A flailing butterfly

Outfit photos? Who is she? Is this 2013? Not to worry, you’re not caught in some time vortex, thought I feel like after the last three years going back to 2013 might be idyllic.

Anyway, I was out taking photos of my newly finished Disco Mirror and I had on a cute look to show off the mirror, and figured I’d throw in some outfit pic and try to get some new headshots. These pants are my absolute favorite pants. I’d wanted them for at least a year, but they were out of stock, and when I finally saw they were in stock I jumped at the chance to grab them. At $108 they’re definitely a splurge for me (almost all my clothes are thrifted, so it doesn’t take too much for something to be considered a splurge, lol), but I’m willing to shell out more when it’s a special item, well made, and something I know for certain I’ll wear constantly. The idea of cost-per-wear is something I used to think about a lot back in my fashion blogger days, which is basically just the idea of dividing the cost of the item by the number of times you wear it, so if something is more expensive, but you wear it a ton, then the cost-per-wear of the item goes down.

My style has really been hard to nail down since I had Jack, which now is almost 7 years ago (whoa). I used to be such a vintage fashion girlie, then more boho, but I’ve had such a hard time finding my style since becoming a mom. In the past six months I’ve felt like I’ve finally dialed in a style that feels really me. In a way, it’s just dressing in a way that my teenage self would look at me and think, “Damn, she’s cool as fuck.”

Top: Target // Pants: P&Co // Boots: Amazon // Necklace: Amazon // Jacket: Thrifted + customized

After my two month break from social media, I’ve felt a little like a flailing, newly emerged butterfly. I was so adept at my caterpillar life as a DIY content creator. I knew how to do things well, I got great feedback from the algorithm that my content was getting good reach, I was working with brands… and then I hit burnout and things started feeling weird. So I went in to my cocoon over the summer and it was lovely and rejuvenating… but what emerged at the end was startling and unrecognizable. I didn’t want to do DIY content creation anymore. I didn’t even like the moniker “content creator.” Over the summer I’d rediscovered my artist self, and she was begging to be given space in my life.

As I thought and journaled about it, I realized that my DIY content creator self was created in the aftermath of having Jack and feeling completely and totally untethered in the storm of new motherhood. I was straight up not having a good time, postpartum depression was taking its toll, and I just desperately needed something that was totally and completely mine. Something I could do that felt productive and creative. A place I could pour myself into and find myself again.

And I did! But along the way I also created this platform that was wholly devoted to DIY. I’d marketed myself as a DIYer for over half a decade. I’d built up something that wasn’t going to serve me as I moved forward into a more holistic expression of myself.

And don’t get me wrong, I love DIY. I have been a DIY girlie my whole life and will continue to be a DIY girlie. But the DIY girl is also an artist and has been since I could hold a damn crayon. In 4th grade we had watercolor paintings of the northern lights that our class made hung in the hall, and some lady wanted to buy mine. In 6th grade my teacher dubbed me the “poetry queen”. I went to college and got my art degree. And over the years I’ve made a life for myself where I’ve been able to be creative on a daily basis and I’m really really proud of me for doing that.

But the one thing I haven’t done is give myself the space to create art. I create a lot of stuff. I make rooms, I paint murals, I make disco mirrors, I design merch, I build furniture, I design my website— all of that stuff is sort of in service of something else. I want to make art that I can hang in a gallery. I want to write books. And I know that it’s not like what I’m currently doing isn’t art, but there’s a difference in my mind, you know? Maybe it’s the difference between “fine art” and practical art. If there is such a difference.

Either way, that’s where I’m at. A flailing butterfly who hasn’t quite figured out how wings work, but feeling less scared about this new body and way of moving through the world.

It's that time again

School is back in session! Today was Jack’s first day of first grade. He asked me about 1000 times how many days till school started this summer, and the long awaited day finally arrived with all the fanfare of a crisp PNW September morning. Last year I walked him to his classroom door every morning and gave him a certain number of hugs each day, agreed upon during our walk to school (“mom, I want 5 big hugs today” — big hugs are ones where I lift him off the ground). This year he wanted to walk in the doors all by himself, but we convinced him to let us tag along to get a glimpse of his new classroom.

Last year was hard. Despite having been to three years of preschool, and being in classes that were around the same length of a full day of public school, he had a really rough transition and I may or may not have cried in the Principal’s office on multiple occasions, including before the school year even started (thanks, Kindergarten Jump Start). He’s what Dr. Becky calls a DFK— a deeply feeling kid. If you aren’t familiar with Dr. Becky her work has been super helpful for us with learning how to better support Jack as parents. Loved her book and she has a great podcast too. I digress. Jack has really strong opinions, an intense sense of justice, and a really hard time being wrong. So all those things butted up against the reality of being in a school setting with lots of new kids, lots of daily transitions, and lots of conflicts with other kids. But his school was so supportive along the way, in a way I didn’t know that was possible at public school (and probably isn’t possible in a lot of school districts in this country).

Growing up in a private school setting from 3rd grade on, I got a sense of public-school-bad, private-school-good. The messaging was sort of that public school had less academic rigor, less support because so many kids attended them, and enrolled more “troubled kids,” whatever that meant. I haven’t been tempted to send Jack to private school, mostly because I have no interest in sending him to a religious school like I was, and also because we just straight up can’t afford it. But I was nervous last year sending him to public school because I still had those outdated messages swirling around in the back of my head.

Turns out, they were all wrong. I’ve been super impressed with the Tacoma Public School system. Jack’s elementary school was so willing to work with Jack to figure out how to support him. The principal was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, the staff all knew Jack by name and they were so nice to him all the time.

So this year, I’m still worried that he might have issues and have moments where dysregulation causes behavior that lands him in the principal’s office, but it’s also nice knowing that this school is so supportive of him and actively want to give him the resources he needs to succeed. And it goes without saying that I’m thrilled to have him in a school district that supports LGBTQ+ students, and puts a huge emphasis on social emotional learning. I know we’re in a little blue oasis up here in the NW in some ways, but this is one way that feels really important right now, especially considering what’s happening in school districts around the nation.

Anyway, cheers to the new school year. Cheers to watching your kid grow up right before your eyes, and CHEERS to having 6 whole hours of time during the day where I don’t have to be a hands-on parent and can do stuff that I like, woo!

Making Space

I’m not a stop and smell the roses type of person. By the time I’m mid-way through one thing, my brain is already scheming up the next thing I want to do or make. Living in a fixer-upper there certainly isn’t a dearth of projects in the pipeline, but something I’m doing this summer is spending time enjoying the fruits of my labor. In the DIY content creation world we’re always pumping out projects and room transformations and tutorials and tips, but slowing down and taking the time to slow down and enjoy the projects I’ve poured so many hours of my life into? Okay now that’s a challenge, lol.

Here in the Pacific Northwest it feels like we spend 9 months of the year waiting and pining for the 3 months that make living here tolerable. Maybe that’s a little overdramatic, but the three months of summer here are truly glorious and the winters can be quite difficult. In some ways I feel pressured to do projects during the summer because it’s somewhat miserable doing projects in the winter when it’s rainy outside and freezing and I can’t do anything outside. But on the other hand I want to just soak up every moment of the sun and warmth, like a lizard laying on a hot rock in the desert.

Summers definitely feel different as a parent to a kid in school as well. Jack’s first year of real elementary school just finished, so the structure of my days is completely thrown out the window. Having six hours a day to do work, get household duties completed, and build things? Gone for three months. And instead of resisting and pushing against the tide of summer and all these schedule and lifestyle shifts, I’m choosing to lean into them.

The privilege of taking the summer “off” work (heavy quotations because parenting is a full time job), is certainly not lost on me, especially in the cultural climate we’re currently surviving within. Being able to spend the day running to Home Depot to grab a sprinkler so my kiddo can frolic in the cool water while I sip a Starbs frozen bev feels unbelievably luxurious, and my summer spiritual practice is dropping into that gratitude.

The freedom from my usual grind is also allowing me to push the boundaries of my creativity in ways that are feeling exciting and unexpected. A couple years ago I was thrust back into the joy of reading fiction thanks to Sarah J. Maas’ ACOTAR series (and subsequently all her other books as well), and then this summer I’ve been revisiting some of my favorite Sci-Fi novels that I devoured as a kid. A little door inside me that had been closed and forgotten about started to creep open and, well, I’m now in the throes of plotting out an outline for a Sci Fi novel? I don’t know, guys, but I’m letting it happen and it’s been pretty fun. I also accidentally planted about 100 pumpkin plants, so I’m about to have my very own pumpkin farm. I guess this summer’s lesson is in creating space for unexpected joys to come in and take root.

Romanticizing my life

I was watering the garden last night and the light was lighting, so I ran inside and grabbed my DSLR because for whatever reason phones are just trash at capturing the milky warm glow of evening. With content creation shifting to prioritize short form video, I so rarely capture life in still images these days. There’s a frenetic energy surrounding short form video creation. Clips are short to keep our short attention spans engaged, and even the audio is sometimes sped up so make sure everything fits into a minute long video. It’s left me feeling pretty exhausted and I’ve been wanting to embrace a slower pace of things this summer.

As I took these photos I realized I very rarely slow down to take photos any more. During my fashion blogging days, I was in the habit of taking photos nearly every day of my outfit. I was constantly thinking of beautiful locations to shoot in, taking photos of snippits of life, and each blog post was filled with written reflections. Now the writing I do is voiceover scripts for Reels, and short Instagram captions. Anyone who has been blogging since before 2010 has lamented the loss of long-form static media, and I’ve certainly made my complaints over the years as we’ve become beholden to algorithms to show our content to our audiences.

But this summer I’m disengaging. For my mental health and my creativity. I don’t believe artists (or humans in general) are designed to create at such a pace, and with algorithms and insights top of mind at all times. As I took these photos I felt like I was romanticizing my own life and TBH, I think I’m going to spend the rest of summer doing just that.

I feel like a bit of a remodel witch, spinning twine into gold with this house. Reno-Alchemy. Sometimes you can feel a little crazy when you can see something that doesn’t exist yet, but there’s nothing like the feeling of that vision finally existing in real life. I think stuff like this is why I have no interest in building a new house from scratch. The transformation dopamine is just too addicting.

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"i am going"

When people ask how my trip to Paris was, the only thing I can say that is truly honest is that it was a lot of things.  and many of those things weren't positive, but no one really wants to hear that.  They want to hear that you had the time of your life and you didn't want to leave and that it was magical.  And maybe for some people it is, but for me, this time, it wasn't.  

I love travel.  I feel pretty pro at travel.  Growing up in Alaska going anywhere meant flying there.  Or road-tripping for about a week.  My first solo flight was when I was in 6th grade (I think) and I was so used to flying that I didn't realize that traveling as an unaccompanied minor was different.  I filed off the plane with the rest of the passengers, met up with my mom at the gate and we went on our merry way until the panicked flight attendants caught up with us and confirmed that I was leaving with the proper guardian.  I've flown to countless cities and road tripped from Alaska to Florida and back to Washington State solo.  

With international travel, though, I'm not as experienced.  I went to Guatemala once with a group in high school, but I don't really count that because we were mindlessly shuttled around and I didn't have to figure out a thing.  It wasn't for lack of desire.  I was all set to attend the American University in Cairo for a month during college but my passport with my student visa didn't arrive in time for my flight so I cancelled the whole thing (a boyfriend also may have been involved in my lack of wanting to leave home too.  Lame).  Since I had to cancel that flight, I was able to re-book a new flight and arranged to go to London, which I also didn't do, for reasons I don't remember but I have a suspicion have to do with that boyfriend.  Years before that my entire family had a huge trip to Europe planned, but the day before we were set to leave my grandma got in a car accident that nearly claimed her life and so the entire trip got cancelled.  

So, when I found a super cheap flight to Paris a few months ago I heeded the words of Clarissa Pinkola Estes in Women Who Run With the Wolves, "'I am going' These are the best words ever.  Say them, then go."  I booked the flight for my birthday and re-upped my passport.  It felt like something I needed to do.  Travel in the US no longer pushes me out of my comfort zone, and I needed to get out of it.  I needed to prove to myself that I could.  That I could do something brave.  I knew that a lot of the things I do, like traveling solo cross country in a 1973 Winnebago Brave, look brave to outsiders, but to me felt squarely inside my comfort zone.  International travel, though, that was new.  And definitely outside my comfort zone, in what a friend once called the "growth zone."  

I researched like a crazy person because I like to be prepared, tried my best to re-learn the french I used to know in high school, and waited with so much excitement that at times I thought I might explode.  My husband Dan drove me to the airport that chilly morning, and I kissed him goodbye and got on the plane.  

It was hard.  I'm a solid introvert, but being in a foreign country alone, not being able to speak the language, with no one to share the experience with was difficult.  The jet lag was brutal, and I didn't do a lot of the things I thought I would just because the language barrier gave me a lot of anxiety.  I spent half of one day hidden in my Airbnb watching Netflix and crying.  After some encouraging words from friends I pulled it together for my last few days in Paris and released myself from the pressure of having The Best Time Ever.  I read my book in a cafe while enjoying my petit dejeuner, walked around the Musee D'Orsay, and ate a nutella filled crepe under the Eiffel Tower.  I realized that I didn't have to fit everything into this one trip.  I didn't have to have The Best Time Ever, because there would be other times to come to Paris.  I could come with Dan or a friend next time and be able to laugh and talk and share everything with someone.  

I'm glad I went.  I feel like I broke through whatever it was that was keeping me from traveling abroad.  And I feel like I opened myself up to the universe, letting it know that I my passport was broken in and ready to go.  I already have tickets to Iceland and Ireland (and maybe Paris again) for 2016.  Elizabeth Gilbert writes in her book Big Magic about ideas being sentient beings on the lookout for people who are available and willing to take them on.  One of my dreams for the next year, as both a photographer and a human, was to travel more both domestically and internationally for work and self-enrichment.  I was tired of waiting around for it to happen to me, and this trip to Paris was my stake in the ground.  "I'm here.  I'm ready to go.  I've got my passport in hand!"  Like being a good host for a creative idea, I feel like you need to make yourself available and ready for those big dreams and not in a sitting around and thinking about it way.  Like a, "Hey Universe!  I'm on a flight to a place farther away from home than I've ever been.  Your move!"  And as soon as I made that shift, the Universe felt like it shifted a bit too.  Doors started opening.  Little ones, but ones nonetheless.  So even if my trip to Paris wasn't the Most Magical, Best Trip Ever, it was a little flag that I waved to the universe letting it know that I was open for business with my bags packed.  And my comfort zone is a little bit bigger too. 

"I am going" those are the best words.  Say them, then go.