Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes

Frivolous Anxiety

September 10th, 2018
Pen to paper, word to a page, no time left to do what I need to do. I need to do something creative today. I need to work in my studio, I need to write several papers. I make coffee, shower, spend too much time in the land of anxiety. I’m so mad at myself. Yesterday I was re-born. I dressed up in a white suit, wrote a declaration about my new life, I will not worry about lunches, dishes, politics, the world of my anxiety. I want to feel like I did yesterday as I sat in the courtyard and wrote my re-birth announcement, under chimes and breeze and blue sky. Surrounded by artists, participating in conceptual, social, psychological work, all participants parents, dedicating three hours to themselves and to a community of artists, I crawled through a giant birth canals while the rest of the birthed squirted primary colored poster paint on me. I thought, “What if my husband saw this? What about my kids? Was it frivolous? Or was that the point? The point we don’t need to be serious, earth based all the time. Can’t we spend time in the ethers? In a space completely dedicated to art, collaborative art?”

But my time still runs out. It’s close to time I need to be terrestrial. I need to be mom, as much as I’m not ready, as much as I’d like not to talk to anyone and just work and disappear in my studio for hours the fact is the same. I even acknowledge I am privileged to have a thought in my mind that I know I have certain choices, go to my studio at all, I am lucky I don’t need to worry where’s my next meal coming from. And then guilt, anxiety creeps in. Paranoia.
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The Intersection of Discomfort and Bliss

August 23rd, 2018
The little cracks that open into hurricanes, inequality, smokey skies, and loss. The children continue to grow. Part of their being swells space between the walls of my home, their essence, the questions they ask, the answers they have.

I become more me- each day, each hour, I become truer to myself. My children and I pull apart and grow closer with equal tension.

We learn to see each other, both sides going through moments of, “who are you?”. We want to know. My children can’t understand that there was a moment when they were no where. They ask if they were in my moms stomach before mine. They ask, “who took care of us?”

I don’t know how to explain. I say, “another time, I’ll explain. I’m too tired right now”

It’s always almost time to get up or almost time to go to sleep.

I found some time to stop time. I came to my studio today. Painted and worked in my notebooks.

I needed to be in my studio this afternoon.

I am overwhelmed by how many things I have in my mind to think about worry about at anyone time.

From the basic-food, clothes, sleep, exercise, to the cerebral-learning sign language, teaching my children right from wrong, my new book project I’m behind schedule writing, worrying about the government and the world and thinking I’ve given way too much of my time reading about the president. He’s a life sucker. I worry about the biggest hurricanes, the largest wildfires in history.

That’s when I can only work in my studio or write.

I am distracted lately. Not sleeping well.

But I still put paint to paper.
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Fire Storm and SAKE

August 10th, 2018
What I did today- I went to the City of San Rafael to look at the property lines of the home owner’s association common areas. I did this because a few weeks ago I noticed the scotch broom was thick, between the oak trees and bay trees about 50 feet from my house. I noticed the open space surrounding our neighborhood had thick scotch broom, a dead tree, and piles of fallen trees and debris from the drought followed by winter storms that knocked down trees. I started worrying, then I talked to some neighbors, a few us came up with a game plan and found someone to do the work. Then a person in my community questioned if this could really all be our responsibility. So, I found out, and it is. I would have continued the work anyhow because it’s gotta be done regardless. Then, I rejoined Next door. I had inactivated my account after Trump won because there were a bunch of crazy people on there flagging anyone who was upset that Trump won, like we were breaking the rules of Next Door. I thought that was so dumb. Anyhow I reactivated my account just to share my concerns about another piece of land, the trail I hike with my dog, that is owned by people who lost money on it, they wanted to build houses but the lands too expensive to build on. It has two active landslides that took out one of the main roads. The gas company has a pipeline on the land, a small portion is their responsibility. I made a post saying how much we all love the land we hike on and thanking the people who clear the trail year after year. I said the hill needed to be cleaned better. I am going to the code enforcers Monday, but there’s probably no way to force the land owners to fork out the money to clean up the land from scotch broom and dead trees. Maybe if we met with the land owner the community could make a deal, turn the land into a park and we’ll all pitch in the get it fire ready. That’s how crazy I am. I decided today I don’t care what people think of me. I’m going to do what I think is right and if I see a way I may be able to contribute to my community I’m gonna do it.

Yesterday I was feeling so sad about the earth and the fires I almost canceled my NEW private sign language lessons! But my teacher wasn’t available today, so I pulled through and showed up to my lesson yesterday. I felt so much better after my lesson and was able to fully do my lesson. I followed through on my goal of trying to sign the entire hour, I asked the questions I had, it taught me again to be careful of isolating myself when I’m depressed. I came back and turned on some cool sign language cartoons and Jack and Fiona tried to do the signs. I already feel more comfortable signing in public after just one lesson. Next week we are meeting with my daughter and her best friend, who also has hearing loss. My sign teacher, me, and the two little girls, four years old, are doing a play date. My goal is to get my daughter and her best friend to start using sign together this year.

There’s nothing sadder than the end of a bottle of SAKE! That just happened to me. I’ve been saving this bottle of chef Morimoto’s nigori sparkling cider for a special occasion. That occasion turned out to be today. I had no idea Saki had such a high alcohol content. I’ve made moves towards the future, I’ve acted. I haven’t checked the news every five minutes, as if California would stop burning. I just accept the fact that we will burn. We are not only known for our waves, now we’re known for our flames. They fly high and hot. This is my reality. This is my world.

Darn I’m bummed about my SAKE! Opening another bottle would be bad. What to do, what to do.
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