Bliss Interrupted - Why I Closed My Art Studio Down

I embraced turning 40. I didn't lament it. 

By the time I turned 40, I had opened and closed a studio space that I had thrown my heart into. Along with LW's sweat.

I tell people I closed it down due to c○vid restrictions interfering with being able to socially gather. That wasn't fully it.

Finding the place where I fit in beyond motherhood hit me hard after going through post partum eclampsia with Beanie. I questioned everything.

There was a space I started asking questions about. Negotiated terms and then- we were working on it.

It was theeee most emotionally and mentally tumultuous year of my life. At the end of it, it reaffirmed something I always knew but often forgot.

We spent the first few months renovating. Making the place what we needed to be. My anxiety grew. While trying to sort my creative supplies, my intentions and make the space work, I had to contend with almost daily conversations about what I was doing.

Missing my mother, grandmother and godmother (who have all passed away) has left me with a raw spot that sometimes gets soothed by older women embodying a mothering spirit. 

There was someone always buzzing in my ear and kept giving me ideas and suggestions and showed me her own creative things. I thought I found someone who got it. Another creative who understood what I wanted to do. Let's ignore me having to repeatedly explain to her my goals for the space.

All I wanted was a space where people could come and make something or paint or draw or color. People in passing would stop and ask if I was opening a bar. Because y'know, the area needed another one. One asked if it was a daycare. I pressed on.

I advertised sip n paints, marble painting, destressing activities, slime making and all that. I successfully hosted four events in the space, Beanie's first birthday party, her big sister's 12th birthday sip & paint party, a teacher's appreciaton sip & paint, and a mini slime making session hosted by Chaela. I shared marble painting with one or two people - one of them didn't seemed too moved. Sigh.

Eventually, I cleared out of the space. I was told to think about vacating the space because I had not been able to pay my way in the space. I packed my shit up and the reaction was shock and I was told we could have worked something out.

What was reaffirmed for me was, my gaping wound for my mother I have to guard fiercely and not let just anyone with a mothering air in. And, I am the kind of person that says something and follows through. I was told to vacate the space, and thus I did. 

Where Ya Been?

My last blog post, here, was September 2019. 

Beanie was one and a half. 

I was staring 39 in the gullet. 

FavritSon had graduated from the middle school we moved down here for him to attend.

MiniMe was starting her final year of the same school. 

I was seven months or so into getting an art studio space off of the ground.

LW had was sorting out getting into an electrical course to make progress on his professional development. 

It is 2026 and I don't know where to begin.😂

Do I start with MiniMe's going off to boarding school at the height of the c○vid pandemic, or my shutting down the art studio, or LW's struggle when two coworkers suddnely died in the same year?

Seven years is quite the stretch. Somehow, some way, I will get you caught up. 

Return of The Mack -I Needed To Be Back

I waffled about where to place this post. A Day In The Life... or Change - Our Only Constant.  It would fit either place, so. Here we are.

Quick Life Update:

We still live in Eleuthera - 9½ years & counting.

LW and I are still together - 10 years & counting.

The kids are (would have been 22), 21, 18 and 7.

Last night, in a rare moment of togetherness, we made the quick trek to the primary school. Inside the library, after both being told they looked way too young to be here, my older two children became registered voters. 

45 years. I have been alive for almost half a century. And there are times I wonder what should that feel like that? 

I swing between days of feeling like I have lived multiple lives and others where I am not quite sure when I became the mother with adult children that I am pretty sure I just gave birth to last year.

The lady at the registration desk went on for a bit about how my 18 year old looked like a baby to be here registering. When my 21 year old came to the desk, she was like no way these two old enough. I was like yes ma'am.

FavritSon affirming his coter info
-he turned 21 yrs old in 2026

It was so crazy for me as I pointed out to her when we moved here that the 18 year old was around the same age as the almost 8 year old.

Life has been, well, life. I will be back to fill in the gap. I have missed this place so much and didn't realize it.

We have so much to catch up on!

Beanie with her fav cat
- she turned 7 years old in 2025

MiniMe signing her voter affirmation
 - she turned 18 yrs old in 2025

The Clock Upon the Wall...

"It's an ever changing time

I see, that clock upon the wall
Well it don't bother me at all
It's an ever changing time

And me, ever changing time
Everything is going so much faster
It seems like I'm
Watching my life, and everything I do
Wonder if the dreams that I believed in
Still come true"

Aretha Frankling & Michael McDonald - Ever Changing Times

 

 

This song has been a favourite of mine from a was a very young girl. I don't know, maybe the rough times we had made a bit more aware, but I always FELT this song.  It spoke of the only certain thing in life - CHANGE.

 

I am homesick.

 

This conclusion was derived after weeks of flashbacks of living in Cable Beach, memories of walking to the foodstore, the kids having more things to do and a sense of comfort and stability that encompassed me when the memories descended.

 

I had no idea.  I was lost. I couldn't figure it out. There were no flashes of Foxdale, no flashes of life as a housewife when I first started having kids and I was learning more of life that I loved and some I didn't care to know.

Journaling furiously, it came to me.  I am homesick.  You see, my apartment in Cable Beach, the western area of New Providence, was as close to island life I had at the time.  I didn't have traffic and hustle and bustle to deal with.  The foodstore was walking distance away, the kids had things to keep them occupied, school was one bus away when the car was down, they had a friend in the neighbouring apartment, I would have both doors open, screen door closed, I rode my bike to work, I had conversations with minds that had traveled and had experiences I admired.

What this apartment also represented was a fierce sense of independence that I didn't somehow have in my previous abode.  Yes, I did what I needed to do financially to make that abode mine, but the overwhelming presence of mummy, daddy, siblings, memories of my marriage, all overshadowed birthday celebrations, family gatherings, getting married, bringing brand new babies home from the hospital...

It just wasn't purged, I guess.  Maybe, if the purging I had started had been completed as intended and I had stayed, it would have felt different.  I don't know.  I actually don't care to know.  When I moved, I felt free. Unfettered.  I felt like I could do anything, yes, even though I had three children to prove that I could go through much and stand triumphant after.

My mother was the free thinker of her family.  Her mind was more open, she had begun to live and speak her truth the older she got.  She also had a lot of prudish and conservative habits.  This is where she and I clashed, but never actually clashed. I lived in her house, and out of respect, there were many things I just didn't do or try.  We had our section, but it was still her house.

After she died, I was left with many more options to some things, that I wouldn't have had had she not.  As a sentimental being, she held on firmly to many things.  For that she could not be blamed. The house and commercial building became symbols of success we had had in the past, symbols of love that daddy provided for us, and she could not bear to let them go. This became wordlessly instilled in me and when I was faced with financial dilemmas, I followed her footsteps.

I don't know how or when, I learned to let go.  I just knew WHY. I began to fear it would kill me. I had two scares where blood vessels burst in my eye, a year a part, that landed me at the hospital choking on fear.  Sitting in the A&E, terrified and having images of her on her gurney waiting on assistance as I was ordered out because my five minutes were up, I cried.  People around me comforted me, spoke uplifting words.

However, I realized that it was a cycle I wasn't willing to continue.  I wasn't willing to continue this stressed behaviour in order to "survive".  My two babies needed me. And I couldn't put that feeling on them, that she had put on me when she departed.

I have been in a state of introspection for the last two months.  I opened a new business and literally at some point shut down.  I had begun clock watching, timing things, worrying about things, noting the calendar, forcing myself into boxes I never intended to.

What it is, is that, I walk around with this gaping hole in me. As I approached eleven years old, mummy solaced me with treats.  To fill her guilt at being away from home dealing with daddy being so sick, she would let me pick something out of store to eat.  I traced this as the start of my eating my feelings.  This is something I have battled for thirty plus years.  Eating my feelings is so much simpler than finding someone to listen, and not just listen, comprehend them and support my search for alternative healthy ways to cope.

So, this gaping hole that I didn't wring into submission before I left New Providence, got bigger when I hopped islands.  Out, in the middle of no where, knowing no one, not sure of anything...well folks. Sigh...

Introspection.  The last two months. On a very heavy level.  Consciously tuning out the clock, caring for a toddler, refereeing two teenagers (yeah, two, 11 is a just a freakin' number), I delved into various articles I looked up on topics bouncing in my head.  What do I believe? Why do I believe it?  Why am I so irritated by certain people?  What can I do to calm MYSELF instead of popping off?  What can I do to let this moment of eating something when I am not truly hungry pass me over?  Why won't I go outside?  Will I ever make a success of this studio?  Why do I get satisfaction in cleaning and placing in order?  How come the kid being kids makes me SO ANGRY? How did I manage to leach my negativity into this man and now he's irritated and agitated more than he's positive and uplifting? How do I move through things not knowing my daddy's history or family?

Well, journaling lead to pockets of epiphanies.  Clear moments where it just clicks and makes sense. I got derailed from my studio because I let outside influence sway me.  Remember that hole?  It felt good to discover someone creative as well.  It felt good to hear that they turned nothing into something.  But, I didn't draw a line in the sand and I let them overwhelm me with ideas that weren't mine, more shit that I don't have anywhere to put it, and suggestions that crowded my mind.  I managed to get through my moments of feeling the need to eat my feelings and  have been seeing amazing changes in my body.  I can see my feet, I no longer look pregnant in my favorite dresses I wore during my pregnancy last year.  I traced some things with my mother, what I knew about daddy, started on my mother's mother, and began meditating to center my thoughts to subconsciously steer away from those fears.

I am in a stage of meltdown, but not a meltdown. This screeching halt came because, I cannot be the mummy I know I can be, if I am not happy.  I become 'screechy "what the fuck is your problem" mummy' just because one of the kids is breathing too loud.  I then become a "yeah I'm okay, baby, why?" wreck to this man of mine.  In this, I have also cleared off our bureau twice, gone through the kids room several times, scoured out our microwave, scrubbed the top of our refrigerator, removed and rearranged furniture, reaffirmed each child's personal spot and that the other isn't to interfere with out invitation or permission, taken on the task of potty training this toddler who knows just what's going on, gotten the mass of clothes we don't need to where it can be used (way before this hurricane season got stupid), kept our laundry at bay, started making the kids take more of an active role in cooking dinner and bathing their baby sister.

Despite all of that, I have also laid in bed for days binge watching Netflix, scrolling facebook and searching many topics and avoiding.  Avoiding what, I am not entirely sure.  Maybe the corner of things from New Providence that I am not quite finished scaling down, but is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay smaller than what it was when it was first accumulated in New Providence, and then moved to our apartment in Cable Beach.  It fits into a corner of our apartment, about eight bins and a few boxes.

Maybe I am avoiding defining my art studio again because my assigned book for it has that done so many times and each time I am derailed.  Even by my own thoughts.

I don't know.  But, I do know, that I am so tired of watching that clock on the wall.  Because of that clock on the wall, I slipped into preferring to be aware of every change and milestone and most activities of my children because we are all only our age once.  I want them to be able to know I am here the way I knew my mummy was there.  

 

Yet, I also have to find that moment and space just for me, because that makes me happy and centered. 

Eleuthera - It is a sunny isle...

We are here.  We have been here five days...and counting.  It has been a big year for members of my family.  My mom's baby brother and his wife, my aunt, just dropped their oldest son off in Arkansas.  My mom's big sister, just dropped her baby boy off to college, now her and her husband's nest is empty, all three kids are off.

My brother's oldest daughter has gone to Canada to study hospitality.  His second daughter graduated with her bachelor's, his oldest son finished high school, second son graduated junior high and third son graduated primary school. It indeed has been a year.

Us? Well. Nothing major. I gave my playgroup to someone who needed it, gave in my last month's notice to my landlord, packed up a mountain of grocery, bought a car the day before our boat was leaving, packed up my sewing machine, microwave, all of our clothing, spices and condiments, rollerblades, scooter and skateboard, uprooted my family and moved to Eleuthera.  Deep Creek, in south Eleuthera.

July is a blur.  This is why I have chats to refer to, facebook statuses - these things are reminders of my thoughts in andfeelings in those moments because, in all honesty, sifting through stuff from my house that's for sale, and packing up the apartment I moved into a year ago - left me no time or energy for my handwritten journal.

I have now just begun to truly sleep.  Every night, I succumb to exhaustion that has built up over the past six weeks.  Papers scribbled all over with plans, ideas, reminders, input from friends, contacts to connect with, and I could go on.  This execution was not without fear, without nervousness and a million whatifs.  One thing it was without was, hesitation.  I plotted my goal, and had to rearrange the path to get there.

During the process, the kids had to attend their summer programmes, be fed, clothes laundered, battles refereed, and sent to bed when I just couldn't take any bloody more!

Last night, a dear friend listed off all of the things I accomplished in the last two years, she told me I had been going hard for the past two years and that it was quite time to sit back and take a deep breath and just enjoy being here and relax.  Work will come, life will continue to open up for us.  I heard what she said and reminded her that every moment that I don't make a dollar I am also closer to owing rent for this new place, light and water as well as my son's school fee.  I am making connections and friends and learning the lay of the land in the meantime.

However, the reality of what I just did is settling in, as the adrenaline is wearing off...the atmosphere down here is amazing and I do not miss where we came from at all.  I didn't miss the area we lived in before I moved to our apartment, and now, I do not miss where we just left.  I know that there are people wherever I go, and negative energy is existent in many places.  But, the supercharging we all feel in this less city charged place - words can never do it justice.

Lutra

I handed over my playgroup today, officially.  I knew it was gonna suck, just not how badly it would.  Faced with the actuality of a move that would make me more independent, and just handing it over.

This whole process of sloughing off dead weight, some days are marvelous, some are just downright, gimme some wine and lemme go to bed.

There was a "meeting", I don't know why we call them that, we are soooo informal, lol.  But we met at the house we often meet at, then headed over to the new space.  The space I was supposed to move into with my group, the space that it took three years to find and finally not be in someone's actual house.  This space, that is so lovely and I now must watch the landlord hand the key over - but not to me...

Hugs aplenty, and I needed every blessed one.  The joy I felt for my "replacement" was there, it truly was, it was just muffled by the screams of "What the fuck are you doing, where are you going?" It all felt so right and so upsetting at the same time.

Learning her back story later on though, that brought me to tears.  And it all made this whole thing so perfect.  The timing and the need.  Just as this playgroup "fell into my lap", it is now falling into hers.  And as one single mother to another, it couldn't have felt better.  It was a moment that reminded me, that as my heart was grieving a loss in a sense, and my head was saying this is right, my soul, sixth sense or intuition or whatever felt even more strongly I had to do this, meet her, see the place - "give her my blessing" - and now I don't regret it.  The alignment is just crazy.

It doesn't make my actual leap any easier, in a way.  I feel good that all on this side is taken care of in that regard, my babies that I have bonded with are secured. It is when I actually think about the leap, that my stomach knots up harshly and my mouth goes dry and I feel that panic.  But, every time I have felt panic, every time I have felt that fear - I have done it anyway and never regretted it...

Wild, Calm, Woman

I laugh.  I can now, and I could not too long after.  My thoughts are still a bit scattered and uneven and rampant.  But I feel free and happy.

I discovered some more things he had done, but, I let the anger pass through and out of me.

My mother has been dead, not breathing, still, lifeless, decomposing, for the past, almost seven years.  I recall her death as if it just happened.  The gaping maw is still there that can never be filled.

I leave for Eleuthera on Friday.  I am pushing forward with a plan that I have no idea what is going to happen.  I just now that I need to follow through, because we never know what may happen to work in our favour. My only son, the only male I have given birth to, is entering high school and I need him somewhere where the environment is conducive to bringing out his best.  Away from the materialistic distractions, that exist despite my filtering, fighting and goals.

Ugh...signing off...