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adding fuel to the flame…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

Have I forgotten what fire feels like? I mean, not real flames of fire, but the heart kind… the inside. The sort of fire attached to cliche sentiments like “pursue what sets your soul on fire”. That sort of fire, not to be confused with the harsh moments of life which feel as though they’ve burned my inner core to the ground.

What does set my soul on fire? For so long it was writing, and I think in comfortable ways it still is. Writing is that thing I need to always remain tethered to, or I simply cease to function well. Do you know what else impairs my ability to function well? Not being creative. The less I’m trying to be artistic (and listen, try as I might, I don’t do well, but I simply don’t care about that. It is the doing that is healing and life-giving, not the perfection!) the less I want to tackle the nurturing, daily bits of life…

the things that encourage me to

  • wash my face every evening.
  • go to bed when my body and mind tell me it’s time.
  • pick up a book to read instead of a remote to watch.
  • stop doom scrolling.

Attempting creativity on a regular basis corrects all of this. It insures that when I do want to listen to music or watch something, it is of a higher quality and less fast-food, mass-made consumption.

It all seems like a no-brainer sort of problem, doesn’t it? And yet… And yet I struggle.

I’m trying, in this new month and second half of an otherwise difficult year, to do better–be better. I’m also trying to release expectations because I am a chronically ill person who struggles with occasional depression. I am forever planning things that old-me could do, and then being reminded IN THE ACTUAL MOMENT that mistakes were made and I’m not that girl anymore. It makes it hard, and to be honest I am feeling a stupid amount of anxiety over my trip home next month, paired with my book launch. There’s so much pressure, especially since I haven’t been there for three years and I am just so different now.

I want to harness the fire I once felt, the flames that fueled the making and doing… the fire that motivated that girl. In truth, I’m tired. Most of us are. These past few years have not been kind to us, and yet they’ve taught us to take note of the little moments that keep life beautiful. These thirty-eight months have educated me on the vitality of being more intentional and prioritizing connection, community, and kindness.

Perhaps the flames are still there, it’s just that now they are the slow, steady burn of a well-connected and creative life.

that pesky halfway mark…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

Every time I sit down to contemplate the lessons a month held, things feel so much heavier than they did the month prior. I’m not loving that trend. While it is completely unrealistic, as we’re now halfway through this year of our Lord 2022, I’m going to hope this B:Side is gentler…

June was a month. A MONTH. I’m really showing my age when I say this statement, but it is once again so profoundly true: This month was an eternity long, but also how is it already the end of June???

Things I learned (or relearned) over the past thirty days:

  • I do actually enjoy going to the movies. Hear me out, anyone who has known me for any length of time has known me as a movie lover. Pre-Covid, going to the movies was something we did OFTEN. Sometimes more than once a week. When routines hit pause, we reevaluated and started to wonder if we still loved this activity. Even getting back into it, well over a year later, often felt uncomfortable. Today I can so I do enjoy it but as something special. Once or twice a month is more than enough for me. I don’t want to go if it’s not a movie that I am seriously excited to see.
  • We can disagree with people we love, about hot-topic issues, and still be respectful. I don’t love this “unfollow and block” mentality, it’s gross and dismissive. Have the hard conversations–show that respect. If you can’t come to a place where you each can exists in love and differences, then take that drastic step. We’ve all had different experiences, and we will majorly disagree with our people sometimes.
  • I’m REALLY glad So You Think You Can Dance is back. While I’m not a dancer, I am a veteran series watched and suspect I may be more articulately qualified to judge than Leah Remini is. (Fox, if you need a stand-in–CALL ME!)
  • Raccoons are jerks. Or at least the one raccoon (we suspect it was one) who slashed the screens of our sunroom to get in and eat the cat food is. How are we kicking off July? By attempting to repair the damage and raccoon-proof our favorite room that is currently out of commission.
  • Sometimes it is essential to take a mental health day, (even when you work for yourself at home) lay on the couch, and binge-watch something. The world will whisper this is a lazy thing to do, but listen… the world needs to mind its own business. Rest can look like a million different things and only YOU get to say what’s right for you.
  • Ice cream for dinner is acceptable. Period. I am prepared to die on this hill.
  • That the world was not ready for Kate Bush music when I was a kid like it is now. I’m here for this revival, though I was also here for it when I was nine.
  • Conservative Purity viewpoints are solely responsible for things like porn addiction. I’d go so far as to say this may be true for a large portion of assaults on women as well. I realized this will be a controversial viewpoint for many, but the reality is the objectification of women is driven from this hyperfixation.
  • Too much time in the summer heat can cause a fever for me. It seems silly, but I experienced it after the Lumineer’s concert that was a few weeks ago, in the middle of a heatwave, and again after attending PrideFest last weekend. BIZARRE… but also, learning these things about the way my chronic illness manifests itself empowers me to know how to act, plan, and what to expect later.
  • Finding creative ways to partner with small, women-owned businesses is my absolute favorite thing!

As we head into the second half of our year, may we love kindly, hold space for others, and treat ourselves gently…

XOXO,

M

shelved…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay1 Comment

In March of 2020, having oodles of newfound time on my hands, I approached my 44th birthday in a far different headspace than I had before. I had resolved, as we entered the new decade, that the year was going to be an extraordinary one for me. I sought out all sorts of symbolic things in the numbers (2s and 4s) and where specific dates fell in relation to the calendar.

While the year WAS extraordinarily significant for me, it was NOTHING like I had imagined.

Because I was celebrating my birthday by canceling a trip to NYC to see a musical I love, which was set to be in previews, I decided to focus on creativity. Specifically, why I had stopped being super creative, and how could I use the endless lock-down time to get it back. I created an ambitious list, which became a journey itself.

For one, some of those things– penned out of the pre-covid mindset– would no longer be things I’d want to do, and that’s ok.

As someone who fell in love with interior design and making spaces cozy and beautiful, at a very young age, I was sad to see that I’d reached a point where I just didn’t care about that anymore. Well, that’s not true… It wasn’t that I didn’t CARE as much as I was deeply homesick, operating on the BRINK of overwhelm/stress, and was often so frustrated with our tiny cottage and the lack of inspiration it seemed to hold. In an effort to combat that, one of the goals on my list became to redecorate the gallery ledges in our living room, every month for a year. The rules were that it had to be an intentional, low-cost change.

I never expected this idea to grow the way it did. Not only am I still doing the ledges over two years later, but this simple thing inspired lots of people to take space in their homes to do the same. It also fed my creativity, lessened my overwhelm, and I began to do small things here and there all over our home. Eventually, this led to us relandscaping our very jungly yard, and now the idea and project list are unending–which I personally love.

I created the Shelf Series (in my Etsy shop) as a fun and low-cost way to help others in this journey. One of my favorite things about this now habitual act is that it created an opportunity for me to connect with and support other print artists.

The journey over these past two+ years has been a rollercoaster one. So much division, so much hatred, so much tragedy… but out of this time has also come so much incredible creativity and so much growth. Wherever your life falls, in that spectrum, I hope that you’re able to find intentional and small ways to bring magic, healing, and creativity into your space.

XOXO,

M

oh oh, elenor…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

Every morning yours is the first face I see. You are pure love, never able to be close enough but still you try.

Everyone loves you. EVERYONE. In the neighborhood, you’d win popularity contests, and with friends–they simply can’t get enough of your gentle, loving spirit. You, lovely girl, make the entire world so much better. (not just mine–ours…)

When you hear a song you love and you hop up on your back legs, asking for a dance, I melt. During naptime when you need to be laying on top of my bunny slippers, or the very sweet way you’ve always been with the cat. Be still my heart, you are such a sweet soul.

Today you’re turning five… Five is still such a baby, in person-years, but in dog years you’re finally a true Golden Girl. I don’t want to look at you, as you sit pleading for a piece of my chicken or a handful of blueberries, and think about how much I’ll miss you one day… even so, sometimes I do. Loss has played such a huge role in this journey I’ve walked, I can’t help it. But you know this, you know this and you’ve loved me through it more beautifully than any human could deserve.

I want to love you forever.

Happy birthday, beautiful Elenor. Soft, tender, with those bright brown eyes always radiating so much love… I promise to never be stingy with my chicken, or with peanut butter because one day I’ll regret the “no”s I said. God knows you’ve given far more than I could begin to calculate…

dear mom,

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments

Happy birthday, mom.

This is the first one without you here and it’s weird… I don’t like it.

In my forty-six years in this world I have spent far more of your birthdays celebrating you long distance, than with you. I never loved that either because we all know how much I love a good birthday celebration. Even in those times though, I could send you overpriced cards, floral arrangements, stuffed animals, jewelry, sweet treats, and all the things you loved.

This year I’m at a loss.

I’ve been trying to recall your voice recently… not the one you spoke with, but the things you’d say before Alzheimer’s ravaged your mind and locked you away. How would that version of you encourage me to honor you today?

What would she say?

One thing I know for certain is that you were always sentimental and held on to lost ones much tighter than you held on to those of us still here… Honoring you would not be to just let today be another day.

Yesterday my good friend Maggie released her first novel, and this evening we’re having a launch party to celebrate this massive success. You’d love Maggie if you were sitting in a room with her because she’s strong and funny, but also once that was over you’d find reasons not to like her because she’s a woman and you really struggled with the whole idea of women supporting other women. I’m sorry you lived a life like that. Now that I know what the otherside of that looks like I can only imagine how truly lonely you felt–always pushing women away and convincing yourself you had to compete with them.

Compete with us…

Compete with me.

You never had to. I wish you’d known–truly known.

In just over two months our story comes out, mine and yours. You’d both love and hate that in all sorts of ways. Even in the ugliest bits of truth, I have always loved you.

Here or not, that will never change.

Happy birthday, mom. Here’s to purple flowers, a banana milkshake, dragonflies, and knowing this will be the first birthday you’ve ever spent not wrapped in bitterness or sadness.

~M