My Mind Runneth Over

Dear Mike,

I have been doing mindful therapy with our family therapist.  While you have been dead for over 16 years I still get hit with these bouts of sadness.  I used to call them crashes but I don't don't feel I crash anymore.  I am still able to function just not at the full capacity I like to.  I decided to give this different approach to therapy a shot since I hadn't tried and what is there to loose.  Plus, I would like not to be continually hit with these bouts of sadness multiple times of year my whole life.  Or I guess if I had to I would like to be able to function more fully and be more present for my family.  When I have this bout of sadness my mind runneth over.  It's overflowing with imagery, imagery I want to turn into art.  Imagery full of powerful feelings and emotions.  Some I don't even realize I have until I examine more closely.  I have for years felt like something was wrong with me, like I'm crazy or something, because I get these pictures in my head.  My therapist said she thought it was human.  I thought otherwise because it was so dark.  But I was thinking about it and I realized it isn't just then.  I think it's when there is something I am passionate about that it happens.  Like Fionn's school for instance.  It's coming up against some significant change.  Change I want to be apart of because I want to ensure there is a school for him to attend next year that he will thrive at.  Since the announcement about the coming change that must take place for the school's survival I am again overflowing with ideas.  I am passionate about Fionn having a school to attend that is a good fit for him and I'm passionate about serving our community.

I was talking to Mom the other day about this project I am working on and how Dad helped me solve a problem with figuring out how to make my idea happen.  At a later time he mentioned to me about a project he was working on and how he accidentally invented a pinhole projector.  He's working on all kinds of stuff in his mind and is frustrated because he needs more time to produce them.  Matt has helped him figure some problems out with projects he was working on.  I love the collaboration going on in the family.  Then I realized it wasn't just me.  Matt must have all this stuff bubbling away in his head.  Remember his sketches?  On napkins, paper, sketch books, whatever was around.  His facebook timeline cover...classic Matt, pouring his brain full of stuff out into production.  Then I realized you too,  all of your lists and ideas.  For a period of time I thought that part of you was something else but when you look at the whole picture of our family I'm convinced this is a family thing.  Grandma Cullen had her concept about Chaucer's Canterbury Tales I think while in the bathtub.  I don't know how long it was before she was free to work on it but I think it was years.  Can you imagine how full her head must have been?  Is this part of the creative temperament?

The other thing I discovered about myself was that this has been apart of me before you died.  I have vivid memories of a pair of pants I was designing prior to your death.  They were going to be the four elements...earth, water, air, and fire.  I had fabric strips ready and colorful, shiny thread especially for the project.  I remembered wearing the unfinished version to work when I went to talk to my boss after you had died but before you were buried.  I never finished them.  I remember living in Las Vegas planning this stained glass, lighted false ceilling of "our tree" (the tree Kerrigan and I would lay under in Santa Rosa).  Later in Portland I was creating these branches wired for lit blossoms and leaves for show centerpieces, all in my head.

Here I've thought this was some messed up part of me and now I realize it was part of me from the very beginning of my life.  My creative soul born.

Love,

Gabby

P.S.  While I was writing this I realized even more.  Like a full pot boiling with the lid on...at a point the contents just can't be contained any longer and they're boiling over.  My feelings were spilling out all over my life.