a confession/ Tiny spaces; a vignette

Oh my gosh, you guys. I apologize for the lack of content. I want to be transparent on this blog like so many wonderful bloggers that I admire but then I don’t want to break my lovely little veil of internet anonymity. I will say that this has been a very rough year for me. I briefly posted that I left my graphic design job in December 2015. 2015 was ultimately the worst year of my life! I received devastating health news February 2015 that I am still processing. It has not been easy. Then the majority of this year I have been unemployed and dealing with depression and anxiety. I ultimately had to move in with my mother in another city, thus my lack of personal home posts. And why I was focusing so much on her space. It was very difficult living with my mother at 31. I haven’t lived with her in 13 years! Our relationship definitely felt the strain after 6 months. I sought healing but only felt worse being in my childhood home, isolated and jobless.

I am back home in Birmingham now, living with my boyfriend again. We broke up in 2015 after the health news created some tension in our relationship. I moved into a house on my own. Remember my bungalow? It was hard living by myself. I couldn’t keep up with the house maintenance, the lawn, the pest control, by myself. I was really really stressed at work. To the tune of losing 25 lbs and a good chunk of my hair falling out. My news in combination with my work stress nearly destroyed me. I just wanted to lie down and die. Just be dead until this sadness passed. But life doesn’t work like that. Life seemed meaningless and sitting in a windowless cubicle was literal agony. So I quit! I quit. I lived off my 401k a while. I moved. I drowned in my depression pretty much up until 2 weeks ago. My boyfriend has been there for me every step of the way, as a friend and as a mate. He and I are much better now, committed to each other. Moving away definitely made me realize a lot about what I needed out of life to have some semblance of happiness. One of those things is him. I am tired of being sad. Nearly 2 years is long enough!  So what if I can’t have children (yeaah, I was diagnosed with Premature Ovarian Insufficiency with translocated chromosomes for a likelihood of miscarriage)? I am alive. I have my parents. My family. Jim. Jim’s family. Friends. I am still capable of achieving the goal of being a stylist, right? 😀

For now, I’m staying in his garage apartment. Here’s a little styling for ya! When I say little, I mean like…vignette little.

Don’t worry, Jim said I could embarrass him all across the interworld with this photo…

Before I even knew I was moving back, I came to visit and tidy up his space! You can see my bags/shoes on the dining chairs. He had them in the middle of the room. I still don’t understand why old dining chairs were up there but whatever. That was the only thing I moved before snapping these photos. Granted he and his brother mostly used this garage apartment for bottling their homebrew, he clearly was sleeping up here from time to time. It was NOT an environment I wanted to sleep in nor a room I wanted to spend time in!   A lot of trash everywhere, dirt and grime, dirty clothes, and all around a layer of man funk covering each and every surface.

With nothing to decorate with but the contents within the room, I moved the dresser from below the window to along the wall. The kilim rug is so good and colorful. I found an old patterned shirt in the closet and wrapped it around the ottoman to add a little more color to the space. I put the 2 dining chairs together and slapped a blanket and pillow on it and called it a sofa! The guys were so messy, that Matisse print was hiding behind the dresser. Matisse should always be displayed! It just so happened to be night time and the nearest visible plant life was a pine tree. I put it in a beer bottle for a masculine touch.

Jim was all smiles when he saw the cleaned up space. Yay!

Then a week later I moved in. All my furniture is still at Mom’s so I could only bring some accessories to make it homey for myself. I brought 2 chairs…and well, here, you’ll see:

I can’t tell you how much I miss my vintage credenza! Gah that thing is like my pride and joy. This old kids dresser doesn’t compare. But I knew my yellow chair and brass chair with white arm pads would pair well (I know, this is an outside chair but so what?).

I love all the colors!! The rug, the chairs, the white in the dresser, the greens and blues in the art, and then the plants. Gah, it just works so well. Then there’s the touches of brass in the candlesticks,the legs of the Target tripod, the brass elephant, and the chair. Lil bling bling! There’s texture in the leather ottoman, the nubby white and yellow pillow on the brass chair, the velvet on the vintage yellow chair, the grain of the side table.

Chloe approves! The side table is decked out with Buddha and the cutest brass elephant I ever did see. I got that Buddha for $2 from a friend at a flea and he’s been with me in every apartment for years and years and years. Move after move after move. Where I go, Buddha goes.

There are pops of orange balanced by pops of black. I’ve come to find that one of my favorite things is to make a not so great situation as good as you can in that moment. To work with what you’ve got. Like what I did with Mom’s living room.

I only brought 3 of my little animal friends, 6 styling books, 1 piece of art, 2 chairs, and 1 rug (not shown). I am h-u-r-t-i-n-g for all my friends! but soon enough they’ll be back in bham too! 🙂

I hope my plants continue to grow here. The backroom at Mom’s house, where my room is now, does not receive much sunlight. My plant Bergita that I’ve had for 3 years bit the dust. I loved her. Oh, Bergita. If Fiddle dies I will be so mad! But anyway, I sit in the yellow chair and put my feet up. For little ol’ me it’s not too shabby. For giant ol’ Jim it’s a lil cramped. Here’s to hoping 2017 means a job I enjoy, financial stability once again, and much needed happiness.

 

(please don’t encourage me to adopt or tell me everything happens for a reason. i’ve heard it all before and it doesn’t help. i know everyone means well but it doesn’t help my broken heart when you want a biological child of your own with your loved one)