tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1377392185731582972024-03-12T20:49:40.701-05:00Lucy's LifeThis is where I write about my life. Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.comBlogger397125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-70581988055195169952023-05-11T11:47:00.001-05:002023-05-11T11:47:15.005-05:00Burrito Blues<p>Hey.</p><p>How's it going?</p><p>I'm not really doing anything right now. I'm sitting around in my leggings trying to think of excuses to NOT a) go for a run or b) continue working on the edits for my current zine project. That's what made me think of writing a blog post, which I haven't done for, like, years. </p><p>I have absolutely nothing of value to contribute to the internet in this moment. This is literally pointless. I just want to complain to someone. But that's the beauty of The Internet, isn't it? Random people getting an infinite platform for useless bullshit. </p><p>OK. So this morning I woke up to a group chat from my job at That Burrito Place. Someone was calling me out in a very sarcastic way for forgetting to empty one of the grease traps during my last shift. </p><p>This is deeply sad, but unfortunately very true: it ruined my morning. I know! How could such a dumb thing RUIN MY ENTIRE DAY??? Why am I such a sad little gremlin that something that dumb can upset me so deeply?! </p><p>I raged in my head toward the person who called me out:</p><p>"That's literally the first time in my Burrito career that I have forgotten that grease trap, so why do you have to publicly shame me for it?"</p><p>"The REASON I forgot about it was because I was so busy cleaning up all the shit everyone else regularly 'forgets' to clean!"</p><p>"I bust my ass day in and day out working that stupid grill and I do a GOOD job at it. So why do you have to take the one time I messed up and broadcast it on the group chat?! Couldn't you have just told me in person, 'Yo. You fucked up. Don't forget next time.' I would have totally been fine with that and been like, 'Whoops. I'll do better next time.'"</p><p>It made me so mad. I think at the root of my anger about this dumb situation was a deeper feeling that I've been holding for a while: At my Burrito Place job I am never appreciated. I can be doing my job well and going above and beyond daily, but I will never have anyone be like, "Hey. Thanks for showing up every day on time, with a good attitude and making this a better place through your hard work."</p><p>Not gonna happen. Has literally never happened. But I crave it. I crave the feeling of being valued and I know I'm never going to get that at this job and after a while (two years) it starts to build up a knot of anger in my chest that gets unleashed when something stupid like that group chat comment happens. </p><p>I want to work in an environment where my skills and personhood are appreciated and valued. Where I'm not just a Burrito-Rolling Robot, but an integral member of a team. Where my feelings are respected, not violated or belittled. </p><p>My current library job provides this type of environment. I feel so grateful for it. But someday I want BOTH of my jobs to reflect that. I'm tired of feeling worn down emotionally and physically. </p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-57518831668849690442022-03-11T16:13:00.002-06:002022-04-26T11:55:11.212-05:00My Fairytale<p>Oh hey there! How's things? I'm just over here in my sweats riding the dregs of a caffeine high. I do not have a plan for this blog post. Just gonna shoot some sh+t out into the internet void. Let's see...what do I want to talk about? Oh I know! Yesterday I posted <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Ca75wezJiMB/">one of my stories on Instagram.</a> This is what it looks like:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdY2xwj6DlM5zMeouO9qAx7GTiiQXfXHAZpX2jN8-hN4FVRYeB1qLX4cP8hGzqMZ7o2g4czp0l8JkS4zFdMbFojalFAXjcyfSN91Cwcpkv9pd6pwX15zEgkPdLX8srtNlXMXbFjo8asgLLpkt0C-bRIMJziN6BwfODaN-UBi6U-D0Juz_I2nwzEzJO=s3024" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdY2xwj6DlM5zMeouO9qAx7GTiiQXfXHAZpX2jN8-hN4FVRYeB1qLX4cP8hGzqMZ7o2g4czp0l8JkS4zFdMbFojalFAXjcyfSN91Cwcpkv9pd6pwX15zEgkPdLX8srtNlXMXbFjo8asgLLpkt0C-bRIMJziN6BwfODaN-UBi6U-D0Juz_I2nwzEzJO=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The photo is not great so here's the text: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">Once upon a time...</span></i></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">...there was a woman with incredible super powers:</span></i></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><u>Number One:</u></span></i></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">she was incredibly thin</span></i></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><u>Number Two:</u></span></i></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">even though she was tiny she could do karate so well that she won every single fight</span></i></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><u>Number Three:</u></span></i></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">she was beautiful and delicate like a model but also interesting</span></i></blockquote><i><br /></i><i><span style="text-align: center;">Thanks to all three things the woman was happy and safe.</span></i></blockquote><i><br /><span style="text-align: center;">She never felt scared or weak because she could fight back.</span><br /><br /><span style="text-align: center;">She never felt sad because she was beautiful and she never felt lonely because she loved herself.</span><br /><br /><span style="text-align: center;">She never felt like an outsider because she had beautiful clothes and amazing skin. </span><br /><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>The End. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wrote this after Sheldon and I went to see <i>The Batman</i> starring Robert Pattinson and Zoë Kravitz. I loved the experience of watching the movie in the theatre. We sat next to a young boy who was both the worst and the best possible person to sit next to. The worst, because he talked and ate popcorn the whole time and got up to use the bathroom thrice.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But the best because he was loving every minute of that movie. He was bouncing up and down on the edge of his seat (literally!) during the car chases and when the thing was over he sighed, "That was the coolest movie. Ever."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was contagious. His enthusiasm helped me go along for the ride instead of nit-pick the things about the movie that I thought were stupid, like the fact that it was way too long and the end was super cheesy and seemed like some weird nationalist propaganda. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But the thing that stuck with me the most was Zoë Kravitz's Catwoman. She was everything you want from a good Catwoman: rebellious, super-duper sexy, fierce and bada$$ yet vulnerable and loyal. I was riveted by her story and wished the whole thing could be about her. But of course it wasn't. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The other thing Catwoman made me feel was inadequate. The actress playing her is everything I am not. She has a teeny tiny body. I am tall and thin but by no means tiny. I am not good at martial arts or cat-burglary. I do not have an awesome wardrobe of leather suits and thigh-high boots. My skin is not fresh and clear like a mountain spring.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I wish I had all those things. I wrote the above story in the moment when I connected to that desire. It's such a familiar longing for me. I have been telling myself the same fairytale for so long that even though I had never written it down before the words felt like lyrics to an old song. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Catwoman isn't the first woman I've seen on screen and thought: I wish I had her life. If I could change a couple things about myself to be more like her I would be happy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ariel from <i>A Little Mermaid</i>. Mia Thermopolis from <i>Princess Diaries</i>. Violet Baudelaire from <i>A Series of Unfortunate Events.</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Clear skin is something all these ladies share, but which I have never attained. Writing my little fairytale helped me zero in on the thing that that underpins my desire to be petite and pretty: The desire to be safe, loved and to belong. Somewhere along the way I picked up a recipe for getting those things that hinged on a very specific brand of physical beauty. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Happiness and thinness are linked in my mind. As are clear skin and safety. In my experience the world has seemed to offer more of its precious gifts to the women who are possessing of those traits and its crazy to realize how young I was when I began to understand that. Even typing out those words is scary because of how wrong they look in black and white. But those equations reside so deeply within my being. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Writing my story felt like a way to confront that part of myself and give her compassion. It felt healing to tell her, "You feel like you can only be loved and safe if you look a certain way, don't you? That's so hard. I'm so sorry."</div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-60141699755152683362022-02-25T14:52:00.006-06:002022-03-01T14:33:19.128-06:00I feel...happy?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzfTrOcExaSkHCXRJeZIi9ILOGYPK7sboo97vvBv0OD2b7zBXH31QYEL2G98yBBoMfiiZShmZ5cjkjfni5jRa-ctq9_3Ywb--Lp3cJenvCvYVU4L0xVZEM95NyfV9I24pTU4mQTvJBHuw9vS0ctS6js2WSIKU_jG3XYyagMUuI1kvrTcbfme2TblD-=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzfTrOcExaSkHCXRJeZIi9ILOGYPK7sboo97vvBv0OD2b7zBXH31QYEL2G98yBBoMfiiZShmZ5cjkjfni5jRa-ctq9_3Ywb--Lp3cJenvCvYVU4L0xVZEM95NyfV9I24pTU4mQTvJBHuw9vS0ctS6js2WSIKU_jG3XYyagMUuI1kvrTcbfme2TblD-=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6K4Xmkpiqe_aPiuVcMBrpz9Ra56uI3-7JsZiLS_3vacIDz6hkV6GnwKQpfSVLNF0askcbyZo68hYsmPAeNf1Y4qXBVZn59reICJTnxcnh3tbD3nNPIMIKEY3eBbLy15nuqAl1dHheCg7nGAGkVqQQpx1NX5u0XNG6eDOi2yU-nDOD1VYaLr7zVYu6=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6K4Xmkpiqe_aPiuVcMBrpz9Ra56uI3-7JsZiLS_3vacIDz6hkV6GnwKQpfSVLNF0askcbyZo68hYsmPAeNf1Y4qXBVZn59reICJTnxcnh3tbD3nNPIMIKEY3eBbLy15nuqAl1dHheCg7nGAGkVqQQpx1NX5u0XNG6eDOi2yU-nDOD1VYaLr7zVYu6=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiB_gk6lr13evg1wvjyarJP1BDCC0VySKpmjxkGSY8jJGQu8cXrp4xU-h5kGiSk5K5EVWivMjiCfMPVp2zc6rPkRLmrKuscbfawG_FZ8XtaVBJbIigY4LxRMn5LmiFxmFx6uHVrAt0wE9r7G_9lHzIkkpzJ8-EpYc4AZf6ET7-cwLf7rZfH32Dv0CV8=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiB_gk6lr13evg1wvjyarJP1BDCC0VySKpmjxkGSY8jJGQu8cXrp4xU-h5kGiSk5K5EVWivMjiCfMPVp2zc6rPkRLmrKuscbfawG_FZ8XtaVBJbIigY4LxRMn5LmiFxmFx6uHVrAt0wE9r7G_9lHzIkkpzJ8-EpYc4AZf6ET7-cwLf7rZfH32Dv0CV8=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYAxWmbO625y7UN9QfJg7LxEVoafBhCK3fVHF-J8hE2PnCdPBoxTS1hgxRtXHg95cqtgffrRzmo1vNIVnkmC8OtI7HLqIOx-RZxYgNLfb7FUuYwNoq--KLqVGKE2IeXp6xrIKI8dnaMcstYa1UkB2LiHVkTG9q3F2mg3dugBQfx0RzelNalcQgrxb1=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYAxWmbO625y7UN9QfJg7LxEVoafBhCK3fVHF-J8hE2PnCdPBoxTS1hgxRtXHg95cqtgffrRzmo1vNIVnkmC8OtI7HLqIOx-RZxYgNLfb7FUuYwNoq--KLqVGKE2IeXp6xrIKI8dnaMcstYa1UkB2LiHVkTG9q3F2mg3dugBQfx0RzelNalcQgrxb1=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSZey92snoW_wgxMiqT2DOdwB4XO-QbrOYHsErJIBWQVYu4Dp20NEBrERiJRhXP4_VOrSArW8e7m4uYq2X2SmVAv-EipVXHn9tABHrVE_5cTNUAuy0ydoYohP_l8We9_rRii4ICuftdfUJCqaWfBYEu02ipDt_2kk29-FpfjUxK_m9pZhwp6ILcsTk=s1280" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSZey92snoW_wgxMiqT2DOdwB4XO-QbrOYHsErJIBWQVYu4Dp20NEBrERiJRhXP4_VOrSArW8e7m4uYq2X2SmVAv-EipVXHn9tABHrVE_5cTNUAuy0ydoYohP_l8We9_rRii4ICuftdfUJCqaWfBYEu02ipDt_2kk29-FpfjUxK_m9pZhwp6ILcsTk=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRZ7CozTCJ0nfRERhQPxGLmLvmrpEjiwLwjVDeU-MCQy2dOz58I98ps2eMpXcjC2nyqGgAAFL39vkWVQWcLHwT8Rgxlg_l4Iw0MeseYwC3TY6mzVNQuHFDcDEegznRCbCe55fHy-hP1xDVNhixlDE3Tcvh2PJ5xZfeuHzDkOoWbPPNYGXWsVRW_M2j=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRZ7CozTCJ0nfRERhQPxGLmLvmrpEjiwLwjVDeU-MCQy2dOz58I98ps2eMpXcjC2nyqGgAAFL39vkWVQWcLHwT8Rgxlg_l4Iw0MeseYwC3TY6mzVNQuHFDcDEegznRCbCe55fHy-hP1xDVNhixlDE3Tcvh2PJ5xZfeuHzDkOoWbPPNYGXWsVRW_M2j=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSHr2_Gv5lEl4d4dVwsPfHDw1xA2X11_zxZkRCRQA6oYxafIq1tmd6p9Ef0rMgcBaB8etfG_tcBlb62BrtYxZz1CXZzs1bZHkBMyxkoGUQ4tg8kur424FbKo1esLD6GJcbv82ezH7UCizTfaomAhyiNTGz5eOxgeWv9PmIOcFK_T-n_MK7rddfshav=s1280" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSHr2_Gv5lEl4d4dVwsPfHDw1xA2X11_zxZkRCRQA6oYxafIq1tmd6p9Ef0rMgcBaB8etfG_tcBlb62BrtYxZz1CXZzs1bZHkBMyxkoGUQ4tg8kur424FbKo1esLD6GJcbv82ezH7UCizTfaomAhyiNTGz5eOxgeWv9PmIOcFK_T-n_MK7rddfshav=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br />Dear Blog Friends,<p></p><p>Yesterday I stopped in to say "Hey" an write an update on my life. Today I wanted to give another update. No huge news or anything, just something I'm excited about and wanna share. </p><p>So. A couple years ago Sheldon and I moved from Texas to Illinois for Sheldon to take his dream job. We came out of one of the toughest years of our lives and crash landed in Illinois with only the stuff we fit in our Honda CRV. We wanted to make a fresh start. But we were still so broken from the year in Texas where everything had gone wrong. </p><p>Around that time I reread one of my favorite books: <i>The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up</i> by Marie Kondo. I read that baby about once a year. I love her approach to tidying which centers around "sparking joy" and as cheesy as it sounds, it changed my life. OK. OK. I'm not trying to Marie Kondo evangelize you...or am I? MWAHAHA!!! I only say this because it helps get me to my point. Basically Marie Kondo encourages the reader to dream up their ideal life. She tells you to let your mind imagine the best life you want for yourself. She also tells you to be very specific. How do you want your home to look? How do you want to feel? What things do you want and what make you happiest? </p><p>So there I was back in Illinois the end of 2018 starting out fresh with a new apartment and a new job and I wanted to really do the Marie Kondo method RIGHT. I opened up the last page of my planner <a href="https://wearenicehumans.com/product/open-yearly-planner-year-2/">(it was this one by the amazing frannerd)</a> and let myself dream what I want my life to be. </p><p>This is what I wrote:</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><i>HOW I WANT TO LIVE </i></p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><i>I want to be a city girl. I want bright rooms and beautiful objects. I want to wake up in the morning and feel exited and energized for the day. I want to not feel rushed, but like I have time to linger over tea and scribble in my sketchbook. </i></p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><i>I want a studio space that feels exciting for making thing in. I want each room in my home to feel good: not cramped or ugly or off. I want to feel like there are pockets of beauty everywhere in my home. I want to relaxed and beautiful. I want natural light and freedom from chaotic inner voices.</i></p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Peaceful. Soft light. Calm. Subtle colors and textures. </i></p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><i>I am so tired of feeling like things are off and out of place and not being able to settle my thoughts and mind. I feel tired and drained. I want to use my energy to create but I have so little of it. Sometime I feel like the clutter and chaos makes it harder for me to settle into my creativity. I feel anxious and nervous and doubtful. </i></p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Instead I want to feel restful and calm and secure.</i></p></blockquote></blockquote><p>I wrote that in October of 2019. I was heading into one of my worst years of depression and anxiety of my adult life and I could feel myself getting more and more flooded. Eventually, in June 2020 I reached my breaking point and FINALLY reached out to a therapist.</p><p>The first thing she said to me after I gushed out my reasons for wanting therapy was, "It sounds like you don't feel safe. I want to help you feel safety." Hearing those words felt like opening up the door to getting better. </p><p>Writing out that dream in my planner helped me find focus. I knew I needed something to change. I felt like my life was veering out of my control back then, but I didn't know how to get help. I couldn't work. I couldn't have relationships. I couldn't make art. My mental illness put me in survival mode. Another cheesy-but-true alert: Starting therapy changed my life. When I started therapy I committed the process 100%. I went all in because I was desperate. </p><p>I have come such a long way since that planner entry. I'm still a hot mess. They didn't nickname me The Mess Queen back in kindergarten for nothing! (True story. Although my teachers were referring to my colossal crafting messes, not my psychological turmoil, when they coined that name.) But I think I'm actually close to living the life I described. I'm a city girl. (Well. Technically I live in a village. But I WORK in the city! That counts...) I have a beautiful apartment, which we are finally starting to settle into. And we have an entire room of our apartment set aside as a studio.</p><p>I have worked so hard to get here. Hours of therapy. Pain. Healing. Work. But I am starting to see actual results and it makes me so excited. I am starting to feel <i>good</i> again. I think I might be living the life I wanted for myself when I was writing that planner entry. Anxiety Lucy Rose is very nervous about typing out those words, but Therapy Lucy Rose is like, "Yeah! Get it."</p><p>Love,</p><p>LR</p><p>PS</p><p>These are just some recent photos from my phone that "sparked joy". I am still getting my footing with blogging again and I'm trying to be pretty loose with it. In other words, not being too perfectionistic or getting in my head but just letting myself make posts.</p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-62726719424017196962022-02-23T13:27:00.004-06:002022-02-23T13:27:39.958-06:00Life Update.<p>Hello, Blog Friends. It's Lucy Rose. Just wanted to drop in and say, "Hey." I've been very MIA from Instagram and this blog for a while. It got to be too much for me and I had to cut it off for a while to live my life: work at The Burrito Place, settle into my new apartment and keep working in therapy. I go through seasons when I need to back off from online stuff and focus on my own thoughts and more in-person relationships. </p><p>But in the past few weeks I've been feeling the blogging itch return! That irrepressible need to blast my thoughts into the Spiderverse and let anyone who wants to stumble across them. I don't really have a plan for blogging. No series of posts or ideas for anything structured on this blog. But I thought I would just sit down and start by saying "What's up?" </p><p>I have popped in and out of this little internet space since 2008! That's a hard habit to break. Anyway. Here's what's been going on with me recently. </p><p>-I have now been in therapy for over a year. My mental health has been the strongest it has been in about 5 years. This is super exciting, but also, as someone who has lived most of my life struggling with depression and anxiety, that in itself feels a little scary! </p><p>-I have continued to work for The Burrito Place, but I switched locations to be closer to my house after our faithful 2004 Honda CRV broke down. I biked 5 miles to work every day for a few months until we were gifted a car by an incredibly kind family member. Hi Patrick. I did not know you read my blog. I have grown in my role at The Burrito Place and continue to work harder positions and continue training. I'm proud of this because my hope for working this type of job was to prove to myself that I can work again after my last tough bout with depression in the Spring of 2020. </p><p>-I discontinued The Zine Club. The Zine Club was my pet project for several years in which I published and distributed over 15 zines (self-published booklets) to a base of subscribers. The goal was to complete 24 in total, but I chose to stop, because I needed to focus on therapy and getting well. It was a hard decision to make and I definitely wrestled with shame over quitting. But I am proud of myself for the zines I made and the community of people who helped me make it happen for as long as it lasted.</p><p>-Sheldon and I moved. We had been wanting to get closer to the city for a long time. We wanted that proximity in order to keep cultivating Sheldon's career as a painter and my career as a storyteller/comic-artist-type-person. Getting closer to the art scene in Chicago has been a dream of ours for a while and we are excited that our new apartment is on the CTA line and gets us to the heart of the city within a simple train ride. </p><p>-We are doing well. Sheldon and I have been through a tough couple years. We have wrestled with a lot of challenges over the five years of our marriage. We spent a year in Texas helping out a relative with mental health problems. We have contended with my own bouts of mental illness. We have both been wrestling with our ideological identities. We have buried three grandparents. We have both undergone several career changes. We have moved many times. It's been a lot. But in the past year or so we have felt good--stable, even! We are leaving our twenties pretty soon and we are hopeful that our thirties are going to be easier. We are settling into our jobs and our new-ish apartment in our new city. </p><p>I don't know if I will stop back here anytime soon to blog again. I am giving myself permission to blog or not to blog. But in case I do stop in I wanted to catch you up on things. </p><p>I hope you and yours are doing well. I hope you are healthy and safe! </p><p>Love,</p><p>L🌹</p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-678194672713121662021-04-09T14:51:00.006-05:002021-04-13T16:08:17.650-05:00Burrito Lady<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDX0DoIxD6Xao7Qe02ck9bmEkcQxrY_maCKkfha46a_vHrIiVVEWkwh6QA7zM7X4ZfjafDQ5W8-7TtWC8eaqG4F-51A1WFYdwkHv_m6dyckdlrAs-lOXNT7B3ZAwCAdNhbZ1-GWxKjqlg/s1280/51008FAC-DA7E-43FE-8F51-D2E219FF70AC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDX0DoIxD6Xao7Qe02ck9bmEkcQxrY_maCKkfha46a_vHrIiVVEWkwh6QA7zM7X4ZfjafDQ5W8-7TtWC8eaqG4F-51A1WFYdwkHv_m6dyckdlrAs-lOXNT7B3ZAwCAdNhbZ1-GWxKjqlg/s320/51008FAC-DA7E-43FE-8F51-D2E219FF70AC.jpeg" /></a></div><br />Welcome to your new part-time chain food-service job! My name is Lucy Rose. I will be your Orientation Person today. I will help you navigate your new job like how to feel cute and look feminine when dressed like a man in the workplace uniform. Or how to not lose your mind when being yelled at by angry people who are taking out their rage on the person assembling their tacos. <p></p><p>Alright. Taking a tiny break from the sarcasm: I'm excited this week, because I started my new job! Yes. I have a new job! I've decided not to mention the name of my new workplace just in case my information gets intercepted by Vladimir Putin. Who am I kidding. Vlad already knows where I am at every hour of the day. Stalker. Whatever. No, it’s really just cuz I just don't want to get in trouble for blogging about work. </p><p>Let's just say starting this Wednesday I am now making burritos on a professional basis. A few weeks ago I finally started feeling ready to look for my next non-DoorDash job. It's been about a year since I lost my last retail job. I was content <a href="http://lucyslifecz.blogspot.com/2020/10/my-freelance-journey-flamin-in-pit.html">doing DoorDash</a> up until about a month ago when I just started craving more stability and structure. I also felt ready to start working with humans again. </p><p>Ever since my job working as a Certified Nursing Assistant in the epicenter of human grimness (still haven't felt ready to blog about that adventure yet...but someday. I hope!) I made a pact with myself to become more choosy about where I work: including research the companies, scout out the locations for "vibes" and make sure it is something that I can do for a while and not burn out immediately. </p><p>Initially I decided to <a href="http://lucyslifecz.blogspot.com/2021/03/getting-out-there-again.html">apply to Aldi</a>, because I have grocery experience and I really like their company. They treat their people well and everyone I know who works there likes it. But while I was waiting on a word from Aldi I did a DoorDash to The Burrito Place. They had a sign-up sheet out for hiring and I felt this weird feeling, like "May as well. I like this company and they have values I can get behind. Worst case scenario nothing comes of it." </p><p>A few days later I got a call and went for an interview. I got the job. But I also did my homework and had good vibes about the atmosphere created by the employees. There are several Burrito Places near my house and I have DoorDashed to all of them. Most of them had been rude to me and irritable every time I dashed at their location. But the one I applied to always gave me a good vibe. </p><p>(Aldi actually contacted me for an interview the same day I took the burrito job! But I was already pretty certain I wanted to do burritos instead of stocking Aldi shelves so I turned down the interview.)</p><p>Yeah! So now I'm a Burrito Lady. I'm really excited about it. This first week has been hard work; physically and emotionally. But I can already feel a rush of energy from having this new challenge and the confidence of finally being able to contribute to our family financially again.</p><p>I have been pretty isolated the past year. When The Panini hit in 2020 I got a mild case of the illness, which then seamlessly blended into a mental health breakdown that lasted a few months. </p><p>My mental health hasn't been that low for a long time. I didn't leave my apartment for about two months. I started to come out of it in July—around the time I found therapy and cut off a friendship that had become increasingly toxic and all-encompassing. </p><p>I couldn't see myself being able to handle another "real" job at the time. DoorDash was such a good buffer. I'm so grateful that my husband and <a href="http://lucyslifecz.blogspot.com/2020/09/my-freelance-journey-brief-history.html">I had enough resources for me to take that time to heal</a> and work on getting better. </p><p>Not everyone has the luxury to take that much time between jobs to get help. And even then, being able to afford <i>good</i> help and having access to healthcare through Sheldon's job is also a miracle.</p><p>My new job as a Burrito Lady is not "glamorous". And it technically has nothing to do with <a href="http://lucyslifecz.blogspot.com/2020/08/my-new-series-about-freelancing.html">my career as an artist and cartoonist.</a> It is an entry-level job. Most of my new coworkers and managers are younger than me. But I'm so grateful to have this job.</p><p>I am writing this on my day off between training days at The Burrito Place. I've done two full shifts so far. They really took it out of me, but I also like it so far. Of course there's workplace drama, stressful lunch rushes and my body isn't used to the work yet. But I respect the way this company operates and I like the vibe. I've been made to feel like a valuable team-member, not a random weirdo who keeps F-ing up all the burritos.</p><p>(Cue flashback to my glorious CNA days when I was treated like hot juman garbage by my coworkers for a month until I could “prove” myself and quit asking “stupid questions” aka normal questions you ask when you’re new to a workplace. Haha! I’m not bitter. Why do you ask?)</p><p>Folks have been patient and kind as I'm learning the ropes. (No one cursing me out while I change an adult diaper?! Bliss!) And I can't tell you how huge that is for me as highly sensitive flower child (band name? autobiography title? hmmm...there's something there. folk-duo name? We can workshop it.)</p><p>Well, I've pretty much typed myself out. I think I'm going to quit talking and maybe make some drawings to go with this post. Maybe. If I feel like it. </p><p>Thanks for listening. It means a lot. </p><p>Love,</p><p>L🌹</p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-77547158194960918872021-04-05T19:10:00.003-05:002021-04-06T05:14:44.209-05:00This is just a test to see if the email subscription thingy works. <p> UPDATE: I’m pretty sure it does not. Poop.</p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-59393192620488588402021-04-05T13:38:00.002-05:002021-04-05T18:59:52.695-05:00Well, that was a waste of adrenaline.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2bTO787287p7H3fV5PQmAbeKmrxo0Ofxu2oW8iswNSNCxvXZ2MeRpiCtp1Q5X7MmXWfH5r2GCO4SPmV-X8lLeXeaCCuVe3IB3ndjt2ZNxirEi8o54RJow1BenUwOiW7CwCnNmFeYKsg/s2048/CFB537EF-BC20-4E3D-95DB-A01E2DB8848B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2bTO787287p7H3fV5PQmAbeKmrxo0Ofxu2oW8iswNSNCxvXZ2MeRpiCtp1Q5X7MmXWfH5r2GCO4SPmV-X8lLeXeaCCuVe3IB3ndjt2ZNxirEi8o54RJow1BenUwOiW7CwCnNmFeYKsg/s320/CFB537EF-BC20-4E3D-95DB-A01E2DB8848B.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3F6ZmwIh6kQZ4cxJiVL2b8LNwseD3Ia3-XIH_mXfPCxtpn2GQXvJcRVIHr2dYdauYj3x48Pd54YFAT_CYi8pZnS43NDgQ8lq0Pe2o67Hfo8iDBXkT8slJfA2RKcViWV-hLVFLKbeDuSw/s1280/07F221BA-6F8F-4938-949D-FC2984A45396.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3F6ZmwIh6kQZ4cxJiVL2b8LNwseD3Ia3-XIH_mXfPCxtpn2GQXvJcRVIHr2dYdauYj3x48Pd54YFAT_CYi8pZnS43NDgQ8lq0Pe2o67Hfo8iDBXkT8slJfA2RKcViWV-hLVFLKbeDuSw/s320/07F221BA-6F8F-4938-949D-FC2984A45396.jpeg" /></a></div>Well that a was a waste of adrenaline slash pit sweat. Got to my new job and they were like, “Who are you, M’am?” And I was like, “It is I! Your new coworker!!!” And they were like, “???” And then we all figured out collectively that my new boss had texted me an hour before to let me know that he switched the day. But I of course did not check my texts because I was in full fledged adrenaline fueled nerves mode and ain’t nobody got time to check TEXTS! So yeah. I sat there like an idiot while we figured it out. The good side is I had enough time to draw this self portrait and they gave me some consolation food as an apology for me coming in on the wrong day. Well. I hope this was just a nice practice run and an opportunity for me to sweat out all my gross fear sweat.<div><div><p></p></div></div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-43839314670074579252021-04-05T11:56:00.003-05:002021-04-05T15:21:01.050-05:00Hi Guys. I’m using my phone to write this.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJnrmAWe1aLL_zX6NM7mYLyo823QzynFSplXWjeu5roT9u2yZ8EXDhU_cAyt_hL8ucHsdcVuD2lV7uZG98dLoXF0-Rq5B_V7vftUrBzFECuWKNsFO3w10KKQ0OwD0YaCq3yYEizCWJXpU/s2048/4AFC3908-E4B4-411C-B2CE-C0E8B2EEEE29.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJnrmAWe1aLL_zX6NM7mYLyo823QzynFSplXWjeu5roT9u2yZ8EXDhU_cAyt_hL8ucHsdcVuD2lV7uZG98dLoXF0-Rq5B_V7vftUrBzFECuWKNsFO3w10KKQ0OwD0YaCq3yYEizCWJXpU/s320/4AFC3908-E4B4-411C-B2CE-C0E8B2EEEE29.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-yCH1UDYIcjwS0fCCZTFX-BpAe78qGNIcR37ZLRQTOdgfFaTImjuRMaLBlxT0wUuWx1iDCs2AXueJMMPQxkR2J27-afGUYVuU-zOucU3jDrypc7X2FWLA5uu6_u3WhA_cflhcLHglxc/s2048/5F9B0249-710D-4FAD-85C4-8460A36AC5EA.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-yCH1UDYIcjwS0fCCZTFX-BpAe78qGNIcR37ZLRQTOdgfFaTImjuRMaLBlxT0wUuWx1iDCs2AXueJMMPQxkR2J27-afGUYVuU-zOucU3jDrypc7X2FWLA5uu6_u3WhA_cflhcLHglxc/s320/5F9B0249-710D-4FAD-85C4-8460A36AC5EA.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMrGrcuQnnDsHjgHY5K4jZ0T7E2s9YZWw1X9dz5LMWHLRWomx2x4wEC9LznE1qRQoIpB0iNzixhM6WRisUEu3u2fdrTwU-rVgX1uWI-At8elTYpPkH08L_TLjjhoo_aqZRZ-bThKWX8oA/s2048/6DC1F04C-A746-49B3-896E-7A070FA1785E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMrGrcuQnnDsHjgHY5K4jZ0T7E2s9YZWw1X9dz5LMWHLRWomx2x4wEC9LznE1qRQoIpB0iNzixhM6WRisUEu3u2fdrTwU-rVgX1uWI-At8elTYpPkH08L_TLjjhoo_aqZRZ-bThKWX8oA/s320/6DC1F04C-A746-49B3-896E-7A070FA1785E.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFtzXiCOwySeksn12uSD4WbgeiMVIdaaSr0mdtb10LgJJyUVPGDNYEYpxm5zi5bMlHIF1SGOH7WQP9Ci3OwC3WYEbbkCLisB3jkYSRfbqHo2B7E6qHk-uCIW4-TnTXf0FKFxDA6KUkmM/s1280/B5518281-591A-4002-B19D-20CA54DD17E9.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFtzXiCOwySeksn12uSD4WbgeiMVIdaaSr0mdtb10LgJJyUVPGDNYEYpxm5zi5bMlHIF1SGOH7WQP9Ci3OwC3WYEbbkCLisB3jkYSRfbqHo2B7E6qHk-uCIW4-TnTXf0FKFxDA6KUkmM/s320/B5518281-591A-4002-B19D-20CA54DD17E9.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdtYZ-fwWmwYQWi6c1hGM13sFOdJUNyWfZ6riVnR4iK9y-NBTKvxVG6U1dOBN2-s0krzoVs2wtFK4xqtL0u47xmVEUmpyxA3nbHo8muIMLLIEjp2TNiYhCbvkrjmtiIG99mUVwmJ9fuNQ/s2048/8BE8413F-47D1-4189-A34F-CD238DD529C1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdtYZ-fwWmwYQWi6c1hGM13sFOdJUNyWfZ6riVnR4iK9y-NBTKvxVG6U1dOBN2-s0krzoVs2wtFK4xqtL0u47xmVEUmpyxA3nbHo8muIMLLIEjp2TNiYhCbvkrjmtiIG99mUVwmJ9fuNQ/s320/8BE8413F-47D1-4189-A34F-CD238DD529C1.jpeg" /></a></div><br />Good morning! I’m just sitting in my back room. I’m starting my new job at 1 today and my pits smell like onions because I’m nervous. My nervous pit sweat is rank, y’all. You’re welcome for that info. Anyway. I’m doing a load of laundry and making a comic to keep my mind off of being nervous. My new comic is for Instagram. I’m increasingly annoyed by Instagram. That’s why I’ve been posting up a storm here on Ye Olde Blorg. I’m trying to work out how to channel my Instagram posting energy to my blog. I think I’ll probably write more about this exchange later. For now just a few shots of my day. I moved things around in this back room. I store all my art crap here and I removed this big ol’ desk I have. The desk was bringing me down. I felt like I could never be in this room because the desk was screaming at me the whole time: “Hey you! You better make some SERIOUS art over here on my surface. Otherwise what the f*ck are you playing around like an amateur artist for, you lazy b***h!?” Yeah. It was a really rude desk and it had to go. I hope I can get $40 for it though. I’ll probably have to duct tape it’s mouth shut long enough to convince a buyer that it is a polite desk. Anywho. What am I doing. Oh yeah, photos! Here you go! Gotta get up and figure out a way to mask my pit stench from my new coworkers. Wish me luck!<p></p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-62894927897297559782021-03-12T16:10:00.008-06:002021-03-12T16:13:44.652-06:00Getting Out There Again<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWButZbqGbas07G2b5d1ICOVMHuRyhG2IJjLtF73YcaQB0GP4u4kuvAvwauoSfNpsTkiSSEgPtSQtK7jS4W2LhMcYVtbQMWRkom9Xm3MrAb1ukHHrwqXtavVLUkL2BDBzlq3sOprMe1SY/s853/Award.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="853" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWButZbqGbas07G2b5d1ICOVMHuRyhG2IJjLtF73YcaQB0GP4u4kuvAvwauoSfNpsTkiSSEgPtSQtK7jS4W2LhMcYVtbQMWRkom9Xm3MrAb1ukHHrwqXtavVLUkL2BDBzlq3sOprMe1SY/w474-h408/Award.jpg" width="474" /></a></p><br /><p></p><p>I'm feeling good right now. A little over-caffeinated. But good. Plus I did the caffeine thing to my own self, so, I can't really complain. I just did three brave (for me) things in a row. I went to the store where I used to work as a smoothie bar person and asked a former coworker to be a reference on a new job application. Then I applied for a new job. Then I asked ANOTHER old coworker from a different old job to also be a reference for me. </p><p>That was really hard for me. I guess that's why I guzzled up all that caffeine. I needed the liquid courage. Asking people for help is scary for me. And getting out there and applying for work again is also really scary. I got hurt at my last retail job. I really loved my job there. Technically my job ended because of the pandemic, but the actual mechanics of losing the job left a bad taste in my mouth and I have avoided putting myself back out there ever since. <span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p>But in the past few weeks I have felt a little stronger. I've been craving something more substantial than Door Dash, which is how I've been earning extra income lately. If I'm honest a big part of it is just me wanting to have more money. We have to watch our finances very closely to make ends meet on just one full-time salary and I'm dreaming of being able to cut loose a little more. I want to be able to afford contact lenses again and thrift shop without feeling huge amounts of guilt. </p><p>Anyway. I finally started applying to a new grocery store job. Its not a dream job by any means. In fact, if it works out it'll probably be difficult and stressful. But I feel like I need something new. Something where I can go and work hard and get a solid paycheck. </p><p>I honestly feel ashamed of how messy my job life has been over the past few years. I wanted to make illustration into a full-time gig. My plan was to grow it and work hard enough to have it pay all my bills. When I got my last retail job someone made a joke, "So I guess you had to go and get a real job in order to pay for your other job." It wasn't necessarily meant to be hurtful, but I heard, "So. Your lofty plans of being a freelance illustrator fell flat and you had to come down off your high horse?"</p><p>But a few months ago the very thought of getting a new job paralyzed me with fear. I drew this silly doodle of myself holding a trophy, because I'm proud of the healing that I'm doing. Asking for help was really hard and so is putting myself back out there. I don't know where I'm going to land next, but I think I'm finally ready for the next thing. </p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-63378203607052475902021-03-09T09:47:00.004-06:002021-03-09T09:47:58.734-06:00?<p>Ug. I can't seem to find my footing again when it comes to blogging. What should I write about? What format works for me now? What kind of art style? What do people care about? Clearly the whole premise of a blog about myself and named after myself is highly self-indulgent. Which in a way is great, because it means I have complete freedom: I call the shots here, Baby! This blog can be whatever! But I'm kind of lost. I don't know what to talk about. I tried doing a series again, but I petered out. I have a hard time being consistent. So now what? I don't know. </p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-71851947950018090952020-12-18T13:17:00.007-06:002020-12-18T13:19:35.346-06:00Bright Little Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-rev1vI2S49m4NYBwBDLyb7H_NlXmHXijQa4WyPfoFVyIDAd0QZZtNfWt2hsnmps4ywygqr5Ro4yEcIzMqU_RjPHWUX9FtCPAC-mye__gSANyXNGu0h7dnJo4EwJielGl38EI1_x1Aw/s1000/Title.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="795" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-rev1vI2S49m4NYBwBDLyb7H_NlXmHXijQa4WyPfoFVyIDAd0QZZtNfWt2hsnmps4ywygqr5Ro4yEcIzMqU_RjPHWUX9FtCPAC-mye__gSANyXNGu0h7dnJo4EwJielGl38EI1_x1Aw/w366-h461/Title.jpg" width="366" /></a></div><p>Dear Friends,</p><p>It's been just an emotionally exhausting week. Nothing major happened in external terms, but things got pretty intense in therapy and that has taken a lot of my energy. I'm so grateful for the space to do this work, but it is not easy sometimes. </p><p>Today when I came out of my second therapy session in three days it was like my body and mind hit a wall and said, "Alright. That was craziness. Dude, We have GOT to slow it down now. Let's just chill for a sec, OK?"</p><p>Hm. Did not know that my subconscious talks like a surfer dude from some cheesy TV show, but hey--it's therapy--I'm learning all KINDS of new things about myself!</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>So I took the whole afternoon to recover and ease out of the emotional heavy lifting session that I had been working on all week. Yeah, there's still a buttload of unfinished business for me to work through and a lot of stuff that is still really scary and hard, but there really is only so much therapy-ing one person can do. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqNP3bDmrOLiSPgRuHFJ-YeOCugAYHHrh7ifX6Sp3PicWk34Mi-RT7MdqmSl8JfltuT1MhofPlN7xuvtXT1dloky4gtLHaFuZdI54bJCNVT5ppXFPbptEeZb2_a5jUD_Y_ajI7R2zHs-o/s745/Phone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="523" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqNP3bDmrOLiSPgRuHFJ-YeOCugAYHHrh7ifX6Sp3PicWk34Mi-RT7MdqmSl8JfltuT1MhofPlN7xuvtXT1dloky4gtLHaFuZdI54bJCNVT5ppXFPbptEeZb2_a5jUD_Y_ajI7R2zHs-o/s320/Phone.jpg" /></a></div><p>I treated myself to a giant cup of coffee from my favorite local coffee shop and a bagel from my favorite bagel shop. I turned on an episode of the TV show Friends, fired up my clunky space heater, got out my markers and spent a few hours just doodling. </p><p>I didn't have much of a plan for my doodles, I was just working on little illustrations of bright little things as a nice change of pace from all therapy insanity. I ended up making a little collection of illustrations featuring the things that have been bringing me joy recently.</p><p>I was going to write "the things that are keeping me going recently", but then I felt self-conscious about how sad and desperate it sounds to include "bagels" in that list as opposed to something like "the people I love" or "my insatiable drive to make the world a better place". So I switched it to "things that are bringing me joy". </p><p>But I'm going to be honest. Recently there are mornings when promising myself a bagel from my favorite bagel place is one of the main things keeping me going. Oof. That sounds dark. But I actually don't mean it to be dark. </p><p>I actually think there's some beauty in that. Yeah, it might not KEEP being beautiful if bagels continue to be my reason for living long-term, but I do think there's beauty in acknowledging that this is a tough season. My world has shrunk down pretty small and it's hard to see past one day at a time. And yes, I now measure time in Bagel Days and Non-Bagel Days as opposed to month names and weekdays. But maybe its OK for that to be where I'm at right now. </p><p>My capacity is pretty low and I'm glad that despite that I can still find joy and goodness in a few simple pleasures. So captured in this little series of illustrations are the simple pleasures that are my lifeline right now:</p><p><span style="background-color: #ff00fe;">1) Bagels:</span> I discovered my local bagel shop about a month ago and I'm slightly embarrassed that every employee now basically knows me by name. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFe5nPtO7J6LxhpRhsCroH1uLJbqh6zdq5BkuXPPwHwrRr4Fr8FL8dsxY20VuNCJZnQ3glvogp2mNR6jEFovRx6kRsL27lIQmenRfe_qupMWvSm_lhxpsNk7fvm6aqqPaSxBZKUqs5q8/s687/Bagel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="437" data-original-width="687" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFe5nPtO7J6LxhpRhsCroH1uLJbqh6zdq5BkuXPPwHwrRr4Fr8FL8dsxY20VuNCJZnQ3glvogp2mNR6jEFovRx6kRsL27lIQmenRfe_qupMWvSm_lhxpsNk7fvm6aqqPaSxBZKUqs5q8/s320/Bagel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><p><span style="background-color: red; color: #fcff01;">2) Coffee:</span> Yeah, the coffee shop people know me too. </p><p><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">3) Stardew Valley:</span> My friend Kaci is responsible for this one. Stardew Valley is a video game where you make your own little farm and plant crops and wander around a delightful countryside earning gold coins for peaceful activities like foraging mushrooms. I'm addicted. It's actually kind of freaking me out, because I've never been addicted to a video game in my entire life. This one is so peaceful and predictable. It's super slow and low key. I think I'm addicted to the sense of safety and familiarity it gives me. </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJdv8fBXD9Ro4pAhF8IpeiSbw5xL0lXzGJ2EOKchVG0F8ITNrEDbqEC4JTPpbR5sHAbi6GeYEyWrEMFagXxLSP7ErdCMvaouaYlcMjq8ycvWA9q9axQapwYSKTTmHkMzdflU3UjgGTS8/s958/Stardew+Valley.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="626" height="463" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJdv8fBXD9Ro4pAhF8IpeiSbw5xL0lXzGJ2EOKchVG0F8ITNrEDbqEC4JTPpbR5sHAbi6GeYEyWrEMFagXxLSP7ErdCMvaouaYlcMjq8ycvWA9q9axQapwYSKTTmHkMzdflU3UjgGTS8/w302-h463/Stardew+Valley.jpg" width="302" /></a></div><p><span style="background-color: #ffa400; color: #04ff00;"><span>4) Yellow Daisies:</span> </span>I treated myself to some yellow daisies on a whim. They lasted two whole weeks in a little mason jar on my window sill and made me smile every time I laid eyes on them. As you probably know, Chicago in Winter is famous for being totally grim and horrible, so yellow flowers are a big win. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeV-102v46psuwTVrF3pnxA0hCrpCS6G_meRiSvNV1cTV9Ig1Ok2rw-Sh1VJ7fWCbWk-5RyvB_RhHRcTU0b6SOsbYvucXjD4HF-ngwqR-ofkU0O7Z7k4mWHHDdErzuz3E3xjvYAxEkZE/s738/Daisy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="503" height="373" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeV-102v46psuwTVrF3pnxA0hCrpCS6G_meRiSvNV1cTV9Ig1Ok2rw-Sh1VJ7fWCbWk-5RyvB_RhHRcTU0b6SOsbYvucXjD4HF-ngwqR-ofkU0O7Z7k4mWHHDdErzuz3E3xjvYAxEkZE/w254-h373/Daisy.jpg" width="254" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">5) Yasutomo Waterproof Liquid Sumi Ink:</span> This is kind of a weird one, but this ink is my joy. After going through ink after ink trying to find one I liked I finally found an ink that doesn't smear with my Prismacolor Premier markers. Sure, it smells like a rotting leaves and old ladies, but IT DOESN'T SMEAR! And it doesn't feel dry and scratchy. I get excited to doodle with it like I did this afternoon while drawing these little guys. And for a season in which drawing has been extra hard for me, this is a big win too. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDs52BQbAXebu4vloZ0G8Pu2HLGLk0xpsvIjKnXllmeuK8OXryMWF1afLRHjXqiCo59KGWcEpR1KQOVltRgMXUy2eRt37Nuupdzfloq4KsdUE-vr60_P36M3iRwbHb7dzQqFBPLEt1nY/s530/Sumi.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="373" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDs52BQbAXebu4vloZ0G8Pu2HLGLk0xpsvIjKnXllmeuK8OXryMWF1afLRHjXqiCo59KGWcEpR1KQOVltRgMXUy2eRt37Nuupdzfloq4KsdUE-vr60_P36M3iRwbHb7dzQqFBPLEt1nY/w255-h363/Sumi.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><br /><p>Well. Those are a few of the little things that are sparking my joy. I hope that you have a few things like that during this season. May you have them in abundance! Thanks for hanging out and letting me chat to you for a bit. </p><p>Your Blog Friend,</p><p>Lucy🌹</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJsU_7tUkiuEAje6IAZXIWcTfvtjVHhMYYvwW1ZQoDQGuSmJSccjrZ_OqA-USs4PCXfhXZ67UY39MtIfKj0i1ca5FWxtTnl_KaN-pGr4OYmQqh-_LCb32682cKVOEi91T2jI-VL6IFs8/s741/Coffee.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="489" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJsU_7tUkiuEAje6IAZXIWcTfvtjVHhMYYvwW1ZQoDQGuSmJSccjrZ_OqA-USs4PCXfhXZ67UY39MtIfKj0i1ca5FWxtTnl_KaN-pGr4OYmQqh-_LCb32682cKVOEi91T2jI-VL6IFs8/s320/Coffee.jpg" /></a></div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-56914655072650580222020-12-12T12:52:00.002-06:002021-02-23T10:30:49.357-06:00My Freelance Journey: Goodbye Fancy Website <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZC9gXp1e1CjwWkaVZCJpHqcRfdS-C0MfBnfTZKXj92iYI_hxRgaAYFxVd-pWmpP9F0FkTRUw9gbQ7YoQBImsX1WIyIVph-zSIWAw07SXJVViZOYWPGuyf5dEAuW-LErfxCYsnGVjwHM/s1486/Web+Site+Mouth.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1486" data-original-width="765" height="590" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZC9gXp1e1CjwWkaVZCJpHqcRfdS-C0MfBnfTZKXj92iYI_hxRgaAYFxVd-pWmpP9F0FkTRUw9gbQ7YoQBImsX1WIyIVph-zSIWAw07SXJVViZOYWPGuyf5dEAuW-LErfxCYsnGVjwHM/w304-h590/Web+Site+Mouth.jpg" width="304" /></a></div>The minute I announced I was a freelancer, I felt the pressure to create a rad, sleek website. Sheldon and I spent hours and hours making www.lucyrosetillcampbell.com. On the site I had most of the basic things you expect from an artist's website: An About Me Section, a portfolio of my art, a contact page and I also had a place for people to sign up for my zine-selling business. <span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /><p></p><p>In 2019 I upgraded to a pricier, sexier platform called WIX, thinking that I could achieve even more fancy things if I paid a ton of money. But you know what? Honestly the more money thing just made me feel even more pressure to be cool. Somehow I had built up this idea that my website should be a thing of beauty to behold and an incredible multimedia experience for anyone who found it. </p><p>In the back of my mind there was this idea that my little blog on Blogger.com was not nearly professional or grand enough. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiGYNnUVLEmh6Qwm0__eskWVsxFr5Bcr8zJmBR6CrdmgKl6te0wDC441yBVMDvITTEZrBPM-M3LpnPx-SAKvIXYNhj6fv7BtGfcdzCL0GnexnzALYhfPDag2TyBsEAH_7w61Vyq5KibvI/s955/Fancy+Web+Content.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="906" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiGYNnUVLEmh6Qwm0__eskWVsxFr5Bcr8zJmBR6CrdmgKl6te0wDC441yBVMDvITTEZrBPM-M3LpnPx-SAKvIXYNhj6fv7BtGfcdzCL0GnexnzALYhfPDag2TyBsEAH_7w61Vyq5KibvI/w337-h355/Fancy+Web+Content.jpg" width="337" /></a></div><p>But a few months ago something happened that really surprised me: The web domain I was using expired and rather than panicking and jumping to renew it I was completely fine. Not only fine, but it felt like a release from this heavy expectation I had to create a trendy, glossy site. </p><p>I was living out this lie that in order to succeed I needed a fancy site. But all of a sudden when I lost my domain I was just excited to finally be able to drop the pretense of being a web designer and instead I could just focus on making my blog good again. </p><p>It really bothered me that I had <i>both</i> a website and a blog. I'm not a very high-powered person and the idea of doing both <i>well</i> was ludicrous. And indeed, I had a crappy website and a dormant blog. </p><p>I feel like now I can aspire to having a decent blog. I plan to use this blog to fulfill the functions of my former website. I can post my art here, have a brief overview of who I am and contact info--all the stuff a freelance artist should have but free. </p><p>Blogger is more my speed than WIX. It is not a trendy site anymore, and hasn't really been for about seven years. But I like it because I know it and it doesn't feel too good for me. </p><p>This whole website comes back to the thing I am always wrestling with in my freelance career: Not living up to it. As you know if you've read a few of my other posts about freelancing thus far, I struggle with major imposter syndrome. </p><p>One thing that really made me feel gross about my WIX website is that no matter how much stuff I put on there, it never felt like I was making enough use of it. I wasn't justifying the amount of money I put into it, because I underutilized all of the amazing features like slideshow modes, cool buttons and doohickeys that make everything BETTER. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_BLEASqfqepfm2vRMXMXtygnaWIKzNk-adgWXVq86jdPqagBDcUol2OULgHlJrKHmYaTayYSiXcH3PpYX12mpQfb72jmVKM8zU9l492oVJj726CeLOTBCTbjVojTSyR0_Fm1hdKW8aU/s1299/Amazing+Content.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1299" data-original-width="837" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM_BLEASqfqepfm2vRMXMXtygnaWIKzNk-adgWXVq86jdPqagBDcUol2OULgHlJrKHmYaTayYSiXcH3PpYX12mpQfb72jmVKM8zU9l492oVJj726CeLOTBCTbjVojTSyR0_Fm1hdKW8aU/w301-h468/Amazing+Content.jpg" width="301" /></a></div><p>I listened to the voice that whispered, "Your dinky little Blogger site is not good enough. It's too simple and tacky. If you stick with it you won't make it in this arena."</p><p>I allowed that voice to have power over me and it resulted in losing money, a lot of frustration and a deep sense of shame. </p><p>I'm excited to continue working on making this blog something I am proud of, instead of something I'm slightly embarrassed by. I still haven't totally found my blogging groove, but when I made the illustrations for this particular post I felt excited. </p><p>I felt like I was discovering a new visual style that was fun and playful and made me excited about creating work for this space again. I hope to keep playing with these bold colors and graphic, comic-y drawings. I'm proud of these little drawings. </p><p>Re-entering this blog space and figuring out how I want to show up here has been a long process. I expected to be able to just jump right back in and have a very clear direction. But I don't. I'm slowly, slowly learning about what my blog is again and it's kind of a messy process. Thanks for your patience. </p><p>Your Blog Friend,</p><p>Lucy🌹</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOs-Qlt4x7Y-bXT69WuddzVZ4H0xYte4Yh9FoB5fLA2nWs5VGI5RbAo5vPzIPy3qCx5xmVPECtBjXaBopqD4rBzf961FKgtL-TlKy6AKg_eToizV2HTA3Yf_h3YZsdLluAw3BMJ6w5ogw/s1429/Blog+Chillin%2527.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1429" data-original-width="783" height="534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOs-Qlt4x7Y-bXT69WuddzVZ4H0xYte4Yh9FoB5fLA2nWs5VGI5RbAo5vPzIPy3qCx5xmVPECtBjXaBopqD4rBzf961FKgtL-TlKy6AKg_eToizV2HTA3Yf_h3YZsdLluAw3BMJ6w5ogw/w292-h534/Blog+Chillin%2527.jpg" width="292" /></a></div><p></p></div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-87677116298331628192020-12-08T15:22:00.005-06:002021-04-02T15:03:14.077-05:00Crying During Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFTHR-bfUNgIbdpZ5MwL8KKb5goCb3sRkODelzNg78_N1OwWCMPJl3Hp4CdUfT22Md4Xko6G_n-ZupRj8MbBqxATxP56he5q1dpSEXvndBONZerfXWd9PRP5AiDbzvGgo5WAAXol3L3_A/s1336/Stan+Lee.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1336" data-original-width="1079" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFTHR-bfUNgIbdpZ5MwL8KKb5goCb3sRkODelzNg78_N1OwWCMPJl3Hp4CdUfT22Md4Xko6G_n-ZupRj8MbBqxATxP56he5q1dpSEXvndBONZerfXWd9PRP5AiDbzvGgo5WAAXol3L3_A/s320/Stan+Lee.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Whew. That was weird. I just started tearing up while watching the movie Spider-man: Into the Spiderverse. I got to the scene where Peter Parker dies and Miles Morales buys a tacky costume from a shop owner, who is actually played by Stan Lee, the creator of the original Spider-man comics. There's an emotional song playing in the background. Miles, who has just started having Spidey powers and is feeling really scared and lonely asks, "Can I return it if it doesn't fit?" Stan/the shopkeeper says with a knowing look, "It always fits...eventually."<span><a name='more'></a></span></div></div><p>I feel silly saying this, but I felt like Stan Lee was speaking straight to middle-school-aged Lucy Rose. That's when I first read the original Spider-Man comics. The summer we moved from the suburbs of Chicago to the Czech Republic we went on this super long road trip to say goodbye to everyone we knew. We drove and flew to Texas, the East Coast...all over and finally flew across the ocean to start our new life as missionaries to the Czech Republic. </p><p>My parents bought us a couple books and CDs to keep us entertained on the way. One of them was the entire CD audiobook of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire read by Jim Dale. One of them was a compendium of all the original Stan Lee/Stephen Ditko Amazing Spider-Man comics from the 1960's.</p><p>The dialogue is incredibly cheesy to 21st century ears. He calls people, "Buster" and "Pal" and exclaims things like "Honest to gosh!" </p><p>Even as an eleven-year-old I felt how clunky it was. But at the same time I was entranced. I was obsessed with the bright, colorful drawings and the wild characters, most of which had melodramatic back stories and all of whom dressed in insane outfits. </p><p>My favorite installments were the two times Spider-Man faced The Vulture: a crazed, murderous villain with an electric suit that allowed him to fly. At one point Spider-Man gets trapped inside a water tower by The Vulture and I still have that panel etched into my memory. I think I liked The Vulture the best because he was just ridiculously creepy and strange and made for the best drama. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEOWvQy8tj6Sml0NQEXwRs9LlS06fql3xMSsE5N58qCT1hI3NNsxPJafCl-kRPdYd9sDezPAU6VS6sXfuV0DWQxrk3Cbu-yXxgGvdDXJtOj7YXaSh_xqLPJ6nvbf3yyXhYFyCPWtSLlVE/s441/watertower.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="429" data-original-width="441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEOWvQy8tj6Sml0NQEXwRs9LlS06fql3xMSsE5N58qCT1hI3NNsxPJafCl-kRPdYd9sDezPAU6VS6sXfuV0DWQxrk3Cbu-yXxgGvdDXJtOj7YXaSh_xqLPJ6nvbf3yyXhYFyCPWtSLlVE/s320/watertower.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Anyway, as we road-tripped across the states in our rented cars I kept reading about nerdy Peter Parker. My imagination latched onto the idea of this shy awkward person, who had hidden gifts and a secret identity. </p><p>As an extremely awkward pre-teen, struggling with the terrors of puberty and feeling uncomfortable in my own skin I loved the idea that I could be like Peter--that if only people knew the real truth about me they would see past my frizzy hair, crooked teeth and glasses and see my amazing abilities. </p><p>I know I'm not alone in this. That's why Spider-Man is so beloved. He's a beacon of hope for anyone who has been bullied for being different, anyone who has struggled to discover their own value and identity.</p><p>And for me, specifically, it was the first time I realized that I wanted to make comics. I only made a couple superhero comics of my own, but it planted a seed in my mind about what you could do with the medium of graphic storytelling. </p><p>The superhero I invented was called Transmogro-Man. He could "transmogrify" himself into anything: a chair, a jar of peanut butter, an apple tree...In fact, one time he turned himself into an apple tree, but something went wrong and so from then on his left hand was an apple instead of a hand. He would usually stop the villains by changing into some unsuspecting object and then ambushing them. </p><p>It was weird and I think I ended up only doing one issue, because I got annoyed with how much work was involved in drawing the action panel-by-panel. </p><p>But even though I've never really gone back to trying to do superhero comics I still carry a torch for Spider-Man. He helped me get through some rough years of trying to fit in to my new Czech public school without losing hope. Drawing comics and doodles into endless successions of notebooks helped me feel less alone. Stan Lee's creation let me feel like drawing was a secret power and it gave me one tiny way to express myself and feel seen. </p><p>In a lot of ways I still feel a lot like Peter Parker and Miles Morales or even like pre-teen Lucy Rose. I'm still awkward and struggle to feel understood. I haven't become successful as an artist in any kind of commercial or financial sense, so I'm still figuring out how to become who I want to be. So I guess that's why seeing this movie now is meaningful to me as an adult. I needed my old friend Stan to tell me that someday I might grow into it. </p><p></p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-45523004021566526502020-12-04T13:22:00.065-06:002020-12-07T11:46:53.982-06:00Some Changes <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSErsWPfXYYvepn0lGYur_J8DXX3iNcWHdtaf1JAsVRIK3nWJ6caqU9jGUhT0U67tiBJww3-1-nGER3BmbPztoyddhA28sx07kl7ut4X1HhqYg5jediY3MTLAo3gScYKDWc4FGdbEBug/s2048/2F1D3068-0196-45AC-996C-D0CA15DCC5B4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSErsWPfXYYvepn0lGYur_J8DXX3iNcWHdtaf1JAsVRIK3nWJ6caqU9jGUhT0U67tiBJww3-1-nGER3BmbPztoyddhA28sx07kl7ut4X1HhqYg5jediY3MTLAo3gScYKDWc4FGdbEBug/w322-h429/2F1D3068-0196-45AC-996C-D0CA15DCC5B4.jpeg" width="322" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Dear Friends,<p></p><p>In my last post I mentioned how this blog feels like a safe space to me. I feel like I can be myself here and I won't run into judgement. But as soon as I wrote that I started to question whether I really do feel the ability to be vulnerable here. I have found it hard to write posts recently.</p><p>For a few weeks I had a good streak going where I was keeping up with my Friday series on freelancing, but once again I stopped. At first I just blamed my own laziness, and while I still don't rule that out, I have been wondering if another answer might be at the root of why I haven't felt able to post right now. <span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p>I have been changing in a lot of ways over the past couple years and I don't think my blog has always kept up with the changes. When I started writing again a few months ago I wanted to settle back into my old style of creating posts: silly drawings and funny stories from my life. I worked hard to create posts that were cheerful, uplifting and had a wholesome, sweet vibe. </p><p>But I don't feel like that vibe always fits in with the things I'm going through right now. I'm not joining a gang or anything, but I am doing a lot of growing and work in therapy to become a more whole person. Not just the person who wrote goofy posts about getting <a href="http://lucyslifecz.blogspot.com/2016/04/my-bra-story.html">my first bra</a> or <a href="http://lucyslifecz.blogspot.com/search/label/Wedding">planning a wedding</a> (although I still really love those posts!).</p><p>I'm a person with a lot of pain coming from my complicated history with mental illness, a lot of questions and hurt from the religion I grew up in and an ever evolving desire to show up in my own life as authentically as I can. Trying to fit these aspects of myself into the old vibe of this blog has felt forced.</p><p>I am not in the same place as I was in 2016 when I made my last posts here. I'm struggling with understanding how I want to fit into my own family, how I want to conduct my friendships and whether I trust the Christian Church enough anymore to continue being a part of it. </p><p>But while all of this stuff is going on I'm still me. I'm still married to and in love with Sheldon. I'm still working hard on being an illustrator and story teller. I still enjoy the same things that I always have, but I am inviting more of myself into the picture and some of those parts aren't that cute and don't really fit into the vibe of my old blog. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpaYk8DeVbsJGLTfFrDCxgJlJiBBt2yCps560ChK0yGggC-7YHtLDWt6GiBs7wAWtiy334um_pF23aRq4WzxCje7P3p3fQ5o5ZifLTu2GltV-b1eZ47a6Gj_AEjQmgg1tCFqRAUcAEAU/s2048/46B725CB-88D0-4013-8B89-408FA7E0A4E3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpaYk8DeVbsJGLTfFrDCxgJlJiBBt2yCps560ChK0yGggC-7YHtLDWt6GiBs7wAWtiy334um_pF23aRq4WzxCje7P3p3fQ5o5ZifLTu2GltV-b1eZ47a6Gj_AEjQmgg1tCFqRAUcAEAU/w300-h400/46B725CB-88D0-4013-8B89-408FA7E0A4E3.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHHwCv7wXapmdxnCp8gxMbEiwu56u3Kz3vkb8TP3XNKaXsZarQj1pUv0g1XvViKbnrvbLcfe0VBv_V2mDSHKQT24Z01c7AQj1QGsbulBUj0pfE0xCplRyNGyF8Oie4qoD-Arx3oMXuPE/s1280/BA955098-FD63-4437-806D-A3F08B68C196.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaHHwCv7wXapmdxnCp8gxMbEiwu56u3Kz3vkb8TP3XNKaXsZarQj1pUv0g1XvViKbnrvbLcfe0VBv_V2mDSHKQT24Z01c7AQj1QGsbulBUj0pfE0xCplRyNGyF8Oie4qoD-Arx3oMXuPE/w300-h400/BA955098-FD63-4437-806D-A3F08B68C196.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div></div></div><p>In <a href="http://lucyslifecz.blogspot.com/2020/11/how-i-learned-to-tidy.html">my last post</a> I talked about learning to tidy my studio space and rather than stuff things under the rug take out each item and consider it. I likened that to some of the work I have been doing in therapy. And that's a pretty new thing for me. The person who wrote on this blog many years ago was someone who really fought to keep pain and difficult questions at bay and present a specific outer appearance. </p><p>But I'm not that person any more. I wanted to be honest about what's been going on. I needed to get this off my chest so that I can continue working on making this blog a place where I DO feel safe to be myself and who I am now as opposed to four years ago. I hope anyone who is reading this can make room for some of the changes that are happening with me and perhaps some shifts in the tone and content of what I make. </p><p>One place the change has been the most apparent is in my artwork. I've been creating work from some very raw places of my being and that shows up in my work. I am hoping to share some of my current work here and I didn't want to blindside anyone with the gear shift. </p><p></p><p></p><p>I'm not planning to introduce a bunch of sex, drugs and rock and roll. In fact I don't really know how my sharing this will affect my further posts. It may be that I just needed to know that I could share this openly and after that you won't really notice much of a change. </p><p>Either way, I want to thank you for being a listening ear and for accepting me for who I am for over a decade of writing in this blog. I'm so grateful. </p><p>Love,</p><p>L🌹</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Kyi2SymDG1iWtI9MeWhD5KfafScT5PW3YOWHY_Hi1YTGGWeIUACSA1HvqGpnil90KZH-VFH1Y0QH-gNnIsebfQ6Op4DJ__G2XTj5iaVycjsrRD6YhzmdmkIp7oM2gZUeNlrW3bA0-3Y/s2048/EFC5A45A-550F-4108-950B-31A9B140032D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Kyi2SymDG1iWtI9MeWhD5KfafScT5PW3YOWHY_Hi1YTGGWeIUACSA1HvqGpnil90KZH-VFH1Y0QH-gNnIsebfQ6Op4DJ__G2XTj5iaVycjsrRD6YhzmdmkIp7oM2gZUeNlrW3bA0-3Y/w310-h413/EFC5A45A-550F-4108-950B-31A9B140032D.jpeg" width="310" /></a></div><p></p><p></p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-51390484074923666732020-11-17T12:27:00.005-06:002020-11-17T12:30:56.893-06:00How I Learned to Tidy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f8ShQe7nc6uaRg3JfIMfjSFnmLN_pl_Wx-8ZUj1hjoZ7TBrZ01ThUSx_VJUPDbjEr70qtWEr_OscB85118r5DGUGxX_tdnlTnNT5y0zSEOU4PsX1WdoR64zFRC01uScFzFv92tM85T8/s1484/Me+at+Desk.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1484" data-original-width="1051" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f8ShQe7nc6uaRg3JfIMfjSFnmLN_pl_Wx-8ZUj1hjoZ7TBrZ01ThUSx_VJUPDbjEr70qtWEr_OscB85118r5DGUGxX_tdnlTnNT5y0zSEOU4PsX1WdoR64zFRC01uScFzFv92tM85T8/w343-h483/Me+at+Desk.jpg" width="343" /></a></div><br />Well. I fell off the blog wagon again. Typical. I haven't posted for several weeks. And then because I was off the blog wagon I felt like a failure and that completely psyched me out of getting back on the blog wagon. So here we are. Thanks for the endless patience you extend to my wayward blogging ways. <p></p><p>I think that's one reason I have returned over and over to this blog: it feels like a judgement free zone. Of course, I judge MYSELF very harshly and am not a very good friend to me sometimes, but I always feel like you guys never judge me and this web page never judges me. </p><p>Thanks for that. </p><p>Right before I stopped blogging for a spell I made a few illustrations of my newly organized studio to share with you. I had spent about a week tearing everything up and putting it all back together again. <span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><span></span><p>The result is much more peaceful and tidy. I feel less distracted by the clutter and better able to actually work in here. </p><p>I have always been a messy person. I am messy when I am making things (glue, paint, glitter, string...EVERYWHERE!) but I am also messy about cooking, laundry bed making and everything. </p><p>I feel like I spent my whole life feeling trapped by my own messiness and I have been searching for the cure for so long.<br /></p><p>I can remember how messy my room would get when I was little. Cleaning it would feel like such an overwhelming task. I would stand in the middle of the chaos and not even know where to start. </p><p>I would dissolve into tears of utter despair which could last what felt like hours and still I would have no clue how to take care of it. </p><p>I remember my mom oscillating between anger and trying to calm me down and help. Often I think she was just as stumped as I was about how to help me. </p><p>Looking back I know myself a little better. I know that as a highly sensitive person the spaces I inhabit are extremely important to me. My home and the space around me reflects my state of being. When I'm stressed it's messier. When I have peace of mind my space is less cluttered. </p><p>I can see that as a kid I didn't have healthy ways to express my emotions. The emotional build up was reflective in the build up of clutter in my room. And rather than developing healthy tools to help cope with the problem I was expected to just fix it. Just go in there and make it look good. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9Nu4gf8bePn5ezmARMB4GJyybgPN6KuutE4Kr5Q2HaCJk3VDqBmiZseuUrYgAMqqFtdcWheyKgQ1gYNjPe2vHYnnfQ2cMtKizJcBKUJX8_kr0ixhYwR3J7ASAcdqIm9cgrEcSgYx0xI/s1491/Cozy+Corner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1491" data-original-width="1068" height="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ9Nu4gf8bePn5ezmARMB4GJyybgPN6KuutE4Kr5Q2HaCJk3VDqBmiZseuUrYgAMqqFtdcWheyKgQ1gYNjPe2vHYnnfQ2cMtKizJcBKUJX8_kr0ixhYwR3J7ASAcdqIm9cgrEcSgYx0xI/w310-h433/Cozy+Corner.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><p>Instead of learning a sustainable way to keep my room tidy I became trained at making my room look good every couple weeks. </p><p>A the same time I became good at making sure I only exhibited the good looking emotions as well. Hiding the "ugly" ones like anger or sadness or desire and presenting the "nice" ones like happiness, joy or contentment. </p><p>Unfortunately, just like with my room, the build up of emotional clutter would eventually explode into a giant mess often in the form of a temper tantrum, a melt down or eventually even mental health breakdowns. </p><p>A few years ago I read the book The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. I know a lot of people joke about the phenomenon that is this book, but it really impacted me in a good way. </p><p>For the first time someone presented me with a simple way to approach clutter and tidiness. You keep what sparks joy and you give every single thing in your house a home. </p><p>I first tackled our home Konmari style during our first year of marriage in 2016 and kept doing it in each of our new homes. </p><p>While I don't have a perfect home and I still have clutter and objects floating around without a home, I have so much more peace with my living space. I feel like Marie Kondo's book helped me develop the skills to build a peaceful space. </p><p>But the interesting thing about her book is that reading it also helped me start learning to process my emotions as well as my stuff. It started slowly. She prompts the reader to visualize your ideal life. This got me thinking about the life I wanted free of stress, full of creativity and surrounded by peaceful beauty. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6RE4W0v_oXPY68YW1peYkqCbP02EDAEYMWrzX9d69E-1qHTPR6GPv5fyMTLVGKLpDm6PB3CvaNFO9qDXKFyNZ8ioJ65kMf-3t9kKEZm94M-xYN0fpMyUI51mozNn2IlkP9DPvHmaR5g/s1504/Desk+Drawer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1504" data-original-width="1080" height="463" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6RE4W0v_oXPY68YW1peYkqCbP02EDAEYMWrzX9d69E-1qHTPR6GPv5fyMTLVGKLpDm6PB3CvaNFO9qDXKFyNZ8ioJ65kMf-3t9kKEZm94M-xYN0fpMyUI51mozNn2IlkP9DPvHmaR5g/w333-h463/Desk+Drawer.jpg" width="333" /></a></div><p>Over the past few years I have slowly been working on figuring out how to have that life. I realized that I needed to bring a lot of my emotional baggage out of hiding and address each item one-by-one just like with my stuff. In Marie's method you go through an extensive discard phase in which you handle each item and if it fails to spark joy you thank it and discard it. </p><p>Reading her book helped me start to look at how much stress and pain my buried emotions were causing me. A couple years ago I started the journey to find professional help working through them. I wanted to do something similar to tidying by handling each of my emotions and addressing them one by one. </p><p>I've been seeing a therapist for four months now. I'm working really hard to learn healthier ways of dealing with my feelings and no longer giving them labels like "good" or "ugly" or "bad" but instead holding them gently. </p><p>Of course you can't just discard emotions or the baggage that comes with traumatic events, but I am learning how to give them their own space in my home rather than shoving them under my bed or into the closet. And I admit that it is very painful work. But it is work I am so grateful to be doing. </p><p>Well. Thanks for reading this and giving me the space to talk about it. </p><p>Your Blog Friend,</p><p>Lucy🌹</p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-39345883709224945072020-10-24T17:08:00.006-05:002020-11-17T12:31:48.216-06:00My Freelance Journey: Flamin' in a Pit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8btMJykTabzOxTjdBKHvfUr5cqx9OkLTg0-iBH7rpA-ZtTxyo3De0u1J83dPIHjJHu2xL0UuU_AicXC23gjHCT6182PrhfGbC_mVRuF4T5lZu7kS7B94nzJDSXYJ7YrdtIF1h-yWo_c/s1510/Frown.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1510" data-original-width="1051" height="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ8btMJykTabzOxTjdBKHvfUr5cqx9OkLTg0-iBH7rpA-ZtTxyo3De0u1J83dPIHjJHu2xL0UuU_AicXC23gjHCT6182PrhfGbC_mVRuF4T5lZu7kS7B94nzJDSXYJ7YrdtIF1h-yWo_c/w302-h433/Frown.jpg" width="302" /></a></div><br />I have started delivering as a side gig to make money to supplement my practically non-existent freelance income. For the first few days it was going pretty well, but last night I had a bad "dash".<span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div>First off I messed up an order. That earned me a DoorDash demerit, which may result in my termination. I am still waiting for the tribunal to determine whether I will lose my DoorDash credentials.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then at White Castle I almost lost my mind trying to figure out the drive-through and a very angry White Castle employee yelled at me, “Hey! Didn’t you see the window? You’re supposed to stop at that window!”</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdtMZt67I0pm7LL_PqkhigNPXLK_xiGl6HS4B2H2MQ4-8715e4MdgaAp3mS-oQWJB9wsDHhPFTQX8N3ihyphenhyphen77UVSPIiygn_p1slLfjJdRiT7Yz-2lK6D8Auegd8Jp9oBClRFmgJdUY-lmk/s1510/Mask+XRay.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1510" data-original-width="1051" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdtMZt67I0pm7LL_PqkhigNPXLK_xiGl6HS4B2H2MQ4-8715e4MdgaAp3mS-oQWJB9wsDHhPFTQX8N3ihyphenhyphen77UVSPIiygn_p1slLfjJdRiT7Yz-2lK6D8Auegd8Jp9oBClRFmgJdUY-lmk/w296-h426/Mask+XRay.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><br /><div>I apologized for making her job harder and managed to drive away before she could see me cry.</div><div><br /></div><div>Working at White Castle during COVID cannot be an easy job. She was probably dealing with a lot and one clueless lady messing up the system was the last thing she needed.</div><div><br /></div><div>But harsh words have always had way too much power over me. It feels like a curse not to be able to brush things like that off easily.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thankfully, the rest of the delivery went fine. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was feeling a bit better about things when I ran out of gas. No problem. Super DoorDash Lady is ON it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, while pumping gas I accidentally got tangled in the nozzle tube and spilled gas all over myself.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLawjHqYt_VFwiQywYQxjUFybFYa8ey5_VuRpVRbDpbilrj06Og2gBtNzFX_MzE1uMCQMiq5pYgPg-YuqM01FrbbbeLNMKgW8KfNDcYdufIjklDjj_3azwRxAYYrKV0MtDSYb0OQk7MU/s1510/Gas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1510" data-original-width="1051" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLawjHqYt_VFwiQywYQxjUFybFYa8ey5_VuRpVRbDpbilrj06Og2gBtNzFX_MzE1uMCQMiq5pYgPg-YuqM01FrbbbeLNMKgW8KfNDcYdufIjklDjj_3azwRxAYYrKV0MtDSYb0OQk7MU/w296-h425/Gas.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>No worries! Super DoorDash Lady keeps paper towels in the car. </div><div><br /></div><div>Back on the road, nothing daunted! </div><div><br /></div><div>I get to the next house without a hitch, although my whole body and the inside of my car smell like gas.</div><div><br /></div><div>The nice Texan family pick up their order and smile and wave. I can see them all happily eating dinner through the huge bay window.</div><div><br /></div><div>I pull out my phone to check for the next order but instead fall into a ditch in the front yard. The family's forks pause halfway to their mouths as they watch in horror.</div><div><br /></div><div>I tumbled down, down into the pit.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/It7107ELQvY" width="320" youtube-src-id="It7107ELQvY"></iframe></div><br /><div>The pit is right next to the road and a low riding truck passes by, hits a pot hole and sends sparks flying into the ditch where lies my huddled gas, soaked form. Unfortunately, my pants burst into flames.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Texan family can do nothing but watch as I try to claw my way out of the pit while still on fire. </div><div><br /></div><div>That is the exact that moment that the woman from White Castle, who has finished her shift, walks by.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Didn’t you see the sign, you flaming piece of garbage?! You’re supposed to walk around the ditch!”<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhVEftcyw4v7CXw6UOC-tD5zlb57EJvVB-KfIHNcLpJYcrKGTOafD6fKRKN6IaUKczoUkywRE2yQ_T75m0NK1lmx9S407gNxG91ei1wvlcPSBuCFMFq-Y0b1m9slQNedgWegCH0Rlblg/s1510/Flamin%2527+in+a+Pit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1510" data-original-width="1051" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhVEftcyw4v7CXw6UOC-tD5zlb57EJvVB-KfIHNcLpJYcrKGTOafD6fKRKN6IaUKczoUkywRE2yQ_T75m0NK1lmx9S407gNxG91ei1wvlcPSBuCFMFq-Y0b1m9slQNedgWegCH0Rlblg/w313-h450/Flamin%2527+in+a+Pit.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-56307367344079705082020-10-10T23:13:00.005-05:002020-10-10T23:19:55.536-05:00My Freelance Journey: Kind of a Downer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKks8BI9mgVMTNrhIrvPuLhhYQMkEWbMOhNWNImwXIdfE8lb4So9UfknhKOhIoPoz4zaMw8tm2a4V4Wq5tpZNFiWd_xBw_DwYe5GvSsEUbzcFbs9xBPpVFcKmE31bUfZ4tbXA5_f8iPs/s1103/My+Music.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1091" data-original-width="1103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKks8BI9mgVMTNrhIrvPuLhhYQMkEWbMOhNWNImwXIdfE8lb4So9UfknhKOhIoPoz4zaMw8tm2a4V4Wq5tpZNFiWd_xBw_DwYe5GvSsEUbzcFbs9xBPpVFcKmE31bUfZ4tbXA5_f8iPs/s320/My+Music.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>I have been trying to tune my mandolin as a way of procrastinating from writing today's blog post about freelancing. The tuning is not going very well, but for a while it was working as a way to put off writing. </p><p>I've got to be honest, you guys. Writing about myself as a freelancer today seems really daunting. I've been feeling so ashamed of my career (or lack thereof) the past few days that the prospect of writing about it seems terrible. <span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span></span><p></p><p>Last week, as an attempt to cheer myself up I wrote about some things I am proud of so far. But this week I just feel like nothing I do is enough and that post was just me blowing hot air, when in reality I am the world's worst freelance artist. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMrMC29rizaYXuC0xLPpSzJxb5p2fej6UbqzUUCDPh-eFC9b4Sc_sRXOAues8frI7UJjN5cxytoRR0EzObdCpa5cMuSuBzGQc4LPYnXLOI6bmYYStc2LjACvmVCAnEEU5aN6fhX6Nn1w/s1357/Too+Much+Space.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1357" data-original-width="906" height="423" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMrMC29rizaYXuC0xLPpSzJxb5p2fej6UbqzUUCDPh-eFC9b4Sc_sRXOAues8frI7UJjN5cxytoRR0EzObdCpa5cMuSuBzGQc4LPYnXLOI6bmYYStc2LjACvmVCAnEEU5aN6fhX6Nn1w/w309-h423/Too+Much+Space.jpg" width="309" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I feel like I don't deserve the lifestyle I have in which my husband pays all the bills and I get to play pretend at being an artist, which for me involves a lot of Instagramming and drinking coffee at my favorite café.<p></p><p>I feel like a fraud who has no business writing a blog about freelancing.</p><p>This week I felt a little better about my lack of a "real" job, because I started doing food delivery service using one of those apps. It made me feel a little less crappy about myself to make a little money. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNWizQoz1AUfVeJVOY2eBgQIoBUIXYUuGvGTUHdoIzwtBkh3mJoGkLHETcmAYqqAoQw-B8zRexIAptt_2oi8DDd1XYTS9Q3zC8bxPJfJndUC73so8Yajj3ZKLtUvdiEDPSILCt5NmoVw/s1103/Not+Enough.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1058" data-original-width="1103" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNWizQoz1AUfVeJVOY2eBgQIoBUIXYUuGvGTUHdoIzwtBkh3mJoGkLHETcmAYqqAoQw-B8zRexIAptt_2oi8DDd1XYTS9Q3zC8bxPJfJndUC73so8Yajj3ZKLtUvdiEDPSILCt5NmoVw/w388-h372/Not+Enough.jpg" width="388" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>But I still feel pretty down. We have been talking a lot in therapy about "taking up space". Lately I feel like I have been sprawling all over the place and taking up so much space--space which I feel I don't deserve. <p></p><p>I don't deserve to live off of Sheldon' income. I don't deserve to be struggling with mental health for as long as I've been struggling. I don't deserve to not be making much money when I know I could be making more if I had a "normal" job. I don't deserve to call myself a freelance artist, because there are so many people out there who working harder and doing this better. </p><p>I don't even feel like I deserve to take up this much space on the internet writing about my emotional struggles. </p><p>I actually am pretty happy that this week in addition to starting food delivery I also made significant headway on my next zine for the zine club. But it was only during the moments when I was in the groove of scanning, writing and editing pages of the zine I was able to banish the feelings of inadequacy.</p><p>But I don't want to live a life in which I only feel like a person of value when I am making something. I want to be at peace with my own existence and the amount of space I take up regardless of whether I am productive, because I believe humans are worthy of love either way. </p><p>Thanks for being a listening ear for me today. It means a lot.</p><p>Lucy🌹</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh333GJKXLtuOWGewllqIw32_yQGYkVKv_DJHCbhyphenhyphenBIQk3Ba6btosgbndGLyv_X-ApPcq-EUIAlZtojO7DGH462VH2x_SCScvppWlFWRWxZk25iJc_iB-hb3hd7ENh44DvfcpZuFo5Dws/s1275/Teach+Me+Your+Tiny+Ways.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="959" data-original-width="1275" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh333GJKXLtuOWGewllqIw32_yQGYkVKv_DJHCbhyphenhyphenBIQk3Ba6btosgbndGLyv_X-ApPcq-EUIAlZtojO7DGH462VH2x_SCScvppWlFWRWxZk25iJc_iB-hb3hd7ENh44DvfcpZuFo5Dws/w427-h322/Teach+Me+Your+Tiny+Ways.jpg" width="427" /></a></div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-62812000922838607732020-10-02T10:00:00.013-05:002020-10-10T23:23:33.457-05:00My Freelance Journey: I’m Proud of You, Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRCgFalyyKKE7z9GplY5dEZQo0IaTia9SKKcABo12HE98KjJmsRm4NPRYauQ-Ybxfpd4WAsTySHqq8tasf-mqP4ywNOuY_JpXpx9OewGu1kpc1fzpKFSzB0iA95jCtD-QjL87riCMMNE/s1723/Scared+Inside.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1723" data-original-width="1099" height="563" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRCgFalyyKKE7z9GplY5dEZQo0IaTia9SKKcABo12HE98KjJmsRm4NPRYauQ-Ybxfpd4WAsTySHqq8tasf-mqP4ywNOuY_JpXpx9OewGu1kpc1fzpKFSzB0iA95jCtD-QjL87riCMMNE/w359-h563/Scared+Inside.jpg" width="359" /></a></div><br />I want to talk about three things I am actually proud of in the way I have handled my freelance business so far. In my last post I got a tad...sarcastic...about some of the choices I have made in my quest to become a freelance illustrator.<div><br /></div><div>Being silly and hyperbolic is one way I cope with things which, in reality, scare me or intimidate me--like being a freelancer! As I mentioned in <a href="https://lucyslifecz.blogspot.com/2020/08/my-freelance-journey-fears.html">this post</a>, MANY things about freelance scare me. <div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But today, as a way to even out the high levels of sarcasm (and let's be honest, this one of those weeks where I could use a boost of confidence!) I want to focus on the things that make me proud. <span><a name='more'></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: #ff00fe; color: #04ff00; text-align: left;">1) I Took The Plunge</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">It was really scary to start calling myself a freelance illustrator. I was worried that people would think I was a silly, pretentious little girl trying to get attention. I was worried that I would fail and have to go back to being a Certified Nursing Assistant. I was worried that once I sent out my first zine to everyone they would see my work and think, "Why does she think she can do illustration if this is all she is capable of making?"</span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>Phew. It is actually really cathartic to write out my fears! But back to what I was saying...</div><div><br /></div><div>I had all of those thoughts and more as I began putting together my first website portfolio, my illustration business card and started rounding up addresses to send my first zine to. But I still went for it. I'm so proud of myself that despite all that fear I still sent out my business card and zines. I started introducing myself to people as an illustrator and I began to actively seek out work. </div><div><br /></div><div>Something as simple as ordering a cup of coffee can bring on anxiety for me. I try to hide how scared talking to strangers and speaking up for myself makes me, but sometimes I wish I could express to people how much effort it takes. </div><div><br /></div><div>All this to say: Letting my community know that I was stepping out into this new role took guts for me and I am proud that I was able to take the plunge. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OuxDWbbM3rABj5kZ-34aZLMiNRrPoLBHubLNe7_SJ9zecxE9NBsJPZtD9BoeulAqJC9uih8k_8SgidMhN-0y1AsvsX3_xOOEm0Khy126D_prsvNda1_q9BhD_2srIZr63oQQzvV7DNM/s1684/Loooove.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1684" data-original-width="1074" height="547" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OuxDWbbM3rABj5kZ-34aZLMiNRrPoLBHubLNe7_SJ9zecxE9NBsJPZtD9BoeulAqJC9uih8k_8SgidMhN-0y1AsvsX3_xOOEm0Khy126D_prsvNda1_q9BhD_2srIZr63oQQzvV7DNM/w349-h547/Loooove.jpg" width="349" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #01ffff; color: #ff00fe;">2) The People Who Support Me Are Amazing</span></div><div>I am proud of having a network of people who really care about my work as an artist and writer. Many of the people who have supported my work over the years either by reading my blog (Hi, Guys!!!), following me on Instagram or subscribing to my Zine Club have been cheering me on for years. Some of them are friends from school, friends of the family (or family!) and some became supporters just through encountering my work out in the world. </div><div><br /></div><div>Obviously I can't take credit for these folks being the kind and supportive people that they are, but I am so proud that they allow my work into their lives. It's a huge honor when people decide to spend time with something I have made or written and I don't take it lightly. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvAWRYjIVo0T5fY6rZxs3ZhfaYaN6iJk1lBH0pLZmgqnPpxB0jw2Oku8EQN-OlI559cTa2DubEDSz4VRRyNjwlrtl6nWITNpmoM5nn12nWs1Xh-6KidRpr0stkvIjsyyM8idcBY4PZME8/s1665/Ta+Da%2521.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1665" data-original-width="1017" height="563" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvAWRYjIVo0T5fY6rZxs3ZhfaYaN6iJk1lBH0pLZmgqnPpxB0jw2Oku8EQN-OlI559cTa2DubEDSz4VRRyNjwlrtl6nWITNpmoM5nn12nWs1Xh-6KidRpr0stkvIjsyyM8idcBY4PZME8/w343-h563/Ta+Da%2521.jpg" width="343" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #ffa400; color: #2b00fe;">3) I Let My Supporters Know When I Was Struggling</span></div><div>This one is a little trickier for me to talk about. I am proud of being honest with my subscribers about my struggle to complete the zines for Year Two of my Zine Cub project. Around April of 2020 I got sick with what we believe was a mild case of COVID 19. I thought it would only last a little while, but after a few weeks I was still exhausted and weak all the time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Even though I had committed to make one zine a month for the club, I found that I just couldn't work. We eventually realized that while in the beginning I may have had the virus, the stress and isolation triggered a debilitating season of depression and anxiety that made me feel physically ill.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7FaGJbZDf9JvR9I1U4OC9fKcpnc9vCKzyBiWb32r5YB5sJrrSULXaqv5PjojD2laRdBYXYyCXBiMfdVGo4N0xO15EIPK4JXyA_bXBBge5Dx0s6F9VDZPe1NOHklEk5BFln9LT2SES-0/s1747/Struggling.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1747" data-original-width="1100" height="614" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7FaGJbZDf9JvR9I1U4OC9fKcpnc9vCKzyBiWb32r5YB5sJrrSULXaqv5PjojD2laRdBYXYyCXBiMfdVGo4N0xO15EIPK4JXyA_bXBBge5Dx0s6F9VDZPe1NOHklEk5BFln9LT2SES-0/w385-h614/Struggling.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I got so far behind on making my zines and I kept slipping into deeper shame and guilt over having "failed" my Zine Club. I was so scared of letting my subscribers know why I had gone silent, but I was also even more scared of letting them down even worse by staying quiet. So I filmed a short video explaining what had happened. I also wrote an email and sent out a physical letter to everyone. </div><div><br /></div><div>This was even scarier than when I had told everyone I was going into freelance, because this time I had to open up about something I was ashamed of. </div><div><br /></div><div>But in the end it all just reinforced the second point on this list: the people who support my work are such kind lovely people. The overwhelming response to my telling everyone it was going to take longer than planned to finish the zines was so kind and supportive. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDGAWuGS9A6SeRYVjB50cFOSAoCff7PnkpKR0SnsMqzaBLoMJTrRBA6wi7NmsTNEUHxnXVgZi_kIISht7_QddCyWbpLWkHgjjg4dwswd_4Q4PEGKjyfS36OUJkzho-v84JGYBnTjrtDA/s1750/Proud+of+You.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1750" data-original-width="1095" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDGAWuGS9A6SeRYVjB50cFOSAoCff7PnkpKR0SnsMqzaBLoMJTrRBA6wi7NmsTNEUHxnXVgZi_kIISht7_QddCyWbpLWkHgjjg4dwswd_4Q4PEGKjyfS36OUJkzho-v84JGYBnTjrtDA/w375-h600/Proud+of+You.jpg" width="375" /></a></div></div></div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-86782527022198224832020-09-27T16:03:00.008-05:002020-10-10T23:24:05.065-05:00My Freelance Journey: Business Insanity<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5RsXcVFwMctVLZIcvZhQ4RFoz9Vlo4Juw2biE8eEAPdIdF-ADhJukpVKU9WkLr5rk-1ofB1LijBCSJK9nm-KXNWYevKQLVqeKBbCn9FXJ1g7o-zjDGEbumZd796UMX7k2PkUW72PZFg/s1528/TED+Talk.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1132" data-original-width="1528" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5RsXcVFwMctVLZIcvZhQ4RFoz9Vlo4Juw2biE8eEAPdIdF-ADhJukpVKU9WkLr5rk-1ofB1LijBCSJK9nm-KXNWYevKQLVqeKBbCn9FXJ1g7o-zjDGEbumZd796UMX7k2PkUW72PZFg/w429-h317/TED+Talk.jpg" width="429" /></a></div><br />Have you ever had a very small child explain something to you in an extremely condescending way? You listen and nod. You're respecting the truth of the three-year-old who is explaining why hiding all your money in a hole is a good investment, but you are also not letting go of the fact that the three-year-old is not your best bet for financial consultation. </div><div><br /></div><div><div>In freelance years I am a two-year-old. I started my freelance career in October 2018. So I feel a little like the three-year-old giving financial advice to adults. </div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div>Clearly this realization hasn't stopped me from creating an entire blog series devoted to talking about myself as a freelancer. But if it makes up for anything I am acutely aware of my own...naiveté? ineptitude? inexperience? and maybe a heavy dose of a little something I like to call Business Insanity.</div><div><br /></div><div>Business Insanity is the diagnosis for someone who moves in the exact opposite direction of what anyone with a the teensiest screed of business acumen would advise. It's basically the opposite of Business Savvy. </div><div><br /></div></div><div>Full disclosure: I made up Business Insanity. No one has ever heard of it. But I am sure if they met me they would agree with my completely unprofessional self-diagnosis. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjrp-jrA2xQuNAl81UJA3VfkcK5GI4Jn0xK1fOHritWUH5_CThtl5WMF4ZUisPSwHMieylPRMTD8D4oN7WB62xj3ULrxjqze0WCP-caawWfeYLoAZmShMep3QCjZONqk7Po5FCIqej_U/s2001/Psychiatrist+Who+Is+Also+You.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="2001" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjrp-jrA2xQuNAl81UJA3VfkcK5GI4Jn0xK1fOHritWUH5_CThtl5WMF4ZUisPSwHMieylPRMTD8D4oN7WB62xj3ULrxjqze0WCP-caawWfeYLoAZmShMep3QCjZONqk7Po5FCIqej_U/w466-h261/Psychiatrist+Who+Is+Also+You.jpg" width="466" /></a></div><br /><div>Here are some of the things I have done with my freelance art business which I classify as Business Insanity:</div><div><span style="background-color: #ff00fe;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Business Savvy:</span> Commissions provide a great source of income, while still using your artistic skills. They can help you grow your skill, network and create a satisfied client base who can potentially support your future endeavors. </div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Business Insanity:</span> I tend to shy away from projects where people would like to pay me to help realize their artistic vision aka commissions. I get really stressed about making my clients happy. Instead of seeking out paid commissions fulfilling someone else's vision I have more of a tendency to volunteer to help with unpaid-projects that sound cool to me and make my money doing side jobs or just living off of my husband's income. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioC3OOqk0d1KUAlP1M8ThAZjpHGyzlOtrAoi-oCh63pV8NR-VaOQUzkwCmGHSz-_f_mfWqFnin-TXsH_yfk8YET1AcDE1f0CcBPKEl7ODfx1SJBIzg4jo4rKGfPD1O_FYzus1nJhY7-aw/s2048/Business+Insanity+TOGETHER.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2024" data-original-width="2048" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioC3OOqk0d1KUAlP1M8ThAZjpHGyzlOtrAoi-oCh63pV8NR-VaOQUzkwCmGHSz-_f_mfWqFnin-TXsH_yfk8YET1AcDE1f0CcBPKEl7ODfx1SJBIzg4jo4rKGfPD1O_FYzus1nJhY7-aw/w437-h432/Business+Insanity+TOGETHER.jpg" width="437" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Business Savvy:</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span>When you design a product like stickers, zines or printed tote-bags it's a good idea to advertise your product so that the people who love your work can buy them and so that you can make money to finance your next projects.</div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Business Insanity:</span> I create really cool products, have them professionally printed or manufactured and then I hide them around my house.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_HneOplCHWmewvKplKwGDhLHUZUZyG9rg-lXhtDzhky4OLSmx-TGtCbTIuqtCx8uv_KTcCQtlAxBlxrx3RFJD46HoRkpBZBuUvfbGTll7r6kl0t10aBLtz0H3Ol8MrSLtF35Wr7gED4/s2048/No+One+Can+Know.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1672" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_HneOplCHWmewvKplKwGDhLHUZUZyG9rg-lXhtDzhky4OLSmx-TGtCbTIuqtCx8uv_KTcCQtlAxBlxrx3RFJD46HoRkpBZBuUvfbGTll7r6kl0t10aBLtz0H3Ol8MrSLtF35Wr7gED4/w324-h398/No+One+Can+Know.jpg" width="324" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Business Savvy:</span> Create a concise, informative and positive elevator pitch about what you do as a way to get new people excited about your business. </div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Business Insanity:</span> Anytime I meet someone who would like to hear about my <a href="https://www.lucyrosetillcampbell.com/" target="_blank">Zine Club</a> project I completely lose my mind and cannot, for the life of me, figure out a simple way to explain the concept, so the person goes away super confused and has no idea what a zine even is.</div><div><span style="background-color: #ff00fe;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Business Savvy:</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span>As you test the waters for your business observe what types of products and services are successful with customers. Once you figure out what niche you are filling and what people are willing to pay for, hone in and focus your business on that niche. </div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Business Insanity:</span> Once you figure out something that people really enjoy and is quite profitable like portraits of family members and pets <a href="https://lucyslifecz.blogspot.com/2020/09/my-freelance-journey-making-portraits.html">(which I talked about in this post)</a> STOP IMMEDIATELY and keeping making weird zines about yourself instead (which you will then hide around your house).</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixXPYpvGz9a5VfH1UCEiX5e2WnduIrd9F73EVwp7NEB-_rRf3Lud1lbFBwM_6nL1MY8qiV6ZmTor9EXPClvuFWW6igY5W4XpW-Jxy7MaFySZC5kiNtFppesvCCbReuKOjCKHSd-P2AbUI/s1606/Craaaaaayzy+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1606" data-original-width="1586" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixXPYpvGz9a5VfH1UCEiX5e2WnduIrd9F73EVwp7NEB-_rRf3Lud1lbFBwM_6nL1MY8qiV6ZmTor9EXPClvuFWW6igY5W4XpW-Jxy7MaFySZC5kiNtFppesvCCbReuKOjCKHSd-P2AbUI/w365-h370/Craaaaaayzy+.jpg" width="365" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>So there you have it! I have no clue what I am doing. Thanks for bearing witness to my insanity and being a listening ear to this freelance toddler. </div><div><br /></div><div>Love,</div><div>Lucy🌹</div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-6828852635079062662020-09-19T15:31:00.003-05:002020-10-10T23:25:05.955-05:00My Freelance Journey: Instagram <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrFkM5BpGx8f-mc0PIDgrRfKe993aN3yJJMSK5H8P8GxHFM1cbUQwGykiFoGxpw0Xv7XuCH1h1WuFZVWbJjUgQvIZkQTOmuuNePp0CxYekr7n5fCq6XYeM50Aq-HrUvFg5QxKX58dAIk/s1927/Instagram+love+hate+square.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1927" data-original-width="1927" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrFkM5BpGx8f-mc0PIDgrRfKe993aN3yJJMSK5H8P8GxHFM1cbUQwGykiFoGxpw0Xv7XuCH1h1WuFZVWbJjUgQvIZkQTOmuuNePp0CxYekr7n5fCq6XYeM50Aq-HrUvFg5QxKX58dAIk/w395-h395/Instagram+love+hate+square.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>"Lucy Rose, it's just an Instagram post, don't worry so much about it."<p></p><p>I felt foolish for feeling taken aback--even a little stung--at Sheldon's comment. I wanted to say to myself, "Yeah, take a chill pill, Till. This is just social media!" </p><p>But the comment made me pause long enough to examine my reaction and realize why my relationship to Instagram means so much to me.<span></span></p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>Back in art high school I had a "friend" who used to make very cruel comments about my cartooning. That person would tell me that my comic-making wasn't REAL art, because it would never fit in the gallery space and "anyone could do it". <p></p><p>Sheldon's offhand comment brought up my insecurities about whether creating work for social media is "as good" as making artwork for print or for the gallery. </p><p>Unfortunately, those comments stuck with me, even ten years later. (The hurtful ones always stick around, don't they? Ug.) ANYWAY! I found myself reverting back to High School Lucy Rose and thinking, "Oh yeah. This is JUST Instagram. This doesn't count."</p><p>It was only when I started to observe my friend Lisa Lobel of <a href="https://www.instagram.com/letteringbylisa/?hl=en">@letteringbylisa</a> on Instagram that I realized how it could be an amazing way to build community around creativity, as well as showcase beautiful art. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/letteringbylisa/?hl=en"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="523" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx12Izso8B-0aRwr0AleI1osji0B3_hFUg5eWUJ6ZFKu5ubTwMzwEY0MM7H85X34-43Nf13Cady1tYtkTz67g9LnpgPUl1vhxzFb-bbJ5n60sJcqTYcUtCYc_ZewozmQDgbabjWtxVHmw/w294-h523/Lettering+by+Lisa+Home+page.PNG" width="294" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/letteringbylisa/?hl=en">The lovely @letteringbylisa Instagram homepage</a></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>I saw how Lisa curates an Instagram page full of her own colorful and inspiring work as well how she nurtures a community of fellow lettering-lovers who encourage one another and chat using the comment section. Visiting her account always feels cheery, inviting and inspiring. </p><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CBNly_3HFXi/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="589" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61GihiQDoaETyLFnokhUdS9NsBBDDDmPV8bgJK7VFgKjn83Ue57U_AOjB1EHA6bI3rcn4mucw441A9dBpOtpJ6jBD9HsL3kp8wDPRrA6OjZ2DO7kK5VWGtTtuQd-Q05V0WRNQW_jL0eQ/w331-h589/Life+happens_Lisa+Lettering.PNG" width="331" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CBNly_3HFXi/">An example of Lisa's stunning work</a></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>She helped me see how an artist could use Instagram as an online portfolio and a gathering place. She totally proved my art school "friend" wrong and showed me how Instagram could be a tool for art-making every bit as legitimate and effective as a gallery. I'm so grateful to her for her inspiration and ever since October 2018 I have tried to treat my Instagram account as an important tool in my career.</p><p>Lately I use Instagram to:</p><p><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">- Showcase my work</span></p><p><span style="background-color: #01ffff;">- Keep in touch with other makers and friends</span></p><p><span style="background-color: #6fa8dc;">- Make myself available for commissions </span></p><p><span style="background-color: #ff00fe;">- Share bits of daily life in Stories</span></p><p>I am grateful for the connections and creative outlet that Instagram provides for me. Especially during this season of struggling with mental health and isolation. During that time posting art on Instagram was the only creative output I had energy for. </p><p>Through Instagram I have experienced community despite rarely leaving the house.</p><p>It has given me a way to share artwork in a very low-key way, when other sharing platforms have seemed too daunting. </p><p>These are all reasons why Sheldon's comment pricked me a bit. I know he was concerned, because he saw me stress out over a post and he wanted to help! </p><p>But as I looked closely I realized that Instagram means a lot to me. Perhaps too much sometimes, but more on that later...</p><p>Love,</p><p>L🌹</p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-35229388712829995322020-09-11T15:32:00.006-05:002020-09-11T17:24:29.069-05:00My Freelance Journey: The Portrait Lady<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSEAEvUq-VbjMgK5cIS1a4i1HsYCK-YQf1NApI3EMl0rEHRbQXs3MnhYDe9r27tjfTwSRhAzOwnd4jfm3J4D-7z0rHUXR4TYL5MgTRxOXydwrLmqgS-yHiZkpEP0UfnKTLwHY8bqZItc/s1590/3F9C3F84-2C1A-47CE-ABB7-5AFECBD96CFE.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1590" data-original-width="1590" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMSEAEvUq-VbjMgK5cIS1a4i1HsYCK-YQf1NApI3EMl0rEHRbQXs3MnhYDe9r27tjfTwSRhAzOwnd4jfm3J4D-7z0rHUXR4TYL5MgTRxOXydwrLmqgS-yHiZkpEP0UfnKTLwHY8bqZItc/w400-h400/3F9C3F84-2C1A-47CE-ABB7-5AFECBD96CFE.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div>I made a lot of money making portraits at events and via social media. I was developing a decent following of people who really liked my product. If I had wanted to, I could still be doing it. In fact, I think I could have actually made it into a career. But instead of fostering my portrait business I let it gradually dry up. </div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div>It was such a no brainer to keep taking commissions while we were financially unstable in 2019. Not only were they a big hit with customers, but they also didn't require enormous amounts of effort for me to make and I was growing my clientele through word-of-mouth all the time. </div><div><br /></div><div>I kept accepting the commissions that trickled in but I stopped advertising my service and I declined all in-person gigs. </div><div><br /></div><div>The fact is I didn't like my own portraits. Other people loved them and were willing to pay well, but I didn't like that it was focusing my creativity into something that felt meaningful to everyone but me. More and more I was becoming known for being The Portrait Lady and I was scared that I would get stuck there. </div><div><br /></div><div>I felt like I was producing a product instead of creating art. I was a one-person art dispenser, not a creative story-teller. It's not that I thought the portraits I made were bad, in fact I am very proud of them! </div><div><br /></div><div>But I replaced that source of income with my part-time job at the art store. It felt like a victory to step away from portraits, it also felt like a luxury. </div><div><br /></div><div>It feel strange to say this, because making my living through art was the whole goal I have been driving toward since 2018 and I walked away from a very viable way of doing that. I could have had my dream. But I realized this wasn't the right way for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's the thing. Walking away from portraits was a privilege. Sheldon has a very stable job and it gave me the option to choose what kind of art I wanted to focus on. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I feel guilty about my privilege. I get to take my time before choosing my next gig. Not everyone can do that. That is what I am doing right this minute. I'm shopping around for a part-time job very carefully. There have been times in my life where I just had to grab whatever I could grab. But that's not me right now. I get to be choosy because my husband pays the bills. </div><div><br /></div><div>I realize that is not everyone's story. I am in a unique position. There is less of a fire under my belly to take illustration gigs that don't appeal to me or to seek out any work at all in order to pay the bills. Not everyone trying to make it in as a freelance artist has this luxury. </div><div><br /></div><div>I do not take it for granted. Instead I am using this time of relying on Sheldon's income to focus my time on a few specific goals:</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">- Making zines for <a href="https://www.lucyrosetillcampbell.com/" target="_blank">Year Two of The Zine Club</a></span></div><div><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">- Writing on this blog</span></div><div><span style="background-color: #ffa400;">- Working on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lucyrosetillcampbell/?hl=en">my Instagram</a> (This is a major part of my freelance career, more on that in a later post!)</span></div><div><span style="background-color: red;">- Looking for part-time job that makes me happy</span></div><div><span style="background-color: #ff00fe;">- Working with a therapist on my mental health healing and recovery</span></div><div><br /></div><div>One day I want to be the one who pays the bills by doing what I love. But for now I am taking it slow. I am grateful for the space to do that and grateful to Sheldon.</div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-90339645922537939222020-09-04T18:47:00.005-05:002020-09-11T17:26:05.514-05:00My Freelance Journey: A Brief History<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4f3mpBledH5NzI5AYN5lKfXNs3NCgdJJaIuPP0B2RFWLm95CFRT4QDGSa1YqLxQtGZ5aAA4c6e703kSZNGetkUqy1Zd_zjtRg3U8hW3HZOXLl3GK2NbWZMdAyW0XWJzdD3oceCK_nWs/s2048/IMG_0198.JPG"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4f3mpBledH5NzI5AYN5lKfXNs3NCgdJJaIuPP0B2RFWLm95CFRT4QDGSa1YqLxQtGZ5aAA4c6e703kSZNGetkUqy1Zd_zjtRg3U8hW3HZOXLl3GK2NbWZMdAyW0XWJzdD3oceCK_nWs/w375-h500/IMG_0198.JPG" width="375" /></a></div><br />Zines. Dog portraits. Children's book illustrations. Art in coffee shops. Portraits at the Farmer's Market. More Zines. Those are just a few of the things I have tried ever since becoming a freelance artist in 2018. It has been quite a ride. Today I want to give you A Brief History of My Freelance Journey just to catch you up on where I am now. I hope to devote more detail and time to certain aspects of my journey later, but for now: just the broad strokes. <span><a name='more'></a></span><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Summer 2018:</span> Sheldon and I moved from Wheaton to Texas to take care of my grandmother. As we were getting ready to leave Illinois I was offered a job working remotely as a graphic design contractor. The job paid better than any job I had ever had before and also gave me plenty of free time. Sheldon and I agreed that this was the right time to start working toward becoming a freelancer since we had more financial freedom than ever before. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Autumn 2018:</span> I started calling myself a freelance artist. I created business cards, a simple website and I started The Zine Club. I sent out 100 copies of my first zine (a self-published booklet of original art and writings) to everyone I knew and asked if they wanted to subscribe $10/month to continue receiving zines for a full year. I created a PayPal account to receive the monthly payments. I slowly began to accumulate subscribers. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Winter 2018:</span> We lost our main source of income, because my job doing graphic design was beginning to dry up At the same time our car broke down. We needed money badly and I had a crazy idea. I showed up at our local farmer's market with some paints and a sign reading Two Dollar Two Minute Portraits. In minutes I had a long line of customers. When the morning was over I had cash in my pocket and a regular gig drawing people at the market. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Spring 2019:</span> After my success at the market I decided to use my Instagram account to bring in more portrait clients. I also started to get invitations to set up my portrait booth at other markets, at nursing home events and kid's birthday parties. Those gigs kept us afloat for about a month or two before Sheldon could find a full-time job. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Summer 2019:</span> My grandmother's health reached a crisis point. In between caring for her Sheldon and I continued to work my portrait booth, make zines and even take part in a few local art shows at coffee shops. I was also slowly growing my following on Instagram, which I still treat as an important part of building my freelance career.</div><div><br /></div><div>At the end of the summer Sheldon and I moved back to Wheaton for a job at Wheaton College. We were so excited that Sheldon was hired to work in the art department, where we had both studied. Another family member took over caring for my grandmother, whose health had improved. We packed up our Texas life and drove to Illinois. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Autumn 2019:</span> I continued creating my zines and taking commissions for portraits via Instagram. I also picked up a couple of random gigs doing things like book binding and a children's book proposal (which later fell through). </div><div><br /></div><div>I decided not to restart my portrait booth, even though I probably could have found a market for it in Wheaton. I found the relational aspect of it increasingly stressful and my social anxiety was really starting to make life difficult. </div><div><br /></div><div>I decided to continue my zine club for another full year.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Winter 2020:</span> I got a part-time job working at an art store. I loved working with art supplies and helping customers meet their art-making needs so much that it cancelled out my social anxiety much of the time. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I wasn't at the store I was working on zines. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Spring 2020:</span> COVID 19 hit and I lost my job at the art store. I also contracted a mild case of the disease, which made art-making incredibly hard since one of my main symptoms was fatigue. </div><div><br /></div><div>The isolation also brought on the worst bout of depression and anxiety that I have had for years. It was like all the stress of the past few years came crashing down. I stopped making art. I disappeared from social media. I got waaaaay behind on my zine club and I felt like I was drowning. </div><div><br /></div><div>I realized that I needed help. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Summer 2020:</span> After a long search and a couple of misfires I finally found a therapist and a doctor that felt like a good fit. I also recognized that I had some relationships in my life that were incredibly unhealthy and were contributing to my anxiety. I ended them. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done.</div><div><br /></div><div>But ending those relationships and finding a therapist felt like new birth. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in years. My depression and anxiety had been steadily mounting for years and I finally felt ready to get help and address it directly instead of trying to power through or ignore it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I slowly started to get back on Instagram. I reached out to The Zine Club to let them know what was going on. I began making art again in very small ways. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">Autumn 2020:</span> Here we are! I am sitting at an outdoor cafe writing this post. I feel more hopeful than I have in years. I have slowly begun work on my next zine. Sheldon and I are figuring out life under COVID along with the rest of the world. We have weeks where our mental health feels really rocky and each day seems really hard. But we also have good days now, too. </div><div><br /></div><div>I haven't reached my goal of supporting myself fully through art, yet. I still want to achieve that someday, but I'm OK with being where I'm at in this moment. I have work to do. I have a small audience of people who care about me and care about my work and that feels like a great wealth. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's one crazy thing that I didn't expect: Writing in this blog again is bringing me incredible joy. I had no idea how much I missed it. As I was looking back on my life as an artist I realized that this blog was the very first place I ever shared my art publicly. I started this blog before I even knew what I blog was, before I knew what being a real artist looked like and before I even knew that I wanted to be one. </div><div><br /></div><div>This blog showed me that I care about writing as well as drawing. </div><div><br /></div><div>This little internet space feels like home to me and coming back to it feels so right and so good. </div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't just miss blogging, the activity. I missed THIS BLOG. <i>THIS </i>corner of the internet. Not just any website. THIS ONE. I tried blogging on other internet spaces, but blogging anywhere but here didn't feel right. I needed to be HERE. Being here has felt like getting my voice back. It's hard to describe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Alright. Enough for now. Thanks for being here for this lengthy update. It means a lot. </div><div><br /></div><div>🌹Lucy Rose</div>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-43864823370667117582020-08-28T17:27:00.007-05:002020-09-11T17:26:21.530-05:00My Freelance Journey: Fears<p><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYxNZAQM1p4_jcMU5KNylqCty03hbV_mqjvnm41cDuo1unDQ_F4HVWQBxwMn3ox_55pCg-YVzgv9kPpnfQold0MgWILywrzuGszs9SoQEAFE7iCQ2NooUMSoEO7akIerWI7ArOJZpIcQ/s1679/Mess.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1679" data-original-width="1212" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYxNZAQM1p4_jcMU5KNylqCty03hbV_mqjvnm41cDuo1unDQ_F4HVWQBxwMn3ox_55pCg-YVzgv9kPpnfQold0MgWILywrzuGszs9SoQEAFE7iCQ2NooUMSoEO7akIerWI7ArOJZpIcQ/w370-h512/Mess.jpg" width="370" /></a></span></span></div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><br />"You're a mess." </span></span><p></p><p><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">This is something my grandmother told me a lot during my year in Texas, which lasted from 2018-2019. I know to her it was meant to be a form of endearment--spoken in a loving, eye-roll way when I would do something unexpected (to her) or unusual (to her!). </span></span></p><p><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">It still kind of stung, though. Who wants to be a mess? But it also stung because it's not that far from the truth about me, especially when it comes to my freelancing. I AM a mess. <span></span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span></span></span></p><p>I am a mess because I'm afraid. I want to make my living through making art and telling stories so badly, but I'm terrified. </p><p>I'm scared that if I take on client work I will let them down. </p><p>I'm scared to contact people offering my services as an artist, because I might not be good enough. </p><p>I'm scared to answer emails, because I might say the wrong thing. </p><p>I'm scared that the real reason I want to be a freelancer is because I'm lazy. </p><p>I'm scared that I am too messy, both emotionally and practically speaking, to ever be successful. </p><p>Whew. I feel the need to apologize after saying all that, because it's so negative. But I'm not going to. These fears are my reality and I don't think I'm alone in being afraid of putting myself out there as a freelancer. </p><p>I started freelancing in October 2018 and I've struggled with fears since Day One. I've tried to figure out the exact source of my fears so I can defeat them. Again and again I've seen that they all have the same thing in common: I'm scared of disappointing other people. </p><p>Much of the time I'm so concerned with whether or not I will upset, annoy, disappoint, anger or disgust other people that I can barely move. </p><p>At this point in the post I want to resolve this for myself and anyone who struggles with the same thing. I want to tap you on the shoulder with a magic wand and heal you (and myself!) from unhealthy levels of people pleasing. </p><p>I can't do that. </p><p>All I can do is tell you some of the ways I have been learning to cope with all my fears. Please remember, when reading these that they come out of my experiences. I do not want to proclaim that my journey is the only way or that my ideas are the only ones that work! I am only able to speak to my limited knowledge and experience. </p><p><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">1) Therapy.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> I </span>realized that so much of my tendency to people please goes back to the survival mechanisms I learned as a kid. In an effort to find healing I started therapy. As a kid I felt like the only way to get by was to never be the one to make waves. I'm working to heal that scared child inside me because as a freelance artist I feel like it's kind of my job to make waves!</p><p><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">2) Name the fear.</span> I recently realized that my habit of biting my nails usually kicks in when I'm nervous about something. So instead of getting trapped in a cycle of biting I try to stop and name the thing that is making me nervous and figure out an alternative way to channel my nerves like taking a walk or working on embroidery. </p><p><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">3) One step at a time.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span>It is terrifying to see how much work must be done in order to, for instance, finish a zine. So instead of freaking out over the whole project I focus on what the next, tiny step is. It can be as tiny as "OK. Now I need to spell check page 3." Keeping the focus on these little milestones, makes it easier to keep moving instead of becoming paralyzed. </p><p><span style="background-color: #04ff00;">4) Inner Safe Place.</span> When I feel my fear of other people's opinions kicking in I practice entering my inner safe space. For me it is a private room with Jesus, because I don't fear Him being harsh or judgmental and I value His opinion more than anyone else's. When my focus is there it is easier for me to be OK with others misunderstanding me. What does your safe space look like? </p><p>Well. I think I need to wrap this up now. Even in writing this post I have felt some fears kick in, like: What if I sound too preachy? What if my tips aren't any good? What if all I have done is make my readers sad?</p><p>Sigh. Sometimes I think I will never be totally free of fears. </p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-35352691508764690772020-08-26T12:51:00.005-05:002020-09-11T17:26:41.375-05:00My New Series About Freelancing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOfXpad4Vh1s5WaxVVQp7l1Pmo3KS4mTySYuJwhmYA8nuejsKF04HiJft4G71WvgcX0XKGp09THIcnXnNqRQd3OISqaWN7WjEXvNYLa2BOOsvT_T2ThnF5UILQkowzHq8VvCQOPEv8pw/s2048/Me+Drawing+BAbae.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2024" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOfXpad4Vh1s5WaxVVQp7l1Pmo3KS4mTySYuJwhmYA8nuejsKF04HiJft4G71WvgcX0XKGp09THIcnXnNqRQd3OISqaWN7WjEXvNYLa2BOOsvT_T2ThnF5UILQkowzHq8VvCQOPEv8pw/w324-h328/Me+Drawing+BAbae.jpg" width="324" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">I want to write about my journey as a freelance artist here on Lucy's Life. The last couple years have been so interesting, frustrating and scary. I think that this space could be perfect for talking honestly about it. I hope that my experiences could help inspire someone else or help them feel a little less alone. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I have been dreaming about writing about my freelance journey for years...ever since I started freelancing, really! But it has always seemed too big and scary to start. I kept telling myself: "You can start writing about freelancing once you're actually making a living out of it. But for now, you're not good enough to share anything."</div><p>But I don't care anymore. I'm excited to share what I've learned so far, even though I'm extremely far from my goal of supporting myself entirely through art-making. I think I just told myself that because I was scared of being seen as inexperienced, scared, naive and disorganized! </p><p>All of those things accurately describe me as a freelancer. But I've come to the realization, that those words probably describe a lot of people and maybe those people would feel LESS scared and inexperienced if they heard about my journey. </p><p>And while, those words are accurate, I don't think they are the full story about me as a freelancer. </p><p>I am also: talented, courageous, hopeful and committed. </p><p>My goal is to post about freelancing every Friday. We will call it: Freelance Friday! Here at Lucy's Life we are all about alliterations. </p><p>Some topics I hope to talk about are:</p><p>- How I got started freelancing and what I would do differently</p><p>- Impostor syndrome</p><p>- What are the major challenges</p><p>- What has given me hope along the way</p><p>And whatever else comes to mind! Basically, I'll just be telling you my story. </p><p>See you Friday!</p><p><br /></p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-137739218573158297.post-49275878164725865322020-08-24T12:40:00.008-05:002020-08-24T17:27:36.295-05:00A Good Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAENyEROoyzWtUieke4cWcbfc6UpAH4fJTqTjrEvKCL1g4x2TnFjJ54kMGgJOd0tklJhpJDTxWGKWSNpfyGSc4SK0xr_YknauzANSpBr76FEV4D6mv0KB6WOawTfWKZUjbPbCtN6JV450/s2048/68C8180E-D91E-4B1E-9D6F-39FD6CB77F7A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAENyEROoyzWtUieke4cWcbfc6UpAH4fJTqTjrEvKCL1g4x2TnFjJ54kMGgJOd0tklJhpJDTxWGKWSNpfyGSc4SK0xr_YknauzANSpBr76FEV4D6mv0KB6WOawTfWKZUjbPbCtN6JV450/w410-h410/68C8180E-D91E-4B1E-9D6F-39FD6CB77F7A.jpeg" width="410" /></a></div><p>Today is a good day. Good days make me feel a uneasy. </p><p>"This can't last long!" screams my inner self. </p><p>Meet the tiny, little maniac that lives inside my head and feeds off of ruining EVERYTHING. Maybe a better word name for that guy would be Anxiety. </p><span></span><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>I know I'm not alone in fighting Anxiety on a daily basis. It is not easy. I'm growing so much more compassion for others who suffer form this as well.</p><p>This morning I woke up early because my dreams were filled with stress and panic, but it felt good to wake up earlier than usual. It helped me feel more like a "normal" person. </p><p>One major side effect of my current struggle with Depression and Anxiety is that I sleep a ton. In general I'm a person who needs a lot of rest, but for the past six months I feel like I can sleep forever and still not feel rested. </p><p>This post is starting to feel like a downer. I definitely don't want to bring heaviness into your day. But I also find that when other people share their progress with mental health it helps me feel less alone.</p><p>If that's you right now, know that you're doing amazing and you're not alone. Sometimes that tiny act of waking up can feel so hard. I want to know that even if no one (including me!) will ever know exactly how hard, I'm so proud of you. </p><p>I'm on a journey to unlearn a lot of things. One of the biggies is comparing my achievements to other people's. </p><p>For instance my achievements today include:</p><p>- I woke up before 8AM instead of sleep until 10AM and still feel tired</p><p>- I answered all my backed-up messages instead of procrastinating and getting overwhelmed</p><p>- I drank water and ate enough to keep my body fueled and satiated instead of neglecting my needs</p><p>- I folded my clothes after removing them instead of throwing them on the shelf in a heap</p><p>- I made a teensy bit of progress on a commission that has been giving me trouble instead of worrying over it and letting the fear stop me from sketching ideas</p><p>Compared to someone else, or even compared to past versions of Lucy Rose, these may not seem like terribly huge things. But they feel big to me. They feel good--healthy.</p><p>They make me feel like I am making progress.</p><p>Sending you lots of love and strength for whatever small steps you are making today,</p><p>Lucy Rose</p><p><br /></p>Lucy Rose Till-Campbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10137993608712461878noreply@blogger.com1