I'm only 43 and to be honest with you, I am not entirely sure that I have actualy "bloomed" yet,
but each day I inch ever closer!
I suppose I've spent most of my life believing that in order to BE an artist you had to have a REALLY special giftor else you were just some crazy girl that spent a lot of free timedoodling and coloring things. I spent an incredible amount of my"grown-up" time asking the Universe what the heck it wanted me to be when I grew up, because although I've had a few successful careers, notone of them ever felt like a good fit. The only times I was ever trulycontent was when I was sitting quietly with a big blank journal and piles of markers. Something always happened in those moments thatallowed me to feel more connected to myself, I felt completely happyjust allowing the words and images to spill onto the pages.
But thenthere was THAT voice... I call her NOna, and she is the scratchy littlevoice that pushes me to compare what I do with every other "artsy" girl.She is the one responsible for telling me that I was not good enough, notcreative enough, that I just didn't have that magic touch. For areally long time I let her be the deciding voice in my world, if shesaid NO, I listened, if she said "forget about it," I did. For a longtime I allowed her to control just about everything and got verycomfortable with the idea that I just didn't cut it...and then one dayout of the blue, everything changed.It was Wednesday December 22, and just another ordinary morning in ourhome.
I woke up and was quietly sitting in the living room doodling anddrinking my coffee, asking, for the millionth time, what the heck I shoulddo with my life, when out of nowhere a new voice popped up and she wastelling me that "it was time..." For a few minutes I thought I waslosing my mind because the voice was as clear as a bell, and it soundedalot like me! I immediately knew what "she" meant and almost withoutthinking I started writing down little sentences about myself and doodlingsome sketches to go with them....that was the day that changedeverything. I can't tell you for sure what it was but something magicalhappened that morning that prompted me to temporarily stop all the self-sabotaging banter and give myself permission to just BE. For aweek or so I sketched, wrote and ultimately created a little line ofgreeting cards called Wednesday Wisdom; quirky little ladies that takeall the insanity and observations running around my head and allow me toput them out into the world. Card after card just kept coming and forthe first time I wasn't afraid of being judged and it feltamazing....until the day my husband coaxed me into opening an Etsy shop.Until then it was just me and the little ladies and I was perfectlyfine with that. But for years hubby had seen the piles of writing,sketchy pictures and knew that I wouldn't be happy until I finallymustered the courage to put it out there. Come what may, he convincedme that it was time to do SOMETHING with all these little creations. So, I loaded a few of the cards and prints onto the site and within aday or two, I had my first order, and then my second and they just keptcoming! That was the day I thought maybe, just maybe I might be anartist, not a VanGogh or Renoir, but a Heather Hanson, and that suits me just fine!
My best days are the ones when clients wander into my shop, VISIT IT HERE,
pick up oneof my cards without knowing I'm the one who created it, and theyactually laugh out loud. It's like a tiny little miracle every time Ihear it and a sound I never get tired of. I'm in the process of creatinga new line of cards and products that I hope beyond hope will give everywoman the ability to silence her own scratchy NOna voice long enough tofind her own version of bliss. I believe that each and every one of uscomes to this planet filled with the MOST amazing gifts, the trouble isthat we spend far too much time listening to the NOna's of the world andare rarely ever able to hear what's in our own hearts instead of thenoise around us. Today I am happy to tell you that although NOna isconstantly fighting to be heard, her voice gets a bit quieter every day. With any luck, one day soon she will pack her bags and finally hit theroad for good!