Reframing My Experience of Time (as a Working Mother)
This year especially, as we’ve transitioned the kids to learning from home (and in combination with changes to my work-from-home business), I’ve noticed this sense of “never-enoughness” with my time:
I didn’t spend enough conscious time with the kids.
I didn’t have enough time for myself.
I didn’t get enough time for the work I wanted to do.
And when will I make enough time for my partner?
Spend enough. Have enough. Get enough. Make enough.
Is this all about scarcity of time? Is this all about how time becomes currency? And, is it possible to reframe my experience of time?
When I started working from home (and around the same time I became a mother), I thought a lot of my problems could be solved through “time management.”
And I’m not alone. Oliver Burkeman has written an entire book (called Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals) about this cultural misunderstanding of time.
That’s kind of what I learned in school, too: employers want you to go to college to demonstrate that you can handle a massive number of tasks with limited time. (Ironically, or not, I did not learn this in college; instead I learned how to sacrifice FUN for WORK.)
Maybe, though, the solution is less about how I “manage” time and more about how I experience it.
This year especially, as we’ve transitioned the kids to learning from home (and in combination with changes to my work-from-home business), I’ve noticed this sense of “never-enoughness” with my time:
I didn’t spend enough conscious time with the kids.
I didn’t have enough time for myself.
I didn’t get enough time for the work I wanted to do.
And when will I make enough time for my partner?
Spend enough. Have enough. Get enough. Make enough.
Is this all about scarcity of time? Is this all about how time becomes currency? And, is it possible to reframe my experience of time?
Because cultural understandings of time will take awhile to change. But I can invite change within my own experience right now.
What happens when I consider that -
early morning chores don’t require me to quickly rush through; maybe it’s an opportunity to work (slowly) together with my kids
washing dishes after every meal isn’t a waste of my energy; maybe it’s an opportunity to let my mind wander for awhile
helping my youngest put on her winter gear several times an hour isn’t (only) time-consuming; maybe it’s, for some reason, the opening she needs to share with me her most thoughtful thoughts
The learned-feminist in me questions (1) why I’ve chosen these examples, all stereotypically the work of the “traditional” woman or mother, and (2) why I should have to reframe these experiences at all.
Have I devalued these moments of my day because they’re mundane? Or have I devalued these moments (and myself) because that’s what I’ve learned through cultural-conditioning?
(Probably both.)
And sure, sometimes I will hate these tasks and despise the number of responsibilities I hold as a mother - despite my attempt to reframe any of it. But I don’t think it’s possible (or even necessary) to examine and reframe every moment of my day, always.
It’s this contrast between the frustrated mundane and the sacred mundane that happens within my lived experience that illuminates what really matters.
(In this case, my presence within the experience.)
This week, partly because I’ve pulled apart these big questions about how I experience time within everyday life, I’m paying close attention to the little moments - especially the ones that feel “not enough.”
Is it possible that the short-and-sweet conversations before breakfast, when everyone is a little bit groggy and hungry for pancakes, is enough? Is it possible that the conversation-cut-short with my husband, about which New Girl character is the best, is enough? Is it possible that the half-yoga-practice between activities, or the few moments I can enjoy a still-hot cup of coffee, are enough?
I think so. (I hope so.) When the frustrated mundane becomes sacred.
xx, alycia buenger
It's Never Too Late To Start
The Alchemist later became a mega-success. It’s been translated from Portuguese into 80+ languages and it’s spent a record-breaking 400 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list.
But Paulo Coelho’s bleak first-experience as a published writer gives me so much hope for not-yet possibilities in my own life now (particularly as someone who writes things).
One of my favorite authors (one of the most influential authors of my time! an author who’s been interviewed by Oprah!) was “forty-one and desperate” before he published his first book; and it was massively unsuccessful and generally ignored for years before anyone started reading it.
That didn’t stop him from writing it or publishing it (twice).
At least once every year I read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. Usually it’s during a time in my life when I’m craving divine connection to Something Bigger Than Me. (Lately, and throughout the pandemic, it’s all I want to read.)
The Alchemist is the story of Santiago, a shepherd boy, who pursues his Personal Legend across the desert and home again.
The “25th Anniversary Edition” is my favorite, because its Forward begins like this:
“When The Alchemist was first published twenty-five years ago in my native Brazil, no one noticed. A bookseller in the northeast corner of the country told me that only one person purchased a copy the first week of its release. It took another six months for the bookseller to unload a second copy–and that was to the same person who bought the first! And who knows how long it took to sell a third.
By the end of the year, it was clear to everyone that The Alchemist wasn’t working. My original publisher decided to cut me loose and cancelled our contract. They wiped their hands of the project and let me take the book with me. I was forty-one and desperate.”
The Alchemist later became a mega-success. It’s been translated from Portuguese into 80+ languages and it’s spent a record-breaking 400 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list.
But Paulo Coelho’s bleak first-experience as a published writer gives me so much hope for not-yet possibilities in my own life now (particularly as someone who writes things).
One of my favorite authors (one of the most influential authors of my time! an author who’s been interviewed by Oprah!) was “forty-one and desperate” before he published his first book; and it was massively unsuccessful and generally ignored for years before anyone started reading it.
That didn’t stop him from writing it or publishing it (twice).
Paulo Coelho says that’s because the story is HIM: “I never lost faith or wavered in my vision. Why? Because it was me in there, all of me, heart and soul.”
And, because “[t]he story of one person is the story of everyone, and one [wo]man’s quest is the quest of all humanity,” we’re still reading and relating to his words decades later.
I think, too, it’s because he was writing from a place of Inspired Trust In Something Big.
His heart speaks to my heart (speaks to your heart) because we’re inspired by the same Energy That Connects Us.
And that energy never runs out or goes away completely. Even if it takes awhile… Paulo Coelho demonstrates, over and over again, that it’s never too late to get started.
until next week, alycia buenger
Why I Keep Getting The Worst Advice
I recently signed up to receive business advice from a local group of volunteers, many of whom are retired from their own small companies or freelance work.
Aside from some possibly out-dated advice about marketing, I left with this feeling of unease in my belly.
My mentor suggested I eliminate anything from my website, my marketing, and my work that is not directly related to selling my copywriting services. Because that's what makes money; that's what prospective clients want to see.
And he is right. That's how a business makes money inside our current systems. Pick one thing, preferably the most lucrative, and “optimize” that thing until you can’t anymore.
And yet.
My work for other people, while I enjoy it immensely, is not the only thing I’d like to highlight - on my website or otherwise.
I recently signed up to receive business advice from a local group of volunteers, many of whom are retired from their own small companies or freelance work.
Aside from some possibly out-dated advice about marketing, I left with this feeling of unease in my belly.
My mentor suggested I eliminate anything from my website, my marketing, and my work that is not directly related to selling my copywriting services. Because that's what makes money; that's what prospective clients want to see.
And he is right. That's how a business makes money inside our current systems. Pick one thing, preferably the most lucrative, and “optimize” that thing until you can’t anymore.
And yet.
My work for other people, while I enjoy it immensely, is not the only thing I’d like to highlight - on my website or otherwise.
I also write essays to reframe conventional thinking.
I also practice and teach yoga and meditation.
I also talk endlessly about (good) books.
And I spend most of my days “deschooling” my kids (and myself).
I wouldn’t say I’m particularly complicated; but like everyone else I know, my work is complex and multi-faceted.
The thing is, though, I don't have anything to prove the real possibility that my multi-passionate method of advertising will work.
I have not experienced much in the way of financial success via my website, particularly since the start of the pandemic.
It’s just…
I don't want to squeeze my work into one money-making avenue. Even if that’s the one that will make the most money.
I don't want to eliminate everything else about me to advertise what I can do for other people - even though I love what I do for other people!
But underneath all these layers is the bigger (and better question):
Why do I keep seeking outside advice when I seem to know internally what I want and need?
There’s guilt: for not earning enough.
There’s fear: of missing my babies; of missing my Soul’s work.
There’s anger: about the guilt and the fear.
It reminds of this beautiful prayer within Paulo Coelho’s Brida. A witch named Wicca says,
“We feel guilty when we go out to work because we’re leaving our children in order to earn money to feed them. We feel guilty when we stay at home because it seems we’re not making the most of our freedom. We feel guilty about everything, because we have always been kept far from decision making and from power.”
Ah… there it is.
Within this system I have always been kept from my power. And that’s what I’m so desperate to change (that’s why I can’t seem to follow the rules without gut-wrenching dread that I’m sacrificing my Soul).
The catch here, though, is that now I know my power resides within my own body.
Yes, the system continues to work to my detriment. But I’m no longer kept from my power in the same way. It’s like I’ve been holding the key to the cage this whole time - but I’m also blindfolded, sometimes belittled (and I think someone keeps moving the locks).
deep inhale. deep exhale.
I can’t see the solution with complete clarity (yet); all I know is that I need to stop asking for outside advice.
Or maybe, I need to start asking myself for advice first.
xx, alycia buenger
Reframing the Demands of Motherhood
Instead of embracing LIFE, I make sure I don’t enjoy things “too much,” just in case I have to quickly prepare for losing everything and enveloping myself inside grief.
And god, it’s exhausting.
I understand (intellectually) that it’s not about “losing” so much as “cycling through” what naturally comes from LIFE: change, transition, then death. I understand (intellectually) that we cannot have life without these things.
I just didn’t realize how desperately afraid of death (and life) I’ve become.
And who would have thought that I’d travel 200 miles to realize all this? To realize, too, that I have everything I want and need within the life I’m already living.
In November, I traveled from Northwest Ohio to Grand Rapids, Michigan, to explore a potential next step for our family: a move out-of-state. Since the miscarriage (and really, even before that) I’ve felt deeply unsettled and desperate to move towns.
And this is what used to help: alone time away from “the usual.”
I especially wanted to get away from what-felt-like suffocating demands of working and care-taking. I hoped a weekend trip would literally change my life for the better!
But it didn’t “help” so much as enlighten the real problem: I’m desperately afraid of losing everything and everyone I love. I’m afraid of DEATH.
So instead of embracing LIFE, I make sure I don’t enjoy things “too much,” just in case I have to quickly prepare for losing everything and enveloping myself inside grief.
And god, it’s exhausting.
I understand (intellectually) that it’s not about “losing” so much as “cycling through” what naturally comes from LIFE: change, transition, then death. I understand (intellectually) that we cannot have life without these things.
I just didn’t realize how desperately afraid of death (and life) I’ve become.
And who would have thought that I’d travel 200 miles to realize all this? To realize, too, that I have everything I want and need within the life I’m already living.
Even if it ends someday, as eventually it will, I want to show up for all of it: good parts and hard parts (and particularly with the people I adore v. alone).
Here’s an writing excerpt from my trip -
“As I wake up alone this morning, I realize that this is maybe all I’ve been missing lately: a slow, sacred start to my day, sitting in bed to write (without being woken or waking anyone!), music playing in the background, time to think and meditate and practice yoga before the demands of the day roll in…
But otherwise, I’m truly grateful for those demands, and the people who make them.
I’m grateful for our closeness especially. Not only our physical closeless, the result of two years in quarantine. But also how deeply we know each other: our daily patterns of movement, changes in facial expression and tone of voice. Sometimes I know my people better than I know myself.
And dammit if it’s taken a trip (and 30 years) to realize that I’ve been running from the good parts of this life because I’m afraid of the bad parts.
I’m afraid of getting too close, of loving too deeply and being loved… because what kind of hell does that invite if I lose all that?
I thought I was “protecting” myself from being deeply hurt, later. Which sounds completely illogical! (It is.)
But fear is not privy to logic.
I love so deeply, so intensely that it’s hard to imagine how life can, and will, change. It’s hard to imagine loss - but also growth and forward movement. I’m holding on so tightly because I can’t bear the thought of losing the people I love and care for, the dreams I nurture, the community I treasure.
And somehow that translates into the feeling that I might explode if I don’t get time away, time alone - even though actually getting that turns out to be lonely and the complete opposite of what I desire.
I’m grateful for a getaway trip. But next time, I don’t want to go alone. That was deeply helpful during an earlier part of my life - but now all I want is as much time as possible WITHIN my family, my community.
Because, if it won’t last forever, I want to show up inside all of it (good parts and hard parts) as much as possible while I can.
And I need my people for that.”
with so much love, alycia buenger
Why I Write Stories
I started writing stories when I was young. My mom has file folders packed with elementary school essays and journaling pages.
I liked writing stories because I could control the ending (or, the whole thing really).
I especially liked writing the kinds of stories that have no problems, no misunderstandings, and no climax - just happy, happy, happy from beginning to end.
Which is why my stories were boring as hell.
I understand that our most challenging moments, and the big feelings that follow, are required for Real Life. I understand that’s what makes the good moments even better.
I understand, intellectually.
I started writing stories when I was young. My mom has file folders packed with elementary school essays and journaling pages.
I liked writing stories because I could control the ending (or, the whole thing really).
I especially liked writing the kinds of stories that have no problems, no misunderstandings, and no climax - just happy, happy, happy from beginning to end.
Which is why my stories were boring as hell.
I understand that our most challenging moments, and the big feelings that follow, are required for Real Life. I understand that’s what makes the good moments even better.
I understand, intellectually.
But I also find it deeply annoying, particularly when I’m inside the hard times. And right now, I am.
Like many of you I’ve been swimming upstream for most of this year.
My anxiety (or, my “dragons” as my kids like to say) reared its head in February, and it's been a bumpy ride since. I was accepted to graduate school, and then I dropped out. We decided to have a third baby, and then I lost the pregnancy.
There’s been sickness, and broken friendships, and big feelings I don’t know what to do with.
(Thank god for my therapist, and my husband, and my personal commitment to sacred practice. But still. It’s been a long year.)
For the last several weeks especially I’ve been inside this hole of anxiety that says: “You have to control everything.
You have to make the scary parts go away, and you do that by controlling what happens next.”
And as we all know by now, controlling everything (or anything) is impossible - and any attempt to make it reality only prolongs the hard moments of suffering.
I know this, intellectually.
But my body in its Wholeness is not only intellectual: my physical body needs a physical reminder that it’s safe, my mental body needs a mental reminder that it’s okay to rest, and my spiritual body needs a loving reminder that it’s important here, too (and not forgotten or ignored).
So, today I leave you with a few practices I’ve found helpful lately - this is a series of “Self-Compassion Breaks” by Dr. Kristin Neff. (I particularly enjoy the Tender Self-Compassion Break, the General Self-Compassion Break, and the Loving-Kindness Meditation.)
And some good news:
I no longer write stories full of happy beginnings, middles, and ends.
I just write.
I write not to control the story, but to tell mine from within and around the good and hard moments.
I write to process what’s happening, to move through big feelings, to tell the whole story as it relates to my life (which often allows me to relate to the whole story as it relates to your life).
I hope that’s what keeps us both connected - to ourselves, to each other, to the earth, to the collective.
with so much love, alycia buenger
It's Time To Break Down Barriers To Graduate Education
Following my withdrawal from graduate school, I received an email from a professor that said:
“[I hope that you can] ‘be like water’ and find ways around the barriers to graduate education.”
It’s taken me a bit to understand why these words feel frustrating. Because his intention, I think, was encouragement and optimism.
So why do I feel conflicted?
It’s this implication that I can, and should regularly, move over/under/between/around barriers that serve no purpose but to keep me out (and maybe, to prioritize profit).
It’s so often accepted, that I nearly accepted it myself.
Following my withdrawal from graduate school, I received an email from a professor that said:
“[I hope that you can] ‘be like water’ and find ways around the barriers to graduate education.”
It’s taken me a bit to understand why these words feel frustrating. Because his intention, I think, was encouragement and optimism.
So why do I feel conflicted?
It’s this implication that I can, and should regularly, move over/under/between/around barriers that serve no purpose but to keep me out (and maybe, to prioritize profit).
It’s so often accepted, that I nearly accepted it myself.
But the thing is…
I DO flow like water;
I am water.
I embody the Sacred Feminine element of Flow: ruled by the Moon, made visible by Water, Ocean, Stream.
Likewise, I am earth.
I embody the Sacred Masculine element of Structure: ruled by the Sun, made visible by Riverbeds and Ocean floors, Landmass and Earthy grass.
One does not exist without the other: Feminine and Masculine, Flow and Structure. “Flow needs a container, otherwise she’s a flood,” says Danielle LaPorte.
And I agree. But here lies the problem…
The Masculine boundaries, the container (the ones we're repeatedly asked to flow about and around)... that’s what impedes + prevents natural, creative Feminine flow.
The “rules” around the timeline for graduate school (and nine-to-five work and even general schooling for our kids) runs counter to anything that looks like FLOW:
If research says graduate students are six times more likely to experience anxiety and depression… why not change the structure of graduate school?
If research says that people are more productive with 30-hour workweeks than 40-hour workweeks… why not change the structure of the workplace?
If research says teenagers are happier and more focused after sleeping late… why not change the structure of schools?
Why not build Sacred Masculine Structures to allow for Sacred Feminine Flow?
Which is to say, who benefits from structures that prevent flow?
It’s not you and me, I can tell ya that.
Which is why I have ZERO desire to flow “around” barriers:
The barriers are the problem, not me!
Rules that prohibit womxn and families from prioritizing themselves; that’s the problem.
Rules that prohibit “non-traditional” students from admission to university, and then from the possibility for part-time status; that’s the problem.
Rules that you have to “work around” over and over again; that’s the problem!
I understand that, if the rules remain unchangeable now, we might be forced to find tricky ways to manipulate the rules, to get what we want and need in different ways.
But that’s just it:
The rules will remain unchangeable so long as we move “around” them (so long as we expect people to move around them)… when will we change the rules instead?
When will we, collectively, create Sacred Masculine structures of support that truly allow for Creative Feminine flow?
I’m not sure it’s possible within my lifetime: to change the way our governments work, to change the way our society interacts.
But what is possible (in part due to my privilege as a white woman from a middle-class community in the United States) is changing the way I do business, the way I show up to my family, and whether or not I “accept” the boundaries put in place to keep me small… or fight against them.
In my case, by creating a completely different Sacred Structure for myself, my family, and the people I work with.
Thoughts on this? Tell me all about it in the comments below.
until next time, alycia buenger
An Artist Residency in Motherhood (#ARiM): Getting Started
This is the first completed cycle within my residency program: August 29 (the start of the miscarriage) to October 10 (start of my period).
Rather than follow individual months (or even moon cycles) I’m choosing to follow my own menstrual cycle to create and document my creative work - which could very well change if we decide to get pregnant again.
EMBODY: where I am
This is the first completed cycle within my residency program: August 29 (the start of the miscarriage) to October 10 (start of my period).
Rather than follow individual months (or even moon cycles) I’m choosing to follow my own menstrual cycle to create and document my creative work - which could very well change if we decide to get pregnant again.
I have a file folder full of half-baked ideas (some that are ready-to-go!) - and this is mixed with questions about what to do first and whether or not I’m “ready” (i.e. whether or not I can complete each project “perfectly”).
I’m currently working inside scraps of time (a morning when the kids watch a movie, an afternoon when Jeffrey is feeling well enough for care-taking, an evening when I can’t fall asleep) - which feels entirely overwhelming.
I’m taking intensive care of my body and my heart: taking vitamins (most) mornings and evenings, re-starting an almost-daily morning movement practice, and spending conscious time with my partner every day.
ENLIGHTEN: what I did
I submitted one article for publication (that was rejected).
I created the guidelines for this project and opened the possibility for donations to my work.
I reduced my time on social media to less than one hour per week and committed to de-centralizing marketing on Facebook/Instagram from my work.
I created my pinterest account (to replace primary marketing on Facebook/Instagram).
I registered Unravel Your Days LLC in the state of Ohio!
I created two blog posts / emails to my list:
I posted one vlog to instagram:
ENVISION: what I will do
This cycle I want to create sanctuary: a video lesson with practices to embody a sense of “home” (the starting place of deep creation). (This will be my new email opt-in.)
Do I need to revisit my Ideal Client Avatar? When will I record this video? How will I make it available on my website / What’s the necessary before-and-after email nurture sequence?
I want to create a Sacred Schedule for my work in coming months: 2 full-days for copywriting work, 1 full-day (or more) for #ARiM work.
Is this possible (right now)? Is this how I want to create? Can I create this work alongside homeschooling the kids - or do I need separate time?
I want to build ritual practice into my daily workouts.
If I plan to workout at 11:30a when the kids watch their show, what will help this practice feel nourishing (and necessary)?
[This EMBODY/ENLIGHTEN/ENVISION framework comes from my work with Kati Overmier via Unravel Your Days LLC.]
Why I Quit Graduate School
I made this "choice" from a slew of non-options, in honor of myself and in defiance of unfair, unjust practices within academia.
It was a hard, painful decision - because I’ve planned to return to school since I graduated in 2014; but it’s also the decision that feels most in alignment with who I am and what I want now.
I feel grounded in this choice. But also I’m grieving, I’m raging, I’m releasing.
I was supposed to start grad school at the beginning of this month. But less than a week before the start of classes, I withdrew from term.
I found out, belatedly, that taking only one class per semester meant losing access to financial support; that scheduling the courseload that works for me and my family would require me to pay out-of-pocket, right now.
Something I hadn't planned for.
At first I felt defeated: one more barrier to my education.
And then I felt angry: the absurdity of it all! The exclusivity of academic institutions that highlight "diversity and inclusion" when they are doing everything possible to NOT diversify or include.
So I withdrew from fall semester, my program, and the university.
I made this "choice" from a slew of non-options, in honor of myself and in defiance of unfair, unjust practices within academia.
It was a hard, painful decision - because I’ve planned to return to school since I graduated in 2014; but it’s also the decision that feels most in alignment with who I am and what I want now.
I feel grounded in this choice. But also I’m grieving, I’m raging, I’m releasing.
I'm grieving what I thought I would be doing this year, yes. But I'm also feeling this intensity of grief that's not entirely mine: I'm grieving this loss for so many people, so many womxn, so many mothers who are locked out of university for reasons like this, and more.
I'm raging at the unfairness of rules that prevent so many voices (not just mine!) from entering spaces of academic research and study.
I'm releasing the three-year path to a graduate degree. Because I refuse to “choose” between paying out-of-pocket for the fewer classes I need or accepting the constraints of a scholarship or loan that asks me to do more than I can right now.
It's an honoring of myself, but it's also in recognition that these rules are limiting and unfair.
Even if I wiggle around barriers that limit who gets "educated," when, where, and how… what happens if they remain in place? who would I be helping if I focus only on getting myself into school?
In my statement of purpose for admission to graduate school, I said, “If I walk away from spaces (including university) that do not support me now, what does that say to future generations of womxn like me? What does that do for the next generation of mothers? And what does that say to my daughters?”
Because I thought that walking away from graduate school was the same as doing NOTHING to fight against these incredible challenges.
It's not.
Here's what I want my exiting grad school to say to other womxn, other mothers, and my daughters:
“First, we don’t need spaces of injustice to receive an education, to learn, and to become. We can do this, and better, without institutions that promote inequality and ‘oneness’ of path and choice. We do NOT have to accept unfair and manipulative rules as a form of power-over, for ourselves or for anyone else.
A degree is not everything; and sometimes, it’s nothing.
And second, there’s more than one way to fight these barriers to our education. Some people will fight from the inside, but some of us will fight from the outside - until access to education is actually a birthright (and not a compulsory one) for all of us.”
I know it sounds bleak, to have prepared this whole year for something that's now inaccessible. And YES, it’s hard.
But it also feels right; it feels in alignment with my Soul. It feels like I’m ready for something new, something different, something next.
Something that aligns with my life as a mother, too.
So, instead of graduate school, I’m creating An Artist Residency in Motherhood, "a self-directed, open-source artist residency to empower and inspire artists [writers] who are also mothers," created by Lenka Clayton (who I discovered through my friend, Sarah Shotts).
The residency is an opening to creating work not in spite of the challenges posed by motherhood by in alignment with my life as a mother, a writer, a thinker. (Which is exactly what university didn’t allow.)
The same time I had scheduled to attend class, read content, and write papers will be spent doing this work outside the classroom:
exploring my personal relationship (and our public relationship) with schooling, education, learning, and teaching
redefining the way I think about creating (it's not ONLY something I do alone; it's not ONLY something I do for fun) + the way I think about money-making (it's not ONLY something "other than" what I create)
creating alongside my life, as a mother of young kids and someone who "unschools" at home
You can read more about the specifics right here.
looking forward to sharing more soon, xx, alycia buenger
An Artist Residency In Motherhood #ARiM
an artist residency in motherhood - “a self-directed, open-source artist residency to empower and inspire artists [writers] who are also mothers,” created by Lenka Clayton
the (original) purpose -
My reasons for adopting the Artist Residency in Motherhood framework are these: to embrace working and creating within my everyday life; to redefine the “limitations” of motherhood, work, and creating by earning a sustainable income for my family - and enjoying the process; to explore my relationship with schooling, education, learning, and teaching by unschooling my kids at home and deschooling myself within our shared life.
Following my hard “break-up” with graduate school, I want to create my own education at home and inside motherhood - while also sharing the process and the results publicly.
an artist residency in motherhood
“a self-directed, open-source artist residency to empower and inspire artists [writers] who are also mothers,” created by Lenka Clayton
the why: purpose + intentions
My experience inside motherhood is one of friction: I am deeply fulfilled by those perfect moments with my girls, the deepening connection to my partner, the pure joy that sneaks through the cracks of even our hardest days; and yet I’m always trying to “sneak” more time for myself, more time for my work, more time for important and frivolous things I enjoy.
Within my role as caretaker to my girls and partner to my husband, I experience the deep inhale of genuine, perfect fulfillment. And. Contrary to the story I inherited (and accepted) about motherhood… It’s not enough.
Care-taking, Self-Fulfilling Work. Neither is enough on its own.
Loving my people is part of what makes me a Creator; and honoring my creative work is part of what makes me Loving.
So, if I understand this consciously - why do I feel GUILTY about it?
Modern-day mothers are generally handed a list of expectations that include primary caretaking, household management, and paid work (whether or not it’s fulfilling, whether or not it pays equivalent). And often, we’re expected to neglect our bodies, our hearts, and our dreams for our care-taking and work responsibilities.
Because that’s how it’s always been done. Or so it seems…
Where do these expectations come from? How do we unshackle ourselves, and each other?
Because this isn’t the legacy I want to leave my daughters; and it’s not the one I want to accept for myself.
And so, we begin.
[NOTE: It’s important to say here that many of the challenges mothers face highlight structural problems within our modern society. But until we change our laws to allow for working parenthood, until we change our laws to adequately support families of all kinds, until we change the conversation surrounding expectations of and support for women, mothers, families, and children… solving this problem falls inside the domain of individual families. Which is complete bullshit and further highlights discrimination of minority groups. But this is the kind of bullshit I’m prepared to fight against now, so my daughters’ generation can reap the benefits later.]
{ORIGINAL} PURPOSE:
to redefine the “limitations” of motherhood, work, and creating by prioritizing my mind/body/soul wellness within and around creative work for income; embracing working and creating within everyday life with kids; and earning a sustainable income for my family - while documenting (and enjoying!) the process
{ORIGINAL} INTENTIONS:
prioritize my health, my rest, my play
expand my creative capacity for both daily life + creative work by exploring my relationship with time
balance work with life by incorporating both and reframing my experience of “work”
devote myself to the process of creating (more than the product)
earn enough+ with my creative work to fully support my family + my business
the how: limits + commitments
Our culture’s obsession with productivity-at-all-costs is at odds with my experience of creative work (particularly as a mother working alongside my kids) and with my desire to prioritize the process and experience of creating more than the product and result.
For this project, I will not remain inside a perpetual state of production; instead, I will embrace the natural process of creating - which includes rest and work.
Our Natural Creative Cycles follow the seasons of the year, the phases of the moon and the menstrual cycle, the universal energy of the days of the week, and the energy of the body within a single day. These will be my guide.
I will also distance this project from the algorithms of social media by documenting my creative process and its results inside this online studio (NOW CLOSED)
While I will maintain some interaction with Instagram and Pinterest, these will not be my primary places for documentation - because my experience with social media is one of frustration and required distance.
{ORIGINAL} LIMITATIONS:
I am the primary caretaker of our two children and responsible for the majority of our family’s income. I can plan for 1 full-day and 1 half-day of childcare support from my partner, plus 1 half-day of childcare support from my parents or in-laws; but my working schedule must remain flexible to expand or contract with the needs of my family. I can plan to financially support my family with my work as a copywriter; but this requires all of my available working time.
{ORIGINAL} QUESTIONS
how can I expand time within my everyday work-life?
how can I expand my income within “limited” time?
how can I create space for myself AND my creative work?
{ORIGINAL} COMMITMENTS:
personal commitments to my health, my time, my family: daily nourishment, daily/weekly/monthly routines + rituals for support, frequent time within Nature, daily movement
devote 2 full-days to copywriting work and 1 full-day to creative work for #ARiM
write everyday: free write and/or work in the early mornings; document my cycle, my body, my experience in the evenings
document in-process creative work privately inside this now-closed studio
document completed creative work publicly on instagram, my website, and via email
submit 10 articles for publication
This is a 3-year project (10 months per year) starting September 15, 2021 through August 31, 2024.
the what: projects (ongoing)
create sanctuary (online course)
create align (online course)
create inspire (monthly online workshops)
create unravel your days with Kati Overmier (podcast, online studio, printed planning journal)
create reframe (prints of my writing)
create art / earrings for sale
take a dance class
take a pottery class
support -
This residency is currently an unfunded project. Any amount of financial or other support is greatly appreciated. Read more about how you can financially support my work right here.