Starting over

2020 was a strange year, but 2021 even more so for me. A year of upheaval and change had caused me, like many others, to upend my own life and reevaluate what I actually wanted. In January my spouse and I were planning a cross-country move to shake things up a bit. I'd been living in my hometown for five years longer than I had meant to at that point and, while I'd accomplished things I was proud of during my time there, the move was long overdue and I was starting to get antsy. A year of being cooped up inside (save for long walks with the dog) certainly hadn't helped.

We had done extensive research about our future hometown and were ready to pull the trigger but it was that moment of decisiveness, of major change and the loss of our nearby safety net, that made me realize it probably wasn't going to work out between us. I had been "on the fence" about the relationship for a long time and we'd had an especially rough year emotionally. Ironically, it was when we were otherwise in a good, comfortable place in our lives and finally had some forward momentum that I began to shy away from the thought of a future together. Things suddenly began to feel real.

If the past year had taught me anything, it's that everything can change in the blink of an eye and life truly is fleeting. I'd been passively drifting through life for as long as I could remember and was happy to let others make decisions for me because frankly, that's what I'd always been used to. I struggled with lifelong depression and had only recently, after a year or so of therapy and medication, started wanting to be alive at all.

Taking control of my own life and listening to my heart was a terrifying prospect and was the hardest path I could have taken at the time and yet, that's what I did.

My (former) spouse couldn't give me much in the way of time and space to make up my mind and in a way, that was probably the best move. I'd been trying to decide for years but deep down I knew what I needed to do--- all I needed was that push.

A part of me had been more certain of a "me" future than an "us" one--- as much as I loved to feel settled and comfortable, I was becoming increasingly anxious about the amount of "stuff" we had been collecting. Weren't we planning to travel?? what would we do with it all? How much could I fit in my car? And how much would a one bedroom apartment for myself cost? What would I bring if I were to travel solo around the world? Did the things we owned truly bring me comfort at all, or would I be able to survive without them?

Despite these feelings I didn't have much of a backup plan or financial safety net and my heartbroken, angry ex didn't intend to leave me with much. We both got what we wanted in a way---he got to keep almost all of our belongings and I was finally forced to embrace the elusive "minimalism" I'd been aspiring to for years.

A close friend of mine had her own life upended at the same time---though not by choice. My ex had just moved out and I was riding out the final two months of our lease when her boyfriend left after an argument and cut all contact, leaving her with all of the bills and a whole lot of questions. She moved in with me and despite the chaos we were experiencing, we managed to have a good time. Even though she was struggling so much herself, her sense of humor helped me in more ways than she could ever know.

Our work schedules were nearly completely opposite and I didn't see her that often, but when she was around I'd see her sitting on the floor next to her air mattress, carefully cutting up magazines with a serene smile on her face.

(Ahh, there it is, at last---the topic at hand! You were probably wondering if I was just going to ramble on about my divorce forever, weren't you?)

I asked her what she was doing and she said she was making a collage. She said she found it calming. I hadn't realized that she pictures she'd been posting online were of actual, physical collages she'd put together and I was in awe. One depicts the legs of two people lounging next to a tiny artificial ocean in the desert. "Hidden in plain sight/ but never standing still" reads the text above them. In another, a woman stands in a movie theater that is turning into the night sky. "Some of that jazz" is pasted over the stars.

I was fascinated and weirdly jealous. Years of being an Artist with a capital A had made it very difficult to make something off the cuff anymore---if I was feeling creative and actually had the time, I was forcing myself to paint for a show or work on commissions and it was somehow never what I wanted to to be doing, because my brain especially has a delightful knack or turning even fun things into a chore.

I hadn't done much art just for the sake of it since I'd hosted art therapy nights in college. It was then that I first learned what really shouldn't have come as a surprise---relieved of all expectations, the process of making art can truly be therapeutic and freeing.

I vowed to make a collage of my own someday and the perfect chance arose a few weeks ago. I had just moved in with my aunt and uncle while I sorted things out and figured out the next step (read: spent approximately half my waking hours bingeing on chocolate, wine and Netflix, as prescribed by my divorce attorney). In the midst of post-divorce bureaucratic drudgery mixed with ever-increasing anxiety about the future, I knew I had to make this friend a birthday card that showed how much she and her work inspired me and I spent a whole morning snipping away at old magazines and shuffling pieces around until I came up with the card pictured above.

What an exciting new medium! The possibilities were endless. Text or no text? A surreal landscape or strips of paper arranged in a pattern? There were no wrong answers. I searched for the message I was trying to convey in advertising slogans and travel brochures, fashion magazines and self-help articles. I was thrilled that I'd packed my adult glue stick but disappointed that I hadn't brought my small collection of exacto knives. I quickly realized, however, that scissors worked just as well and even made it more fun somehow. Finally I was finished and ready to send it off! My aunt and uncle asked me what I'd needed a glue stick for and when I proudly showed them my creation, seemed confused by my enthusiasm.

I shipped the card to my friend and she posted this picture of the inside. Since then she's posted several of her own collages and I've been encouraging her to make a book. She's even sold one! I myself would have probably never would have shown my work anywhere if not for the encouragement of my peers and was glad to be able to do the same for someone else.

Going forward, I hope to see my friend's collages get the attention the deserve, even if she does them just for fun. I hope I get some painting done in the midst of all this chaos. And I will try to remember that if I ever feel too stuck, my scissors and magazines are always there.