If I May

Since it's gotten nicer and nicer outside, and the sun has given me more happiness than I've had in quite some time, I'm in a super excited and silly place. There are so many people wearing flip flops and dresses in the city, so many smiling couples and pups out with families in this awesome weather. It seems as though the fresh breeze is carrying bits of happy around and letting it fall on us just when we each really need it. And it's about damn time.

After the bombing last month during our beloved Boston Marathon, there's been a stillness in the city. People have been unsure of how relaxed to let themselves become. Though we've given a sigh of relief after suspects were caught or killed, we still hurt for what happened... and many people question the tragedy. There are tons of unreliable sources spewing what they think we should believe through the sharing of their websites and photographs. It's maddening. I think we deserve some beautiful freaking weather, and a fresh season.

But there is one absolutely terrifying thing about this month.

May is National Irritable Bowel Disease Awareness Month. That's actually wonderful- far from terrifying. But it's the month that I, along with countless others, was initially diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. The change of seasons can wreak havoc on an autoimmune disease, and many people start to flare when the weather gets nicer. It's a crap shoot, but it's our job to try and find things to be happy about everyday. If we don't, we run the risk of getting sick and becoming super miserable. The positive vibes you give yourself are in direct correlation with how good you feel.

If you've got blood running through your veins, you've got the opportunity to make your time on this planet worth something. Even if you're sick. Especially if you're sick.

Make a plan.
Show your teeth.
Grab happiness by the nape of it's neck, and make it your own.

Sometimes even a well-deserved, gorgeous new start is scary. The truth is, people with a lifetime sickness never stop working. Ever. Being on your toes is something that becomes second nature, but can hurt... so we've got to make sure that we're well-rounded in our activity, knowledgeable of our conditions, and willing to sacrifice a lot of things that mean very much to us. At least, for the next few months anyway, we can fight, fight, fight with our toes in the sand and our faces in the sunlight.

You can turn a shitty situation into an opportunity to help others. And to help yourself.
Every moment is what you make it. 

Don't ever let a doctor tell you otherwise.

The Honesty Policy

When I started writing this blog, I wanted to be able to share what was going on in my life with my family and friends [most of my family lives far from me, and I've been away for a number of years]. More importantly, I wanted to start a journal of my life with Crohn's Disease for myself, and for my children.

I did not intend for it to be viewed by others. Sure, maybe I thought of a few pals that I could push the link to, but I had no idea it would be so well-received by fellow Crohn's sufferers, or so many passersby. I couldn't be happier with the result. I truly adore making friends and learning from people all over this planet, and writing Stale Cabbage has helped immensely in being able to do so.

I hadn't expected to spout regular fears and weaknesses that I find within myself as I take this fantastic Crohn's journey. After some intensely written posts, and sharing much about my sometimes* hilarious  bathroom follies with the World, I'm on a much better track to becoming well. I'm almost in remission, and tomorrow, with the help of my favorite GI specialist, I hope to finally get that wonderful news.

The awkward part, as if images of my insides weren't enough? Public knowledge of my new start. These days, I'm not afraid of exposing every teeny part of my Crohn's Disease. I'm very proud of that. But as I embark on a career in Illustration, every piece of my heart [and colon] is on display for all to see. That includes potential clients. There is a link to this blog on my professional website. 

Why?

Because I believe that the work that you seek should reflect on who you are as a person.

I know that in some facets of the commercial art industry, such openness may be seen as weakness. And if my work is seen as such because of the way that I live my life online, for other Crohn's survivors, I couldn't care less. There will always be people out there looking for artists who are just as real as I am.

When you're real, other people see that. They can feel it. That includes clients, peers, long-time friends, and significant others. I like the way my work reflects on my silly demeanor. I enjoy being able to hold a conversation with someone about what makes their project so special, and I want no part of a career that doesn't call for regular heaps of interactions like those.

Shut Up And Be Driven

If you have the opportunity to work with something that you love, you should, right? However, that opportunity will almost never simply present itself, so working to get to that point is super imperative. Most people don't understand what it feels like to work toward a goal while simultaneously working through a sickness. I absolutely think that failing to put the effort in for something that you love is a sickness. 

When you're suffering, for any reason, the last thing that you want to think about is how you can better yourself. When I was super sick, I started writing things down that I wanted to change about myself when I got better. This included tiny things like remembering to shut off lights when I walked out of a room, or to get dressed everyday [even when I knew I'd be too weak to go anywhere]. Of course there were days when I stopped caring about the future, about anything I'd have to put work into. I was miserable. But I knew that the day would come when I would be happy to hustle.

That day is finally here. I'm peddling my ass all over town trying to find work, and I'm starving for it. I honestly thought that I might never have gotten better. On those days that I get brave enough to  remember thinking I was close to death, I appreciate everything in my life. All you need is some serious commitment to your craft, confidence, networking skills, with the ability to accept any criticism, and boom- you're on the right track. Staying humble is something that I have seen in some pretty amazing artists who are making livings of their craft, and that's how you can become so beautifully seasoned. Listening, and not being afraid to expose yourself are really important skills in this business. Don't get me wrong, it seems as though I'm discouraged about something [literally] every day. But what knocks you down a peg should only help you to work that much harder in trekking your path.

Got a pebble or two in your shoe? Take them out and decorate them. 

Then sell them. Just don't stop your life-hike because you're a little sweaty and you cut your leg on a branch that someone forgot to clear for you.

No one will ever clear the entire way. And why should they?

Pull up your socks, pack some sammies, and get 

your ass up that trail.

June Issue

One of the best parts of Summer is having the realization that it's finally here. Unfortunately, the chilly air is lingering in Boston. Still, the start of a new season is refreshing. I love the feel of a different temperature on my skin, and dressing accordingly. I'm also pretty excited about my growing portfolio, finding interesting work, and turning 27. Again.

One pretty awesome development in my life right now is the rebuilding of an old bike that someone left in our basement when the house was sold to our landlords.

I haven't done much work on bicycles before, but learning about it is a lot of fun. I also haven't attempted to ride one in maybe ten years.

This particular bike is from England, and was made in the 60's. Revamping is super fun, and I plan to make her dazzly.

One piece of advice, if you're using an old tire- make sure that there aren't any cracks in it. After filling the first one with air, I'm happy I was sitting far from it when it exploded a few minutes later. Can you gauge my skill now?

I'm doing okay as Ms. Fix-It. I'm finding that I actually like it.

I've also recently discovered a new favorite food.
Marshmallow Pup.

What's your Summer project?

Petroleum Jelly

Last night I was with my friend Meg, [it was her birthday yesterday, and we baked and stuffed our faces with red velvet cupcakes] when mentioned how when she was younger, her mother applied Vaseline to her skin. It made me recall those teeny rituals that you share with your mother as a young child, and I started to miss some of the ones I shared with mine terribly.

Last Sunday was Mother's Day. I have been far from my Mama for some time, now. We visit, and talk nearly everyday, but I can't help but feel a disconnect from how close we were when I was younger. I'm sure the distance takes it's toll, and I think what might be happening in this relationship- something that has been happening in most of my relationships- is that I am growing away from certain bonds. I'm also more of an adult than I've ever been.

After succumbing to sickness, after being so down and out for such a long time, the thoughts of previous comforts are what get you through when you're struggling to reclaim a sense of normalcy in your life. I had a stuffed bear when I was small that my mother and I named Bones. He was small and brown, and had a red bandanna tied around his neck. The flake that I was- and sometimes still am- I left him everywhere, and when I'd lose him again and again, my mother would somehow find a copy of him in a toy store and bring it home so I wouldn't be so sad.  It wasn't until much later that I realized just what a stretch that was for her, as we weren't the wealthiest on the block. I was a super sensitive kid, and my mom was awesome in helping to keep my anxiety at ease in any way she could. 

This is my courage frog. When I'm sick and need to be admitted to the hospital, I take this little guy along, keeping him close to my bed where he can keep an eye on me when my Mom's far away in Florida. She gave him to me during my first Crohn's hospital stay in Boston.

Can you think of things that your parents did for you, not necessarily to keep you from being upset [though powerful cures may often be needed to subdue the willies, heebie-jeebies, etc.] that stuck with you? Or something that you remember from when you were little that just seems to make everything feel a little better? Maybe the smell of a certain breakfast, or songs that you sang with friends or relatives? I remember my good friend Dina explaining years ago that when she was sick as a child, her mother would make her english muffins with peanut butter. Go Stace! 

I think that because I'm grown, and far from my Ma, I'm always looking for ways to mother myself. These urges come in small doses and pack a punch. I like that. And I can't wait to be the tough little me that I was before taking so much sick time. I'll keep thinking about finding new methods to make myself less scared.

 I still have a newer version of the worry dolls that I used to carry around as a nervous kid. 

Ever have these?

I'm sure I'll get Bones out of the closet every now and again to give him a good squeeze and think about how safe I felt when the both of us fit on my Mom's lap. 

Until then though, this guy will have to do. 

Don't Wig On Me

When you can feel your steroid medications changing your mood for the worse, it can be hard to bring yourself to think of ways to buck up. I've spent time wallowing in these darker moods in the past and it's not exactly the healthiest or most fun thing to do. I would find myself judging others harshly, and that's never okay. Strangers, even. I'd look at what they were wearing, how they moved or talked, and think negatively about them. I'd see other girls, think they were really pretty- and hate them for it. I was unhappy with my body, being sick, and my lack of physical ability. I've actually acted mean to people. Not cool.

I wish I would have told someone close to me, so they could have promptly given me a kick in the ass. Negative thought, no matter where you direct it, hurts you, too.

Being judgmental of others because you're feeling bad about yourself is bogus. Pull those claws back in! You're not an animal, and appreciating people for what they are actually starts to feel good. You may not have to agree with everything that other people do or say, but they're not twisting your arm to get you to be they way that they are. And if they are, please reconsider that relationship immediately. Yikes.

I've started thinking about things this way: If someone is wearing something that I think is weird, I stop and say to myself, 'He likes wearing that shirt, hat, beard of bees, etc.'. And it makes me think of what I'm wearing, and why it feels good to me. This is probably even a kindergarten exercise, but it's come up in my warped little mind recently and become super helpful when I get mean for no reason. I'm glad for it.

This is the last thing in the world I'd want to have on my head. And if I'm not in a courtroom with that, and a gavel in my hand, I've no right to pass judgement on anyone for anything.

What Are You Lookin' At?

This is a very serious matter that I think requires some attention... from me, at the very least.  

There are few things in this life as effective as 'Dancing It Out'. 

Have you ever really listened to the lyrics of Vogue?  They are absolutely unquestionable therapy for those who don't have insurance and need to ditch some depression.  Of course, they should be heard as is intended for such a session- in your bedroom, at full blast, while you dance to them in your underwear.

 

Dancing triggers an endorphin release.  When you're lonely, depressed about being sick, or sad about really anything, dancing will make you feel better.  I freaking guarantee it.  Pick something fast and catchy, or something that you can sing along with into a hairbrush [please, don't think I hadn't assumed that you already do].  When you feel like lying on the floor and crying- which I admit happens regularly when I'm not doing well- you sort of have to force yourself to cheer up.  You'll bring your spirits to a place where, I promise, you'll be thankful to yourself for doing so.

Not to mention, we let our inner bad-asses out when no one's watching.  When I'm [most likely very clumsily] stomping around my apartment to music, I'm not sick.  I'm sexy.  I'm happy.  I feel good.  And no one has to see me making a fool of myself, so when I actually can go out dancing, I will feel so confident that I won't care if they do.  

Surely, this is because I am a crip walking master.  

 

Um, people are still doing that, right?