Where I've Been and Where I'm Going | Lost Fayeble

Hey, long time no post, huh?

I'm not even entirely sure where to start, so this may be a little all over the place and a lot informal. Bear with me as I attempt to dump my brain here.

As many of you know, I've been all over the place with what exactly I wanted this blog-- or, really, Lost Fayeble as a whole-- to serve as. I'd get into a rhythm here and then feel as though I had to stop because I'd see this video and that post about finding your niche and pigeonholing yourself into something recognizable. Because I have such a vast array of interests, I'd disappear in hopes that My Thing™ would eventually come to me, settle into my bones, and I would never once look in the direction of another. As you can probably guess, that has yet to occur. And while I am genuinely happy for the people who do find the thing™ they're best at, love doing, and want to devote themselves to forever, I just... can't do that.

For a while, I thought perhaps it was because I didn't have anything I was actually good at. If I were really talented at something, surely that would be The Thing™, right? But I refuse to believe that anymore. Maybe I'm simply a Jill of all trades, for lack of a better word. Maybe my interests are less of a straight line and more of a crop rotation. I become completely consumed by one thing, wander off toward another shiny object, and eventually circle back around. I've spent a lot of time treating that as some sort of character flaw when, really, I think it's just how my brain works. The problem wasn't that I loved too many things. The problem was that, for a while, I didn't have room for any of them. Between raising a toddler and caring for my dad, I was spread much too thin. Somewhere in the middle of keeping everyone alive and making it through the day, I ended up doing away with nearly all of my creative pursuits to make room for survival mode.

And then, in June, my dad died.

Once I finally picked up some of the pieces (and I use “picked up” pretty generously here), I threw myself head-first into my waning passions. I needed to. Creating became my new survival. My coping. My healing. My dad was a creative person himself. He was a woodworker and the kind of person who could seemingly build anything, and everywhere I look around my house there are things he made with his own hands. Since losing him, I've found something strangely comforting about working with mine. It makes me feel closer to him somehow. It has also forced me to confront something considerably less sentimental: I have spent a lot of my life feeling like a disappointment.

For years now I've looked around at friends and family members my age who seem to be settling into their lives-- their careers, their accomplishments, the things they've built for themselves-- and wondered:What do I have? I spent years at university only to not do the things I originally set out to do. My life is so far removed from what I thought it would look like by now that sometimes I hardly recognize it. And there are days when it feels like I'm just bumbling along, trying to salvage whatever “talent” I might have once possessed so that I can finally feel worthy. Worthy of praise. Worthy of accomplishing something. Worthy of taking up space. Maybe it's the Type A in me talking screaming, but there is this horrible question that likes to rear its ugly head: What am I if not a collection of accomplishments? And if I don't have enough of them... then what? I know. How drab.

And logically, I know that's a terrible way to measure a life. I would never look at somebody I loved and calculate their worth based on the things they've done or the things they have, so I'm not entirely sure why I've spent so long doing it to myself. But grief does strange things to your perception of time. Losing my dad so unexpectedly made me painfully aware that there isn't some magical future version of my life where I'll finally have enough time, enough confidence, enough skill, enough money, or enough permission to do all the things I've been putting off. There is just... now. And apparently my response to this revelation has been to decide that I must do EVERYTHING I'VE EVER WANTED TO DO IMMEDIATELY. The urgency is deafening. But that isn't the way to live your life-- in a constant state of panic, of needing to do everything all at once.

I've redone this entire website (which has probably been obvious for some time now) and I'm so happy with how it's turned out. I wanted it to feel less like a polished site built for an algorithm and more like an actual place. A strange corner of the internet that belongs to me. I've affectionately started calling it The Meadow. It's like a portfolio, kind of an art shop, part blog, and definitely a bit of a digital diary. More importantly, it's somewhere I don't have to justify why all of my interests belong beside one another and I don't have to feel bad if one day I'm rambling on about a cool new thing I've gotten myself into or contemplating my existence.

I'm streaming on Twitch again. I'm trying to find my footing on YouTube again. I've been sewing, sculpting, painting, writing, designing things for my shop, learning new skills, revisiting old ones, and acquiring new hobbies at a rate that is frankly becoming a logistical (and financial) problem. I still occasionally hit that same roadblock of “But what exactly am I supposed to make?” Especially with YouTube. But I think I'm beginning to realize I've been asking myself the wrong question. Maybe I don't need to decide what I am going to make forever. Maybe I just need to decide what I want to make next. I don't want to disappear for six months every time my interests shift because I've convinced myself that changing direction means I've failed at whatever I was doing before. I don't want to wait for My Thing™ to descend from the heavens and grant me a perfectly marketable creative identity.

Maybe that's what I needed to create all along. Not proof that I've finally figured out where I belong, but somewhere I can wander. Thus, Lost Fayeble and The Meadow were born.

So, essentially, that's where I've been as of late... or, rather, for a fairly long time now.

As for where I'm going...

Well, I have a lot of ideas. Some of them involve art. Some involve dolls and strange creatures. Some involve writing and storytelling. Some involve videos and games. Some will probably be abandoned halfway through and rediscovered two years from now when I find the supplies shoved into the back of a closet. I'm trying not to make that mean I've failed anymore. I don't really know exactly where all of this will lead me. For once, I think I'm trying to be okay with that. I hope you'll stick around for the ride. Hopefully we'll end up somewhere exciting.

And if not, at least we can get a little lost along the way. ♡

Your friend, Emilie James