I am Fighting Your Demons

I am not sure if apologies are necessary, but I will do one just the same.

Writing has been taking up all of my time, which leads me to be a hermit and indulge in the artistic side of creating, which usually means becoming an isolated asshole actually!

So, my apology is to the fact that I haven’t had the space of mind to write to you from here, but please know I am writing.  If you have never undertaken the labour of love which is creating a book then let me tell you it is without a doubt, time consuming, all consuming and leaves you very bleary eyed and lacking any form of being able to articulate a normal conversation outside of the parameters of the pages you are staring at.

Every situation turns into a new setting and before you know it you are staring at strangers trying to capture the movements in words.  On that note, apologies to the poor lady in the ice blue dress with the wind gently caressing your hair as you order your Pina Colada from the bar, the sun gently setting behind your…oh shit there I go again.

It could be worse, I could not have the time to be able to create.  Ugh, just writing that gives me the heeby jeebies.  My creative hand has usually been attached to a paint brush, but with all of our travelling to create my husband’s books, carting around paints and canvas was not an option-thank you airlines all over the world for charging so much in baggage fees.

I started this blog with the understanding that I was venting, letting go of demons, expressing my pain and hoping that thru all of my words someone out there could rely on the fact that they are not alone in their daily struggles.  We all have our own battles to fight and we all have our own unique way of dealing with that.

I would like to thank you, each and every one of you for your support in this past year with I Am this Woman, as it has been the canvas for my novel to unfold upon.  Like layers of paint, I have been slowly building my own Mona Lisa.

The last time I put brush to hand was to do a self-portrait of my husband, he was in the process of completing his second book and based on my first paragraph, ‘Which means becoming an isolated asshole’, I had some time and space to turn his book into a piece of art.  I wasn’t able to complete it and it still rests in Scotland, one day I hope to return to it and put the final pieces of his words on it.  For now though it is a reminder to me that creating, of any form is a healthy expression and one that all should try.

 

And on that note, I Am Off, off to create, off to become that indulgent artistic brat that we all know and love (she says with a wink)….off to describe every nuance of a piece of sand.

I am that artist, I am that writer, I am that asshole, I am a creator, but most of all I am this Woman.

Title-Fighting Your Demons,

Self Portrait-Denny Denholm

Mixed Medium on Acrylic

Artist-LXO

 

I am that Raw

I am that Raw

They had arrived on the island from Dubai, all fresh and worldly, corporate and clean shaven. The island that they were to make their home was world’s away from that, it was in fact the exact opposite, motorbikes and bikinis, sun downers every afternoon, earthly and free of all societal traps.

It took awhile for Fleur to settle in, she had been a white picket wife for years and this new freedom was intimidating. As an artist she could see potential, but how to incorporate art onto an island of hardened divers and DJ followers. Saul needed to write, he needed his space, as did she. Both were trying to decompress from the whirlwind of the oil business, Middle Eastern politics and of course family they had left behind.

Fleur was having trouble fitting in, her guilt and loss of her past were getting in the way of her relaxing and trying to understand the freedom of the islands minds and their blatant lack of wanting to know anything from the other world.

Saul asked her to go back to her roots, her art, and find some peace in that. He was agreeing with anything her mind would race to, to fill the empty spaces of her turmoil and so the day she told him of this great space she had found for her art studio, he gladly welcomed the distraction for their peace.

The space was above an already established bar, well known for it’s individuality and DJ presence, however it was a misfit for the island, in the fact it was an effort to get to. But for Fleur it was perfect, quiet, out of the way and perhaps peace of mind was waiting for her there. Her project firmly made on a handshake she set about trying to figure out how to build an art studio. Once the space had been cleared, a thought of setting a bar within the studio seemed like a good idea, and with the help of the local Burmese community, bottles were recycled, bamboo cut and cement was churned. A bar/ art studio was forming before their eyes.

But the other world was hurling towards them and their bliss of a new marriage, a start to a home and a new project was about to change course.

They had taken a month sabbatical to just get to know each other without the dramas of the past. A month travelling South East Asia, a marriage in the jungle and a Buddhist silent retreat meant their bubble had been preserved. Halfway during their retreat Fleur was feeling uneasy; she was instinctually feeling she needed to be back to base. They had been offline and not communicating with the world, for now what would be nearly one month. Saul felt the same unease and with that they packed their belongings and headed to the dock. The boat ride home was 45 minutes but to them both, it felt like an eternity. They arrived home to the island and their villa with trepid steps, each one with the feeling things are getting quite surreal.

Fleur was on the computer first, a message from overseas said it all…her sister wrote, “We don’t know if this is a joke or not, but your daughter has just written rest in peace Dad….”

 

Fleur looked to Saul, “Don’t unpack we need to get the children.

Within two days they were back in it, that world that they were so desperately not wanting to be apart of.

A month ensued and on the final day of court the judge layed down his gavel . He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes thoughtfully…he addressed Fleur ‘And what will you call this place you have created’, Fleur responded…Raw your honor, it is called The Raw…..

I am the creator of Raw