense work and I love it. Done during an art date with a friend.  

Once I get the shading done, I start picking out colors. Here I have my little hand made swatch book and all the tests to make sure the colors will get along. I'm finally beginning to understand the Copic numbering system and will write about it - actually, a video wod be easier! 

Here's a trick I use - black and white photos while I work. They help me get tone and balance right, two things that can be hard to see in color. See if you can spot the differences - and how little tweets can make a big difference.

The full spread a little before I finished. I use the left to collect colors and thoughts and lyrics while working. This helps me the next time I sit down to play! (Also, look - red and khaki!)

celebrate every little victory

Yesterday, my friend Heather posted something like this on Facebook: "I think it's important to recognize and celebrate the little accomplishments in life. Today I am proud that I woke up early and hit the ground running. What achievement can you celebrate today?" 

I've been working on the same illustration in my journal for the past week or so, the one above, and felt like seeing this post was kismet (also: do I not have great friends?). And I agree with her; celebrating all the little things is important! 

Since posting my story last week, I have been blessed and humbled by all the messages I've received -- from friends and readers and newcomers to this blog. When I posted it, I felt scared. There's a lot of personal stuff in there, and not all good you know. I was afraid of negative thoughts and reactions. I met up with friends that evening, so I wasn't just sitting at home waiting for replies. In fact, I felt the need to just...fade to the background and hold space for whatever would happen next. 

But something else happened the moment I pressed publish: I felt free. There's a little collage above my desk that I made awhile ago that says, "And now I'm free." My father came over a couple of weeks ago and saw it and I swear he got choked up a bit and said, "That's good, Sam, that's really good." Now, this is a man not known for huge outbursts of emotion, but who's been softened by the passing of his wife and best friend of almost 40 years. In that moment, I felt like he got it: got why I had to move out, why I needed space for awhile, why I'm doing all this. 

One of my favorite songs says, "I never knew what freedom was until I learned what prison means." And it's so true. We all construct prisons around ourselves, limiting beliefs or ways we think the world are. We construct these walls with the fear of the unknown and complain when we can't see the sun anymore. I certainly built my own over the years, and now, with each day, I'm joyful because I'm living. Not just surviving, not just going from moment to moment, but living a full life of family, friends, work, play. 

At work yesterday, I found myself saying, "I really am enjoying this [organizing the shoe department at Target; it took 8 hours]! I spent so many years not being able to do things, I'm just happy to be up and out and doing this. It doesn't really matter what it is!" 

And that's the truth. When it comes down to it, I'm so full of joy I could burst. And yes, there's still the sharp pang of loss and sadness, but I've found that both can exist in the same space. I can hold them both. I can be both happy and fearful. That doesn't mean that I only have joy in one space in my life and sadness in the other. But that they drive each other. Lend perspective. Allow me to know how deep each goes. 

So was my six month anniversary a huge victory? To me, yes. Maybe not to others. Except you've shown me that there's great power in sharing your story and making your victory something that can help others. 

One question I got was about how to find joy in living with fibromyalgia or a chronic illness. It's so hard to find happiness when you're falling deeper and deeper into a depression. And I'm not going to sugarcoat it -- it fucking sucks. It does. I'm not going to try to lend platitudes or positive affirmations. In sharing my story I've found strength in speaking my truth. So here's a little advice. 

1. It's going to suck. I know it does. It's going to be doctors' appointments and medication and sleep schedules and couch/bed days. You're going to be in pain or be limited and wish you could do something, wish your body would just cooperate for once. I know. I get it. But it'll get better. Not easier, but better. I say this as someone who lived her whole life in that swirling mess of UGH and thought I'd never get out of it, but did. I did. And I had like, no hope it would happen (hence my joy at doing even the littlest things). Give it time. Know someone's gotten halfway out of that suckiness. Email me. Message me. If I don't answer, I'm asleep (I do have my own days of low energy, so know I read things right away but may take a little time to reply). 

Do some doodling in you art journal. Smoosh paint around with your hands. Write swears in big strokes of marker or pen and vent all that frustration and anger and sadness. It'll feel good to get it out. And you can then transform your page/spread into something beautiful. Because you are beautiful, broken bits and all. 

2. Celebrate every little thing. Did you get out of bed today? Make some lunch? Run an errand? I know we're taught that these are things "normal" people do, but I've learned that most of the normal people out there are struggling just like you. Go to Target and get some star stickers and give yourself a star each time you accomplish something. Some days, getting from your bed to the couch can leave you gasping -- give yourself a gold star. Celebrate it and fuck what society says. You got to the couch today. You went to your kid's soccer game. You made it to the grocery store. Every little thing -- get a star. Put them where you can see them, so on the bad days, the really bad, awful days, you can look up at the board or wall or poster and see that you can do so much. And have. 

And know there will be good days again.

I leave you with more pictures of art, because I know you like looking at pretty things other people have made (I know I do!). I've been drawing with pen lately, which means I'm getting more done. Not being able to erase is fun, and when you can draw things you like with pen, you gain a little bit of artsy confidence. Is that a thing? I think it is. The more we play and create, the more confident we become in what we can do. 

This page took about a week do to, simply because I was working on it bit by bit. I started by drawing with a Derwent Graphik pen in graphite since it's softer and blends well with my markers. 

At first I didn't like these pens, but now I do. But can I get a .7 please? Pretty please Derwent?

When I finished the drawing, I pulled out my warm gray Copics: W1, W3, & W7. After a bit, I noticed that the W7 was a bit too dark, so I did some parts with a PITT marker, #273. You can see on the facing page where I tested grays and other colors to see what would work well together. 

So I started shading. I may record a little bit of me shading my current drawing since I've been asked to share that with you. I just like how it gives the flowers some dimension. 

Can you tell this was taken at work? Gotta love cheap break room tables. And yes, this is what I do on my breaks. 

Next, I colored it in with my Copics. I wanted to keep it harmonious so I limited how many colors I used. I think it helps to make it more cohesive. 

Now you may be wondering, "Samie, why did you spend all that time shading with gray if you were just going to color over it?" Well, friend, it's because I like how the color over that layer has a few different tones. I could have shaded with other shades in the color's family, but this does a better job. I wanted to approach it like working with watercolors - layers of transparent media to achieve depth. 

Supplies, left to right: Copic multiliner, Derwent Graphik pen, POSCA .7mm white paint pen, Copic markers, Letreset Neon Marker. Not pictured: Wink of Stella in white. Mmmm glitter pen....

When I finished coloring, I thought what if the flowers were outlined in white? So I did that. This is my art journal, after all, so I have to experiment to learn new things. And I love how they look outlined in white. And the letters outlined in white and black. 

(And at the very end, I added glitter to the flowers and OMG do they look cool in real life!)

AND! I scanned this before I colored it, so if you'd like to color your own, feel free to download it! I hope it brings you some calm and subtle happiness. And, as always, I'd love to see what you make. Post 'em to my Facebook page so I can share them! 

xoxo, 
Samie

PS. Heather just re-opened Gauche Alchemy, a monthly mixed-media kit club and shop full of lovely supplies. Head on over there because I know you like artsy kits in the mail. Cause who doesn't? 

the guidance of the spirit

One day you're going to wake up to one of your favorite songs playing through your headphones and breathe. A deep, clean breath instead of the short pants of trying to keep your head above water. That breath goes deep, lungs expanding fully, body tingling with the return of oxygen. The fog is beginning to lift, the water calming, your feet finally under you upon solid ground. 

Passion returns, filling the gaps in your days. Stolen moments, late nights, pens dropped along the bedside as you fall asleep -- fall asleep when you'd want nothing more than to stay awake and create. Early mornings when you used to crave sleep, crave that escape from a life that, at times, still feels odd, like visiting a foreign country that speaks the same language as you. Off, but in some intangible way. You can navigate, and understand what people are saying, but are missing those familiar touchstones of home. 

But home is in the music you listen to and the friends around you and the things passed down from mother to daughter. It's in your loud laughter and sarcasm and delight at developing a new skill. It's the small messages that make a big impact. In the eyes of your dog and the hugs of your family and how you still have that hole in your heart, a hole that can never be filled (but oh, have you tried to fill it with cookies and sweets and bad TV) but isn't the night sky full of them? Full of gaps and foreign lands and darkness? 

No. It's full of light. Light we see because of the darkness. 

And as the clouds clear and the fog lifts, you take a pen in hand and find your passion again and oh, oh how you've missed it. 

   Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams, 
    Now I wash the gum from your eyes, 
    You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of 
              your life.

    Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore, 
    Now I will you to be a bold swimmer, 
    To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly 
              dash with your hair. 
- Walt Whitman

Copic markers, multilines, and white gelli roll pen. Doodled in church, spell-corrected with help from friends.