Well crap. It’s two in the morning, and I’m just now starting to blog. Now, for the last two hours I’ve been right here on this laptop working, trying to add a page to my website. I’ll explain. Today and for the last two days I’ve been working on framing brooches in such a way that they can still be worn. That is, so that they can be used as art on your wall or art on your person. And whereas I still have a few more in the works (the paint’s drying), I finished enough this afternoon that I took pictures of them, uploaded them to my new Instagram page (@broochesforbros), and officially opened shop.

That’s right, I’m selling them.

“Be sure to cross-pollinate,” my therapist said when I told her about the idea a few weeks ago.

“Huh?” I said.

“You know,” she said, “share them on your Facebook page and blog.”

Anyway, that’s what I was trying to do earlier this evening, add a page to my blog menu about the brooches and embed my Instagram pictures. In theory, this is easy to do. HOWEVER, when I started my Instagram page a couple weeks ago, Instagram said I could use the login for my @meandmyshink account in order to make things less complicated. But if you want to embed your Instagram photos on your website, you apparently have to have a separate login. Ugh. This took took forever to figure out. But thankfully I did figure it out (after a lot of Googling and cursing), and the new page is up now.

You can check it out here. (The picture at the top of the page looks like this.)

I guess it’s been one of those days. This morning I woke up sick again (it’s been ten days now), and that’s starting to wear on me. Then this afternoon while mounting a unicorn brooch (I know that sounds funny) that I thought would be super simple, super quick, I ended up nearly pulling my hair out. Because first it was difficult to get the unicorn to “sit” on an angle, and I was convinced it wouldn’t work horizontally. Unicorns, after all, don’t trot, they fly. At least in my fantasies. Anyway, then because the frame was older than dirt (or made of some strange material), it cracked when I tried adding a hanger to the back. Well, I persisted, and it cracked again. “Crap,” I said. “Crap, crap, unicorn crap.”

THANKFULLY, things with the unicorn brooch finally worked out. There’s a saying in house remodeling–caulk and paint make it what it ain’t–and I guess that applies to brooch framing too. That is, once I finished, the cracks either weren’t visible or simply added to the piece’s character.

Ugh, all that stress for nothing.

Another thing that had me worked up this evening was announcing to the world (my Facebook feed) that not only was I making art, but also selling it. What if people don’t like it? I thought. What if they think it’s outrageously priced? This is something my therapist and I have talked about ad nauseam, knowing your worth and having the confidence to ask for it (and, when necessary, demand it). Earlier tonight I was thinking about what I charged for dance lessons when I FIRST started teaching almost twenty years ago and what I charge now (it’s significantly more). And what I COULD charge if I were in a bigger city (or just felt like it). Anyway, it’s been this long journey to get to, “Hey, wait a damn minute, I’ve got something good to offer here,” instead of just giving everything away.

You know, so people will like me.

Just before I decided to close my dance studio and have my estate sale a few years ago, I wrote an essay about how dissatisfied I’d become in my then-current life. (I read the essay on this page in a live video titled May 4, 2018 (To Celebrate Blog #400).) Anyway, part of my dissatisfaction was the fact that I felt like I had gifts (dance instruction) to offer my community, but that my community–at least at that time–wasn’t interested. Over three years later, this continues to be a fear, that others will see my talents and passions as, well, useless. Or, if they do indeed find them interesting or novel (get it? I’m a writer), they won’t support them, support me, with their dollars. Because let’s face it, you can say it’s fabulous that there’s a new dance studio or restaurant in town, but if you don’t GO THERE, then do you really?

Now, this isn’t a guilt trip. (Guilt be damned.) I’m often the person who doesn’t go to the new restaurant or–gasp!–buy a friend’s new book. At the same time, I’m often the person who does. So I get it. Being a human is complicated. Money doesn’t grow on trees. Whatever. But sticking to the perspective of the creator, the person who’s trying something new, this is why it’s a fearful thing. You think, Is this going to fly? Sure, it’d be nice to stay home and make framed brooches all day, but at some point they’ve gotta sell because, quite frankly, I’m not independently wealthy and can’t afford to keep up the hobby if they don’t.

It’s just math.

Now, the good news is that I’ve come a long way in the last few years. That is, back then I wasn’t sure WHO I was if other people weren’t interested in what I had to offer. NOW I absolutely know who I am. If I go the rest of my life and never sell a(nother) dance lesson, a framed brooch, or a book I’ve written, I absolutely know who I am. I know what I’m good at, I know what brings me joy, and I know what sets me free. In this, I am steadfast. More and more, I want to do only those things that make my heart sing. Regardless of how anyone else responds. Would I love to have the support and praise of my community? Of course. Who wouldn’t? But I know I don’t NEED another’s affirmation to define myself. No one does.

At least, no one should.