The Making of a Spirit Girl

I really don't know where the idea came from, but it came fully formed. I wanted to do commissions that weren't realistic portraits but rather girls in my style based on elements given to me by the other person. I also wanted a way to combine my coaching with art in a sacred and spiritual way.

Spirit Girls was the perfect combination of all of the above.

Once I knew what I wanted to do, the rest was easy and the very first one I did, truly solidified for me that this is exactly what I want to be doing when I create a painting for someone. I want to combine my presence with their spirit to create something truly beautiful and a reflection of who they are on a soul level.

I hope you enjoy getting a deeper glimpse into the process.

Here we go!

It starts with a session.

I get to spend time with the person, to talk about what is going in their lives in this moment in time, to talk about what they are wanting to invoke, intend and have more of.

The conversation goes where it needs to go.

It always feels special and sacred to me to have this person trust me with their lives. Often I don't really know them. This will be our first time speaking.

It always amazes me how deep we go in such a short time.

I take a lot of notes, notes that will eventually be a part of my meditation and I will refer back to them often as I create the painting.

We end our conversation talking about color and images that speak to them, these are often meaningful and connected to powerful stories in their lives, sometimes they are just drawn to certain colors and images and there is no story. There is no right or wrong here.

From this I create a girl in my style using what I have sensed as well as what has been told to me.  It is beautiful dance of intuition and listening.

I often don't begin for another week or so, sometimes even two weeks. I paint fast and once I'm in the zone, I can stay in it for a day or two and completely finish a painting.

I start by sitting with the session, re-reading the notes, lighting a candle, gathering crystals near the area I will be working. I paint the intentions this woman has give me right on the canvas. I play with color and images and allow myself to just let go.

It feels very sacred, very intuitive, and I often feel as if I am letting go into another world and I am. Letting go into her spirit and listening to what "wants" to be in the painting. Sometimes things show up that were never discussed.

I trust this and keep going until it feels done.

Ready to book your very own Spirit Girl? You can find all the details here.

Expansion

It takes courage to open up yourself to expansion.

Yesterday I played along with Christine Claire Reed and asked her to choose a word for me for next year.

The word she chose for me was expansion.

I know this word is so right, so perfect, I can feel it in my bones.

I also know I have major fear and resistance just like anyone else and maybe a bit more due to my trauma history. The world was not a safe place growing up. I learned that people were not safe, that kindnesses could turn into violations, and I've spent the last twenty something years trying to unlearn my distrust and somehow allow myself to feel safe to feel the flow of life.

I realize I can get angry for no reason, even when things are going well.

I realize there are parts of me that are very afraid of joy, of allowing joy to roll through my body, of relaxing enough to feel my own peace.

I realize I often brace myself physically and have worked hard at letting go and being in my body with ease and flow.

It's not easy.

It seems silly that it isn't easy to allow success, that it isn't easy to just experience my own joy, in my own body.

But it's true. 

A hypervigilant brain, a tense body, and shallow breathing due to chronic trauma, creates an internal landscape that has difficulty taking in and experiencing moments of joy and peace without experiencing the possibility of a threat. 

Even in my moments of excitement and joy, there is a part of me that is looking ahead, and foreboding joy as Brene Brown so aptly describes it. She says that when we lose our tolerance for vulnerability, "joy becomes foreboding: 'I’m scared it’s going to be taken away. The other shoe’s going to drop…' What we do in moments of joyfulness is, we try to beat vulnerability to the punch.”

Honestly, I have been waiting for the shoe to drop and so while I have been more and more successful this year, I realize now, I experience it with an watchful eye on the future. Not just any future, but a future where it gets taken all away.

This saddens me, but it also opens me up to how I truly want to experience expansion. How I truly want to experience the power of yes in my life.

Open arms, breathing it all in, with deep gratitude and an open heart.

When I finally allow and there are many moments over the last year when I have been fully in the moment of full flow... I am in, I am ALL in.

I don't doubt it, I'm not afraid of it, I feel my flow, I feel my own aliveness and it feels right and true and there is no doubt in my mind that it is my birthright. Sometimes I've had so much joy, my body buzzes. So much joy and aliveness, I felt I could burst and little by little I am finding ways to hold it.

These are moments of pure joy, of being in the zone.

I choose to have more of those moments and to experience them more fully and with a heart of gratitude.

I choose to allow more and more of them in.

I choose to share my joy with others through my art and my healing work.

I choose expansion that is grounded and centered and sacred. I choose to trust in my own expansion. To trust the guidance of Spirit in my life. To trust that I am safe to open, to feel joy, and to experience abundance, and to feel love again.

It is a choice I will have to make moment by moment and it is the next growing edge in my healing.

Being Alone

I realize I blog less when a lot is brewing for me, partly because I know that in words I can't help but be so accurately authentic, and vulnerable that it hurts to face myself in those ways, and partly because I don't necessarily want to be seen in that place.  But for me, the articulation and the being seen in it, is healing, regardless of how uncomfortable it may be.

So today, I want to talk about being alone.

When I look at this photo I see a woman alone, it is the first thought that popped into my mind.

Not alone as in lonely, although that comes and goes, but alone as in finally alone.

I went from the horror of my mother's home into my father's home, into a lifeless and painful, 13 year marriage, and then into a year and half whirlwind of a relationship and finally into living with my daughter in our apartment where the struggle for boundaries continued.

Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of moments of love and light in most of my homes but ultimately I never really knew who I was as I often lost myself in relationships.

 A few months ago my daughter got her own apartment. 

I finally was able to feel what it is like to be on my own.

And most of me loved it.

I loved the freedom, the not having to think about anyone else but myself, the moving about in my underwear, or having loud conversations on the phone, or singing or dancing whenever, where ever. 

It's the simple things, ya know?

My house became the meeting place for my mastermind group and still is. I love that these important and profound conversations are had in the safety and comfort of my home. I love that they feel safe and comfortable there. It matters greatly to me.

Being alone, though, is a mixed bag.

The weight of supporting yourself completely, in New York, no less, is not an easy feat. As an artist there are invariably months you don't do as well as others. Luckily and with a lot hard work, there has always been enough and for that I am grateful, but this isn't about being alone and the burden of that financially really.

It's more about what being alone means right now for me.

When I look at this photo I can feel her alone-ness. It doesn't feel completely scary to me. It feels intriguing, it feels full of potential for digging into the layers of me.

Being alone means going there, facing the tough parts, the parts that keep me alone, as well as the parts of me that want to be alone.

Being alone means untangling myself enough from the story of others, to see myself beyond my dance with those I have loved, and those I still love.

Being alone is part of my healing, reclaiming me and my own power to stand on my own two feet.

It is scary, terrifying even, on some days.

On the scary days it is as if I forget who I am, who I am capable of being, it is like I become the lost wounded self again, helpless, powerless and utterly alone. And my job on those days is to remind myself that I am loved, that I am safe, that nothing can hurt me, not like the old days.

Never again like the old days.

On those days, it is important to just show up, to sing, to write, to paint, to comfort and nurture, to be still and let it pass. I don't have to fight it, it does not have to consume me. I can be gentle and kind because what does a frightened child need most? That is after all what is happening. The scared little girl is "up", "active", feeling helpless and powerless and in need of my loving attention, she is in need of what she never received as a child and I am the only one who can truly give it to her.

Some days it isn't so scary. There is flow, it is electric and beautiful and all the pieces that are coming together are so clear to me. There is hope, and aliveness. Ideas are everywhere. I can see how perfect it all is really. I can see what's coming, what is on its way. I trust it.

I can feel my own power.  I am more in my body.

On these days I am aware that I am never really alone. I am actually guided in such sacred ways even when I am not fully aware of it. On those days I can feel the love inside of me and all around me.

Those are some damn good days.

But I don't want to negate the scary place, or think my way out of it, or and try to force it/her to go away. In fact I want to honor the scary place, to acknowledge it, to see it as true but not true, to give myself and the little girl inside of me, all the compassion I need to rise up, in my own time, in my own way.

Because this state of fear allows me to feel the truth more clearly, it allows me to know my flow more acutely, to honor it, it allows me to rise up with an even deeper understanding of who I am.

And ultimately that allows me to be truer, more authentic in my relationships with others and with myself.

And that is where I want most to be.

Gathering and Recovering Pieces of Me

I don't have many pics from childhood, my mom wouldn't let me have any. The few I did get, I slipped into my purse at various times throughout the years. I would say I have only about 10-15 photos from childhood, but there were hundreds.

It's been painful not having them, it's painful knowing they were probably lost in her eviction, thrown away possibly in some dumpster.

I have very few memories from childhood and those that I do have are often connected to trauma and so when I come across one of these pics, it is as if I rediscover bits and pieces of myself.

For those who don't know I chose not to be in relationship with my mother over 15 years ago, due to a very painful childhood and her mental illness.  Choosing this saved my life and my sanity in so many ways and yet it is a mixed bag of emotions of course.

And so I still do not have access to those photos even if she still may have some of them.

Yesterday, my stepmom came across this one.

I've never seen it before.

My heart leaped and swelled. 

I am 12 in this photo,  and so much has happened, and yet here I am smiling, lifting my stepmom's hand up playfully. And that bit of sass I always seem to come across in these pics is right there. 

It's as if I re-discover my little girl every time I find a photo of myself as a child. Because most of my memories are painful and traumatic, it's like I discover whole new pieces of her when I come across these pics.

I get to see happiness, or sassiness, or humor. I get to remember who I was despite what was happening to me.  I get to see my spirit, alive and well no matter what violations occurred. 

This matters deeply to me.

This makes me breathe deeper into myself.

It makes me feel my love and respect and admiration for this warrior child who laughed and danced in the face of her adversity.

Your recovery, your reclaiming may look differently, but what matters most is that you recover and reclaim the child in you.

She matters. She is essential to your healing.

Being Seen

Difficulty being seen is by far one of the most common issues I come across in my work with women.

Often it comes up when the very nature of what the person is trying to do and be in their lives and or work,  requires that they be seen.

It is my philosophy that the reason these opportunities, albeit painful, show up, is because we are meant to heal the earlier wounds that kept us hidden.

As a child being seen for me was not safe. In fact it was very dangerous and so I learned to hide, to check out when I needed to, to space out, to stay very still as if I wasn't even there.

I tried hard to lay low so as not to make my mother angry.

With the men I became robotic, checked out, barely breathing.

In school I struggled with the desire in me to be seen. I wanted people to notice me. I wanted people to like me.

I remember being asked to do a dance routine with two other girls, for the school show. I was so happy they picked me. But when it came time to practice and finally get up there, I realized I had little rhythm and I couldn't move to the beat. In fact I couldn't hear the beat. A product of not growing up with music in my home.

During the performance I was completely off. I tried to keep up but I was not in sync. It was still a bit exhilarating and if it wasn't for the comments afterwards, I may have been fine.  After the show a few people came up to congratulate the other girls and made comments about the one who couldn't keep up.

I was devastated.

Back to my hiding place I went and I never danced publicly again till I was an adult.

I decided on that day, I just wasn't good at it, that I had some deficit and I would never put myself out there to be humiliated again.

Life taught me to hide over and over again for years and so when life gave me the opportunity to be a teacher in a middle school, I knew I couldn't hide any longer.  At the time I didn't really think about it. I had to stand up in front of the room and talk to my 5th and 6th graders.   There was no hiding from 30 spunky 10 and 11 year olds, looking at you and waiting for you to lead them.   I learned to let them see me and it was a vital part of our student teacher relationship. They didn't judge me, in fact they looked up to me, they wanted to be near me, they wanted to learn. They were kind and showed me that all I really needed to do was be myself.

A few years later I became a lead teacher in writing and had other teachers from around the district come and watch me teach my writing workshop. I quickly learned that I liked the spotlight. I liked being seen, in fact I secretly craved it.

At the time I wasn't thinking about "being seen" but as I reflect back, I know those years of teaching helped me to break through my fears and led me to be very open about my story and my life online, years later. Teaching helped me to come out of my shell.

In 2006, the secrets of my childhood had affected so much of my life. Keeping them locked up caused major denial in my relationships, inability to be there for my daughter and stepdaughter and just a life I didn't want to lead.

In the last two years of my marriage I wrote my memoir as a way of healing and showing myself, the full truth of me.  I created a website for survivors in which I publicly told my story. It was huge to be seen in this way, because I just wasn't showing my good side, but the dark and ugly past that I was ashamed of and still so wounded by.

But I did it and pretty soon, I started blogging and sharing my journey.

I eventually left my marriage, became a coach and started my business. Everything about what I decided to do; be a coach, run women's groups, blogging about my life, all required that I "be seen".

Little by little I became better at not retreating too much after a blog post, or totally crashing after a women's group session..but I will say there were many times that I did crash, I did fall back on familiar patterns of going back into my corner.

In the early years each "coming out" was followed by feelings of being exposed and unsafe and needing to hide again for a little while. I didn't know how to manage my energy and I wasn't fully aware of what was going on for me. Eventually it became clear that there needed to be some recovery time after periods of being seen, and there was no shame in that. It was in fact part of my rhythm and how I operated in the world as not only a person who experienced trauma but as introvert as well.

What I've Learned

Being seen and allowing your self to be seen and to even shine is not something you do without fear. Fear will be there, a nervous excitement will be there, a feeling of wanting to retreat afterwards might be there, but if what you want to do requires that you show your SELF, your life and work will be richer because you keep showing up, even if it is hard.

You might  second guess yourself: am I shining too much, are people going to perceive me as bragging, will people go away and reject me because I am shining my light and sharing my truth? These are very common fears many of us have when we begin to show ourselves.

We have to make our way around this and one of the ways I have found is to resign yourself to the possibility of being rejected and not liked. It's going to happen. It's the nature of humanity. Some people may dig what you do and how you do it and some people won't.  The people who don't are not your people and that's okay. And the truth is, you will be okay, you will be able to handle it. You are capable of standing in your power even in the face of rejection.

For me it has been life changing to find safe spaces where I could be seen. The healing of either the invisibility wound or the not safe wound is often healed through connection. Through being seen and feeling safe. Through the power of being loved even in the broken places.

Another very important aspect is to be aware of the impact you have when you let yourself shine. It is often permission for others to do so as well, to let their own light shine, to share their own gifts with the world.

I am very clear on this and often this pulls me through moments in which I find myself afraid of being rejected. This idea of helping others is a great motivator for me and everything I do in my work. It keeps me going even when I think something isn't working. I am determined to find a way to make it work because when I do, I might be helping to pull someone out of a dark place and that is worth any feelings I might have around being seen.

As a survivor of childhood abuse, I should be shut down, afraid and hiding in that corner because let's face it, life taught me to stay small or else.

But I won't.

I refuse to hide, to be diminished, or to diminish myself.

I work at this daily and sometimes, the part of me that is afraid wins, but for the most part, it is the personal work that I do and the work that I do with other women, that keeps me from hiding in that darn corner. I feel very grateful for that, because it takes me outside of the threat to my "self" and into a realm where it really has little to do with me.

I tell myself...Maybe it's not about you, maybe it's bigger than you..maybe you are a vehicle, an expression of something more and no one else can express it just like you and when you hide it, you deny us all of that pure expression that only you can give.

I really believe that for me, for you, for all of us...