Comment Update: Thank you all for you lovely support and words. Due to the storm, I never got a chance to go back and respond to all of these amazing comments. While it is my custom to publicly answer comments, I am opting to respond individually via email. Considering all that has happened and with some distance, answering it all “out there” feels a bit off to me. But please know, I do so appreciate all the kind words and sentiments. It means the world to me that so many of you chose to participate on this post.
ThaWhen I was 13, my cousin came to live with us for a year. We were the same age, but in very different places in our lives. In fact, our lives couldn’t have been more different. Our mothers may have been sisters, but that’s where the similarity ended. Sadly, that difference could not be breached—we had no idea at the beginning how impossible it would be for her to live in our world.
In retrospect, as much we tried, I don’t think we tried hard enough. Not because we were bad people, or mean people. But we were uniformed people. We were clueless and ill prepared. My parents might disagree… and I can’t speak for them. Their issues with this young girl were not mine. They dealt with the hard stuff of parenting, and I can’t judge one way or another if what they did was what needed to be done. But as a collective whole, I don’t think we even understood the enormity of the gulf between our way of living and the life she had previously known. We made no attempt to bridge it either. We simply expected her to fit in, to adjust, to become part of the family. She drowned in the ocean between our continents. She couldn’t swim. We couldn’t rescue.
What stands out about that year, to my eternal shame, is the fact that my cousin was tone deaf. Except, she had no idea. If American Idol had existed then, this child would have moved mountains to audition. She was going to be a star! And not just any star, a recording artist. She would have been famous, but for all the wrong reasons. It would have been this sweet, but deluded girl featured on the wannabe roll. Singing at the top of her lungs, in one ear wrenching note, “It’s the, Eye of the Tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight!”
As painful as it was to listen to her sing, it was more painful to listen to her dream. And this is where we failed. Where I failed specifically. You see, we didn’t allow her the delusion. Instead, we tried to impress upon her that a recording contract probably wasn’t in her future. I’m ashamed to admit, that we taped this poor kid belting out Survivor and made her listen.
She was only 13. She had nothing else but this dream. What we couldn’t see, was just that. It was her dream—delusion or no, we had no business taking that from her. I wish I hadn’t done it. I wish I could go back and be the patient kind of person she needed me to be. The kind of person who kept my cringing to myself and loved her for her little dream. Life would soon strip her of any hope she might have had; I didn’t need to be party to that robbery.
Delusions and dreams. There’s such a fine line between the two; it’s usually in the eye of the beholder. Or, ear. And I wonder, who would she have become if someone had believed in her dreams? It’s not that simplistic, is it? I mean, there were educational hurdles and behavioral issues that can’t be solved by believing you’re going to be famous. Wishful thinking. Magical thinking. Delusional thinking. That child needed a dose of reality. Right?
Here’s the thing. That’s all she’d ever had, reality. And it was a painful, loveless, abuse filled reality. She clung to a dream of a different life, where she would leave all the reminders of the hell she came from behind.
We all need to be delusional from time to time. Life has a way of bringing us into reality on its own. It’s not to say that when our dreams border on delusion, we don’t need people to come along side and suggest, softly, alternative ways of grounding ourselves to reality without losing our passions. But we don’t need people destroying our dream too soon. Not really. And as tempting as it might be, as good intended as we might think we are, what benefit is there in pointing out the obvious to the oblivious? Sometimes, there is a reason that tone-deaf children believe they’re going to be stars.
So the photo above… these pants, are my delusion. Evidently, I am tone deaf. But not so blissfully as I would like.
Last month I decided that I would move Thrifty Goodness over to etsy. And to my utter dismay, it’s doing just fine there. Better than fine, if you consider I’m not doing much to promote that change. When I consider the effort and work and hours that went into launching my own store—I’m sick to my stomach at having missed my moment. Etsy was the way to go from the beginning and I’m now playing catch-up.
However, with the move a terrible thing has been made very clear to me. Etsy allows viewers to “favorite” items in any given store. And if you troll through my store, and click on the “see who hearts this item” you will find that most of the things I’ve listed have fans. Several fans in many cases. I’m hearted all over the place. Except. . . except for the things I’ve made myself. Evidently, the world of etsy likes vintage but thinks that I am tone deaf. There’s little ol’ me, singing at the top of my lungs while the viewing world clamps virtual hands over their ears, cringing.
Oh. The. Horror. Seriously, I’m embarrassed. I want my delusions. I like them. Every time I step into my craft room with a new idea I can just feel it in my bones, “I’m going to be a star!”
Except, in a virtual form of what can only be Karma if Karma worked that way, I’m the only one who thinks so. And I’m surrounded by people who are with-holding “hearts” that tells me otherwise.
I can’t help but think of my cousin. I’m realizing that at nearly 40 I might be learning this lesson too late. In terms of her reality and mine, there is NO comparison. I feel lame even making the connection. But it’s what I’m thinking about today. Because, I’m an adult, and I’m going to get over the fact that I’m tone deaf. I’m going to get past the fact that no-one likes my handmade items. It’s just my ego at stake—not my survival. But, there is a 13 year old girl inside of me who mourns that I could not even begin to imagine, much less empathize with another 13 year old girl who needed more than anything for me to Heart her dream. And that part me, really is sad. Because as stupid and lame and absolutely INCONSEQUENTIAL a store on etsy is… it’s rendered me to the core thinking about real love and real dreams and real compassion.
So, there’s not much I can do. I can nurse my bruised ego. And I can tell my darkest secrets to you—hoping you will go out and HEART other people’s dreams, even if you consider them delusions. But I cannot change the past. I cannot love my cousin the way she needed. I can only sing at the top of my lungs and hope that she has found a way to keep singing too.
You write beautifully. I don’t think anyone will deny this fact. But, there are some times when you write something that evokes so many emotions… this is one of those times. I’m honestly glad you shared. I never knew. Perhaps this is one reason why you are so thoughtful in your present personhood… it isn’t an enlightenment that happened just now sweetie – you are by far one of the most genuine and generous people I know, and you have only become more so as I’ve watched you these many years. As far as the lovely things that you have created – I would suggest that you remember not every artist is appreciated in their time – that doesn’t mean their work isn’t wonderful. I don’t think you are tone-deaf – I just don’t think the world is listening. I love you – thank you for the reminder to be unbridled in kindness and compassion and “soft” in objective reality.
IZ is right. You aren’t tone deaf, but the world is not listening yet.
I have to say that I love those pants even more than the yellow pair I’ve been coveting for six months. (I’m trying SO HARD not to make a joke about getting into those pants … I get points for trying to behave, don’t I?) 😀
And my mother loves the pillow slipcovers. They look great in her living room. I’ve been meaning to get a picture to send back to you.
The story of your cousin reminded me of how my mother (who really could sing) reacted whenever I mentioned the fact that I cannot carry a tune in a wheelbarrow. She never agreed with me. She never once told me I couldn’t sing. But … she never disagreed with me, either. LOL
I don’t know you well at all, but one of the coolest things that I know about you is that you are so aware of how your actions can affect other people. We all stumble and we all make mistakes, but not everyone realizes their impact on the world around them. You do – and that’s special. 🙂
What a poignant story. I know that I was not at my best as a human being at the age of 13. However, many of my earlier experiences have shaped me into the person I am, just like yours have made you reflective, thoughtful and kind. Everyone’s journey of life has bumps and valleys. AND I THINK YOU ARE VERY TUNEFUL!
Your cousin could be a singer today. They are so many artists who use voice synthesizers. If they didn’t, we wouldn’t have Britney Spears. I fully believe in what you are saying. We should believe in what others feel is right for them. At least you are in tune with her feelings.
*pulls out the sarcasm card and slaps in on the table*
Hey! I love those pants! Didn’t I see them… oh, wait. Yeah. I saw them HERE.
*folds hand*
And now, in all seriousness…
THAT was a great post. Amazingly intricate and developed… fantstic merging… a truly fantastic post. Well done. Whatever your conclusion and whatever brings you peace, know that there are so many people who absolutely adore you. Absolutely.
Lovely post reflection.
And about your wares – I love them. I covet those pajama pants – especially this new pair. And I adore the sachet and pillow that I ordered – they are gifts that I’m giving this Xmas.
You are beautiful and so are your offerings here. And, you encourage others at every turn. The internet is full of obtuse, self-centered brutes. You are too good for this world (wide web).
Happy December 1, Wende! If you were here, I would give you the first chocolate from my Advent calendar.
Do those pj bottoms come in a warm flannel? Because we have SNOW on Tiger Mountain this morning!!!
xo
Oh…well, I can certainly relate to that story…I have a story of a “mean girl” myself (me being the mean one) Actually, I have a lot of stories about a “mean girl” that I’m not proud of. But, what I am proud of is the fact that I am a changed and different person from that scared girl, and I am able to slow down and consider other people’s feelings (sometimes…sometimes, I still get ahead of myself) but, really, isn’t that what life is about? Acting on your stage and seeing what the results are…so, that perhaps you can practice doing it differently the next time.
as usual, your writing has touched me.
I wish I could give you a heart for it! 🙂
you know, when I watch Idol, I think to myself, “Oh gosh, why doesn’t their family tell them how terrible they are?!”
but listening to what you’ve said about your cousin, you’re totally right. who are we!!???? life DOES have it’s own sick twisted way of slapping us in the face with a reality check. it is not up to US to do it for the ones we love.
but it is OH, so tempting.
I LOVE the way you packaged the fabric scraps. they all looked so adorable that I wasn’t even able to take a pic of it for my blog. I just ripped them all open to start enjoying. THANK YOU!
*HUGS*
Oh.. Please don’t think that because people don’t heart what you make they don’t love it.
Don’t think that the mirror of the internet reaction holds up an accurate view of who you are or how you are perceived. I have stuff that has dropped from etsy without a love note attached and then peple who have seen me at a show say “how come you don’t do those great t shirts any more?”
I can’t tell you how many times something on etsy has made my heart leap into my mouth with desire and I forget to click that ‘favorites’ button.
and I didn’t sell much of anything for over a year… that was sad-making, but I figure it is a HUGE MECCA. maybe my people hadn’t found me quite yet. maybe they are just now finding me. that would be cool.
IZ is the bomb. He expressed marvelous things in his comment to you. How lovely. Hang on tightly.
And you are so lovely. What beautiful things you have expressed here. And you are as bonnie says, too good for this for this world ww! 🙂
Thanks Wen, we were clueless at what she needed and looking back at our feeble efforts to help, we failed big time. I wonder if that is not the reason we so often don’t want to love. it hurts to much when we fail. I can’t change the past only learn from it and TRY and not repeat my mistakes. As an older and wiser me I can see that my efforts at loving your cousin were feeble at best and were not enough, the price of trying to love her, sad to say I am still paying. Memories are sometimes so sad.
First, I agree with Keri, IZ is the bomb.
Second, your cousin’s story is very sad but I think maybe you are too hard on yourself. I have recollections of things I did and didn’t do that if I could travel in my way back machine, I’d change in a heartbeat, but I wasn’t in a space that allowed that, either through ignorance and immaturity. I like to think that gifts are given, even when not intended for us to learn from, no matter how long it takes to absorb the lesson. I think your cousin gave you the gift that became a part of the very core you have become. You learned compassion, you learned generosity and you learned great empathy.
Third, we all want to be loved and admired, even if we are only talking about pajama bottoms. It may not be the time for your personal creations, but it is the time to jump for joy at the success you are experiencing….you chose those items to sell which proves your tonefulness (hey Margaret!).
My great grandma always told me that it takes a wise stagecrew to put on an opera and only one bozo with laryngitis to screw it up. Does that fit here? I dunno but it always makes me laugh.
Learning from memories is so painful. Your post was very tought provoking. Putting myself out there in blogland has been a difficult process, I was agonizing about it one day and a friend said not to compare my blog to others to let it stand as a testament to me and my personality. I suppose the same thing applies to selling, its exposing our inner whimsies to the world. I think the pants are adorable and heart them.