Archive | Darling Essays

When I shared with a mentor that I realized I am neurodivergent, she told me to go back to my ex after years of divorce and try to make things work. She did not think I could continue on my own. She also told me that making a living from art was too hard and that I should give up.

That isn’t the only rejection I’ve received recently. I tried to join a peer group of artists for mutual encouragement, growth and support, and I was told my art was not good enough. I was crushed. (more…)

I started online dating. My app showed over 1,000 people who wanted to bang me, even though, when it came down to it, 99% of them never wanted to talk to me. I get it. A lot of us are just looking for the fantasy of something new, but meeting someone you actually care about is not as easy as a few swipes might make it seem.

I want to bang, too, but I want to bang someone I love. And love costs a lot. I wasn’t sure I could afford risking a mistake, especially not after my last broken heart. And I felt like my life was one wrong move away from spiraling out of control, and the only thing keeping it tethered was my ability to dig deep and find the will to keep going. (more…)

For the month of March, my art is being featured at the Portage Bay Goods curiosities shop located in the hip Fremont neighborhood of Seattle. On March 1st, I left my kids with a babysitter and hopped the bus up to Seattle for the First Fridays Fremont Art Walk. Assured that my kids were well loved and well cared for in my absence, I let my mind relax, enjoying the relative intimacy of sharing space with a group of strangers as we made our way up the interstate and into the city. (more…)

“You gotta stop watering dead plants.”
– Glennon Doyle

When my girlfriend broke up with me in December, I grabbed all the things that reminded me of her and shoved them into a box. There were Lucifer DVD’s, her bag of toiletries, the vintage Frances Burney books I’d never give her for Christmas…

One thing made me pause: a Kalanchoe plant she’d sent through a local florist on one of our anniversaries. It had since bloomed with deep red flowers which withered and returned several times. Staying alive against the cold winter light, this plant felt so innocent to me. I set it back on the windowsill thinking, “It’s not the plant’s fault that we broke up.” (more…)