My counsellor advised that I need a space to be creative in, I need a space that is just mine, that no-one else can invade, that is sacred to me. A space where I can be Sara-Jane and express my creative personality. I need it to recharge, to be me, in my space. This is my creative space…
Now I was supposed to insert a picture of my creative space…tidy. I couldn’t find one. I thought I had a picture of it tidy and a picture of it messy and I was going to compare the two — it turns out it is very rarely tidy, apparently!!
It’s rarely tidy
So this is a photo of it mid-use. I have my fabric out and boxes open, tea cups and all sorts. This is how the magic happens. My counsellor would love this because during one session we went through a dream life scenario: where would I live? what would I be doing? what would it look like? etc., and basically this covers it. Well maybe not. I said I wanted to be working somewhere looking over the sea, with big windows, and to be painting.
Well, I have a window behind me that lets in lots of light but it looks over fields, not quite the same. I also said I wanted a huge table in the centre of the room covered in tea cups and glass jars of water and paint everywhere and paintbrushes and all sorts. So I guess I have the mess and the tea cups down. The thing is that this is my space and I can have the mess and be happy in it. Right now I am writing this sat in my space. My laptop barely fits in the mess. And I love it!
So anyway this blog was supposed to be about this picture:
I took this after a very interesting conversation my husband and I had. He said that my desk is a complete representation of my life, and I have to agree.
It represents my life
1. I probably would like it to be tidier. I like order and control. So yes, when I am not in a good place this desk is immaculate, because I feel like I need order and that will make me feel better. It reflects how I feel about life. I would like it to be tidier, to run as it should for everything to be smooth and tidy. It is not!
2. The grey box. This apparently is Tim. It is shut, but it is also unlocked. Tim is there, he is ready and waiting, he is not open wanting attention. But he is there unlocked, ready for me to dip into when I need. The grey box is where I keep most of my tools. The things I need. Not the creative bits, but the things that hold everything together: the pins, the thread the things that fix. They are what Tim is. He holds me together.
And my family
3. Tim thought the other box, the birdie one, was the children. I just cannot shut that box, the things in it just don’t fit and I cannot get the lid down. I said actually I think the boys are the the ribbon box. No matter how many times I roll up the ribbons, I tie them, pin them, put a lid on them, they escape. They spill over, they are chaos in that box, there is no order, no taming them. No matter what I do with the children, I cannot tame them. I can try and put them in a box (not literally) and they will spill over — there is no sorting them, ordering them. I just have to accept that these ribbons, these boys are what they are. A mess!
4. I think I am the sewing machine. The thing in the middle trying to keep everything together. My sewing machine is old. It has sewn all kinds of fabrics, card, plastic, paint. It got me through my A-levels, university, it has come from house to house. Made costumes, fixed things, created things. It has been through the wars but it is still standing and it is still going!
I’m in my space
I feel I am in the middle of the chaos, trying to keep everything together, fixing things from sore knees to poo accidents to ill husbands. I have been through the wars and travelled all over but now I am here. In my spot, in my space, and you know what? It is a good place to be. (Might have shed a tear at that point, proud of it.) There is plenty of life left in that sewing machine. I thought about replacing it recently. But I don’t think I can now — I think it will be with me for a long time yet!!
I look around my whole room now and actually it is all a mess: my bed isn’t made, my clothes are all over, there is just stuff everywhere. And yes this does reflect life. It cannot all be in order. And why should it? I am happy in this space and actually although, yes, I have ups and downs I am happy being Sara-Jane. Mess and all!