April 8, 2013

Dads. Complicated issue. Maybe it takes a generation of bad fathers to make the next generation ten times better. I hope that’s the case most of the time. It is in my husband’s case and my brothers. Yes, things were different back then, but some things remain the same. Being a parent isn’t something you can skip out on, although plenty of fathers do. It takes work. Lot’s of work. A life long job. I wish we could revoke the “father” name to those that don’t deserve it, make it all legal like a divorce.

What is it about having a baby that makes people feel like they have a right to be in our life?

What is it about divorcing with kids that makes a father feel like he no longer needs to support his kids financially and emotionally?

After a grueling weekend with my father in law I’ve come to realize a couple of things. We don’t owe our absentee fathers anything.

But at the end of the day, actions always speak louder than words.

So I give credit to the fathers that come around in their own way and make an effort (my father in law is one). That goes a long way in my book. Still, it’s not a perfect system because those fathers, who were not there as fathers should be growing up, become strangers. And although I can stand back and applauded the effort and appreciate the sentiment that some fathers take late in life- trying to be better and all-it doesn’t guarantee that we will like you. The penalty of not being there when we were young is that we will not be there for when you are old. Being there is what family does, blood or not.

April 6, 2013

Like a storm coming in at a distance I felt uneasy about a situation I was involved in, and like a thunderbolt it came to me. I don’t want to do this. I guess the nice thing about turning 35 and having a baby is that I really do feel like an adult and as an adult it’s my prerogative to make my own decisions. As I came to this realization I got nervous, like I was caught cheating on a test or something. The kind of nervousness where my voice starts to quiver and I start talking fast, and in my minds eye the upcoming confrontation ends in a fight. I knew I had to deal with it. The longer I sat on it the longer it was going to eat away at me.

So I called the person to tell her I could no longer work with her. I wish I had the guts to have mentioned something earlier and leave my son as an excuse out of it. But I hadn’t. And to be fair, I just came to this absolute conclusion. Sometimes it’s hard to say no to something that in all actuality seems O.K. But I knew. Deep down I dreaded it when she called, I pretended to enjoy the projects that I worked on but in all honesty they just made me stressed out. I felt like a phony in her realm even though we are both artists I somehow always felt that my aesthetic was inferior to hers. My feelings on this subject are a complicated web- sometimes resentful of being used by her and sometimes thankful for how insightful she can be. She could be so giving and yet so demanding in the same sentence. I felt that I was boxed in from the beginning, and I hate that feeling, something similar to being on a pedestal. Not much room for personal movement of freedom.

So it’s done. Ripped it off like a band aide- and it feels good. Even though I kind of feel like I should have handled this situation earlier, or at least have been more honest with how I felt- I’m glad that I’ve reached the end of the road with her. At least for now, I never know if the partnership will branch off in the future. And let me be clear, it’s not the ending of the friendship- at least I think not even though I do believe that the main reason she came to me was a means to her end- that or cheap labor. See, complicated feelings.

I don’t ever want to feel like I’m not as good as an artist as someone else, or that my opinion doesn’t matter because of my lack of degree, money, experience, or what not. And if that means avoiding people who make me feel that way, then that’s what I must do. Gosh dangit! I’m an adult…right? I wish I had done this with my last job. Recognizing when it was time to leave for the sake of my own happiness and my own personal growth. Instead I stayed there and molded on the counter like rotten fruit. A little dramatic, I know, but it’s the truth.