On Having A Busy Brain

Man I wish I could be like some of the people I know!

Me as a cadet... Photo taken by local reporter

I wish I could just choose one or two creative endeavors and just buckle down and be amazing at them.  It's never a thing I have been able to do.  Even at high school I struggled to balance school work with Cadets, a part time job*, a boyfriend, school plays and other extra curricula activities.  During my first year at University I also worked three jobs - concurrently, and managed a social life.  My life has always been more hectic than life seems like it should be.

But now I'm starting to rise from the sleep-deprived haze of parenting small children, I'm realising that aside from the kids, my life will probably always be hectic.

I wish this was not the case.  Because it's just logical to me that if you direct a good chunk of your time, thought and energy into one place then you will have more experience behind you to become really good at that thing.  Regardless of what that thing is.  Especially if it's something that's interesting to you (why would anyone bother with anything else?).  Whether it's parenting, or breeding roses or swimming.  Focus usually gets results.

And if you are focused on that one thing, when you aren't thinking about it your brain can maybe have a rest.  Watching a movie is relaxing.  Computer games are relaxing.  Reading is for fun, and maybe also relaxing.  Maybe when your brain has exhausted its focus on that one thing it will allow you to sleep at night.  And that would ensure you had more energy to refocus on that thing in the morning.

Me having a compulsory kanikani in the booth on Family Feud.  So fun!

I have never had focus.  And up until recently, I was fairly sure this inability to do just one (or two) things was a coping mechanism.  Always busy.  Seldom (but sometimes**) in the spotlight.  Excited about the prospects of multiple projects.  Happily rushing along wherever life has taken me.  And maybe this idea is right.  It makes sense given my background and mental health history.  But I recently started to think if maybe I'm supposed to be like this.

Grandin's books are always an interesting read

I've been reading a lot of Temple Grandin lately (after having enjoyed some other books on animal psychology) and am currently reading one of her most recent books on autism (as well her work with animals she is also very well known for talking about and investigating her own autism).  And it made me start thinking.  Obviously, initially about Etta, because despite this not being her diagnosis there are many things she shares with folk with ASD (in particular sensory issues, fixations and difficulty managing her own feelings).  But also in reading a generic checklist of sensory issues, I realised I tick a lot of boxes myself.

I think most people will probably relate to some of the issues.  But when I went through Grandin's list (very helpfully accompanied by management techniques) I realised there were two sections where I either struggled, or still struggle, with more than 50% of the things on the list (auditory processing and olfactory).  And this helped me realise how I crave over-stimulation: I struggle with quiet (usually have mindless TV in the background to soothe my mind), I have a slight obsession with foods and smells, I struggle to just sit still let alone stop talking.  I talk to myself constantly.  When I reflect on this It's not hard to see why I struggle to focus.  A constant hum seems to help me navigate the world but it's also very distracting. 

Patchwork - one of my favorite two player boardgames

So now I am considering that some of us are destined never to be great at one thing.  Because some of us can never just sit down and do one thing.  I have never been able to pick one creative endeavor I love more than any other.  I love writing.  I love cooking.  I love singing.  I love reading.  I love gardening.  I love drawing.  I love designing/making books.  I love photography.  I love animals and wine and board-games and knitting and film.  I cannot choose any one of those things that I love above any other.

And sometimes when I start working on one thing (knitting) it will automatically make me want to do another thing (making jam) because something about it will remind me of the other thing.  And then something about that thing (the colour of jam) will make me think about another thing (painting, or glass work or planting seeds) and then I will be off on a new tangent of passion.

Attack of the Karate Devils (2006) Knitted Painting

If someone asked me what my greatest talent was I would tell them that it was my ability to make connections between things.  Many aspects of education were simple for me because I remembered facts easily and could fit ideas together naturally.  And the reason I did well in writing essays was my ability to connect seemingly disparate things with ease.  It has aided me in everything - whether through making links between knitting and pixels, understanding how to structure layered incentive programs or writing info sheets for varying basic gut health issues.  Every one of those things came down to me connecting the dots.

So I think maybe I am not meant to be good at one thing.  Maybe I am meant to be interested in many things and use those varied interests to make connections.  Maybe those connections will somehow, at some point in time, be useful in some way.  Maybe they already are and I just don't know because my skill is not to recognise usefulness, but to just make connections.

I guess this is a form of self acceptance - I hope so.  I hope I'm not just excusing poor mental health management techniques.  I hope accepting being like this is ok.  And I think probably it is.  What I am working on now is creating structures so that I can at least get to the end point of creative endeavors rather than leaving them cluttering up computers and cupboards.

Plum and Crab-apple Jelly - just gorgeous!

I think most of the reason I prefer working collaboratively is that I have other people to answer to.  Being so far from my tertiary days in both time and life, collaborating with others is now trickier.  So I've started delegating people to be my 'boss' on certain projects so I can set deadlines that I (choose to) believe has an external affect.  They don't even have to do anything, read or see anything - they just have to pretend they're my boss so it creates the illusion that my self enforced deadlines matter.   

I've started setting short term, mid-term and long-term creative goals so that each year I can explore something exciting, whilst still plodding away at a constant practice (currently that's my Suburban Birds project), while having room for quicker turn around projects (jam, baking, crafts).

I'm hopeful that this will help me feel less envious of my talented peers.  And I'm hopeful that while I do not imagine my brain will ever not be busy, maybe instilling a little more order will help me feel calmer, and more able to watch movies for fun.

* OMG I loved this job so much.  It was just a cafe job but it truly has shaped me as a human being in so many ways that I am still grateful for it over 20 years down the track.  I am still so grateful for that time, and the people I met during that time, and how they grew me into who I am now.  It forged my love of cooking, food and counting money.  Cheesy I know, but still very true.

** When mental health allows it.  I love doing little bits of film, tv and ad work and love love LOVED being on Family Feud (have always wanted to be on a game show!)  I have been featured in varying publications over time for so many different things - advice on IBS and gut health, singing, making art, cadets.  Admittedly most of that has been about time and place though.  And dressing like a hipster before 'hipster' was a term is something that gets you noticed..

A Snippet from my Suburban Birds Zine

It's only a week to go until my exhibition and zine launch!

I am simultaneously excited and terrified.

And busy.  There is always more to do.

Consequently, I did not post a blog yesterday.  So decided instead, to post a snippet from my zine for your perusal.  Enjoy!  The zine will be released next Saturday (25th of November) and you can purchase it from me for $15.  OR ask your local library if they'd like to buy a copy.  It's registered with an ISBN so totally easy for them to buy.

 Me in the pink - a country kid                

Nostalgia and Sense of Self               

 

This project was born of nostalgia.  Growing up on farms one of my favourite things to do was to lie in the paddocks' long grass and wait.  Eventually, the curious cattle would move so close I could peer right up into their wet noses and grass stained grins.  I would lie prone as long as my little body could hold the suspense, then leap up chortling at the terror I unleashed in the eyes of my horrified friends.  I climbed low branched trees and perched, with pen and paper, to write poems and short fictions while watching the birds above and the sheep below.              

For a time, at a very deep level of my consciousness this aspect of my person seemed lost.  Moving to the suburbs to start a family reinforced this sense of loss.  I never expected to raise children in the suburbs.  I never expected this because I could not imagine anything more amazing than growing up in the isolated country as I did.  And I naively assumed that either I would never have children, or that somehow having children would herald a return to rural life.

So I never expected to be a suburban housewife.  Most of the previous ten years of my life near the city I lived a frenetic life: day jobs, art projects, nights filled with gigs, openings and book launches.  

   Me featured in Black Magazine -
     Crazy knitting housewife lady

But somehow I simultaneously predicted this future.  I parodied housewifery through my work at design school.  I printed scenes of my family scrap-booking.  I knitted mundane objects – like life-size lamp-posts to poke fun at the every day.  My work investigated the meditative qualities of repetition, and its relationship to the female experience.  Life in the suburbs always struck me as so banal, so boring.  And in my view of my self – an art student who made ridiculous unmarketable objects - I was neither of those things.

But there I was, another suburban housewife.  Two children in under two years, pushing a Mountain Buggy with one hand, while pulling a reluctant toddler along with the other.  It felt simultaneously unreal and like the natural trajectory of my life.  I both missed my former life, and felt grateful for the excuse (children) to no longer live it.

But the longer I stayed away from my the book launches and exhibition openings the more invisible I began to feel.  I felt an enormous sense of loss, not just in the divide between myself and my childless friends, but in my sense of self.  I have always been a creative - but becoming a Mum sapped me of creative energy.  Before pregnancy I always planned on my kids having the most amazing knitted clothing and toys.  Pregnancy stole my brain; I locked the workplace toilet key in the toilet four times, I couldn't write my own patterns any more.

 Motherhood: Completely changed my world

And once my first child was born I couldn't write poetry either.  Holding this small thing my partner and I had made and were wholly responsible for made poetry seem pretty redundant.  How could anything matter as much as this small person?  How could I ever write anything as meaningful as her existence?  I attempted writing many times and deleted every line.  It all felt so dishonest.

Whilst genuinely enjoying the journey of motherhood, this inability to create fed my anxiety.

In times of difficulty in managing my mental health I have regularly returned to gratitude.  Regular contemplation of the things you are grateful for is a researched, proven and simple method to manage depression.  And it's a method that has always worked for me.  On one of my many excursions into getting well I realised how regularly what I was most grateful for, was the birds.

 

A rosella would flit briefly into the macrocarpa tree overhanging our driveway.  A sparrow would turn its head just so and throw me a cheeky look.  A blackbird would perch on the neighbours rooftop and its sing its little heart out just to mark the coming dusk.

In discovering how much of a salve birds were to my mental state, I began to wonder why.  Why did these little brown sparrows have the capacity to impact my life so profoundly?

Photograph from Day 6

I realised it was because I felt akin to the sparrows.  As a housewife, I felt like I had become invisible.  I was there, I existed, I went places and I did things, but because of my feelings of what it meant to be 'just a housewife' I did not really exist.  The sparrows were the same.  They were everywhere, they are brown and dull.  But looking closely you come to see them as individuals.  Like us, they live their lives in patterns, but moment to moment they can be dazzling and funny and beautiful.  Capturing a bird in a moment of joy is a window into a glorious life.

Seeing this in the birds, truly seeing it, day after day began to give my life more relevance.  Not only mine, but the lives of my peers.

In writing off my suburban parenthood as invisible, I had written off the value of my friends and family who were also parents.  This was not a conscious thing.  I am a feminist.  I strongly value women's work and experience, particularly that of parents.  But my belief in the value of the varied experiences of women was meaningless if I couldn't apply it to myself.

The birds brought back the little girl laid out in the paddock.  They built the bridge back through time to the suspense before the joy of simple things.  They showed me I had the capacity to completely engage with nature where-ever I was.  Because it was part of who I was.  They helped me value my experience, and the experiences of other suburban Mums. 

Discovering the birds reconnected me to my creative self.

 Fantail - drawing from earlier this week