A year or so ago, I wrote an article about people that can reveal themselves as toxic in one’s life. It is hard to draw a line between ourselves and others we consider friends. Then this happened to me.
*** UPDATES: After the results of 23andMe I am only 2.9% Native American on my paternal side. Meaning my grandfather’s lineage is solely French and Spaniard resulting in an error that occurred fifty years ago having his family believe they were Mohawk. But, this doesn’t change any of my views on the matter of defending Native American rights. ***
Circles of Hell
I do not enjoy talking about myself or my life. I like to keep my privacy within my house walls and a relatively tight circle of people. It is hard for me to accept what my life became and where I am heading. When blood is thinner than water it hurts my very life.
With that said, and this is where it gets trickier for me. I do not believe in a “higher purpose” or that “everything happens for a reason.” I do not think we are born with a predestined path to follow.
Recently, many social media exercised a purge of their respective platforms. Nobody seems to understand their doing or their reasoning. However, the most significant audience it affects seems to remain the same: the independent and freelance creatives.
The Big Boys
For years now, Facebook went through many facelifts and changes. So many times, I remember going, “What the frack?” and “Okey-dokey.” On my journey to become an author, I created a network of fellow creatives from various fields, as well as editors and small publishers. It stuck with me that often they would say Facebook hurt their business.
We all know that Instagram belongs to Facebook. It is their application to share pictures and videos. An excellent platform for authors, or at least, it was. Then again, they went full-purged on their users. Going through a multiple of “Follow Loop,” I must say that I dropped out from the Instagram wagon. I heard of this purge way too often.
“You will never make it. You are not good enough. Your art is not what any industry is looking for.” Those were the words of my college Art Design class teacher.
It Starts With A BANG!
I grew up in the art world. There was nothing I wanted to do in life other than being part of the artistic world. I worked hard to understand human behavior as well as the surroundings.
I developed a very observant eye, and my attention to detail is overly developed. I leave nothing to chance, which might not be because of a variety of art courses I took. It might be because of my OCD and chronic anxiety.
When I was younger, I thought that my night terrors were usual. I thought that my overactive imagination was a curse.
I thought I was abnormal and didn’t fit in anywhere. I didn’t know an artist lived with anxiety.
Once Upon A Time
I grew up with my mother and grandparents under the same roof. My mother was an artist, drawing and painting. My grandpa worked at a binding company for publishers. He would bring home many books that had small defaults in the paging, margins or didn’t make the mark. Believe me; we had priceless bookshelves!