Good with the bad.

This ones title started as something else, something much darker, I wrote a little and had to pause to do other life things, a couple of conversations later and some time to let the overwhelm settle and the reflection set in and the direction of this  whole thing change, same experience, whole different attitude.

I'm in new territory, the extremes still exist, I don't think that will ever change but what I have now is a formation of thinking that I have built over the years to counter balance that, also a genuinely good bunch of people who help tip the scales away from doom. 

At the moment that feels more like a tug of war than it does what I really crave, balance. What I realised is that, that is solely based on my perspective of things. If I think everything is shit, it will feel shit. If I overlook all the good because I'm locked into worry, things will feel bad.

I've also realised more recently that, as open as I can be around conversation's of mental health and such, I am embarrassed of my own struggles in the moment, if I cant hide the shakes, the stutters, brain fog, or hecticness from panic, I don't want to be around others, I worry about what they'll think which just makes everything worse, which is probably why I isolated for years and even now is my natural reaction to things when those times come, especially in winter, fucking winter! 

That will never change sat in my house not dipping my toe, not entrusting others to handle people with humanity, fear of being ridiculed, its terrifying but aside from my children, the most rewarding thing I experience. 

The terror very much eased by the little pockets of safety and acceptance in spaces I've found, the gentleness of humans I only ever saw as a rarity, no longer a rarity.

So, the good. I hung some of my paintings in public for the first time, as did my daughter with one of her photographs, in a gallery, an award winning gallery! That has become one of those little pockets for me.

Although very surreal, I'm chuffed, so chuffed. Little old me, that didn't think she'd make it passed 30, nor wanted to, who came from an artistic family but was the one that wasn't good at art at all, little old me who came from shit show after shit show, who a year ago wouldn't have even debated trying to pursue art beyond my living room.

HIVEArts I will prattle on about this place and the people there all day long. Accepted? rattling, prattling, not knowing what the fuck you're doing, it doesn't matter one iota. It's so grounding, in the best way.

Between my friends, family, the people at and the opportunities given from Hive, personally and artistically, those little pockets of a personal utopia.

I cant even put into word the gratitude I have, my heart races and my eyes fill with overwhelm, my swallow function has a party without my permission and my insides tremble like jelly on roller-skates. 

I am struggling, but I am so grateful for all of the things.

ART SLAM, HIVEArts. upstairs at HIVE urban farm shop, 80-82 church street, Blackpool.